Clerical Errors by D M Greenwood

Author:D M Greenwood [Greenwood, D M]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Ostara Publishing
Published: 2010-09-13T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Pastoral Pleasures

‘What you’re telling me, Tallboy,’ said the Superintendent with practised distaste, ‘is that the sum total of knowledge gleaned by almost the entire Medewich police force, continuously engaged over the last ten days comes to this: Paul Gray was murdered on Thursday or Friday July first or second, somewhere between Markham cum Cumbermound and Medewich, by persons unknown, at a time not yet established, at a place not yet identified, for an as yet undiscovered reason. Not, if I may say so, a very riveting tale to tell the coroner.’

Inspector Tallboy didn’t know the precise meaning of the word ‘gleaned’, but he caught the general tone. He’d always admired his superior and never more so than when a victim of his contempt. He looked forward to practising it himself on others in due course. He could, however, think of better ways of spending a fine Sunday morning. ‘We’ve got the murder weapon, sir,’ he said humbly.

‘Yes, and thanks to the Dean’s beagle bitch, we know where the body was hidden.’

‘Labrador, sir,’ said Tallboy accurately, ‘black labrador.’

‘What?’

‘Black labrador bitch, sir.’

‘Well, perhaps you’d better enrol her. She certainly seems to have done a lot more than your lot.’

‘It’d be handy if we could question her, sir.’

‘Don’t be flippant, Tallboy.’

The Superintendent leant back in the chair in the diocesan office conference room, Tallboy sitting opposite. Superintendent Frost was a small, dapper, acute little man, with the trace of a Scottish accent and a grey moustache which his subordinates said he was able, when angry, to make bristle like a dog’s hackles.

‘Let’s go over it again, Inspector,’ said the Superintendent with summoned kindliness. ‘On Thursday the first of July, after Evensong in his church at Markham cum Cumbermound for a congregation of two, at about five fifteen, Paul Gray stepped back to the Vicarage for a sandwich and a glass of milk before going into Medewich to fetch Mr Jefferson of Markham Terrace who, as was his practice, was going to help Gray with his youth club in Markham cum Cumbermound. According to Mr Jefferson, he did not turn up in Medewich.’

‘Our inquiries,’ interposed Tallboy unwisely, ‘at Markham Terrace have suggested that no one saw him arrive. I think it is safe to assume …’ His voice trailed off as he caught the Superintendent’s eye.

‘Do go on,’ said the Superintendent dangerously.

‘Well, we haven’t found his car either,’ concluded Tallboy.

‘Just so. Perhaps the beagle, sorry, labrador, could help you.’

Tallboy felt he’d had enough of that one.

‘What about the weapon?’ invited the Superintendent.

‘Well, sir, the forensic people say there are traces of blood of the same group as Gray’s, rhesus negative’ – he consulted his notes – ‘A, on the inside of the scabbard and on the hilt. Not much, but enough to be sure. The sword itself is the ceremonial sword of Major the Honourable Clement Braithwaite, who was killed at Peshawar. In India, sir,’ he added earnestly.

The Superintendent shuddered, ‘In 1840, while serving with the Medewich and Markham Light Infantry. The sword was presented by the family to the Cathedral chapel when it was dedicated in 1927.

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