dryly. “He’d had a previous heart attack while he was in China—in fact, I suspect he had two. I told him if he didn’t give up smoking and drinking, it was only a matter of time before he would have a third, and possibly fatal, attack.”
“So you weren’t surprised when Reverend Tothill rang you on Monday?”
“Well, now, I wouldn’t say that.” Dr. Cross looked thoughtful. “He was, as I understand it, leading a very strenuous life in China, virtually without any medical attention at all. On the whole, I would have expected him to live for quite a while longer here, with the new prescriptions I’d given him, and without heaving a heavy backpack about. So I was rather surprised when the vicar rang up and said he was dead. In view of that, I thought we’d better have the postmortem, but I can’t say I was expecting to find anything. Heart cases do sometimes pop off suddenly. And although I did advise him to change his vices, and so did Dr. Loomis, he certainly did no such thing.”
“Dr. Loomis?” asked Gibbons.
“Dr. Preston Loomis,” replied Dr. Cross. “He’s a well-known cardiologist in London. Bingham consulted him directly upon his return to this country, before he came down here. He saw me after he’d been here two or three months and his prescriptions from Dr. Loomis had run out.”
“Do you have Dr. Loomis’s address?” asked Gibbons.
“Yes, my nurse can give it to you on your way out.”
Gibbons thanked the doctor for his time and went out for a fresh attack on the grim-mouthed nurse.
CHAPTER 5
“B other,” said Leandra Tothill.
She was just leaving for choir practice, a sheaf of music that her husband had forgotten under her arm, when the telephone rang. She turned back to the parlor to answer it.
“Hello,” said a high, rather imperious voice. “Is Mrs. Tothill there? This is Eve Bingham.”
“Oh,” said Leandra faintly, taken unawares. “This is Mrs. Tothill.”
“I’ve had a message to ring you,” Eve Bingham said crisply. “I’ve also had messages from Scotland Yard and my solicitors. What on earth is my father up to now? I know he’s an absolute devil, but surely he hasn’t managed to get himself arrested and excommunicated all at once?”
“No,” said Leandra, rallying. “He’s not in trouble exactly, Miss Bingham. I’m afraid it’s rather bad news.”
“Bad news?”
“Yes. Your father had a heart attack on Sunday. I’m afraid he passed away, Miss Bingham.”
There was a long silence at the other end of the line.
“Miss Bingham?” said Leandra. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied, almost fiercely. “On Sunday, you say?”
“My husband, the vicar, found him Monday morning.”
Again there was silence. Then came the sound of a long, shuddering breath.
“Miss Bingham, I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Yes. I mean, thank you.” It was almost a whisper.
Another pause, but Leandra didn’t like to break into it. Finally the voice came again, dully.
“What has Scotland Yard to do with it? Tilly said they rang after you did.”
“There is some question about his death,” answered Leandra, trying to put it gently. “They’re not entirely satisfied it was a natural one.”
“I see.” But from the tone, Leandra doubted she had taken it in.
“Thank you for calling me, Mrs. Tothill. I’ll come at once.”
“If you like to let us know, my husband or I will be glad to meet you at the station.”
“It’s all right. I’ll be driving myself.”
“Well, if there’s anything else you want, don’t hesitate to ring.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tothill. You’ve been very kind.”
Marla’s good temper had been restored by dinner at a pleasant restaurant recommended by Astley-Cooper. She and Bethancourt were now strolling down the deserted High Street in the direction of the church. Chipping Chedding was a very picturesque village, which accounted for the number of disillusioned city dwellers who had retreated there, or at
“So you weren’t surprised when Reverend Tothill rang you on Monday?”
“Well, now, I wouldn’t say that.” Dr. Cross looked thoughtful. “He was, as I understand it, leading a very strenuous life in China, virtually without any medical attention at all. On the whole, I would have expected him to live for quite a while longer here, with the new prescriptions I’d given him, and without heaving a heavy backpack about. So I was rather surprised when the vicar rang up and said he was dead. In view of that, I thought we’d better have the postmortem, but I can’t say I was expecting to find anything. Heart cases do sometimes pop off suddenly. And although I did advise him to change his vices, and so did Dr. Loomis, he certainly did no such thing.”
“Dr. Loomis?” asked Gibbons.
“Dr. Preston Loomis,” replied Dr. Cross. “He’s a well-known cardiologist in London. Bingham consulted him directly upon his return to this country, before he came down here. He saw me after he’d been here two or three months and his prescriptions from Dr. Loomis had run out.”
“Do you have Dr. Loomis’s address?” asked Gibbons.
“Yes, my nurse can give it to you on your way out.”
Gibbons thanked the doctor for his time and went out for a fresh attack on the grim-mouthed nurse.
CHAPTER 5
“B other,” said Leandra Tothill.
She was just leaving for choir practice, a sheaf of music that her husband had forgotten under her arm, when the telephone rang. She turned back to the parlor to answer it.
“Hello,” said a high, rather imperious voice. “Is Mrs. Tothill there? This is Eve Bingham.”
“Oh,” said Leandra faintly, taken unawares. “This is Mrs. Tothill.”
“I’ve had a message to ring you,” Eve Bingham said crisply. “I’ve also had messages from Scotland Yard and my solicitors. What on earth is my father up to now? I know he’s an absolute devil, but surely he hasn’t managed to get himself arrested and excommunicated all at once?”
“No,” said Leandra, rallying. “He’s not in trouble exactly, Miss Bingham. I’m afraid it’s rather bad news.”
“Bad news?”
“Yes. Your father had a heart attack on Sunday. I’m afraid he passed away, Miss Bingham.”
There was a long silence at the other end of the line.
“Miss Bingham?” said Leandra. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she replied, almost fiercely. “On Sunday, you say?”
“My husband, the vicar, found him Monday morning.”
Again there was silence. Then came the sound of a long, shuddering breath.
“Miss Bingham, I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Yes. I mean, thank you.” It was almost a whisper.
Another pause, but Leandra didn’t like to break into it. Finally the voice came again, dully.
“What has Scotland Yard to do with it? Tilly said they rang after you did.”
“There is some question about his death,” answered Leandra, trying to put it gently. “They’re not entirely satisfied it was a natural one.”
“I see.” But from the tone, Leandra doubted she had taken it in.
“Thank you for calling me, Mrs. Tothill. I’ll come at once.”
“If you like to let us know, my husband or I will be glad to meet you at the station.”
“It’s all right. I’ll be driving myself.”
“Well, if there’s anything else you want, don’t hesitate to ring.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Tothill. You’ve been very kind.”
Marla’s good temper had been restored by dinner at a pleasant restaurant recommended by Astley-Cooper. She and Bethancourt were now strolling down the deserted High Street in the direction of the church. Chipping Chedding was a very picturesque village, which accounted for the number of disillusioned city dwellers who had retreated there, or at
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