River of Darkness by Rennie Airth Page A

concentration. He shook his head. 'No, I can't say that I did. But, then, I'm stuck in here during opening hours. Don't see too much of what's going on outside.' The smile was back. Sergeant Gates looked at Madden, who nodded. 'Thank you, Mr Wellings.' He closed his notebook. 'What did you think, sir?' he asked Madden outside. 'I thought he was lying.' 'I agree, but about what?' The sergeant wrinkled his nose. 'He's a right sow, if you'll pardon the expression. The last two landlords quit because they couldn't make the place pay. But somehow he manages to, and you have to ask yourself how.' 'After-hours drinks?' 'That, and he'll sell you a carton of fags at below market price, or so I've been told. We think he handles stolen goods, but we haven't been able to lay a finger on him thus far.' 'There's a list out of items taken from Melling Lodge. If any of them turn up locally, pull him in. Never mind if there's a connection or not. Put him through it.' 'It'll be a pleasure, sir.' Madden donned his jacket. 'What was that he said about the man with the motorbike and his girl?' 'He should try his luck in Tup's Spinney.' Gates gestured. 'That's over in the fields. Well known to the local lads and lasses, if you take my meaning.' He grunted. 'Wellings has an eye for the ladies himself, they say. Especially if it's someone else's wife. Nasty piece of work.' They loaded the sergeant's bicycle into the back of the Humber, and Madden drove him the few miles to Craydon. Returning by the same road, and passing through Oakley, he saw Wellings on the pavement outside the village shop talking to a young woman with bobbed hair. He paused in his conversation and watched Madden's car as it went by.
    Madden parked the Humber where he had found it, in the courtyard of the Rose and Crown in High field. As he climbed out of the car, the door of the pub opened and a lanky man in a city suit came out. He had his tie loosened and his hat tipped back on his head. 'Mr Madden, is it? Reg Ferris. Daily Express.' He held out his hand. Madden shook it briefly. They hadn't met before, but he knew Ferris's name and recalled that he was no friend of the chief inspector's. 'Bad business.' The reporter's darting eyes went from Madden to the car and back as though he hoped to glean some information from putting the two together. 'I'm told it was like an abattoir in there.' Madden reached into the car for his jacket. 'We're waiting for Mr Sinclair. He's said he'll meet
    us.' 'Then I dare say he will.' Ferris leaned against the car. He put his hands in his pockets. 'This is different, isn't it?' He watched to see how Madden would react. 'Different?' 'You've not had a case like this before - admit it. Slaughtering a whole household, and for what? A few bits of silverware? It doesn't make sense.' The inspector put on his jacket. 'Goodbye, Mr Ferris.' He walked away. The reporter called after him: 'From what I hear you don't know where to start.' *
    Madden found the chief inspector on the church hall steps talking to Helen Blackwell. The doctor was wearing a man's white linen jacket with the cuffs rolled up over a light summer dress. She greeted Madden with a smile. 'Dr Blackwell has been giving us a statement.' Sinclair's grey eyes held a hint of wry amusement. 'She has also explained to me her reasons for wanting to keep Sophy Fletcher at her house, rather than send her to hospital. I found her arguments . . . persuasive. The child will stay here.' 'Thank you again, Chief Inspector.' The doctor shook his hand warmly. Her eyes brushed Madden's. 'Good morning to you both.' Sinclair's nod was approving as he watched her walk away. 'A fine-looking lassie.' He gave Madden a sideways glance. 'Dragon indeed! You might have warned me, John.' 'Nothing from Oakley, I'm afraid, sir.' Madden was smiling. 'The press are waiting for you at the pub. I bumped into Ferris.' 'Is that rodent here?' The chief inspector's face darkened. 'It must be the smell of blood.'
    'He's already