Swing, Swing Together by Peter Lovesey

was that thought of this, but it’s the ace of trumps. Exhibit number one! There’s a commendation in this for someone.”
    â€œIt was Constable Hardy’s own idea to purchase the sausage,” said Harriet generously.
    â€œGood thinking,” said Cribb. “Give the dog a scent of meat and then show it your leg.”
    â€œIt wasn’t quite like that,” said Harriet. “Constable Thackeray was holding the polony and—”
    â€œThackeray, eh?” said Cribb. “I thought this had the stamp of Scotland Yard on it. Stout work, Thackeray! I should have known that if there was a dust with a dog, you’d be in the thick of it. And when the evidence was firm, so to speak, you disconnected Towser from Hardy and secured the beast to the boat again?”
    â€œ That’s right, Sarge.”
    Thackeray’s emphasis sought to convey that Cribb’s assumptions were not correct in every respect, but it was lost on the sergeant. “Capital work! The suspects won’t have any notion of the evidence we’ve secured. They’re paddling blissfully up to Culham at this minute to spend the night in the backwater, quite unaware of what was going on while they were drinking. I forgot to ask you if you recognized them, Miss Shaw.”
    That question again. Harriet had hoped it had been forgotten in the excitement over Hardy’s leg. “They could well be the men I saw on Tuesday night, but I am not ready to swear to it yet. My view was partially obstructed downstairs and the conditions were altogether different, as you must appreciate.”
    Cribb nodded tolerantly. “We’ll see if we can get you a better view of them on the river tomorrow. Actually, you must have come quite close to it today. You can’t have been too far behind them. A nifty piece of rowing, gentlemen.”
    In the short pause that followed, Hardy did not stir a muscle, even when Harriet in her unease tipped some iodine directly onto his perforated skin. “We—er—came by train, Sarge,” Thackeray confessed. “We left the boat at Goring.”
    â€œIf you remember, you left a message there asking us to make the best speed we could,” Harriet quickly added in support, “but up to then we followed their route most faithfully. We established conclusively that they spent last night on an island at Shiplake.”
    â€œYou did?” said Cribb, still absorbing the information that they were without a boat.
    Rapidly, Harriet moved on to a breathless account of the meeting with Mr. Bustard and Jim Hackett, on the principle that if she bombarded him with detail, something sooner or later would make an impact. It turned out to be Jim Hackett’s habit of quoting from the Bible.
    â€œDo you remember any of the texts?” Cribb asked.
    â€œ ‘Be sure your sin will find you out’ was one, and there was another about giving account for idle words on the day of judgment.”
    â€œI remember a third,” said Thackeray enthusiastically. “ ‘Man goeth forth unto his work and to his labour until the evening.’ Psalm 104. Thirty-five verses. I learned it at school.”
    â€œI wonder if Jim Hackett did,” said Cribb. “Did he have much else to say?”
    â€œVery little,” answered Thackeray. “He corrected Bustard once, I remember, a question over where they’d bought a veal and ham pie. Bustard said it was the George and Dragon at Wargrave, but Hackett insisted it was the Dog and Badger. The way he said it made me think he was talking about the contents of the pie. Which reminds me, would anybody like a slice of polony before we all retire? It wasn’t touched by Towser, I promise you. I’ll use my pocketknife, if nobody objects.”
    â€œJust what I could do with,” said Cribb, his spirits quite restored. “How about you, Miss Shaw?”
    â€œI would rather not,” said Harriet. She was