Bloodhounds

'It's clear, isn't it? Where was Mrs. Wycherley?'

'She wasn't standing at all. She was already seated inside the circle. We arrange the chairs in a circle.'

'You do this yourselves?'

'Yes, whoever gets there first. I helped Mr. Motion the previous Monday, when we happened to be the first there. On this occasion he was a little late, held up by the traffic. He drives, you know, from Limpley Stoke, where the boat is.'

'So Sid and Polly Wycherley must have got the room ready this week?'

'I presume so. I wasn't there early enough to see.'

'Polly's the chairman, isn't she?'

'She does her best,' said Miss Chilmark, examining the back of her hand.

'You sound as if you don't have complete confidence.'

'Oh, I'm old-fashioned enough to expect a chairman to lead the discussion. On this occasion I took some initiative myself, and it was generally welcomed, I may say.'

'How did that come about?'

'Well, at the start of the meeting-this was before the whole thing descended into chaos-I suggested that we apply our experience of detective stories to a discussion of the real crime that happened in our own city-the theft of that stamp from the Postal Museum.'

Diamond glanced toward Julie and then back to Miss Chilmark. 'Did you, now? What made you think of that?'

'As soon as I read the report in the Chronicle I knew it was right up our street. For once we had the chance to test our wits on a real unsolved crime.'

'Can you remember what was said?'

'I have a very clear recollection, yes. First, we addressed the question of why it was done, stealing such a well-known stamp. Mrs. Shaw, the lady from the Walsingham Gallery, who isn't backward in putting across her opinions, gave us the theory that it was stolen at the behest of some fanatical collector. Miss Miller, who joined only the previous week, thought it was more likely that a ransom would be demanded. She even had a theory as to how the money could be collected through a secret bank account in Switzerland. Then they turned to me, and I moved the debate on to the far more intriguing question of the riddles that were sent by the thief.'

'Ah, the riddles.'

'I had copies with me. We quickly decided that it would be sensible to apply our minds to the latest one.'

' 'Whither Victoria and with whom,' ' chanted Julie.

'Yes.'

'And did anyone throw any light on it?' asked Diamond.

A look of self-satisfaction passed fleetingly over Miss Chilmark's face. 'I flatter myself that I did. As a graduate in English literature I was able to demonstrate that the two riddles had textual similarities that suggested they were composed by the same person-the archaisms such as the use of 'thee' in the one case and 'whither' in the other, for example.'

'Very astute,' said Diamond. 'And what was your answer to the riddle?'

'Oh, we didn't get that far,' said Miss Chilmark. 'This was the point when that degenerate chose to appear, and chaos ensued.'

'You're speaking of Rupert Darby now. This incident.'

'Only the latest in a series of incidents,' said Miss Chilmark, going pink at the memory. 'He behaves deplorably. He has from the beginning. One looks to the Chair for discipline, or at least some effort to maintain order. She doesn't check him. One week, without so much as a word of warning, he arrived with the dog-a savage brute-and expected us to ignore it. A large, untrained, malodorous, terrifying dog. Mrs. Wycherley did nothing about it, in spite of my protests. Last week it came into the circle and shook its coat, drenching us all and ruining my clothes. This week it attacked me.'

'Bit you?'

'I'm sure it meant to bite. They had to drag it off me. No wonder I had difficulty breathing.'

Julie, who kept two large dogs of her own, couldn't stop herself saying, 'If it meant to bite you, I'm sure it would have. They don't mess about.'

Diamond said quickly, 'So you think Mr. Darby brings the dog to cause you distress?'

'I'm certain of it.'

'Some personal grudge?'

'I've given him no cause for one.'

'He lives quite close, doesn't he, across the street in Hay Hill?'

Miss Chilmark drew herself up in the armchair. 'What are you suggesting now?'

'I'm not suggesting anything, ma'am. I'm stating a fact. You're almost neighbors.'

'The man lives in squalor,' she said with distaste.

'You've visited him?'

'God forbid! I wouldn't need to. The state of the windows. The curtains. I try not to look when I am compelled to walk past.'

'Considering the way you feel about this man, I'm surprised you haven't given up the Bloodhounds. It can't be any pleasure.'

Her lips contracted into a tight, orange-colored knot. 'Why should I allow him to hound me-literally hound me- out of an activity I've enjoyed for two years or more? Tell me that.'

The defiance was admirable, the English gentlewoman at her finest. She was at one with the steely-featured ancestors whose portraits lined the walls.

'Forgive me, I'm still trying to understand the appeal of this club,' said Diamond. 'From all I've heard, you have very little in common except that you all read detective stories.'

'Isn't that enough? People don't have to be like peas in a pod to function as a club. We speak of books we can recommend. Tastes differ, of course, and one doesn't have to agree with everything that is said, but discussion can be stimulating. Some of them will never break out of Agatha Christie and Dorothy Sayers. You can see that. Personally I favor a more demanding writer. I don't suppose you are familiar with Eco.'

Diamond had heard of the so-called ecowarriors, who occupied the trees at Swainswick when the bypass was under construction, and he doubted if they would have Miss Chilmark's seal of approval, so he said, 'No, ma'am, I can't say it's familiar.'

'He. Eco is the name of an author.'

Julie looked equally unwilling to commit herself.

'Umberto Eco,' Miss Chilmark said, rolling the r and chanting her syllables like a native Italian, 'the greatest of modern writers. To describe him as a crime writer would be to belittle the man, regardless that The Name of the Rose is, beyond question, the finest detective story ever written.'

'I saw it,' said Julie. 'With Sean Connery.'

Witheringly Miss Chilmark said, 'I wasn't speaking of the film.'

'It was good,' said Julie.

'I doubt it. How could any film live up to the achievement of such an intricate and intelligent book?'

Julie retorted evenly, 'So what is your opinion of Foucault'sPendulum?'

It was a delicious moment, the more enjoyable for being so unexpected. It didn't matter that Diamond had no idea who Foucault was or why his pendulum was of interest. The question hit Miss Chilmark like a cannonball.

She became inarticulate. 'I, em, I can't say that I, em, that is to say, got on with it too well.'

Before she could repair her defenses, Diamond said, 'Do you drive?'

'You mean a car?'

'Well, I don't see you on a motorbike.'

'I own a small car, yes. A Montego.'

'Where do you keep it?'

'I rent a garage in Lansdown Mews.'

'The color?'