Cherringham--The Secret of Brimley Manor by Matthew Costello

Author:Matthew Costello [Richards, Matthew Costello Neil]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-3-7325-5312-9
Publisher: Bastei Entertainment
Published: 2019-05-01T16:00:00+00:00

11. Ask and You Will Find

Jack pushed open the door of the Ploughman’s and looked around. He rarely came in here during the week and was surprised to see how empty the place was.

In the far corner: a bunch of students, who looked like they were making their pints last as long as possible. Up at the bar: a few locals, a couple of whom recognised Jack and gave him a welcome half-wave.

And the rest: just a scattering of solitary souls who clearly preferred a drink on their own to sitting in front of the TV at home.

So which one is Clifford the gardener? thought Jack.

He went up to the bar, nodded to Billy Leeper the landlord.

“Usual, Jack?”

“Please, Billy.”

He watched Billy take a pint glass and pull on the ancient wooden pump. One, two, three pulls — and there was Jack’s glass, full of foaming English ale.

An acquired taste — and so unlike his usual Bud back in Brooklyn.

But here, in this English village, it just seemed the right thing to drink.

Billy slid the pint across the bar and took Jack’s money.

“Hey, Billy. Looking for a fella named Clifford,” said Jack. “Gather he drinks up here of an evening?”

“Clifford Nailor? Works up at Brimley?”

“That’s the one,” said Jack.

Billy seemed to consider this for a minute.

“That there’s Clifford,” he said, nodding to a white-haired man who sat in the corner, looking down intently at a newspaper, pencil in hand.

“Cheers, Billy.”

Jack picked up his pint and headed over.

*

As he approached, he could see that Clifford was doing the crossword — so engrossed that he didn’t notice Jack.

“Mr Nailor?”

“That’s me,” said Clifford, barely looking up.

“Jack Brennan.”

Then, a slight tilt upward.

“Aha. The man from the Trust.”

“Not exactly,” said Jack. “More like — helping them out.”

“And you want to ask me some questions?”

Jack smiled. Clifford Nailor was on the ball, no doubt about that.

“If I may,” said Jack.

“You may. On one condition, mind.”

“Go on.”

“How’s your Greek myths?”

“Pretty good — for a yank.”

“Excellent. Today’s crossword — full of the buggers. Got me stumped. So, we’ll finish this then you can ask me your questions. Deal?”

“Deal,” said Jack, smiling.

Then he nodded towards Clifford’s nearly-empty glass: “Since we’re going to be a while — can I get you a refill?”

“Trust paying or you paying?”

“Oh, Trust paying, I think. Eventually.”

“Pint of Hooky will do very nicely.”

“Pint of Hooky it is.”

And Jack headed back to the bar, thinking That year at college reading the classics … maybe it’s finally going to pay off.

*

Sarah put the little teapot of chamomile tea on a tray with a proper cup and saucer, and walked out of the kitchen into her office — “CSI Central” as Jack called it way back when she first moved into the cottage. Her “safe space” for detective work, out of the way of her two kids.

Course, these days the kids were hardly around, so she rarely needed to close the door when she was at work.

As she sat down at her computer, she saw Digby, her spaniel, shuffle in and make himself comfortable on the sofa behind her with a loud sigh.

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