Chapter Sixteen #2
She made a face. “I don’t like Dr. Penhollow, I’ll give you that.
And I had a few palpitations when Charlie struck up a conversation with the man, worried he’d call him a murderer again.
They got a bit loud, but fortunately, they were civil.
I wasn’t particularly pleased to hear the doctor would be calling at our house the next morning, but that doesn’t mean I killed him. ”
“Of course not,” I said, as if the thought had never crossed my mind. “What made them decide to meet at the Stray Dog that evening instead?”
Nancy held out a hand to slow me down. “They didn’t decide to meet at the pub. Charlie went there for a pint, and when Penhollow walked in, Charlie thought he might as well talk to him then and there.”
“Would Dr. Penhollow have known that your husband would be going to the pub?” Hetty asked.
“Neither of us mentioned it to him, but it’s no secret Charlie stops in there a few times a week.”
I considered the situation. Charlie Rallison hadn’t spoken to Dr. Penhollow for months, and the last time he did was to call the doctor a murderer.
Then, after the play, Charlie approached the man and asked to meet with him.
Perhaps thinking an apology was coming, Dr. Penhollow was so eager, he took a chance that Charlie would be at the pub.
“Did your husband tell you about their conversation?” I asked Nancy.
“Charlie had more than one pint that evening.” Nancy compressed her lips. “He came home shortly after nine, feeling quite pleased with himself, and said he and the doctor had made their peace. A few minutes later, he was in bed, snoring. The storm didn’t even wake him.
“The next morning Sergeant Hewitt came by, asking if Charlie could lend a hand to help clear the roads to the coast,” she continued.
“That was about half past eight. Charlie left with the sergeant, and I didn’t give another thought to Penhollow coming by, which he didn’t.
Charlie should be back home tomorrow sometime, so you can ask him what they talked about, if you have a mind to. ”
I certainly did. I couldn’t believe I’d neglected to inquire about Dr. Penhollow’s actions the night before he died.
Particularly once we started considering poison as the killer’s weapon.
Since no one had mentioned this meeting, I’d just assumed he went home after the play.
Then I’d got caught up in everyone’s movements that morning.
“I do have one more question for you,” I told her. “Did you or your husband ever consult with Dr. Penhollow about any medical issues of your own?”
“Not since he killed Charlie’s mum,” she said.
“I never get sick, so I’ve never seen him professionally.
But Charlie runs the worsted mill. He used to call Dr. Penhollow in when they had accidents, so I guess he trusted him well enough.
Oh”—she held up a finger—“Charlie had a bad cut on the palm of his hand last year. He tried bandaging it but finally went to see Dr. Penhollow to stitch it up.”
“Did you ever pay the doctor for his services with something other than money?” I asked. “Food or some such?”
“It wasn’t a payment, but when he first started treating Charlie’s mum, we brought dinner over to their house.
She was feeling poorly, Maggie was taking care of her, and Charlie’s dad was busy wringing his hands.
The doctor had a bite to eat and complimented my preserves, so later we sent a couple of jars to his home.
It was more to thank him for helping Charlie’s mum. ”
“To thank him?” I repeated.
“At that time, we thought he was helping her. We didn’t know the medicine would kill her.”
The Stray Dog was relatively quiet when Hetty and I stopped in to find out what Agnes recalled about Charlie Rallison and Dr. Penhollow’s actions on the night of the play.
“The pub was pretty full once the play ended. Lots of people stopped in for supper or a pint.”
Agnes ran a cloth across the bar, then cast her gaze over the tables to see if any customers were in need of her. There were only a few patrons about, which was fortunate, since I hoped to hold the proprietress’s attention long enough for her to answer some questions.
“Do you recall seeing Dr. Penhollow or Charlie Rallison?”
“I did,” she said, pointing to a table right behind Hetty and me. “They were sitting right there.”
“Did they come in together?”
“Naw, Charlie had already finished his first pint by the time the doctor came in.” Agnes picked up a towel and began drying glasses. “Dr. Penhollow came up to the bar and asked for two of whatever Charlie was having. I poured them, handed them over, and he sat down at Charlie’s table.”
Interesting. “Did Charlie look pleased to see Dr. Penhollow?”
“Pleased?” Agnes shifted her gaze from the glass in her hand to me. “It was Dr. Penhollow. Most people went out of their way not to see him.” She returned her attention to the glass. “They were neighborly enough, though, now that you mention it. The ale might have helped.”
“I don’t suppose you heard their conversation?”
“I wouldn’t have much business if I listened in on private conversations, would I?” She gave me a long look. “I heard you’re investigating the doctor’s death, so I reckon you have a right to ask, but as I said, it was busy that night.”
“Understood,” I said. “Is there anything you did notice? How long they stayed? Did they order any food? Did anyone join them? Did they leave together?”
“No one joined them that I saw,” she said.
“It was after nine when they left. No food. Penhollow had just the one pint. Charlie had two more.” She paused.
“One thing to know about Charlie, he’s a happy drinker, so it was a surprise that when they left, Penhollow took hold of Charlie’s elbow, and Charlie shook it off.
Angry like. I guess he still holds a bit of a grudge.
” She leaned across the bar toward me. “At least he didn’t call the doctor a murderer this time. ”