Free The Hangman's Row Enquiry by Ann Purser Page A

machine and a table and chairs outside the shop. Encourages customers to stay a bit longer and buy a few more things they forgot on their list!”
    Poor Will, thought Gus. Little does he know how unwise he is to employ this unstoppable woman. Still, it might get her off his own tail a little. But no. Now she was asking him if he would care to watch a good film with her on the telly this evening.
    “Sorry, Miriam,” he replied. “No can do. Got some urgent papers to sort out. Now, here’s the money. Good luck!” And he escaped before she could think of a reason why the papers could be sorted out later. He remembered just in time to unhook Whippy from where she had been patiently waiting outside.
    On his way home, he wondered how Deirdre had got on with Theo Roussel. She had hinted that there had been something between them in the past. That could be very useful. He could encourage her to confide in him. Or maybe not. He had once learnt a very hard lesson, and it was now number one on his list of don’ts. Never become emotionally involved on a case. Apart from one exception, this hadn’t been too difficult, as a good ninety percent of his “clients” had never met him, nor were likely to, and his assignments were completed in silence and nobody the wiser.
    Now nearly home, he saw Whippy’s ears flatten and she stiffened. The next thing he saw was an enormous shaggy dog coming towards them. He had no idea of the breed, but sympathised with Whippy. It looked horribly dangerous, baring its teeth and growling. As far as he could see, it had no owner, no lead, and was clearly capable of eating both Whippy and himself for lunch.
    It approached the now stationary Gus and his dog in that measured way that animals have when they are about to spring, and Gus stepped forward. Some distant play-ground instinct surfaced, and he faced the bully, shouting at it to bugger off.
    To his surprise, it immediately turned and slunk away, its tail between its long, powerful legs. Then he heard a sound which was more like the cackle of a startled hen than laughter. The woman he now knew to be Miss Beatty came round the corner of the lane, still sniggering.
    “You should keep that brute on a lead, preferably muzzled!” Gus said, his voice loud with fear.
    “Why?” Miss Beatty said. “Look at him. Butter wouldn’t melt. You did the right thing, Mr. Halfhide. Face up to him and he’s the biggest coward in Barrington. Sorry about your little dog, though. She’s a whippet, isn’t she?”
    Her obvious efforts to be nice mollified Gus, and thinking on his feet he realised it would be much better to be Miss Beatty’s friend than her sworn enemy.
    “Yes, she’s called Whippy. Not very original, I’m afraid, but thinking up names is not my forte! I should introduce myself,” he added, but she interrupted him.
    “I know who you are. You’ve got the end cottage. Settled in now? Oh, and I’m Miss Beatty, housekeeper and general dogsbody.”
    More like minder, from what I hear, thought Gus, but he said only that he was pleased to meet her, and yes, he was settling in now, though the dreadful accident next door had been rather upsetting.
    “Accident? It was murder, Mr. Halfhide. You don’t get a bread knife stuck in your heart by accident. We’ve heard nothing from the police. Have you?”
    Gus shook his head. “Only that they are questioning just about everyone in the village. Miss Blake is very anxious for the matter to be cleared up, as she is unable to mourn properly until the culprit is found. In a sort of limbo, I suppose, not being able to lay her mother to rest.”
    “Huh! Is that what she told you? Well, here’s a piece of advice, Mr. Halfhide. Take everything that our Miriam says with a large pinch of salt. That’s all I’m saying. Now, I must be on my way. Lucifer here needs a good run in the woods. Good morning,” she said, and with what passed for a smile on her plain face, she disappeared through a gap in the