Part 20 (1/2)
”No witnesses,” went on Sloan hastily. ”No cars taken in for suspicious repairs anywhere in the county...”
”I don't know what we have a Traffic Division for,” grumbled Leeyes.
Sloan kept silent.
”What about Somerset House?”
”Still searching, sir.”
Leeyes grunted again. ”And the pensions people?”
”They've been on the phone. They say they're paying out a total disability pension to a Cyril Edgar Jenkins...”
”Oh?”
”Not him. This one was wounded on the Somme in July 1916.”
”That's not a lot of help.”
”No, sir.” He coughed. ”In view of the brief reappearance of Jenkins I've asked the War Office to turn up the Calles.h.i.+re Regiment records. His discharge papers would be a help.”
”So would his appearance,” said Leeyes briskly. ”Calleford haven't found him yet, I take it?”
”I rang them this morning,” said Sloan obliquely. ”They'd visited all the people called Jenkins in the city itself without finding anyone corresponding to either the photograph or the girl's description-but there's a big hinterland to Calleford. And it was their market day yesterday too. He might have come in to that-or to shop or to work.”
”Or to see the Minister,” suggested Leeyes sarcastically. ”What I don't like about it is the coincidence.”
”I suppose it is odd,” conceded Sloan. ”The one day the girl happens to go there she sees him.”
”She says she sees him,” snapped Leeyes.
”On the other hand he might be there every day. For all we know he is.”
”Get anywhere with the Garwells?” Superintendent Leeyes always changed his ground rather than be forced into a conclusion which might subsequently turn out to be incorrect. His subordinates rarely caught him out-even if they never realised why it was.
Sloan obediently told him how far he had got with the Garwells.
Leeyes sniffed. ”Funny, that.”
”Yes, sir. The General very nearly threw a fit and Mrs. Hibbs knew something. I'm sure of that.”
”What about Hibbs himself?”
”Didn't move a muscle. If the name meant anything to him, it didn't show in his face like it did in hers.”
”Is he putting the girl out?” said Leeyes hopefully. ”That might mean something.”
”No.” Sloan shook his head. ”He says she's a protected tenant but in any case he wouldn't.”
”Why not?”
”It's still a bit feudal out there, sir.”
”They had this sort of trouble in feudal times.”
”Gave me the impression, sir, that he felt a bit responsible for his tenants.”
”Impression be blowed,” retorted Leeyes vigorously. ”What we want to know is whether he was literally responsible for the girl. Biologically speaking.”
”Quite so,” murmured Sloan weakly.
”It's all very well for him to be hinting that he couldn't put her on the street because it wasn't expected of a man in his position but,” Leeyes said glaring, ”that's as good a way of concealing a real stake in her welfare as any.”
”Sort of taking a fatherly interest?” suggested Sloan sedulously.
The Superintendent snorted. ”This village patriarch of yours-what's his wife like?”
”Tall, what you might call a commanding presence.”
Leeyes looked interested. He felt he had one of those himself.
”She didn't,” said Sloan cautiously, ”strike me as the sort of woman to overlook even one wild oat.”
”There you are then.” He veered away from the subject of the Hibbs's as quickly as he had brought it up. ”What next?”
”The inquest is in an hour.” Sloan looked at his watch. ”And then a few inquiries about young Master Thorpe of s.h.i.+re Oak Farm.”
”Oh?” Leeyes's head came up like a hound just offered a new scent.
”He,” said Sloan meaningfully, ”doesn't care who she is. He just wants to marry her as soon as possible. That may only be love's young dream...”
”Ahah,” the Superintendent leered at Sloan. ”From what you've said she's a mettlesome girl.”
”On the other hand,” said Sloan repressively, ”it may not.”
The Rector of Larking and Mrs. Meyton and Bill Thorpe all went into Berebury with Henrietta for the inquest. It was to be held in the Town Hall and they met Felix Arbican, the solicitor, about half an hour beforehand in one of the numerous rooms leading off the main hall.
”I can't predict the outcome,” was the first thing he said to them after shaking hands gravely. ”You may get a verdict of death by misadventure. You may get an adjournment.”
”Oh, dear,” said Henrietta.
”The police may want more time to find the driver of the car...”
”And Cyril Jenkins.”
Arbican started. ”Who?”