Free Some Die Eloquent by Catherine Aird Page A

indicated she needed more insulin. I saw her twice last week and told her to step up her dose each time.’
    â€˜Ah.’
    â€˜I should have thought it would have done the trick myself – surprising it didn’t, really – but you never can tell.’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜And of course she lived alone. Then if you do go over the edge of safety there’s no one there to haul you back.’
    â€˜She might not have acted upon your advice,’ pointed out the coroner, always able to find something to cavil at, and well-used to doctors who wondered if they should have done more.
    â€˜I’ll have you know, Chestley, that patients are usually more obedient than clients.’
    â€˜Just as well,’ riposted the man of law neatly. ‘Clients who don’t take our advice bring in a lot of work. Yours only die.’
    This response set up quite a different train of thought in the general practitioner. His tone changed completely. ‘Bob, I’m sending my junior partner round to see you.’
    â€˜Peter McCavity?’
    â€˜I’ve persuaded him to consult you at last. Took a bit of doing.’
    â€˜I can believe that.’
    â€˜He’s – er – got himself into a – er – little difficulty.’
    â€˜Again?’
    â€˜Yes.’ The doctor sighed. ‘Yes. Again.’
    â€˜The old problem?’
    There was a pause. ‘I’m very much afraid so.’
    â€˜The dog it was that died, eh, Sloan?’ said the Superintendent thoughtfully when the detective-inspector got back to the police station.
    â€˜So Constable Crosby says, sir.’ Sloan toyed with the note he had made.
    â€˜And how did he find out?’
    â€˜Poking about in Ridley Road,’ said Sloan, looking out of the window.
    â€˜Poking about?’
    â€˜Digging,’ supplied Sloan uncomfortably.
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Miss Wansdyke’s garden.’
    â€˜He’ll be the death of me, that boy, one day,’ breathed Leeyes.
    â€˜Of us all,’ said Sloan feelingly.
    â€˜Not so much as “by your leave”?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Anyone’s permission?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Search warrant?’
    â€˜Wouldn’t know what that looked like, I dare say.’
    â€˜Just went along with his spade?’
    â€˜Shouldn’t be surprised.’
    â€˜And his bucket,’ said Leeyes, ‘like he was at the seaside?’
    â€˜Probably.’
    â€˜What will the neighbours say?’
    Taking this literally, Sloan flipped his notes over. ‘One of them gave him a cup of tea – a Mrs Stroude. She confirms that Miss Wansdyke spent the whole of Friday evening looking for the dog. She heard her whistling and calling until quite late. And she saw her out and about early Saturday morning ditto.’
    â€˜By which time the dog was dead and buried?’
    â€˜Presumably.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜Not far from a small compost heap at the bottom of the garden.’
    â€˜Crosby knew where to look?’ Leeyes sounded disbelieving.
    Sloan cleared his throat and said carefully, ‘He tells me that on one of his training courses they had a lesson on how to identify disturbed ground.’
    â€˜With pictures, I suppose,’ grunted Leeyes. ‘When I was a constable we were supposed to work that sort of thing out for ourselves.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ Disturbed ground always meant something, all the same. The archaeologists knew that.
    â€˜Julius Cæsar was here,’ said the Superintendent, ‘and all that.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜So he knew what to look for?’
    â€˜He found the dog,’ said Sloan elliptically.
    â€˜The dead don’t bury the dead,’ said the Superintendent.
    â€˜No.’ Sloan acknowledged this immediately. ‘From what he says there seems little doubt that someone …’
    â€˜Person or persons unknown,’ intervened