The Libertines by Douglas Clark

Author:Douglas Clark [Clark, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Six

Green was looking secretive when he entered the barn in search of Masters. He glanced right and left suspiciously before making his way to where the Superintendent was speaking to James Gordon and Ronald Huckle.

“These two gentlemen,” said Masters, “were not here for Saturday’s game. They were latecomers, due to unavoidable business on Saturday morning.”

Green wasn’t really interested in this piece of news. He greeted the two men perfunctorily, murmured something about their being lucky to have alibis for the time of Larter’s death, and then said rather abruptly to Masters: “Can I have a private word?”

“Certainly. Will you excuse us, gentlemen?”

Most of the Libertines were still in the barn, standing about in groups, drinking. To some degree it was the herd instinct that kept them together in the face of an unknown threat. But as supper was to be late—fixed to be served after the annual meeting—the prospect of food was as much a factor in keeping them there as the presence of the police.

“Outside,” suggested Green, intimating that he didn’t want their conversation to be overheard. Masters nodded and accompanied him out into the still bright evening sunlight. They came to a halt in the middle of the hard standing, in the only narrow space left empty of the dozen or so parked cars and the Middleton caravan.

“I got the impression you were not too happy about Mrs Verity,” said Masters.

“I got the impression she was telling the truth but not the whole truth. I’m never very happy about short measures of anything—from shopkeepers, pub landlords or witnesses.”

Masters tapped his pipe out very gently on one well-polished shoe heel and then dispersed what fell from the bowl with his toe.

“You listening?” demanded Green.

“Listening and waiting. For what you’re so anxious to tell me. Your demeanour suggests it’s momentous.”

“How far have you got in there?”

“Difficult to say. There are scores of points I must think about. Minter, the team skipper, had a serious disagreement with Middleton. The building director, Frank Black, was incensed by Middleton’s insistence on referring to him as a bricklayer. Dunstable senior was up in arms over the insinuations about his son. Verity the same on account of his daughter. Young Verity had been treated roughly, too, and as far as I can make out, there was a conspiracy among the young people last Friday night to up-end the caravan.”

“Did they do it?”

“Mrs Middleton’s presence apparently saved her husband who, as far as I can gather, had put everybody’s back up at some time or another.”

“Everybody’s?”

“Not quite all. Gardner hadn’t fallen foul of him this year. Nor had Shapcott—probably because this is his first time here. Collyer and Lamb seemed slightly less bitter about him.”

“Anything else?”

“I was getting a pretty full picture of what has gone on since Friday night. Sudd, the doctor, seems to be having something of a busman’s holiday because there have been so many requiring his attention.”

“Oh? You mean some of the others might have been poisoned—less severely, like?”

“The thought occurred to me, so I pursued that line.

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