on, 'you neither saw nor heard
anything.'
Hamble
paused, weighing the words for some hidden trap, then nodded his
grudging agreement. He looked at me in silent expectation of the next
question, and I stared back, trying to muster a grave dignity, for in
truth I could think of little more to ask.
'Hamble!'
A shrill voice called from an open window, where a woman's head had
appeared above us. 'Dinner.'
'Mrs
Hamble?' I asked, lifting my hat to her.
A
pinched face craned a little further out of the window, its gaze
equal parts curiosity and suspicion, and I saw her eyes turn
fractionally to her husband before she answered in the affirmative.
'Lieutenant
Jerrold,' I shouted up. 'Investigating a murder.' If my words held
any shock for her, it was well hidden. 'Tell me, Mrs Hamble, did you
happen to notice anything unusual here early yesterday morning?'
Again
I caught a quick glance between her and her husband. 'No.' She shook
her head emphatically. I was almost resigned to another series of
fruitless exchanges, but she saved me the effort. 'Didn't hear
nothin', didn't see nothin', don't know nothin'.' Her tone admitted
to no challenge.
'Nothing
at all?' I tried to sound surprised. 'Not even a gunshot?'
'Nothin'.'
She was firmer than ever. 'We was asleep.'
'You
must sleep very soundly, Mrs Hamble.'
She
considered that carefully. 'We does,' she said at last. 'About here,
them what sleeps like the grave don't go rushin' into it.' I think it
was the longest sentence I ever got from either of them, nonsense
though it was. 'Your dinner's goin' cold,' she added, turning her
attention back to Hamble. The window slammed shut.
'Far
be it from me to keep you from your dinner,' I told the farmer, who
was clearly champing to be inside. 'But, tell me, is there anyone
else near here who might have heard something? Our enquiries have
some urgency.'
Even
the thought of a cooling meal could not hurry the man.
'John,'
he decided eventually. 'Fisherman. On the beach.'
'Excellent.'
This sounded far more promising - indeed, the only useful fact I'd
had from the pair of them. 'How might I find him?'
Hamble
pointed across the field behind him. 'Through there, an' down the
next cove.'
'Marvellous.'
I
was all primed to stride off when Duckcr's hand clapped down on my
shoulder. The sensation was becoming tiresome.
'Beggin'
your pardon, Mr 'amble,' he said, and I bridled that he should not be
begging my pardon. 'But you've a bull in that field.'
A
funny look crossed Hamble's face. 'Forgot that,' he said. 'Go by the
south field, then. Cliff'll take you down.'
I
nervously scanned the field he'd indicated. Lumbering beasts have
always worried me, unless on a plate with potatoes and gravy, and the
thought of a near miss with the bull was most unsettling.
This
way, however, seemed clear enough.
'Thank
you for your consideration, Mr Hamble,' I told him, pompous and
completely insincere. 'You've been most helpful.'
It
took us but a few minutes to cross the southerly field. Here the
breeze whipped about us, and I had to hold down my hat to keep from
losing it. The ground sloped towards the cliff, and the long grass
was thick with rainwater, but I was determined to be thorough in my
investigation. Dropping to my knees I crawled right to the very
brink, pushed my head over the edge and stared down.
I
hardly make a habit of peering over precipices, but even I could tell
that this was uncommonly sheer: the chalk face dropped almost plumb
to the shore. At its foot a few white boulders lay broken on the grey
shingle beach, and I realized with a start that they must once have
formed the very cliff-top where I now lay. A seagull's cry echoed
mournfully off the rock and cautiously I edged my way back a little.
'What
do you reckon?' I shouted over the wind to Ducker.
He
nodded. 'That's the place we found you, sir. An' the body.'
I
looked around, but I could see nothing to belie the coroner's view.
Any man who fell, or jumped, or got pushed off this
anything.'
Hamble
paused, weighing the words for some hidden trap, then nodded his
grudging agreement. He looked at me in silent expectation of the next
question, and I stared back, trying to muster a grave dignity, for in
truth I could think of little more to ask.
'Hamble!'
A shrill voice called from an open window, where a woman's head had
appeared above us. 'Dinner.'
'Mrs
Hamble?' I asked, lifting my hat to her.
A
pinched face craned a little further out of the window, its gaze
equal parts curiosity and suspicion, and I saw her eyes turn
fractionally to her husband before she answered in the affirmative.
'Lieutenant
Jerrold,' I shouted up. 'Investigating a murder.' If my words held
any shock for her, it was well hidden. 'Tell me, Mrs Hamble, did you
happen to notice anything unusual here early yesterday morning?'
Again
I caught a quick glance between her and her husband. 'No.' She shook
her head emphatically. I was almost resigned to another series of
fruitless exchanges, but she saved me the effort. 'Didn't hear
nothin', didn't see nothin', don't know nothin'.' Her tone admitted
to no challenge.
'Nothing
at all?' I tried to sound surprised. 'Not even a gunshot?'
'Nothin'.'
She was firmer than ever. 'We was asleep.'
'You
must sleep very soundly, Mrs Hamble.'
She
considered that carefully. 'We does,' she said at last. 'About here,
them what sleeps like the grave don't go rushin' into it.' I think it
was the longest sentence I ever got from either of them, nonsense
though it was. 'Your dinner's goin' cold,' she added, turning her
attention back to Hamble. The window slammed shut.
'Far
be it from me to keep you from your dinner,' I told the farmer, who
was clearly champing to be inside. 'But, tell me, is there anyone
else near here who might have heard something? Our enquiries have
some urgency.'
Even
the thought of a cooling meal could not hurry the man.
'John,'
he decided eventually. 'Fisherman. On the beach.'
'Excellent.'
This sounded far more promising - indeed, the only useful fact I'd
had from the pair of them. 'How might I find him?'
Hamble
pointed across the field behind him. 'Through there, an' down the
next cove.'
'Marvellous.'
I
was all primed to stride off when Duckcr's hand clapped down on my
shoulder. The sensation was becoming tiresome.
'Beggin'
your pardon, Mr 'amble,' he said, and I bridled that he should not be
begging my pardon. 'But you've a bull in that field.'
A
funny look crossed Hamble's face. 'Forgot that,' he said. 'Go by the
south field, then. Cliff'll take you down.'
I
nervously scanned the field he'd indicated. Lumbering beasts have
always worried me, unless on a plate with potatoes and gravy, and the
thought of a near miss with the bull was most unsettling.
This
way, however, seemed clear enough.
'Thank
you for your consideration, Mr Hamble,' I told him, pompous and
completely insincere. 'You've been most helpful.'
It
took us but a few minutes to cross the southerly field. Here the
breeze whipped about us, and I had to hold down my hat to keep from
losing it. The ground sloped towards the cliff, and the long grass
was thick with rainwater, but I was determined to be thorough in my
investigation. Dropping to my knees I crawled right to the very
brink, pushed my head over the edge and stared down.
I
hardly make a habit of peering over precipices, but even I could tell
that this was uncommonly sheer: the chalk face dropped almost plumb
to the shore. At its foot a few white boulders lay broken on the grey
shingle beach, and I realized with a start that they must once have
formed the very cliff-top where I now lay. A seagull's cry echoed
mournfully off the rock and cautiously I edged my way back a little.
'What
do you reckon?' I shouted over the wind to Ducker.
He
nodded. 'That's the place we found you, sir. An' the body.'
I
looked around, but I could see nothing to belie the coroner's view.
Any man who fell, or jumped, or got pushed off this
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