The Blind Side by Patricia Wentworth Page B

everything in order, mustn’t we, Inspector?” She rummaged in a black suede bag and produced a rather crumpled sheet of paper. “Methods—that’s what I always say. Most important, isn’t it? I am sure you will agree. I have made a few jottings—just a few heads, you know—and if you will permit me, I will keep to my heads. ‘Begin at the beginning and keep straight on to the end.’ That is what my dear father used to say, and I have found it a most excellent rule.” She coughed slightly. “My first head—”
    The Inspector pushed his chair back with a loud scraping sound.
    â€œI should be obliged if you would keep to the point, Miss Bingham.”
    â€œYes, yes—so very necessary—I quite agree.”
    â€œSince you have been here so long and are acquainted with all these people—”
    â€œYes, yes—that brings me to my first head—Mr. Craddock’s Relations with his Relations—a humorous touch which I could hardly resist, though perhaps in the circumstances not quite suitable.”
    Inspector Lamb drew a long breath.
    â€œI shall be glad to hear anything you have to say on that subject.”
    He received an arch glance.
    â€œMethod, you see, Inspector—method. That was my first head. It is, naturally, painful to me to have to say so, but I feel I must be perfectly frank, and I can only say that Mr. Craddock’s relations with his—er—relatives were not at all good. Oh, dear me, no—quite the reverse. My poor friend Lucy Craddock cried to me, positively cried, over his dissipated ways and his total lack of consideration for the family name and for her feelings. I happen to know that she was most distressed and anxious over his scandalous pursuit of her niece.”
    â€œWas that Miss Mavis Grey?”
    â€œYes, Mavis Grey. I see you have already heard something on that point. Over and over again Lucy begged him to desist. And only yesterday I happened to be coming down the stairs, and I saw him pushing my poor friend, actually pushing her, out of his front door, and I heard what he said. Anyone might have heard it, for he spoke quite loud—and how a man who had had the upbringing of a gentleman could so far forget himself—”
    â€œWhat did he say?”
    Miss Bingham tossed her head.
    â€œâ€˜Old maid cousins should be seen and not heard.’ That’s what he said! And poor Lucy stood there just as if she had been turned to stone, until Peter Renshaw came upstairs, and when he asked her what was the matter she burst out crying and said, ‘He’s wicked!’ And I know, because Mrs. Green told me, that he was going to turn Lucy out! After she’d been thirty years in that flat of hers! I don’t wonder she said he was wicked!”
    â€œMr. Craddock’s relations with Miss Lucy Craddock were not good then. Now what about Mr. Renshaw? What sort of terms was he on with him?”
    â€œNot at all good terms,” said Miss Bingham, shaking her head. “Why, I’ve seen Mr. Renshaw walk all the way up the stairs rather than go in the lift with his cousin. Oh, yes, anyone could tell you that they didn’t get on—oh, no, not at all.”
    â€œAnd Miss Fenton?”
    â€œWell, I couldn’t say very much about Miss Fenton. She’s not a young woman I care for particularly—far too off-hand in her manner. I believe Lucy Craddock is very fond of her. I can’t think why, because the girl quite refused to be guided by Lucy’s advice and insisted, absolutely insisted, on going off to South America or somewhere. I may say I was most surprised to find that she was here in Lucy Craddock’s flat. I quite understood that she had started for South America.”
    â€œYou didn’t know of any ill feeling between her and Mr. Craddock?”
    A disappointed look crossed Miss Bingham’s face. She did the best she could.
    â€œThey