Chapter 14 #2
“I do. We’ll call it two fifteen. Enderby seems to have left the Schooner at roughly the same time.”
“Can’t have,” Anstruther protested. “Sunday midday closing time is half past.”
“And Nancy’s busy with dinner for residents,” said his wife. “She can’t tend the bars too.”
“Enderby left the bars untended. I gather Sunday midday is a slow time, so presumably he felt he wouldn’t be missed.
At least, I assume he wouldn’t have walked out if customers were present.
A couple came in at twenty past and found no one there.
When they called for service, Mrs. Enderby discovered he was gone. ”
“Poor Nancy! That must have been the last straw.”
“She wasn’t happy,” Alec confirmed, “especially as he also wasn’t there to do his share of cleaning up, of course. I’m surprised you didn’t see him coming this way, Mr. Anstruther.”
“Even if I’d cycled into town, I might easily have missed him if I’d gone by the lane and him by the path.
But I didn’t go that way, as I told the inspector.
I turned left outside the front door and went by the back lane to Malborough.
I can show you on Baskin’s map. Or, come to think of it, we could just step out of the door and I’ll point it out. ”
“I may ask you to, later. Inspector Mallow had some difficulty explaining
your route on Puckle’s map of his district. Did you meet or see anyone on your way?”
“There was a motor-car passed me.”
“I don’t suppose you remember the number plate?”
“I had other things on my mind. Couldn’t even tell you the make—I don’t know much about ’em—but it was one of those little sports cars, two-seater, pale blue, I think, or grey.”
“That’s not much to go on, I’m afraid. Whereabouts were you when you saw it?”
He shrugged. “I don’t recall exactly. Nearly to Malborough, I reckon.”
“No one else who might have seen you? In Malborough, perhaps?”
“Not that I noticed. You don’t get many people wandering about the streets of a small country town in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.”
“No. Well, if it was a local car, we may be able to trace it.” Alec paused as Mrs. Anstruther set before him a brimming plate and a toast-rack. “Ah, thank you!”
Anstruther passed the butter. “If there’s nothing else, Mr. Fletcher, I’ll go fill the coal-scuttle.”
“Nothing else for the present. There will be more later, I’m afraid, but I want you to know you’re by no means the only person we’re investigating.”
“Thank heaven for small mercies,” Anstruther said sourly and went out with the empty scuttle.
Mrs. Anstruther sat down opposite Alec. “Did Mrs. Fletcher—Daisy—tell you?”
“She said you had some information for me.”
“It doesn’t seem right, talking about someone else’s trouble, when I’d have given anything to keep my own secret.”
“Do you know how people found out about you and Enderby?”
“I suppose someone saw him coming in here, though this is the last house in the village and he always came late at night, after closing time.”
“If such precautions failed, I doubt very much that the name you’re going to give me is any more secret. How did you discover it?”
“He told me,” she said bitterly. “George. ‘We’ve had a good time,’ he said, ’but all good things come to an end. Rita Stebbins is a common little piece but she doesn’t have your old-fashioned scruples so she’s more fun.’ There, now you know.”
“Rita Stebbins. Tom’s wife?”
“You know him?”
“He was one of the lifeboatmen who came to take off the body,” Alec said noncommittally. It was true, as far as it went, but what he remembered was Tom Stebbins losing to Peter Anstruther at skittles and getting his revenge by blowing the gaff on Cecily and Enderby.
Or did Stebbins have a double purpose? Could he have hoped for revenge for his wife’s unfaithfulness without risk to himself, by inciting Anstruther to attack Enderby?
Alec very much wanted a word with Thomas Stebbins.
Anstruther returned with the full coal-scuttle. Alec finished his last mouthful of breakfast, advised the couple to leave word at the parish hall if they went anywhere farther than into the village, and went out into the entrance hall. There he was waylaid by Belinda and Deva.
“Mr. Fletcher, may we explore the stream with Mr. Baskin this morning?”
“We’d much rather go with you, Daddy, but Mummy said you’re going to be busy. Because of the dead man. What a pity you found him!”
Much as he deplored his daughter’s casual attitude towards the violent death of a fellow human being, Alec could only be relieved that the girls were not shocked or frightened. “Yes, you may go with Mr. Baskin. I’m sorry I can’t go too. They’ve put me in charge of the investigation.”
“That’s because they know you’re the best detective,” said Bel, “but it’s not fair. You must make them give you another holiday instead.”
“I will. Now, if Mr. Baskin’s changed his mind, you’re not to make a fuss.”
“That’s what Mrs. Fletcher said,” sighed Deva. “Grown-ups shouldn’t say they’ll do something and then not do it.”
“Sometimes it can’t be helped. Believe me, I wouldn’t be off to work now if I had any choice in the matter!”