Bloodhounds

'Two of them are middle-aged.'

'What matters to me is whether they could murder a man,' said Diamond, 'and a woman can crack a bloke over the head with a blunt instrument whether she's middle-aged or twenty. We had a case in Twerton before you joined the squad. Two old people, well over seventy, married fifty years, regularly coming to blows and ending up in casualty. In the end she clobbered him with a hammer because he threw away the TV Times. Killed him. I often think of that when I'm putting the papers in the bin.'

After a sandwich lunch, Diamond interviewed Milo Motion for the third time.

'Caught up on your sleep yet?'

Milo was temporarily installed in a bed-and-breakfast house opposite the police station in Manvers Street. He had come in to ask when he could expect to return to his floating home. The black beard accentuated the challenging tilt of his chin. Bushy was the word for it, Diamond decided. A family of small mammals could have found a habitat in that abundant growth.

'You can go back before the afternoon is out; I give you my word,' Diamond promised. 'It may not be restored to its former glory yet, because they took the carpet and one or two other items for forensic tests.'

'I simply want a change of clothes,' said Milo. 'I'm not proposing to sleep there after what happened.'

'Are you comfortable in the B and B?'

'Tolerably.'

'You don't have a friend who would put you up?'

He gave a prim click of the tongue. 'No.'

'Why don't you sit down?'

'Is it going to take as long as that?'

'A few things need clearing up,' said Diamond equably.

'If it's about the bloody padlock again…' Milo started to say.

'No, it's the Bloodhounds, sir. You were one of the founders, you told me. You should know everyone quite well.'

Guardedly, came the answer: 'That doesn't necessarily follow. I see most of them once a week, on Mondays. That hardly entitles me to speak of them with any authority.'

'But you've known Mrs. Wycherley since the beginning.'

'True.'

'And the other lady, Miss, em…'

'Chilmark?'

'Miss Chilmark. You've known her almost as long. You told us last night that there was some sort of incident involving Miss Chilmark. Something about a dog.'

Milo sighed. 'It seems a century ago. The dog belongs to Rupert Darby. He's bloody inconsiderate, is Rupert. Miss Chilmark doesn't care for the dog at all, and of course it always makes a beeline for her. If he left it at home, or kept it on the leash, we wouldn't have any trouble. Last night at the meeting Rupert came in late as usual, and Marlowe-that's the dog-'

'Did you say Marlowe?'

'Marlowe, yes. That's its name.'

'Funny name for a dog.'

'It's the name of Raymond Chandler's private eye. You remember The Big Sleep}'

'It's still a funny name for a dog.'

'Rupert told us why. You must have heard that Chandler quote: 'down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean…' Well, that dog adores a mean street.'

Diamond nodded. 'Go on. Tell us what this dog did that was so obnoxious.'

'It jumped up beside Miss Chilmark and threw her into a panic. She had some sort of attack of breathlessness that was only brought under control thanks to swift action by Jessica- Mrs. Shaw.'

'What kind of action?'

'She called for a paper bag. Sid produced one. His book was wrapped in it. Jessica held it against Miss Chilmark's face, and the attack subsided. That's all it was.'

'Sid had a book with him?'

'I just said so.'

'Why would he have a book with him? He didn't read things out, did he?'

'No, he was far too shy. I imagine it was for private reading.'

'Did you happen to notice the title?'

'Of cdurse. I'm not uninterested in books myself. It was The Three Coffins, by John Dickson Carr. Sid was an admirer of Dickson Carr's work.'

'Are you familiar with this book?'

'Extremely familiar, yes, but under the English title.'

'Isn't The Three Coffins English?'

'I should have said British. The Three Coffins was the title the book was known by in America. Publishers sometimes decide in their wisdom that a book will sell better over there with a different title. It's a blasted nuisance to collectors.'

'So what was the British title?'

'The Hollow Man.'

'Really? But that was the book you took to the meeting.'

'Yes, indeed. The first English edition, published by Hamish Hamilton in 1935. Unfortunately, my copy is without a wrapper, or it might be worth a few pounds.'

'Let's get this clear,' said Diamond. 'You and Sid Towers each took a copy of the same book to the meeting on Monday?'

'You make it sound suspicious,' said Milo, 'but it isn't at all. Far more suspicious things happened than that. The explanation is simple. At the previous meeting I announced to everyone that the next time we met, I would read the locked room chapter from The Hollow Man.'

Diamond mentally ticked one of the points he had wanted to check. Wigfull would be cockahoop. All the Bloodhounds who were present the previous week knew that Milo would bring his book to the meeting and open it at chapter seventeen. Any of them could have placed the stamp between the pages-any clever enough to find a way of doing it.

Milo was saying, 'I presume Sid brought along his copy to follow the text. In his quiet way he was quite an authority on Dickson Carr.'

'And so are you, apparently.'

Milo preened the beard, pleased by the compliment. 'I prefer to be thought of as a? Sherlockian, but, yes, I have a sneaking admiration for much of Carr's work. He made the impossible crime his own specialty. Wrote seventy crime novels, which isn't at all bad considering he was notoriously fond of the bottle and also led a complicated love life. And of course he found time to write a fine biography of Conan Doyle. He was quite an Anglophile until the Labour government was elected after the war. He couldn't abide socialism, so he went back to the States and only returned after Churchill was returned to power.'

'How does politics come into crime writing?'

'My dear superintendent, it's all about conservatism and affirming the social order, or was for almost a century.'

'The class system.'

Milo gave Diamond a sharp glance. 'However vile the crime, the reader can rest assured that order is restored by the end. Only in comparatively recent times have left-wing crime writers discovered ways of subverting the status quo. You're not a socialist, are you?'

'I'm a policeman,' said Diamond. 'We're neutral.'

Milo gave a hollow laugh. He was becoming confident.

Diamond said, 'Getting back to the incident with the dog-'

'You're going to ask me once again if I let go of the book in all the confusion. The answer is the same. I had it on my knees or in my hand throughout. No one could have tampered with it. No one.' Milo shook his head. 'Nothing like this has happened to me in years. Once in my youth I met a close-up magician, and he did remarkable things