Read Online Jack on the Gallows Tree by Leo Bruce - Free Book Online Page B

mean?”
    â€œThat’s it.”
    â€œOr some people call them Easter lilies because they come early?”
    â€œDo they? I daresay. Do you grow them?”
    â€œNo. I can’t say I do,” said Mrs Goggs regretfully. “She’d got some in her hands, hadn’t she? So they told me. No. My husband won’t have anything like that. He says it makes him think of funerals. Well, it does, doesn’t it? And the smell. Still there you are.”
    This time Carolus reached the car.
    â€œThe Star at Lilbourne I take it?” said Rupert. “I might have known. There’s always a pub in your cases. I believe you like all that phony darts-with-the-locals stuff. Personally, it makes me sick to my stomach. Hacking jackets and pipes and patronizing shove ha’penny.”
    â€œI just want some information,” said Carolus mildly. “And you’ve heard where we shall find Thickett.”
    â€œIf he turns out to be a picturesque gaffer with an accent like a BBC rustic and a clay pipe, I shall walk straight out.”
    But Thickett was not like that. He was ginger-haired and had a fine glossy moustache. He sat bolt upright at a white scrubbed table in the clean little public bar of the Star, and eyed Carolus and Rupert with solemn curiosity. The landlord, a jolly little man, served them with bitter and seemed about to start a cheerful conversation when Carolus turned to the roadmender.
    â€œMr Thickett?”
    â€œThat’s my name.”
    â€œMine’s Deene. I’m trying to find out something about the death of Miss Carew.”
    Mr Thickett sat still, eyeing Carolus without hostility but as though he needed to hear more before speaking.
    â€œI’m acting for her cousin, Miss Tissot.”
    Still there was no response from Thickett.
    â€œI understand you found the body?”
    â€œIn my humble calling,” pronounced Mr Thickett with no humility in his manner, “I am accustomed to finding all sorts of things left by the roadside.”
    â€œNot corpses, surely?” put in Rupert Priggley.
    â€œNot necessarily corpses,” agreed Mr Thickett, “but all sorts of things.”
    â€œThe body of Miss Carew was not by the roadside, was it?”
    â€œNo,” conceded Thickett, “because it had been dragged into the quarry. Otherwise it would have been.”
    â€œThink so?”
    â€œStands to reason. Where were the shoes they found? Where was the hat?”
    â€œWhat hat?”
    Thickett eyed him triumphantly.
    â€œOh you don’t know about the hat?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThere was a woman’s hat on the ground.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œBetween the road and the quarry.”
    â€œWhose was it?”
    â€œMiss Carew’s. What do you think of that?”
    â€œNot much. Rather natural isn’t it, if she was dragged across? Her hat fell off in the process.”
    â€œYou don’t think much of that? All I can say is, the police investigating thought a lot of it. A lot of it, they thought, when I told them.”
    It seemed that Mr Thickett was not impressed by Carolus as an investigator.
    â€œThen what about the lilies?” asked Mr Thickett.
    â€œWhat about them?”
    â€œThey were in her hands.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œPerhaps you don’t think much of
them?”
    â€œHow many were there?”
    Mr Thickett stared at Carolus, blinked twice, and said—“What do you mean?”
    â€œHow many stems were there?”
    â€œOne.”
    â€œHow many flowers on it?”
    â€œThat’s funny,” said Mr Thickett seriously. “You don’t think much of the hat but you want to know how many flowers there were. As if it made any difference.”
    â€œIt makes every difference.”
    Mr Thickett considered.
    â€œIf it makes every difference I have no objection to telling you. In my station in life I’m considered to be a veryobservant man. The