River of Darkness by Rennie Airth

subsections to be sent to the various police authorities around the country. 'We'll ask them to find out if any of these men have a history of violence,' the chief inspector said. 'Though, given recent events on the continent of Europe, and the fact that they were all soldiers, the question seems redundant.' Madden asked for Detective Constable Styles to be assigned to assist them. Sinclair was amused. 'I see you haven't given up on that young man yet.' 'He'll make a decent copper one day,' Madden insisted. 'He just needs standing over.' He glanced at the chief inspector. 'I seem to remember someone doing the same for me once upon a time.' In another life, he might have added. The years before the war seemed far off now. He'd been a husband and father then, but that, too, was in a different world when he had been a different person. The abyss of the trenches lay between. On Friday morning, soon after they had gathered for work, the telephone rang. Hollingsworth answered it. 'For you, sir.' He handed the instrument to Madden. 'It's that constable in Highfield.'
    Stackpole was waiting to greet him as he stepped off the train. 'It's a pleasure to see you again, sir.' He shook Madden's hand warmly. 'We've got him this time.' The constable's broad, tanned face was split by a smile. 'Knowingly making a false statement, obstruction of justice. With any luck we can put the little weasel away for a spell.' 'Yes, but I want to know exactly what he saw that night.' They walked quickly down the platform towards the exit. 'Have you talked to Lord Stratton? Can we use his car?' 'No need, sir.' Stackpole's smile flashed beneath his thick moustache. 'Dr Blackwell's offered to give us a lift.' Madden stopped. 'I thought she'd gone to Yorkshire.' 'I should have gone to Yorkshire.' Helen Blackwell stepped out of the deep shadow of the platform shelter in front of them. She held out her hand to Madden. 'I would have gone to Yorkshire. But my locum managed to fall off a horse and break his leg and it's taken till now to find a replacement. He's due to arrive this afternoon.' Remembering her pale face in the churchyard, he was pleased to see the colour back in her cheeks. She looked flushed in the bright morning sun. They went out of the station into the road. The Wolseley twoseater was parked in the shade of a plane tree. 'Meanwhile, as Will says, I'm going to Oakley. I have two patients to see there. I've a feeling they're the same people you want to speak to, but although I've used all my wiles on him, he refuses to tell me.' 'Now, Miss Helen!' Stackpole blushed bright red. He left them to pull out the car's dicky and dust off the seat. Dr Blackwell watched him, smiling. 'Poor Will. He kissed me once, when I was six and he was eight, and he doesn't know to this day whether I remember it or not.' Madden burst out laughing, overcome by the pure pleasure of being in her company again. She looked at him critically. 'You should do that more often, Inspector,' she said.
    During the short drive to Oakley, Madden told her the reason he had come from London. 'So you got the story first from Fred Maberley?' She spoke over her shoulder to Stackpole, who sat crouched in the dicky, clutching at his helmet. 'He rang me, too. And then I had a call from Wellings. He seems to think his wrist's broken.' 'He'll have worse than a broken wrist by the time I've done with him,' the constable growled in her ear. She glanced at Madden and smiled. 'I hope Fred wasn't too rough with Gladys.' Her gloved hands spun the steering-wheel and they left the paved surface for the dirt road that led to Oakley. 'He sounded shamefaced when he rang me.' 'Got what she deserved, that young lady,' Stackpole offered. 'What did she expect -- going off to Tup's Spinney with a piece of trash like Wellings?' 'Shame on you, Will Stackpole. Just because Fred's her husband doesn't give him the right to hit her.' 'No, but. . .' Stackpole subsided in the dicky. The single road through Oakley