she added, almost in a whisper.
There was a lengthy silence, during which her story was digested by the other three occupants of the store, until the door opened and a tall, gangling youth entered.
‘Hi!’ he said, to everyone in general. ‘I just came to tell you I’ll be a bit late coming for the Citizens , Miss Wheeler. I’m playing football this
afternoon.’ He let his eyes wander round, then, sensing an atmosphere.
The sergeant realised that this must be the paperboy he had been told to question, and assumed his most official voice as he stepped forward. ‘You are William Arthur? I’m Detective
Sergeant Moore of Grampian Police.’
He was amused to see the boy’s cockiness deflate a little, but Willie couldn’t help much. He’d noticed that Miss Souter’s milk was sitting at her door in the morning, and
had told Miss Wheeler when he went back to the shop. Moore looked at the postmistress with his eyebrows raised.
‘I didn’t do anything about it.’ She hurried to defend herself. ‘You see, I was worried about what would happen if I sent the police up and nothing was wrong. She’d
have been absolutely furious, and she’d likely have come stamping down here to give me what for.’
He could understand the poor woman’s dilemma, so he turned to the paperboy again.
‘I didn’t know what to do, either,’ admitted Willie. ‘Miss Souter was an old . . . but she was always on the go. I suspected something must be wrong with her, so I told
Mrs Wakeford at teatime when I saw the milk still at the door. I didn’t realise she’d been poisoned, though.’
‘Who told you she’d been poisoned, Willie?’ Moore wondered how this had got out. He was sure that John Black would never have divulged any such information, not to the
paperboy, at any rate.
‘It’s . . .’ The boy caught himself, remembering his promise to the local sergeant, then went on hastily. ‘It’s all over the village, and somebody was bound to do
her in some day, the way she went on.’
‘Willie!’ Miss Wheeler cautioned the boy, although she had hinted at much the same thing herself.
‘Did you notice anything unusual when you were there in the morning, Willie? Anything different, that a stranger might not have seen? Something that might give us a clue to finding out who
killed her?’
The fourteen-year-old pondered for a moment, then said, ‘No, but I’ve never looked in her window before, so I wouldn’t have known anything was unusual, would I? Miss Wheeler
said she was going to tell the copper . . . Constable Paul, but she didn’t see him. But Mrs Wakeford phoned the police station as soon as I told her about it in the afternoon.’
He looked slightly downcast as he added, ‘Sergeant Black wouldn’t let me and Mrs Wakeford into Miss Souter’s house, though.’
Moore pushed in the top of his Biro, and clipped it into his breast pocket, then slid his notebook down behind it. ‘Thank you all very much for your cooperation.’
‘That’s all right, Sergeant. Call again any time.’ Miss Wheeler took command again as he walked out of the shop.
He glanced through the window when he walked past, and saw them, as he’d expected, deep in speculation as to who could be responsible for the murder. He was annoyed, but not altogether
surprised, to find the inspector still lying on his bed when he returned to the Starline. McGillivray looked up, and Moore was sure that he’d been asleep.
‘Did you uncover any skeletons in any of the village cupboards, lad?’
‘Not really, sir. The only interesting thing that came out was a bit of scandal concerning a young married woman who lives at the foot of Ashgrove Lane.’ The sergeant sat down
wearily and unbuttoned his jacket.
‘Oh yes?’ McGillivray perked up. ‘There’s nothing better than scandal for making feelings run high and tempers snap in the heat of the moment.’
Moore recounted the stories Mrs Pritchard and Phyllis Barclay had told him, while his
There was a lengthy silence, during which her story was digested by the other three occupants of the store, until the door opened and a tall, gangling youth entered.
‘Hi!’ he said, to everyone in general. ‘I just came to tell you I’ll be a bit late coming for the Citizens , Miss Wheeler. I’m playing football this
afternoon.’ He let his eyes wander round, then, sensing an atmosphere.
The sergeant realised that this must be the paperboy he had been told to question, and assumed his most official voice as he stepped forward. ‘You are William Arthur? I’m Detective
Sergeant Moore of Grampian Police.’
He was amused to see the boy’s cockiness deflate a little, but Willie couldn’t help much. He’d noticed that Miss Souter’s milk was sitting at her door in the morning, and
had told Miss Wheeler when he went back to the shop. Moore looked at the postmistress with his eyebrows raised.
‘I didn’t do anything about it.’ She hurried to defend herself. ‘You see, I was worried about what would happen if I sent the police up and nothing was wrong. She’d
have been absolutely furious, and she’d likely have come stamping down here to give me what for.’
He could understand the poor woman’s dilemma, so he turned to the paperboy again.
‘I didn’t know what to do, either,’ admitted Willie. ‘Miss Souter was an old . . . but she was always on the go. I suspected something must be wrong with her, so I told
Mrs Wakeford at teatime when I saw the milk still at the door. I didn’t realise she’d been poisoned, though.’
‘Who told you she’d been poisoned, Willie?’ Moore wondered how this had got out. He was sure that John Black would never have divulged any such information, not to the
paperboy, at any rate.
‘It’s . . .’ The boy caught himself, remembering his promise to the local sergeant, then went on hastily. ‘It’s all over the village, and somebody was bound to do
her in some day, the way she went on.’
‘Willie!’ Miss Wheeler cautioned the boy, although she had hinted at much the same thing herself.
‘Did you notice anything unusual when you were there in the morning, Willie? Anything different, that a stranger might not have seen? Something that might give us a clue to finding out who
killed her?’
The fourteen-year-old pondered for a moment, then said, ‘No, but I’ve never looked in her window before, so I wouldn’t have known anything was unusual, would I? Miss Wheeler
said she was going to tell the copper . . . Constable Paul, but she didn’t see him. But Mrs Wakeford phoned the police station as soon as I told her about it in the afternoon.’
He looked slightly downcast as he added, ‘Sergeant Black wouldn’t let me and Mrs Wakeford into Miss Souter’s house, though.’
Moore pushed in the top of his Biro, and clipped it into his breast pocket, then slid his notebook down behind it. ‘Thank you all very much for your cooperation.’
‘That’s all right, Sergeant. Call again any time.’ Miss Wheeler took command again as he walked out of the shop.
He glanced through the window when he walked past, and saw them, as he’d expected, deep in speculation as to who could be responsible for the murder. He was annoyed, but not altogether
surprised, to find the inspector still lying on his bed when he returned to the Starline. McGillivray looked up, and Moore was sure that he’d been asleep.
‘Did you uncover any skeletons in any of the village cupboards, lad?’
‘Not really, sir. The only interesting thing that came out was a bit of scandal concerning a young married woman who lives at the foot of Ashgrove Lane.’ The sergeant sat down
wearily and unbuttoned his jacket.
‘Oh yes?’ McGillivray perked up. ‘There’s nothing better than scandal for making feelings run high and tempers snap in the heat of the moment.’
Moore recounted the stories Mrs Pritchard and Phyllis Barclay had told him, while his
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