Lessons for Suspicious Minds (Cambridge Fellows, #10) by Charlie Cochrane

Author:Charlie Cochrane [Cochrane, Charlie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Riptide Publishing
Published: 2015-01-16T16:00:00+00:00

Mr. Wood agreed to see Orlando as soon as his card was taken in to the office. Such was his enthusiasm, he almost bowled his clerk over in his haste to usher Orlando in.

“Am I talking to the Dr. Coppersmith? Of Stewart and Coppersmith fame?”

“Indeed you are,” Orlando replied, as courteously as was possible towards someone who’d got their surnames in the wrong order.

“I’ve read about you in the Times. Excellent stuff. I suppose you’ve taken on a commission now? Hence your visit?” Wood suddenly remembered his manners. “Do sit down. Tea?”

“Yes, please.” Refreshment had been lacking at the Blunstones’ house; Orlando hadn’t realised how parched a man could get in the wilds of Berkshire. “I’m investigating two cases. Both apparent suicides that might not be.”

“Young Livingstone?”

“Yes.” Orlando fetched out his trusty notebook. “And one of the men who testified at his inquest.”

As they waited for the arrival of the tea, Orlando presented a basic outline of the two cases, leaving out such points as the mysterious bells, the broken heart that probably wasn’t, and anything that reflected badly on his hosts at Fyfield. “I wanted to follow up on this business of the misplaced papers. Sometimes something as seemingly unimportant as a document going astray can be vital.”

Wood rested his elbows on his desk, steepling his hands to his chin. “I don’t think they were germane. An uncharacteristic moment of distraction, and the papers themselves were a routine rewriting of a will. I understand Livingstone was having . . . um . . . romantic difficulties, if you follow me, at the time he was dealing with them.”

“Not gambling worries? I believe he’d had those too.”

“Now, that did take me by surprise.” The inopportune arrival of the tea put a temporary end to conversation, leaving Orlando’s pencil poised—frustratingly—over his paper.

“You were telling me about his gambling debts,” Orlando said, once the business of pouring had been done and his throat wasn’t quite so parched.

“Yes. I’d not been aware of them until they were mentioned at the inquest.” Wood stirred his tea thoughtfully. “But then I suppose I’d have been kept in the dark about anything like that, wouldn’t I?”

“One could well imagine so. Did you ever have any suspicions that Livingstone might have been involved in anything that could leave him in a compromising position? Given his job here?”

“No. Absolutely not. He always had an eye for the girls, of course, but it never interfered with his work. An exemplary employee, I’d have said.”

“Even if a gullible one?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard about that?” Wood smiled in avuncular fashion. “Learned his lesson, I suspect.”

“Would you care to elaborate? We’ve heard the story but not the detail.” As Orlando’s pencil was poised once more, he thought of Stella Blunstone. “Was it a pretty girl with a pretty story?”

Wood nodded. “You seem to have a fair idea of what he was like. A client’s daughter, trying to get her hands on money she wasn’t entitled to. And her story was convincing enough, on the face of it.

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