George drove her into the town next morning and parked the car outside the house nearest to the shop, the number twelve mentioned by the Superintendent. Dame Beatrice rang the bell and asked whether the milkman had called that morning, adding, with specious truth, that she had not seen him that day. The housewife, a kindly body with a strong local accent, stated that the milkman had left her herself a pint bottle, as usual, and that it was 'the right man on the round again, and not that silly boy who was always making mistakes.'
Had the woman any idea of the time of day?
'When he called? No, not to half an hour or so, I haven't, but he was in the road when I went out shopping at ten, and my milk was on the step when I came back about eleven.'
'Oh, thank you so much. I am sorry to have troubled you. No doubt they will be able to supply me with milk at the supermarket.'
'Anyway, you're welcome to come in and have a cup of tea, my dear. You must be desperate for one.'
Dame Beatrice went in and, over very strong tea and a home-baked scone, she and her hostess were soon deep in conversation. Dame Beatrice admitted to being a newcomer to the neighbourhood and, to avoid any reference to her present address, stated that she had spent a short time at Weston Pipers.
'You probably know it,' she said. 'It is a very large house in the next village and has been converted into flats.'
'I expect you left there on account of the murder.'
'Yes, chiefly that, but I also found it very expensive.'
'Did you know the party who was murdered?'
'I do not think anybody knew her. I am told that she kept very much to herself. In any case she was dead before I arrived.'
'The murderer must have known her, mustn't he?'
'Unless he was a burglar and killed her so that she should not scream and raise the alarm.'
'A burglar? Oh, well, in a rich place like Weston Pipers that might well be, but that couldn't be so with our murder, could it?'
'Our murder? (The subject had come up easily and early.) 'Oh, you mean the man who kept that little shop on the corner. No, I shouldn't think there was much worth stealing there.'
'A load of old rubbish, that's all. But he had other irons in the fire, so 'tis said.'
'I heard he used to work at the local cinema.'
'Oh, that was only very part-time. No, there used to be cars parked in this road after the shop was shut - big cars, some of them - and ladies in evening dress. We reckon he used to run a gambling place. The police came once or twice, but it seems they never found anything that shouldn't have been there, and there was never noise or anything to complain of. Perhaps he was licensed or something, and the police couldn't touch him.'
'The police have been there again, I suppose, if he was murdered.'
'Oh, yes.'
They discussed the gory details with relish.
'Somebody who owed him gambling money. I wouldn't wonder,' said the woman. 'Debts of honour they call them, and you can't be made to pay, I don't believe, but still no need to murder him, was there?'
'Did nobody but women in evening dress get out of the cars? Were there no escorts?'
'Now and again there would be gentlemen. There was one little tiny fellow I saw a couple of times. I only noticed him because he was so very small. Like a little doll he was. Of course it wasn't the same lot come every evening. It was as if they all had their special times. I suppose there wasn't much room for them all to come at once.'
'Were any of the women noticeably tall?'
'Tall? Oh, yes, a couple of them were, but the pretty one only came during the day. She was a good deal younger than the other. They never came together, not so far as I'm aware, and I haven't seen the older one for weeks.'
'Did you ever see a much older woman go that way in the mornings?'
'Well, not very recent I haven't. She used to come along some mornings - not every morning it wasn't - and I reckon she used to go to the shop to do a bit of cleaning. Hurrying and scurrying she used to be, and with her head down as though she didn't want to be noticed or to stop and speak to anybody. Her clothes was quite good, but sort of old-fashioned, as though she was poor but respectable and as if she'd known better days. Perhaps she hurried along because she felt that doing a cleaning job kind of demeaned her, though what I always say is that honest work is honest work and don't demean anybody, not if they was the richest in the land.'
'This, you say, was on certain mornings. You never saw her in the evenings, I suppose?'
'Oh, well, yes, but it would have been months ago. That's when I see her with the older one of them two tall ladies. They come together in one of the cars I mentioned, but I only see them once or twice, though there might have been times when I didn't see 'em. Them times I did see 'em, the old one was still dressed the same, that's how I recognised her. She was acting more like a chaperone, I suppose, though that do seem a
