‘He’s all right, I hope?’
‘Oh yes. I think so. But they’ll need to send someone else for the mail.’
‘Not today, they won’t. Half-day, or had you forgotten?’ said Wylmot cheerfully. ‘We were just waiting for Paget before closing.’
‘But the mail …’ protested Digweed.
‘It’s all right. Nothing that can’t wait till the morning.’
‘You think not?’ said Digweed. ‘Does that mean you read all the mail posted here? If so, you must be a quick reader as I myself brought in several packets this morning containing expensive and in most cases closely printed books. I might add that I paid first-class postage in expectation of a first-class service.’
‘You’re always saying how these book-collecting chappies spend years chasing up a single volume,’ said Wylmot. ‘Another day won’t make much difference. I say, something that could be important. Kee Scudamore was in earlier and she was saying that Girlie’s starting up a shop at the Hall – postcards, stamps, souvenirs, that sort of thing. Have you heard about this?’
‘Something,’ said Digweed.
‘Well, I think it’s a bit off.’ (Wield smiled invisibly. A definite awf .) ‘Don’t want to tread on any toes, but give and take’s the essence of village life, and it seems to me that the Guillemards are doing a bit too much taking.’
‘Then you’d better get yourself up there and make your point clear,’ said Digweed. ‘Daphne, my dear, nice to see you. Goodbye.’
He looked at Wield as if expecting the door to be held open for him.
Wield said, ‘Excuse me, Mr Wylmot, I’m a colleague of Constable Bendish. You’ve not seen him around, have you?’
‘Can’t recall last time I saw him. Never around when we were getting burgled, that’s for sure!’
Mrs Wylmot said, ‘He called in to settle his paper bill yesterday lunch-time.’
‘Didn’t say anything about his plans for his day off, did he?’
‘No. He bought a box of chocolate gingers, I recall, and seemed in a very good mood.’
‘He’d probably just booked old Jocky Hogbin for jay-walking with his Zimmer frame,’ said Digweed.
‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Wylmot. ‘Little Madge used to pick up her granddad’s black twist till Bendish threatened me with a summons for selling tobacco to a juvenile. What did he imagine she was going to do with it?’
‘Chew it, probably,’ snorted Digweed.
On this rare note of unity they parted.
Outside, Wield said, ‘Mr Wylmot is like yourself, I take it, sir?’
‘Then you can just take it back,’ said Digweed indignantly.
‘I only meant he’s an off-comer, settled here by way of business.’
Digweed said acidly, ‘Sergeant, my native woodnotes wild may have lost some of their sylvan resonance, but without wanting to make a chauvinist issue out of it, let me assure you I am born of good Yorkshire stock and that my family tree has its roots deep in this parish. I deeply resent being categorized with Mr Dudley Wylmot who is one of those pathetic souls who, having dreamt all his urban life of the joys of rustic retirement, has been foolish enough to pour his severance pay into realizing that dream.’
‘His wife seems a nice lady, but,’ prompted Wield.
‘But, indeed. How such a creature came to marry Wylmot is a question at least as puzzling as what song the Sirens sang or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women.’
‘Wouldn’t know anything about that,’ said Wield. ‘Is that where I’ll find the lady who saw the hat? The Eendale Gallery?’
They had reached the Tell-Tale Bookshop.
‘Yes,’ said Digweed. ‘It is by the way Kee you want, the elder sister, the blonde.’
‘There’s another, is there?’
‘Yes. Caddy. She is – how shall I put it? – artistic. In your pursuit of hard factual clarity, you would be well advised to avoid converse with Caddy.’
His tone was almost devoid of irony. I wonder why, thought Wield.
He let his gaze drift from
‘Oh yes. I think so. But they’ll need to send someone else for the mail.’
‘Not today, they won’t. Half-day, or had you forgotten?’ said Wylmot cheerfully. ‘We were just waiting for Paget before closing.’
‘But the mail …’ protested Digweed.
‘It’s all right. Nothing that can’t wait till the morning.’
‘You think not?’ said Digweed. ‘Does that mean you read all the mail posted here? If so, you must be a quick reader as I myself brought in several packets this morning containing expensive and in most cases closely printed books. I might add that I paid first-class postage in expectation of a first-class service.’
‘You’re always saying how these book-collecting chappies spend years chasing up a single volume,’ said Wylmot. ‘Another day won’t make much difference. I say, something that could be important. Kee Scudamore was in earlier and she was saying that Girlie’s starting up a shop at the Hall – postcards, stamps, souvenirs, that sort of thing. Have you heard about this?’
‘Something,’ said Digweed.
‘Well, I think it’s a bit off.’ (Wield smiled invisibly. A definite awf .) ‘Don’t want to tread on any toes, but give and take’s the essence of village life, and it seems to me that the Guillemards are doing a bit too much taking.’
‘Then you’d better get yourself up there and make your point clear,’ said Digweed. ‘Daphne, my dear, nice to see you. Goodbye.’
He looked at Wield as if expecting the door to be held open for him.
Wield said, ‘Excuse me, Mr Wylmot, I’m a colleague of Constable Bendish. You’ve not seen him around, have you?’
‘Can’t recall last time I saw him. Never around when we were getting burgled, that’s for sure!’
Mrs Wylmot said, ‘He called in to settle his paper bill yesterday lunch-time.’
‘Didn’t say anything about his plans for his day off, did he?’
‘No. He bought a box of chocolate gingers, I recall, and seemed in a very good mood.’
‘He’d probably just booked old Jocky Hogbin for jay-walking with his Zimmer frame,’ said Digweed.
‘Wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Wylmot. ‘Little Madge used to pick up her granddad’s black twist till Bendish threatened me with a summons for selling tobacco to a juvenile. What did he imagine she was going to do with it?’
‘Chew it, probably,’ snorted Digweed.
On this rare note of unity they parted.
Outside, Wield said, ‘Mr Wylmot is like yourself, I take it, sir?’
‘Then you can just take it back,’ said Digweed indignantly.
‘I only meant he’s an off-comer, settled here by way of business.’
Digweed said acidly, ‘Sergeant, my native woodnotes wild may have lost some of their sylvan resonance, but without wanting to make a chauvinist issue out of it, let me assure you I am born of good Yorkshire stock and that my family tree has its roots deep in this parish. I deeply resent being categorized with Mr Dudley Wylmot who is one of those pathetic souls who, having dreamt all his urban life of the joys of rustic retirement, has been foolish enough to pour his severance pay into realizing that dream.’
‘His wife seems a nice lady, but,’ prompted Wield.
‘But, indeed. How such a creature came to marry Wylmot is a question at least as puzzling as what song the Sirens sang or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women.’
‘Wouldn’t know anything about that,’ said Wield. ‘Is that where I’ll find the lady who saw the hat? The Eendale Gallery?’
They had reached the Tell-Tale Bookshop.
‘Yes,’ said Digweed. ‘It is by the way Kee you want, the elder sister, the blonde.’
‘There’s another, is there?’
‘Yes. Caddy. She is – how shall I put it? – artistic. In your pursuit of hard factual clarity, you would be well advised to avoid converse with Caddy.’
His tone was almost devoid of irony. I wonder why, thought Wield.
He let his gaze drift from
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