fun.’
‘For you.’
‘But, in a very real sense, for you too. And we need to show them that they can’t scare us.’
‘I said to Henry I wanted nothing more to do with it.’
‘You are allowed to change your mind. Tell him you’ve now got me on the case. That will cheer him up. Tell him that adversity only stiffens your resolve or some crap like that. He’ll respect you and give you an extra couple of column inches. I’ll keep the note for the moment, if I may – I might get further inspiration or at least some innocent amusement. Now, let’s go and take a look at that new house of yours. I’d like to sneer at your curtains before I go back to London. Ten pounds says you’ve got pelmets in the sitting room – or do you refer to it as the lounge?’
It was early evening before I had a chance to phone Henry. He answered at once, almost as if he had been waiting for my call.
‘I’m back on the case,’ I said.
‘I thought you weren’t interested?’
‘Something has happened,’ I said. ‘There’s somebody trying to frighten me off helping you. I’m not going to let them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I had a hand-delivered letter first thing this morning. It informed me that I risked becoming the second corpse in the story unless I took no further part in your case.’
‘Second corpse?’
‘I agree that implies there’s a first corpse out there somewhere, but it doesn’t follow
you
killed the person concerned, still less that it is Crispin.’
‘That’s what you think?’
Well, Elsie felt it ought to be Crispin, but I decided not to give Henry the other key piece of information: that my literary agent was also on the case in a low-risk capacity. I didn’t feel it would cheer him up as much as she supposed.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s what I think. I don’t believe you’ve killed anyone.’
‘But the person who wrote the note reckons I have? Who are they, though?’
‘I suppose you didn’t tell anyone else that you’d asked me to look into things?’ I asked.
‘Certainly not. I don’t want anyone except you to know for the moment.’
‘Well, somebody has clearly managed to find out,’ Isaid. ‘And, whoever it is, he or she actually seems to know more about it than we do – if somebody really has been killed.’
‘Look,’ said Henry, dismissing the issue of my death, ‘I may have remembered something else. I told you about that church? Well, I think it may have been in a village called Didsbury Common or Dilling Green or something.’
I thought for a bit. ‘Didling Green?’ I asked. ‘That’s a real place, unlike the other two you mentioned.’
‘Could be. It’s just, whenever I try to recall that picture – the church and the trees – a name like that comes into my head. Did-something. There’s another image I can’t get out of my head too – a lonely track leading up into the hills. It’s tarmac at first, then just mud and rocks. There are hedges on either side and a smell of damp and decay.’
‘A track? Leading from Didling Green up onto the Downs?’
‘It could be. Do you know Didling Green then?’
‘It’s right at the foot of the Downs. I’m sure there’s a road more or less as you describe it. I can’t swear to the damp and decay bit, but the rest sounds right.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ll drive over there and check it out,’ I said. Then, following Elsie’s advice, I added: ‘Nobody’s going to frighten me off this.’
I waited for him to say something that suggested I had gained his respect.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ said Henry. ‘I don’t want to put you at any risk. Not at your age.’
‘I’m scarcely senile,’ I said. ‘I’m as capable as anyone else of staying out of trouble.’
‘Well, that’s pretty courageous of you,’ said Henry. ‘Carrying on with the case, I mean. At any age.’
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘I can handle it.’
Because all the time I was thinking: no serious death threat
‘For you.’
‘But, in a very real sense, for you too. And we need to show them that they can’t scare us.’
‘I said to Henry I wanted nothing more to do with it.’
‘You are allowed to change your mind. Tell him you’ve now got me on the case. That will cheer him up. Tell him that adversity only stiffens your resolve or some crap like that. He’ll respect you and give you an extra couple of column inches. I’ll keep the note for the moment, if I may – I might get further inspiration or at least some innocent amusement. Now, let’s go and take a look at that new house of yours. I’d like to sneer at your curtains before I go back to London. Ten pounds says you’ve got pelmets in the sitting room – or do you refer to it as the lounge?’
It was early evening before I had a chance to phone Henry. He answered at once, almost as if he had been waiting for my call.
‘I’m back on the case,’ I said.
‘I thought you weren’t interested?’
‘Something has happened,’ I said. ‘There’s somebody trying to frighten me off helping you. I’m not going to let them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I had a hand-delivered letter first thing this morning. It informed me that I risked becoming the second corpse in the story unless I took no further part in your case.’
‘Second corpse?’
‘I agree that implies there’s a first corpse out there somewhere, but it doesn’t follow
you
killed the person concerned, still less that it is Crispin.’
‘That’s what you think?’
Well, Elsie felt it ought to be Crispin, but I decided not to give Henry the other key piece of information: that my literary agent was also on the case in a low-risk capacity. I didn’t feel it would cheer him up as much as she supposed.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s what I think. I don’t believe you’ve killed anyone.’
‘But the person who wrote the note reckons I have? Who are they, though?’
‘I suppose you didn’t tell anyone else that you’d asked me to look into things?’ I asked.
‘Certainly not. I don’t want anyone except you to know for the moment.’
‘Well, somebody has clearly managed to find out,’ Isaid. ‘And, whoever it is, he or she actually seems to know more about it than we do – if somebody really has been killed.’
‘Look,’ said Henry, dismissing the issue of my death, ‘I may have remembered something else. I told you about that church? Well, I think it may have been in a village called Didsbury Common or Dilling Green or something.’
I thought for a bit. ‘Didling Green?’ I asked. ‘That’s a real place, unlike the other two you mentioned.’
‘Could be. It’s just, whenever I try to recall that picture – the church and the trees – a name like that comes into my head. Did-something. There’s another image I can’t get out of my head too – a lonely track leading up into the hills. It’s tarmac at first, then just mud and rocks. There are hedges on either side and a smell of damp and decay.’
‘A track? Leading from Didling Green up onto the Downs?’
‘It could be. Do you know Didling Green then?’
‘It’s right at the foot of the Downs. I’m sure there’s a road more or less as you describe it. I can’t swear to the damp and decay bit, but the rest sounds right.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’ll drive over there and check it out,’ I said. Then, following Elsie’s advice, I added: ‘Nobody’s going to frighten me off this.’
I waited for him to say something that suggested I had gained his respect.
‘Maybe you shouldn’t,’ said Henry. ‘I don’t want to put you at any risk. Not at your age.’
‘I’m scarcely senile,’ I said. ‘I’m as capable as anyone else of staying out of trouble.’
‘Well, that’s pretty courageous of you,’ said Henry. ‘Carrying on with the case, I mean. At any age.’
‘Not really,’ I said. ‘I can handle it.’
Because all the time I was thinking: no serious death threat
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