Part 31 (1/2)
”Just one thing,” he repeated.
n.o.body took a lot of notice. Henrietta and Bill Thorpe were looking at each other as if for the very first time. Mrs. Meyton was counting cups. Constable Crosby seemed preoccupied with a large bruise that was coming up on his knuckle.
”What was that?” asked Mrs. Meyton with Christian kindness.
”That a routine post-mortem would establish the fact of Grace Jenkins's childlessness.”
”Otherwise?”
”Otherwise I doubt if we would have looked further than a Road Traffic Accident. We wouldn't have had any reason to...”
”Then what?” put in Bill Thorpe.
”Then nothing very much,” said Sloan. ”Inspector Harpe would have added it to his list of unsolved hit-and-runs and that would have been that. Miss Mantriot would...”
Henrietta looked quite startled. ”No one's ever called me that before.”
Sloan smiled and continued. ”Miss Mantriot would have gone back to university none the wiser. She's twenty-one next month. The only likely occasion for her to need a birth certificate after that would be for a pa.s.sport.”
Bill Thorpe nodded. ”And if it wasn't forthcoming, she wouldn't even know where to begin to look.”
”Exactly.”
”Hamstrung,” said Bill Thorpe expressively.
”But,” said Henrietta, ”what about her telling me she had been a Miss Wright before she married?”
Sloan's expression relaxed a little. ”I never met Grace Jenmiss, but I've-well-come to respect her quite a bit in the last week. I think she had what you might call an ironic sense of humour. This Wright business...”
”Yes?”
”I expect you've all heard the expression about Mr. Right coming along.”
Henrietta coloured. ”Yes.”
”Me,” said Bill Thorpe brightly.
”Perhaps,” said Sloan. ”In her case I think when she had to choose a maiden name so to speak-she chose Wright in reverse.”
”Well done, Grace Jenkins,” said Mr. Meyton.
”That's what I think too, sir,” said Sloan. ”The same thing applies in a way with the Hocklington-Garwells who had us running round in circles for a bit.”
”What about it?”
”When she had to choose the name of a family she'd worked for-you know the sort of questions children ask, and she couldn't very well say Mantriot-I think she put tothe names of two people involved in an old Calles.h.i.+re scandal.”
”Hocklington and Garwell?”
”That's right. I gather it was a pretty well-known affair in the county in the old days.”
”That's how Mrs. Hibbs knew about it!” said Crosby suddenly.
”I didn't know you'd noticed,” said his superior kindly, ”but you're quite right.”
”But it had nothing to do with the case at all?” said the Rector, anxious to get at least one thing quite clear.
”Nothing,” said Sloan.
”So there was a reason why she was older than I thought,” said Henrietta.
Sloan nodded. ”And for her having her hair dyed and for her not liking having her photograph taken.”
”And for Cyril Jenkins having to be killed,” said Bill Thorpe logically.
”He was her brother. And, of course, he knew the whole story. As far as Grace Jenkins was concerned there was no reason why he shouldn't.”
”So he had to die,” concluded Mr. Meyton.
”Once I'd seen him,” cried Henrietta. ”He was quite safe until then.”
”Not really, miss. You see, he would have known about your going to be told the truth when you were twenty-one. He'd have smelt a rat about his sister's death before very long.” He paused. ”That's what put James Hibbs in the clear for once and for all.”
”What did?”