murder to solve. “Excuse me, sir.” She smiled warmly. “But I was wondering if I might trouble you a moment?”
He blinked at her from behind his spectacles, as though he was surprised she was speaking to him. “Uh, of course, miss. What can I do for you?”
“Do you know where the Dapeers residence might be?”
“We’re not allowed to give out that sort of thing about our customers,” he said, blushing all the way to the roots of his hair.
“Oh,” she sighed dramatically. “That’s too bad. My mistress wanted me to take a letter of condolence around to Mrs. Dapeers, but I’ve lost the address.”
“Terrible business, that,” the clerk said.
“Yes.” She shuddered delicately. “Dreadful, isn’t it? Imagine being stabbed in your own pub.”
“And on the opening day too!” he agreed, glancing at the back of the shop to see if his employer was lurking about.
She leaned closer across the counter. “It makes a body scared to walk the streets, it does.” She sighed again and made her shoulders droop slightly. “And here I’ve got to try and find that poor woman’s address.…”
“It’s all right, now,” the clerk said quickly. “I think I can help you out. The Dapeers house is at number twenty-eight Percy Road. It’s just round the corner.”
“Thank you, ever so much. You’ve saved me an awful lot of bother.”
He blushed even redder. “Mrs. Dapeers and her sister-in-law come in here every now and again. They’re both nice ladies.”
“It must be terrible for her, losing her husband like that.”
“Yes,” he agreed solemnly. “But just between you and me and a tin of sugar, I doubt that there’s many who’ll shed any tears at his funeral.”
Betsy gazed at him appreciatively. “You mean he wasn’t well liked?”
“Not by anyone who worked for him. My sister worked for the Dapeers household a few months ago and she finally left.”
“Goodness, why? Didn’t he pay proper wages?”
“Hamilton,” a booming voice from the rear of the shop bellowed. “Are you through serving that young lady?”
“Almost, sir.” Hamilton smiled nervously at Betsy. “Will there be anything else, miss?”
Betsy didn’t want to get him into trouble. She might not be above a bit of flirting to find out what she needed to know, but she wasn’t going to cause someone to lose their position. “Just that tin of cocoa, there,” she said.
He smiled gratefully at her as he turned and pulled a tin of Cadbury’s off the shelf. “Anything else, miss?” he said loudly enough for his employer to hear.
“No, thank you.” Betsy gave him another smile. “And I appreciate all your help,” she said, stressing the last word ever so slightly.
Hamilton busied himself with taking her money and casting furtive glances toward the rear of the shop to see if he was still being watched. But the owner of the shop, a tall, thin man with graying hair and a long, taciturn face, kept his eye on the clerk and Betsy.
Blast, she thought as she saw the proprietor start toward the front of the shop, what bad luck. Just when she’d finally made contact with someone who might know something about Dapeers, this old Tartar has to ruin everything! She decided to try one last thing.
“Excuse me,” she said softly. Hamilton looked up from wrapping her tin of cocoa in brown paper. Betsy gave him a bold smile. “But I don’t suppose you know of any nice pubs round here, do you?” she asked innocently.
Tom Dapeers smiled uncertainly at the two policemen. He didn’t much like policemen hanging about his pub, but as these two were investigating old Haydon’s murder, he could hardly ask them to leave. “I don’t know what we can tell you,” he said. “Joanne and I only went round to the place for a few minutes. We didn’t see anything.”
Inspector Witherspoon sighed silently. No one seemed tohave seen anything. He glanced at Constable Barnes, who was staring longingly at a glass of pale ale sitting on
He blinked at her from behind his spectacles, as though he was surprised she was speaking to him. “Uh, of course, miss. What can I do for you?”
“Do you know where the Dapeers residence might be?”
“We’re not allowed to give out that sort of thing about our customers,” he said, blushing all the way to the roots of his hair.
“Oh,” she sighed dramatically. “That’s too bad. My mistress wanted me to take a letter of condolence around to Mrs. Dapeers, but I’ve lost the address.”
“Terrible business, that,” the clerk said.
“Yes.” She shuddered delicately. “Dreadful, isn’t it? Imagine being stabbed in your own pub.”
“And on the opening day too!” he agreed, glancing at the back of the shop to see if his employer was lurking about.
She leaned closer across the counter. “It makes a body scared to walk the streets, it does.” She sighed again and made her shoulders droop slightly. “And here I’ve got to try and find that poor woman’s address.…”
“It’s all right, now,” the clerk said quickly. “I think I can help you out. The Dapeers house is at number twenty-eight Percy Road. It’s just round the corner.”
“Thank you, ever so much. You’ve saved me an awful lot of bother.”
He blushed even redder. “Mrs. Dapeers and her sister-in-law come in here every now and again. They’re both nice ladies.”
“It must be terrible for her, losing her husband like that.”
“Yes,” he agreed solemnly. “But just between you and me and a tin of sugar, I doubt that there’s many who’ll shed any tears at his funeral.”
Betsy gazed at him appreciatively. “You mean he wasn’t well liked?”
“Not by anyone who worked for him. My sister worked for the Dapeers household a few months ago and she finally left.”
“Goodness, why? Didn’t he pay proper wages?”
“Hamilton,” a booming voice from the rear of the shop bellowed. “Are you through serving that young lady?”
“Almost, sir.” Hamilton smiled nervously at Betsy. “Will there be anything else, miss?”
Betsy didn’t want to get him into trouble. She might not be above a bit of flirting to find out what she needed to know, but she wasn’t going to cause someone to lose their position. “Just that tin of cocoa, there,” she said.
He smiled gratefully at her as he turned and pulled a tin of Cadbury’s off the shelf. “Anything else, miss?” he said loudly enough for his employer to hear.
“No, thank you.” Betsy gave him another smile. “And I appreciate all your help,” she said, stressing the last word ever so slightly.
Hamilton busied himself with taking her money and casting furtive glances toward the rear of the shop to see if he was still being watched. But the owner of the shop, a tall, thin man with graying hair and a long, taciturn face, kept his eye on the clerk and Betsy.
Blast, she thought as she saw the proprietor start toward the front of the shop, what bad luck. Just when she’d finally made contact with someone who might know something about Dapeers, this old Tartar has to ruin everything! She decided to try one last thing.
“Excuse me,” she said softly. Hamilton looked up from wrapping her tin of cocoa in brown paper. Betsy gave him a bold smile. “But I don’t suppose you know of any nice pubs round here, do you?” she asked innocently.
Tom Dapeers smiled uncertainly at the two policemen. He didn’t much like policemen hanging about his pub, but as these two were investigating old Haydon’s murder, he could hardly ask them to leave. “I don’t know what we can tell you,” he said. “Joanne and I only went round to the place for a few minutes. We didn’t see anything.”
Inspector Witherspoon sighed silently. No one seemed tohave seen anything. He glanced at Constable Barnes, who was staring longingly at a glass of pale ale sitting on
Similar Books
