Read Online The Blood-Dimmed Tide by Rennie Airth - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rennie Airth
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Sinclair stood abashed.
‘It’s that poor child’s murder, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here.’
Struck speechless, the chief inspector sought refuge in action. Bending beneath the brim of Helen’s straw hat, he planted a firm kiss on her cheek. The jasmine scent she’d always favoured was a reminder of happier occasions.
‘I’ll admit I’ve been at Guildford all morning, talking to Jim Boyce about it.’
‘And now you want to see John. Angus, you’re not to drag him into this. I won’t allow it.’ Her dark blue eyes offered no concession.
‘Drag him in! It was John who found the child’s body, for heaven’s sake.’ Sinclair broke off. The subject was a delicate one between them. He continued in a different tone. ‘My dear, I must speak to him. Surely you see that.’
The smile he tendered her was conciliatory. But in truth it was no more than a gesture. Though he had never doubted the strength of Helen’s feelings for her husband, he had equally never forgiven her for the part she had played in persuading the man she loved to give up his job with the police and start a new life with her. It still rankled with the chief inspector that an officer as talented as his former colleague should have quit the force, and fond as he was of Madden’s wife, he could never quite bring himself to absolve her of responsibility for this loss to the public weal.
‘Oh, very well. I see I’ve no choice in the matter.’
Relenting, she returned his kiss. In spite of their differences, they were firm friends.
‘He’s here somewhere. Probably over in that tent.’ She pointed towards a tan-coloured marquee topped with flags near the back of the green. ‘John’s had to stand in as chairman of the prize-giving committee this year. It ought to be Lord Stratton’s job, but he’s managed to come down with gout, rather cunningly.’ She paused. ‘Do stay for lunch, Angus. We don’t see nearly enough of you.’
‘I wish I could, my dear.’ The chief inspector recognized the olive branch he was being offered and declined with regret. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve an engagement in London. I have to get back.’
‘Then you must come down and spend a weekend with us. I’ll write and let you know when.’
Her smile brought momentary relief to Sinclair. But then her expression changed and she grew serious again.
‘You may think I’m making too much of this, but I know John. He won’t turn his back on it now. He feels involved, and that worries me. I can’t explain why, but I feel threatened. I know you have to speak to him, but don’t let it go further than that, I beg you.’
She looked at him directly, and not for the first time the chief inspector felt the effect of her personality, that particular combination of physical beauty and firmness of will against which he felt powerless. But just as he was about to reply – he wanted to reassure her – they were interrupted.
‘Excuse me, sir… Mr Sinclair?’
Angus Sinclair’s grizzled eyebrows shot up in mock astonishment. He peered down at the eager young face that had materialized in front of them.
‘Robert Madden? Is it you?’ Despite his forty years on the force, the chief inspector retained the precise accents of his Aberdeen upbringing. ‘I can scarcely believe my eyes. You were six inches shorter the last time we met. How are you, my boy?’
They shook hands solemnly.
‘Have you come about the murder, sir?’ Despite a peeling nose and one scabbed knee, Madden’s son managed to convey the earnestness of his inquiry. His frown, the near image of his father‘s, brought a wistful smile to Sinclair’s lips. He and his wife had been childless, to their sorrow. ‘It was Daddy who found the body, you know?’
‘I’m aware of that.’ The chief inspector looked grave.
‘The police are looking for a tramp.’
‘I see you’re well informed.’
‘Is Daddy going to help you catch him?’ The boy’s hopeful expression faded when he saw
‘It’s that poor child’s murder, isn’t it? That’s why you’re here.’
Struck speechless, the chief inspector sought refuge in action. Bending beneath the brim of Helen’s straw hat, he planted a firm kiss on her cheek. The jasmine scent she’d always favoured was a reminder of happier occasions.
‘I’ll admit I’ve been at Guildford all morning, talking to Jim Boyce about it.’
‘And now you want to see John. Angus, you’re not to drag him into this. I won’t allow it.’ Her dark blue eyes offered no concession.
‘Drag him in! It was John who found the child’s body, for heaven’s sake.’ Sinclair broke off. The subject was a delicate one between them. He continued in a different tone. ‘My dear, I must speak to him. Surely you see that.’
The smile he tendered her was conciliatory. But in truth it was no more than a gesture. Though he had never doubted the strength of Helen’s feelings for her husband, he had equally never forgiven her for the part she had played in persuading the man she loved to give up his job with the police and start a new life with her. It still rankled with the chief inspector that an officer as talented as his former colleague should have quit the force, and fond as he was of Madden’s wife, he could never quite bring himself to absolve her of responsibility for this loss to the public weal.
‘Oh, very well. I see I’ve no choice in the matter.’
Relenting, she returned his kiss. In spite of their differences, they were firm friends.
‘He’s here somewhere. Probably over in that tent.’ She pointed towards a tan-coloured marquee topped with flags near the back of the green. ‘John’s had to stand in as chairman of the prize-giving committee this year. It ought to be Lord Stratton’s job, but he’s managed to come down with gout, rather cunningly.’ She paused. ‘Do stay for lunch, Angus. We don’t see nearly enough of you.’
‘I wish I could, my dear.’ The chief inspector recognized the olive branch he was being offered and declined with regret. ‘Unfortunately, I’ve an engagement in London. I have to get back.’
‘Then you must come down and spend a weekend with us. I’ll write and let you know when.’
Her smile brought momentary relief to Sinclair. But then her expression changed and she grew serious again.
‘You may think I’m making too much of this, but I know John. He won’t turn his back on it now. He feels involved, and that worries me. I can’t explain why, but I feel threatened. I know you have to speak to him, but don’t let it go further than that, I beg you.’
She looked at him directly, and not for the first time the chief inspector felt the effect of her personality, that particular combination of physical beauty and firmness of will against which he felt powerless. But just as he was about to reply – he wanted to reassure her – they were interrupted.
‘Excuse me, sir… Mr Sinclair?’
Angus Sinclair’s grizzled eyebrows shot up in mock astonishment. He peered down at the eager young face that had materialized in front of them.
‘Robert Madden? Is it you?’ Despite his forty years on the force, the chief inspector retained the precise accents of his Aberdeen upbringing. ‘I can scarcely believe my eyes. You were six inches shorter the last time we met. How are you, my boy?’
They shook hands solemnly.
‘Have you come about the murder, sir?’ Despite a peeling nose and one scabbed knee, Madden’s son managed to convey the earnestness of his inquiry. His frown, the near image of his father‘s, brought a wistful smile to Sinclair’s lips. He and his wife had been childless, to their sorrow. ‘It was Daddy who found the body, you know?’
‘I’m aware of that.’ The chief inspector looked grave.
‘The police are looking for a tramp.’
‘I see you’re well informed.’
‘Is Daddy going to help you catch him?’ The boy’s hopeful expression faded when he saw
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