the newsreel… I entirely agree with what my husband says about it.
‘I didn’t see the — the man, but I’m quite certain that he was a stranger to me. The only Taylors we know are some people who keep a chemist’s shop…’
Two worthy people who had been pursuing their lawful occupations. They had the truth to tell and they were comfortable in the knowledge of it.
‘You sublet these premises from Mr Fuller, I believe?’
‘That’s right — and old Burge before him. I’ve been here twenty-seven years.’
‘You’re on good terms, I suppose?’
‘What do you mean by that exactly?’
‘Just a general enquiry.’
‘We’ve never had a quarrel yet.’
Gently hesitated, catching it again, that subtle essence of something between the lines. Blythely was staring unwinkingly at the street, what was almost a frown had appeared on the face of his wife.
‘By your standards, I suppose, Mr Fuller has rather lax principles?’
‘Nobody has ever heard me criticize my landlord.’
‘He drinks, doesn’t he, and gambles sometimes?’
‘I don’t prescribe rules for him, and I’ll let him know when he interferes with me.’
Oracular utterances, both of them, and pronounced with a degree of inflexible emphasis. Was it a warning to Mrs Blythely that this was the official line? She was compressing her lips as though keeping back an impatient comment.
‘You’re all local people, are you?’
‘We are. Fuller comes from Starmouth.’
‘Well, it’s the same county!’
‘Lynton’s sixty miles from Starmouth.’
‘And you’ve always got on well together?’
‘He’s a straight man of business.’
‘But personally, I mean.’
‘We aren’t close friends, but we’ve never come to blows.’
Gently turned to Mrs Blythely.
‘And you, you’re on good terms, too?’
‘But of course I am, Inspector!’
Yes, she was toeing the official line…
Gently suddenly felt tired of flogging a horse so patently dead. What did their little secrets matter, or even their skeletons, if they had any? Griffin was right, all along the line. He had cleared the way with commendable and faultless efficiency. Taylor was nothing to Lynton or Lynton to Taylor — one might as well face it, and stop annoying innocent people!
Wasn’t the mill on the main through road, and open for every kid to wander around?
‘You knew about the hopper of spoiled flour, didn’t you?’
It was his parting shot, and he could hear its irritability.
‘Ted told me about that. He heard some of the men talking. If Fuller had had his wits about him he would have spotted the diseased grain.’
‘What about the foreman?’
‘They were without one at the time.’
‘Do you think Blacker is a good appointment?’
Blythely’s face twisted into the only attempt at expression that Gently had witnessed.
‘He is a Godless loafer, and conversant with the ways of the Devil.’
‘Thank you, Mr Blythely, and forgive me for having detained you.’
He was not to get off so lightly, however. The fates seemed in a conspiracy to surfeit him with advocates of Lynton’s innocency.
As he stood pondering in the mill yard a green Bentley drew up and out of it stepped a person with an air of considerable self-importance. He came straight across to Gently, his gloved hand outstretched.
‘Chief Inspector Gently?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
‘My name is Geoffrey Pershore. I’ve just been talking to Superintendent Press. He told me that you were likely to be here, and I thought I should have a few words with you. I own this property, you understand, and can probably put you right about the characters of my tenants…’
Gently groaned in spirit, but was obliged to stand his ground. Pershore was a bigwig in Lynton, and the super wouldn’t thank Gently for hurting the gentleman’s self-esteem.
‘I expect you’ve come to the same conclusion as our men. This fellow was obviously murdered by his friends, who then hid the body in the mill. Fuller, I dare say, you are prepared to exonerate. Blythely I have known personally for twenty-five years…’
He was the true figure of a provincial ‘great man’, flanked by his Bentley and wearing expensive clothes which just missed being in taste. He would be in his middle fifties, perhaps, with a straight nose and a fleshy face flushed with good living. His blue eyes were watery and a little bloodshot. They had a habit of staring at you with sudden aggression, and then as suddenly swinging away again.
‘Fuller is an excellent judge of character — I wouldn’t seriously question a man he saw fit to employ. In addition to that, you must remember that I take an — ah — patriarchal interest in my investments. I would not allow anything to go on which had the merest breath of scandal attached to it. I have a reputation, Inspector… in confidence, I am expecting to be the mayor of Lynton next year.’
So that was the trouble, was it! Gently had to struggle to stop himself smiling. With the mayoralty in his grasp, Geoffrey Pershore had had the corpse of a racetrack crook planted in his moral mill…
‘You can see the delicacy of my position, Inspector. I am not asking you to scamp your duty — I am a better citizen than that, I hope! But in making statements to the press… that sort of thing. If you could make it clear that the business was purely fortuitous, I would be extremely grateful.
‘Any police charity in which you are interested, for example…’
It was little short of bribery. Gently really had to turn his head. In a moment, no doubt, he would be being promised letters of recommendation to his assistant commissioner and other such blameless favours…
‘You can throw no light on the affair yourself, sir?’
It was a wicked thrust, and the popping eyes of the mayor-presumptive showed that he felt the sting.
‘I… I — Good Lord, I wasn’t even in Lynton at the time!’
‘You have an alibi, have you?’
‘A — a — yes, I suppose I have — if that’s what you choose to call it! Thursday is my theatre night, and I was in Norchester. I arrived back at my house at about half past twelve — it is six miles out, on the Norchester Road. But honestly, Inspector-’
‘I wouldn’t want to scamp my duty.’
‘I was never at any time suggesting-!’
‘We like to clear up all the minor points, sir.’
Pershore goggled at him, his small mouth hanging half-open. He was obviously unused to being snubbed, even by the police; Gently felt almost sorry for the man’s fish-like helplessness.
The situation was saved by the emergence of Fuller from the side door of his office.
‘You’re wanted on the phone… somebody called Dutt is asking for you.’
Gently hastened into the office and picked up the receiver. He seemed not to notice that Fuller and his landlord were closely attending him, and exchanging glances.
‘Hullo, Dutt… what have you found?’
‘Everythink, sir!’ The cockney sergeant’s voice had the childlike ring of excitement it took on when he had made a good killing.
‘I found the place, sir — third flipping time of asking. It’s The Roebuck — that posh place opposite the Abbey Gardens. Been there twelve days they had, spending money like water, then they checked out in a hurry on the Friday after lunch. And this is the cream of it, sir. Taylor’s things are still in his room. They paid his bill in advance
