Darkling Death: An Inspector Knollis Mystery (The Inspector Knollis Mysteries Book 10) by Francis Vivian

Author:Francis Vivian [Vivian, Francis]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2018-10-01T00:00:00+00:00

Grayson ambled contentedly from the police station. The interview had been less formidable than expected. Knollis had used the foil rather than the bludgeon, and although he was as innocent as any spring lamb he had still enjoyed matching his wits against those of Scotland Yard.

Knollis had made one important admission after granting that the times he had been given were accurate, the time at which Grayson left the Barley Mow, and the time he returned. Between those times, Knollis had hinted, it was possible for Grayson to have walked to the manor, beaten Herby, walked to Headley Corner, and then walked back to the inn. It was also possible for him, within those times, to have walked part way to Headley Corner, returned to shoot Herby, and only then returned to the inn.

It was indeed a great pity, as Knollis had said, that he had no witness to his arrival at the Corner. It meant that his every move would be watched, and the feeling of personal freedom which he so cherished would be absent, perhaps for days or even weeks.

He shrugged the thought away, looked right, left, and right again, and crossed the road to the point from which a bus ran once every hour to the coast, passing through Wingford.

When halfway across he saw Brother Ignatius pacing up and down the pavement in a contemplative manner, and hailed him.

“Having a look round the shops, Brother?” he asked.

The little priest looked grave, and shook his head. “No, Mr. Grayson. I have been to the hospital to see old Mrs. Walters.”

“How was she?”

“I am not too happy about her condition,” said Brother Ignatius. “She was barely conscious, and appeared to have difficulty in recognising me—which is unfortunate, to say the least of it.”

“She’ll pull round,” said Grayson cheerfully. “By all accounts she’s a wiry old bird!”

“We must hope that is true,” replied the priest. “How did you fare in your interview with Gordon Knollis? Or perhaps I should not ask.”

“Nothing to worry about, really,” said Grayson. “He’d obviously like to prove—or disprove—my story of walking to Headley Corner, but I don’t think he was fishing for anything else, not seriously, anyway.”

Brother Ignatius regarded the toes of his black shoes with more than casual interest until the bus arrived. He ushered Grayson on board, and then took the seat behind him. Grayson found the situation amusing for a time, and then appreciated that both of them had plenty to think about, and the priest had sacrificed the conventions to the necessities of the moment.

His own mind was in a whirl, a perplexed conglomeration of facts and doubts and worries about Knollis, Corinne, Natalie, old Mrs. Walters, Longcroft, and Mike Costock. He needed complete solitude for a period of several hours while he ordered the skitterbug of his mind to quieten so that he could review each part of his complex problem in turn, and then relate the parts to the whole.

“The whole art of life is that of learning to see the correspondence between things,” said a quiet voice in his ear.

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