'Oh, yes. Her too.'
I did the necessary and notched an intrepid forty-five on the trunk road back. The Armstrong—was it still an Armstrong?— didn't cough once and went like a bird.
I rolled up to George Field's house in style.
I was beginning to realize there was a lopsided distribution of wealth in the Field family. On the one hand was Eric, evidently wealthy, complete with mansion, eighty acres of manicured grass, and gardeners touching forelocks to the boss and his lady as they strolled out for a morning row on the two-acre pond. On the other was George, here in a two-bedroom farce on a small estate, with bicycles and wrecks of lawn mowers and old bits of wood bulging the garage. His little Ford, clean as a new pin, was parked in a drive barely long enough for it. Despite all this, he had dashed out a handful of notes, hired me as a would-be sleuth because of my knack of sniffing out antiques, and promised all those lovely D's for what could be a pipe dream.
He came to the door agog for news. It was obviously a major disappointment to him when I told him I'd only called to give him a progress report. We went into the living room and he asked his wife, a dumpier female version of himself, to bring some coffee. I told him some of the events but was careful when I said I'd visited Muriel.
'I'm so glad she's better now,' Mrs. Field said. 'She went through a very bad patch.'
'She's still rather nervous,' I agreed, setting her clucking at the tribulations all about. 'Was she always?'
It seemed she was, but much worse since poor Eric's sudden end. I told George of my find in the apothecary box, mentally absolving myself of the payment I'd promised Sheila the day before.
'Do you recognize it?' I handed it over and he put on glasses.
'I wouldn't,' he said. 'I never touched the weapons, nor the screwdrivers. I wasn't much interested, as I said before.'
I ran down the main events of the past couple of days for him and remembered to ask him if he had any details about the sale of Eric's stuff at the auctioneers, but without luck.
'It seems the cased weapons might have come from near a bird sanctuary near a coastal resort.'
'There's a nice holiday place near Fellows Nab,' Mrs. Field said. 'Too many caravans there now, though. That's in Norfolk.'
Mrs. Ellison's antique shop was a few miles from Fellows Nab. I'd seen the sign.
'You never saw the wrapping?' I asked George.
'No. You have to realize I only saw him and Muriel once a week on average, and he was always showing me this and that.'
'You should have taken more notice, George,' his wife said.
'Yes, dear,' he said with infinite patience. I'd have to watch myself with Sheila, I thought uneasily, if this is marriage.
'I'm making a systematic study of every possible flinter transaction during the past two years.' I was eager to show I was really trying. 'It'll take a little time, though.'
'But if you found out where they did come from, what then?' He was a shrewd nut.
'I don't honestly know,' I said as calmly as I could. 'But what else is there? They've vanished. The police are —'
'They've given it up,' Mrs. Field said, lips thinned with disapproval. 'I always said they would, didn't I, George?'
'I suppose what I'll do is find whoever sold them to your brother and ask who else knew where they were.'
'Well, you know best, of course,' he said, worried. 'But poor Eric was a real talker. He wasn't the sort of person to conceal any of his finds in the antique world. He loved company and used to have his friends in.'
'Friends?' I interrupted. 'Collectors?'
'Oh, yes. And dealers.'
'And dealers,' Mrs. Field echoed. 'Ever so many people thought highly of Eric's opinion. Very knowledgeable, he was, about practically everything. Old furniture as well.'
'So it's probable a lot of people may have seen the Durs?'
'For certain.'
I rose and thanked them. George came with me to the door.
'Look,' I began hesitantly. 'Please don't think I'm rude, Mr. Field, but—'
'Yes?'
'Well…'
Understanding began to dawn in his eyes. 'You're wondering where I can get so much money from, Lovejoy,' he observed with a smile.
'It's a lot of money,' I said in embarrassment.
'Oh, I'm a careful man. Only thing I've ever done is run a shoe shop, and I didn't make good like Eric did in the property business.' He was quite unabashed at my rudeness. 'I have some savings, insurance. And the mortgage on the house is almost paid. I could take out a new one. You needn't be afraid the money would be forthcoming. After all, the Judas guns are the only real evidence, aren't they? If we can buy them back from whoever the… murderer… sold them to, they'll be proof, won't they?'
I listened as he rambled on about them for a moment, and chose my words with care.
