Read Online Give a Corpse a Bad Name by Elizabeth Ferrars - Free Book Online Page A

she said: ‘I think it would have to be emptier than that to meet the case, wouldn’t it?’
    â€˜Yes, that it would,’ he said. ‘’Tis the way with these sorts o’ letters, you don’t expect to find anythin’ behind’n.” He held the flask out for Toby to replace, but it was George who took it from him, replacing it himself. ‘Can you give us any pointer at who might have written the letter?’ Eggbear went on.
    â€˜No, nothing with any foundation. There’s nothing to go on, is there? And one may know that a person has a grudge against one—’ She stopped. Then she smiled oddly and went on: ‘One may know that a person has a grudge against one without believing for a moment that it’d come to anonymous letter-writing. I should think this probably comes from some malicious person I’ve never even heard of. After all, the inquest made quite public the importance of a bottle or flask. And now’—they had arrived once more at the glass doors that led into the house—‘I was in the middle of some work when you arrived. If you don’t mind …’ And the glass doors closed behind her.
    They stood there for a moment, looking at the closed doors. Toby cocked an eyebrow at the sergeant.
    â€˜Work?’ he said. ‘What sort of work’d that be?’
    Eggbear shook his head.
    â€˜Washing stockings, maybe,’ George suggested.
    â€˜Don’t be a damn fool,’ said Toby, and spinning suddenly on his heel, set off down the drive.
    He walked in frowning silence. Eggbear and George walked a little way behind him, the space between Toby and the two of them steadily lengthening as Toby’s impatient strides outdistanced theirs. Near the gate he halted abruptly and waited for them to catch up.
    â€˜Anyway,’ he said, ‘where does her money come from?’
    â€˜Why, from her husband, I reckon,’ said Eggbear.
    â€˜What was he?’
    â€˜Couldn’t say. Couldn’t so much as say when he died. She was a widow when she come to live here.’
    Toby nodded and pushed open the gate.
    It was George who, as they arrived beside the sergeant’s car, said that he wanted to go for a walk to get up his appetite for dinner. He looked down at the ground as he said it and drew circles on the gravel with the point of his shoe. Toby, still frowning, gave him a stare. George did not look up, but carefully divided one of the circles he had drawn into segments.
    Toby let his hand drop from the door of the car. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘I’ll come too. See you later, Sam.’
    Looking Napoleonic in his Austin Seven, Eggbear drove off alone.
    They strolled a little way down the road. George was quietly whistling.
    â€˜Well, George, what’s on your mind?’
    George pulled a piece of grass out of the hedge and stuck it between his teeth. ‘That flask.’
    â€˜What about it?’
    â€˜I gave it a smell as I was putting it back.’
    â€˜And—’
    â€˜It smelt of whisky.’
    Toby gave a bark of laughter. But it broke off in the middle. ‘Did it, by God?’ His face looked suddenly eager. ‘You’re sure of it? No imagination? Whisky was probably the uppermost thought in your mind. It was in mine.’
    George shook his head. ‘Smelt quite strong,’ he said, tugging at the piece of grass in his mouth.
    Toby laughed again with a sharp ring of pleasure. ‘And it’s how long ago she said she had it filled last? After the big accident she talked about. Last December. Come on, George, we’re going back.’
    But George shook his head again, his jaws working slowly as he munched at the grass. ‘Don’t necessarily mean a thing, Tobe. You’ve got to remember the gardener.’
    â€˜It’s the gardener I want.’
    â€˜Oh!’ George threw the grass into the ditch, picked another piece and started towards