Free Jack on the Gallows Tree by Leo Bruce Page A

fear I’ve found another one.”
    â€œThat’s surely not very likely?”
    â€œYou never know. In my calling …”
    â€œAn occupational hazard, you think? At all events I’m much obliged to you, Mr Thickett.” Carolus passed him a pound note which disappeared as though a conjuror had held it. “You’ve been most helpful.”
    â€œDid She tell you where to find me?”
    Carolus, who was accustomed to meet pronouns unrelated and incorporate, appearing from nowhere, as it were, was somewhat at a loss this time.
    â€œHer near the quarry,” explained Thickett, unable to pronounce the name.
    â€œAs a matter of fact she did,” said Carolus.
    â€œI thought so. It only shows.”
    â€œShe also said you were clever, Mr Thickett.”
    â€œThat’s no compliment coming from her. I make no claims to cleverness or anything else. It wouldn’t do in my walk of life.”
    â€œDid you know the other murdered woman?”
    â€œI attend St Augustine’s church,” said Mr Thickett, “so I could scarcely help knowing her by sight, could I? Poor lady, I’m told she looked as horrible as the one I found. What kind of a madman would do a thing like that, I should like to know?”
    â€œNot mad,” said Carolus, “clever.”
    He left Thickett staring up over his tankard.

7
    â€œI T’S all very interesting,” said Rupert Priggley over lunch “and I’ve no doubt you’re beginning to ‘see light’ or ‘form the first vague idea’, or whatnot. But you must admit you’re being rather leisurely about it.”
    â€œI’m on holiday. Recovering from an illness.”
    â€œOh phoo-ee. If you thought there was any urgency you’d be leaping about in disguise or tearing round cross-examining people like a lunatic. I suppose you’ve got your reason for playing it slow. Or is it the effect of this town?”
    Carolus took a glance round the dining-room. It was the briskest scene of the day at the Royal Hydro.
    â€œAfter all, it’s quite a lurid little affair,” went on Rupert. “Two elderly ladies, whose only offence appears to be that they had a lot of money, strangled in the same night and in the same district. You can’t call it dull, can you? Yet here you are, asking a few questions, interviewing a few people who even you could scarcely call suspects …”
    â€œI don’t see why not.”
    â€œMrs Goggs? Thickett in his humble calling? The Baxeters? Come now, sir.”
    â€œWho would you say was a suspect?”
    â€œWell, anyone in the town, I suppose.”
    â€œWhy limit it to the town? There’s the man who bought gold from each of the two women. He lives in London. No, Rupert. You’ve missed the whole point.”
    â€œGo on. I’ll buy it. I’ll be Doctor Watson. What’s the whole point?”
    â€œThis case is unique in my experience. In every other murder case I’ve ever touched the motive has been clear and I’ve had to look for suspects. In this I’ve got my suspects and cannot for the life of me understand the motive.”
    â€œMoney, surely.”
    â€œHow? No one benefits from the death of both women.”
    â€œI see what you mean. What do we do, then? Bash on regardless?”
    â€œExactly. Routine enquiries. You’ll find it will take shape.”
    â€œWho is next?”
    â€œA bootmaker called Humpling.”
    The shop was a small one-room affair and its proprietor, a thin and nervous-looking man whose face wore a perpetually crestfallen expression, was at work in it. Carolus explained his business.
    â€œOh dear,” said the bootmaker in a somewhat whining voice. “I’ve told the police all I know. It seems very hard that I should have to go over it again.”
    â€œYou don’t
have
to,” said Carolus. “You can refuse to tell me anything at