‘After?’ Clement repeated, presumably slightly confused, but not by so much as a twitch of his bushy eyebrows, showing it.
‘Yes, Dr Ryder,’ the policeman said, deciding he might just as well leap in with both feet and get it over with. ‘I’m sure you’re aware of the murder of Iris Carmody in Middle Fenton nearly two weeks ago. The May Queen murder they’re calling it in the press.’
‘Yes, I read the papers,’ Clement said with an amused twist of his lips. ‘And it struck me that the killer, in posing the poor girl’s body as he’d done, might have been trying to make some kind of a point. Perhaps mocking the girl, and her role as “Queen” of the May perhaps? It wasn’t my case though. One of my colleagues conducted the inquest, which I believe was adjourned immediately so that the police might have time to gather more evidence?’
‘That’s right. We – that is, my officers and myself – have been tasked with investigating that case. But as you’ll find out Monday, if you haven’t already read about it in the files, young David Finch was Iris Carmody’s boyfriend.’
Clement merely grunted.
‘Naturally, now the boy’s dead – and in such circumstances,’ Harry continued grimly, ‘rumours are flying around, both in the village and in the press, that the boy killed Iris and then killed himself in a fit of remorse.’
Clement sighed. ‘You can’t stop people speculating ahead of the evidence, Inspector,’ he pointed out wearily. ‘But they will keep on doing it!’
‘Don’t I know it!’ the Inspector agreed bitterly. ‘As it happens, so far we’ve found no evidence suggesting that David Finch is the killer. That, of course, may change,’ he felt obliged to add. So far, they’d found very little evidence at all, but he was not about to say so. Apart from the fact that the medical examiner had declared that the May Queen had been manually strangled and hadn’t been a virgin, they knew depressingly little more now than they did on the morning she had been found bound to the village maypole.
‘Naturally, the boy’s father doesn’t believe his son either killed his girlfriend, or himself,’ Jennings swept on. ‘And he’s asked me, with the Chief Constable’s blessing, to ask you, once the inquest is over, to … er … further investigate David’s case. Regardless of the verdict.’
For a moment, as Harry Jennings sat tensely waiting for the storm to break over his head, he mentally tossed a coin in his mind as to how the old vulture would react.
On the one hand, he couldn’t be happy to be told that, no matter what his jury found in the David Finch case, the police wouldn’t be satisfied with it. That would dent his pride and vanity mightily, for the former surgeon liked to think his word was law!
On the other hand, Harry knew how much the old man liked to play the investigator – and with some success, he had to admit, albeit grudgingly. And he rather thought that being actually asked for once to stick his nose into a ripe and juicy case would prove to be too irresistible for him to resist.
Of course, for once, it suited Inspector Jennings to have the likes of Dr Ryder poking his nose into the case. Because if the wily old so-and-so did uncover evidence that pointed towards David Finch being the killer, Harry’s superior officers could hardly blame Inspector Harry Jennings for it! And if anyone was to take the flack for ruining Superintendent Finch’s life and career, he was happy to see Clement Ryder do so.
For a second, the younger man watched, much amused, as the silent war of fury and intrigue played out in the older man’s wonderful brain. It was almost as if he could hear the cogs turning.
Taking advantage of the older man’s silence, he decided he might as well take the opportunity to lay down some ground rules. ‘Of course, this investigation has to be, like the other times, strictly unofficial. You’ll have to be careful not to let the press guess what you’re up to, and on no account are you to talk to them.’
Clement smiled sourly. ‘I have no love of the gutter press, Inspector, as you should know.’
Harry nodded. At least, on this point, he and the old vulture were as one. ‘Bloody reporters are making my life miserable,’ he unbended enough to admit. ‘I daresay you saw the headlines. I think “Tragedy of murdered May Queen” was the least sensational of them. What the girl’s poor parents are going through …’
He paused, sighed, then shook his head. ‘And that’s another thing. You’re not to start straying into my murder case. The death of Iris Carmody is definitely not in your remit, understand?’ he said aggressively. ‘You’re only to see what you can find out about David Finch. His state of mind and so on. Anything that could help his family understand what happened. And if you discover anything that … well, that suggests that he did commit suicide, or did have anything to do with Iris’s murder, then I expect you to bring it straight to me. I hope that is clearly understood?’
Dr Ryder wore a bleak expression. ‘I haven’t said I’d do it yet, Inspector. And we haven’t even had the inquest yet. Aren’t we jumping the gun a little?’
The Inspector smiled wryly. For all his token resistance, they both knew that old vulture wouldn’t be able to resist poking around.
‘It might be a bit premature, yes,’ Harry conceded, ‘but I came to you now, as opposed to after the inquest, because I wanted to give you advance warning, so that you’d have the chance to pay especially close attention to the evidence given in court tomorrow,’
