“How am I supposed to know?”Francis shook his head.“I have no idea, Pippa.I don’t imagine so.But it could be the baker’s wife, or the greengrocer’s wife, or anyone else’s wife, for that matter.Or perhaps Doctor Meadows did something at some point—medically, don’t you know—that upset someone.Someone’s child caught the measles and died, and the parents still aren’t over it.”
“But that happens,” I said.“Not usually, I know; I had the measles, and I was fine?—”
Francis nodded.“We all had the measles and were fine.But sometimes someone isn’t fine.And if someone’s child died from the measles—or scarlet fever, or an allergy to bees—and the parents blamed Doctor Meadows…”
Yes, of course.And it might not have been a child at all, it might have been a woman in childbirth or a man with an injury of some sort.When a person is unhinged enough to commit murder, what made them decide to in the first place might not make sense to the rest of us.
Francis nodded when I said as much.“I’m sure Constable Daniels will look into Doctor Meadows’s patients.”
“You don’t think he’ll simply arrest me for murder?”
Especially if Uncle Harold pushed for it?Which he might do, if he thought it was important enough to get me out of the way before Crispin’s wedding to Laetitia.He did have the Chief Constable’s ear.
“If he tries, I’ll remind him that there are other avenues of investigation,” Francis said.“Besides, I wouldn’t be surprised if we see Scotland Yard soon.Kit rang up Tommy before we motored down here.”
“Rang up— Tom Gardiner, do you mean?Is he coming?”
“When does he not,” Francis wanted to know, “when Kit phones?”
Fair point.“Scotland Yard isn’t taking over the case, though.Are they?”
“I have no idea,” Francis said cheerfully.“I can’t imagine that they would do.It isn’t particularly exciting, is it?Village doctor brained with doorstop?The only thing that makes it interesting, is that it might be connected to Morrison’s murder, and perhaps Hughes’s murder.But those are in two different jurisdictions, and Hughes’s murder was months ago…”
I nodded.“For all I know, they’ve already arrested someone for that.I don’t know that they haven’t.It might simply have been a robbery, the way that they thought.”
“And Morrison might have gotten on the wrong side of a Primitive Methodist,” Francis agreed, “while the butcher or baker did for Doctor Meadows.”
“Precisely.Although I imagine that Tom might know about Hughes, at least.She had his card in her handbag—that’s why the Bristol detectives rang him up in the first place—and he probably asked to be keptà jour.If they arrested someone, they might have let him know.”
“We can ask him when he gets here,” Francis said, “which he’ll likely do in the next few hours.”
“That reminds me.Constable Daniels said that I can’t leave.I have to stay for the inquest.Christopher too, I assume.”
“We thought as much,” Francis nodded.“Our second inquest in a week.Exciting times.”
After a moment, he added, “Crispin will be delighted.”
“His father won’t be.”Nor would Laetitia.Or her mother.
“That’s all right,” Francis said.“He won’t kick you out.He can’t really kick us out, and that means you’re staying, too.”
I supposed it did.“What a muddle this is.”
“You ought to be used to it by now,” Francis said.“It’s hardly your first murder case, is it?”
No, of course it wasn’t.But the question was clearly rhetorical, so I didn’t answer it, just let him go on.
“It’ll be all right, Pipsqueak.Nothing we haven’t dealt with before.And nothing to do with us, except peripherally.”
He turned the key in the ignition of the Crossley.“Here’s Kit now.Let’s get you back to the Hall and tell Uncle Harold the good news.”
“Sounds lovely,” I said.
Meanwhile, Christopher had approached the vehicle.“Not so fast, Francis.Constable Daniels wants a word with you, too.”
“With me?Why?”But he disengaged the motor and dropped the key in his pocket.
“No idea,” Christopher said as he opened the passenger door.“He asked whether I was alone.When I said no, that you were here too, he asked me to send you in.”
