Richard Jury #20: The Old Wine Shades by Martha Grimes

Author:Martha Grimes
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Traditional, General, Fiction, Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780451220721
Publisher: Viking
Published: 2006-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

27

The regulars in the Swan remembered Jury. He was their entertainment, their bit of cabaret come back for an encore.

‘Oh-oh,’ said one of them. ‘This is getting serious, mates. Clive, better hide that boatload you got from Belfast.’

‘Get on with it, Reggie,’ said the barman. ‘Pretty soon you’ll be stitchin’ me up for that shipment what come for you the other night.’

Jury suffered this forced humor with a smile. ‘I’m not here about your gun running, Clive. I’m looking for someone who remembers seeing this woman, whom all of you, having gone temporarily blind, know sod-all about.’ Holding the photo, Jury stretched his arm out to scope it around. ‘With her son and her dog, too.’

Clive peered at the photo, as if he meant to be helpful. He shrugged. ‘Dunno, mate.’

‘Somebody must’ve noticed her.’

A woman of late middle age set her empty glass on the bar and said, ‘That would be me, I believe.’

Clive said, ‘Myra—’

‘Lady Easedale to you, you whiskey-diluting toad.’

Jury turned. He was looking into faded blue eyes. Her expression was wonderful, as if she couldn’t do enough for you. She looked at the photo Jury carried with him of Glynnis Gault. ‘I saw her, at least I think it was she. There was a boy with her, a child, and, I think, a dog.’

‘That’s quite definitely Mrs. Gault. What are you drinking?’ He smiled at her.

The barman threw the bar towel over his shoulder. ‘Ask her what she ain’t. If you can pour it, she’ll drink it. Diluted, ha! Amount you drink, Myra, it better be.’ That drew some snickering up and down the bar as Clive stationed a glass under one of the optics where it stood like a good soldier.

‘Never mind them. Come join me at my table.’

‘I will.’ He ordered a Foster’s for himself before he followed Myra to a table in the corner. ‘Lady Easedale? Your husband was, what? Duke? Viscount? Honorable?’

‘Duke of dreams, Lord Love-a-duck. The Honorable Nothing. My husband went over to Ireland and bought himself a title. You can do the same here, but there’s a lot more red tape. Well, you’d know. About titles, I mean.’

‘Red tape, too.’

‘I don’t call myself that; it’s so pretentious, don’t you think? Myra Easedale, that’s who I am.’ She held out her hand.

Jury took it. ‘Richard Jury, detective superintendent with Scotland Yard. I’m happy to meet you.’

‘Now’—she said, dispensing with introductions, even taking as matter-of-fact the news that she was talking to a policeman. She leaned closer to him—’about this woman. I didn’t make anything of it until you came round the other day, asking. Or Clive said you did. The people in here, well, they’re not as unreliable as one might think at first. So I did wonder.’

Clive was setting down their drinks. ‘He’s not missing persons, Myra; he’s CID. Homicides, that kind o’ thing.’

‘Oh, and a lot you know about ‘that kind o’ thing.’

‘

Clive shrugged and walked back to the bar.

‘Idiot,’ she murmured. ‘I heard the story from Marjorie Bathous—she’s the estate agent—who said the woman had never brought back the key.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.