A Thrust to the Vitals by Geraldine Evans Page A

had left the party early when it was known the victim had still been alive, was that they could be removed from the originally large and unwieldy list of suspects, though they still needed to be traced and questioned of course. It was possible one or more had seen something that might yet provide a lead in the case.
    As Rafferty had already discovered, Seward had made use of the security team supplied by the Elmhurst Hotel. These two men, Jake Arthur and Andy Watling, had both confirmed that, apart from the mayor, Idris Khan, and his wife, Mandy, whom they already knew about, none of the guests who had left the party while Seward’s back was minus its chisel - had returned to the suite.
    The guest list had contained one hundred names; quite a small number, fortunately, by what Rafferty judged were the usual extravagant standards of such affairs. But the local council who had funded the event with their usual wanton extravagance with other people’s money, and who had been more than willing to push the boat out in terms of quality and quantity in the food and alcohol departments, had, according to Marcus Canthorpe, been more wary in terms of numbers. The local elections were coming up, of course, and they wouldn’t have been keen for the electorate, who paid for their largesse, to have reason to express their anger at the ballot box by putting their voter’s cross in the opposition’s square — especially as they would be aware that the details of this reception would be written up in the Elmhurst Echo for all to read and splutter about over their cornflakes.
    In the end, as Rafferty had learned from Canthorpe and Ivor Bignall, to both of whom Seward had grumbled about this restriction, he had been forced to accept the limited numbers — not least because a fair proportion of the invitees had, according to Canthorpe, apparently taken the trouble to write RSVP replies in vehement and purple-penned prose, in which they made all too plain the reasons for their refusal.
    Which just went to show how many people had cause to dislike Seward intensely, and which, Rafferty realised with a droop, meant that his job was likely to be even more difficult than was usually the case — especially given the lack of security over the more than plentiful blank invitations, which Marcus Canthorpe had reluctantly told him about.
    Sir Rufus had, he had discovered, insisted that the invitations were printed in a quantity sufficient to meet his original guest number specifications, confident that the council committee charged with liaising with Canthorpe would give way to his demands. Rafferty was surprised at the revelation that this confidence had been misplaced, as it seemed likely that Seward was a man used to getting his own way.
    As was Superintendent Bradley, of course, he reminded himself — not that he needed such a reminder. After Mary Carmody’s discovery of Bradley’s late attendance at the event, Rafferty had realised he would have the unalloyed pleasure of questioning the super himself. And while he was aware that such questioning wouldn’t be well received, he was hopeful that he might be able to wring some much-needed amusement from this, though he doubted it would make Bradley love him any better.
    Clearly, the prominent write-up that the local newspaper had produced to proclaim the prodigal’s return, in his pomp, to his home town, hadn’t gone down too well in a number of quarters. But then, Sir Rufus Seward had been one of the Essex town’s more celebrated and successful prodigal sons. And prodigals such as Seward invariably earned resentment, envy and spite, particularly as the local boy had made it good — more than good.
    The local paper hadn’t stinted on the newsprint. Seward’s return to Elmhurst had made a tremendous splash. It made good copy for the Echo and sold a lot of papers. But then, yet another recent discovery for Rafferty, Seward had owned Elmhurst’s local rag, along with countless others, up