“Oh, no, we shan’t keep you any longer,” Constance said at once.
“Just one more question,” Solomon said. “I don’t suppose you have ever received an anonymous letter?”
Mrs. Gimlet blinked in clear incomprehension. “A what?”
“An unsigned letter that might be insulting or threatening.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Mrs. Gimlet replied with some distaste, before the numbness drifted back across her eyes.
*
“I hated that,”Constance said intensely as Solomon drove the pony along the path from the farm.
“I know. And I doubt it will be any easier with her husband.”
“I don’t think she’s in any state to be bothered producing anonymous letters.”
“Two of them were sent before her daughter died,” Solomon pointed out.
Constance turned to stare at him. “Seriously? You thinkshesent them?”
“Not really. But it’s not impossible, is it? And then there’s her boy, angry and grieving.” He slowed the horse at the side of the hedge, and they gazed over to where the men were working. “We could make our way over there and interrupt them at work.”
“Or we could wait until Gimlet notices us and comes over for a more private conversation. Or I could attract his attention by bursting into song.”
“Or we could wave,” Solomon said, rising from the seat to do so.
It worked. One man saw him first and called to the other, and the second walked smartly along a narrow path between furrows.
“Good afternoon,” Solomon called amiably.
The farmer nodded curtly and came to a halt at the hedge that separated them. “What can I do for you?” It wasn’t rude, but nor was it encouraging.
“Mr. Gimlet? My name’s Grey,” Solomon said. “I’m looking into an odd matter for Dr. Chadwick.”
“What sort of a matter?”
“A sort of anonymous insult aimed at his wife.”
The farmer made a derisory puffing sound through his lips. “That’ll be women’s stuff, and he should know better than to get involved. Some nice church lady’ll be jealous of another’s flower arranging. What’s he involving you for?”
“Oh, a fresh pair of ears and eyes,” Solomon said vaguely.
“Two fresh pairs,” Gimlet said, his gaze flickering over Constance.
“As you say. I don’t suppose you have an idea who might have done such a thing?”
“I don’t even know what thing you’re talking about,” Gimlet retorted. “And if I did, I’d keep out of it.”
“What, even if someone insultedyourwife?”
Gimlet’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing,” Constance said. “Merely that a man rarely tolerates his wife’s being insulted.”
“I wouldn’t know. No one’d ever insult my Tilly, because she never gave ’em cause.”
“Do you think Mrs. Chadwick might have given someone cause?”
