Chapter 3

I left Mistress Merridew and made my way down the tower. I decided to go home. However that wouldn’t be until later, because as I left the churchyard I met Tansy Halliwell.

“Will you walk with me, Master Cillian?”

“Indeed Miss. Which way shall we go?”

“I wanted to visit the ... odd shop. I don’t know what you’d call it but it sells used stuff. And it has a very strange proprietor.”

“We’ll go that way then, for I’m sure it will be interesting.”

“Master Cillian, you have been asking a lot of questions,” she began as we made our way through the village. “I think you believe that there is a murderer amongst us.”

“There is a possibility,” I said. “There have been a lot of deaths, the causes of which were, shall we say, ambiguous. Did he fall or was he pushed? That sort of thing. All the people I know about have had plenty of people who would benefit from their death. Except young Roger Green and Emily Grubb. So do they have something else in common?”

“Both Emily and Roger were employed at the Manor,” she said, thoughtfully. “Warburton sacked both of them. Emily was just lazy, you couldn’t get a good day’s work out of her, Spent all her time mooning over the coachman.”

“Who’s the coachman?”

“Harry Dibble. I believe they were going together.”

“What about Roger?” I asked.

“Impertinent, Warburton said. He was suspected of stealing a knife too, although there was no way we could prove it,” she told me.

“By the way, did Sir Warburton go to Blackford, what, two or three days ago?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact he did,” she replied. “Strange thing, he had his horse stolen, and then abandoned. I mean, really odd, why would anyone do that?”

I had no answer for that. But if that was the horse that killed Mistress Pemberton, then I had to wonder...

There was a sign over the shop door that read “The Curiosity Shop”, and when I looked in the window I had to agree, the merchandise was a curious selection. My companion entered first, as the door opened there was the tinkle of a bell, and, as if by magic, the shop keeper appeared. If I was looking for a murderer I think this man would have been the top of my list. That was pure prejudice of course, you cannot judge a man from his appearance. Although he was no great age, about thirty years I thought, his complexion was a pasty white and his eyes were like pee holes in snow, and about the same colour, as were his teeth, when they appeared from behind his almost non-existent lips. He was round shouldered and his head stuck forward rather like a turkey.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” he asked in a lugubrious voice, whilst rubbing his hands together

“I just wanted to look and see what you sell, Master...” Tansy began, pausing for him to fill in the information she lacked.

“Amadeus Crippen,” he replied, still rubbing his hands together. “My mother was very musical,” he giggled. A singularly unpleasant sound that you would hardly associate with humour.

Tansy walked around looking at various items, though with no specific interest. I stood back watching, whilst Crippen picked up any item she showed any interest in, offering an explanation about it.

Eventually, much to my relief, she thanked him and we left.

“That,” I said, “was one of the most bizarre experiences of my life.”

“He is a bit creepy, isn’t he,” she said.

“Creepy,” I replied, “doesn’t even begin to describe him. Could he be our murderer?”

“I’m sure you are a better judge than I am,” she replied.

We were now walking along the river bank. Approaching us was a middle aged man who was being taken for a walk by three spaniels. There was little doubt as to who was in charge, and it certainly wasn’t the man. He managed to stop just before the dogs were able to reach us at the ends of their leads. The three of them were standing on their hind legs anxious to give us sloppy kisses that we were at pains to avoid.

“Caesar! Nero! Hadrian! Get down, blast you! Mistress Halliwell, forgive me, they seem particularly disobedient today.”

“Good day, Major Hoxton,” Mistress Halliwell grinned. “They do seem to be a handful! This is Master Cillian. He’s with Mistress Americk,” she said in answer to his unspoken question.

“Ha! Can’t stop now! Call on me when you’ve a moment, Cillian,” said the major. “Always good to talk to someone from outside.”

And with that the dogs whisked him away at a pace that seemed rather greater than he was comfortable with.

“Poor man,” said my companion. “He lost his wife a few months ago. She couldn’t stand dogs, wouldn’t have them anywhere near her. As soon as she died he got those three. He can’t control them though, it’s quite comical at times.”

“His wife died?” I asked in confirmation.

“Yes, but not by accident! She was ill for a long time, seemed to improve, and then suddenly died. Mind you, she was a real shrew, and all the money was hers too, so he is probably better off. Several of the village ladies helped looking after her. Mistress Merridew even collected grapes from Warburton’s hot house for her. You know she and Warburton were engaged to be married when they were much younger. That was before he left the village. He was only the son of the butcher then. Her family were quite well to do. I don’t think her father was overly happy about the betrothal.”

By this time we had arrived at the entrance to the manor. She walked off up the drive, and I went on to ‘The Cuckoos’. I still found it odd that the girl should want to marry the old man. But there we are, security, and I dare say she’d still be quite young when she was widowed. It must be this village that is making me think like that.

The first person I saw when I entered the house was Nancy.

“Which of the local ladies have you been trying to seduce today, Cillian,” she laughed.

“I haven’t. D’you think I think of nothing else?””

“Yes! And I don’t believe you. Probably Rosie at the Fox and Goose, she’d keep you warm.

“I’ve never spoken to her.”

“My you are slipping. But I did see you with Tansy Halliwell, I’m sure she’d go for you. But you’d screw anything, Rosie’s mum, or I’ll bet you’d even try old Merridew, wouldn’t you?”

“Certainly not!”

“Then why are you blushing?”

I was rescued by her mother.

“Leave him alone Nancy! Come in and tell me what you’ve found out, Cillian,” she said.

Nancy followed us and we sat down. I told her about my interview with the vicar, and then my encounter with Mistress Merridew, although not quite all of it, and then Tansy Halliwell and the visit to the Curiosity Shop, and of course meeting Major Hoxton.

“And those dogs were taking him for a walk?” she was laughing. “I know spaniels, they are gun dogs. They’re so full of it, if you make them sit still they’ll just quiver with pent up energy. Silly man.”

“Certainly seems so, Mistress.”

“So what possible victims do we have? Arnie Smith, but he could be an accident. Mistress Pemberton, but she too could be an accident. Emily Grubb, could be an accident too, as could Roger Green.