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.Eleanor managed to restrain herself from passing on the good news at once.“Mr Hobbes is on his way, sir.”Scumble nodded.“You grew up around here, didn’t you?”“At the other end of the county, actually, sir.”He dismissed this with a wave.“Do you know where these places are?” He handed over the list of names and addresses.Megan read it with dismay.“Not really, sir.Even with a map, the lanes are pretty confusing in places, but I expect I can find them.”“Good.Take Dawson and ask ‘em all what they donated to LonStar the day before yesterday.Ask particularly about anything valuable, but don’t specify jewelry.You might as well see if anyone can put a time to Mrs Trewynn’s call,” he added pessimistically, “though I can’t see what good it’ll do us if they can.You made a note of everyone in Port Mabyn you’ve shown that photo to?”“Of course, sir.”“Give your notes to Pardoe.He can finish that up.And take a copy of the picture to show all these people you’re going to run to earth in their rural retreats.”“Uh, some of these places probably don’t get wireless reception, sir.If they haven’t heard about the murder, should I tell them why I’m making enquiries?”“No! Least said, soonest mended.” He turned a ferocious scowl on Eleanor.“Which doesn’t apply to witnesses.”“ ‘I tell thee everything I can,’ ” said Eleanor.“ ‘There’s little to relate.’ ”Scumble gave her a look of utter incomprehension.Oh dear, she thought, he wasn’t brought up on Lewis Carroll.Now he would think her battier than ever.But the image the quotation brought to her mind—an aged, aged man a-sitting on a gate—reminded her of something she hadn’t related.“It wasn’t a gate,” she said, as Megan, who surely was acquainted with the White Knight, made her escape.“It was a stile.I went for a walk on the cliffs.”“That afternoon,” the inspector said flatly.“After picking up the goods?”“Yes.It was a beautiful day.I parked in a lay-by, well off the road.”“I’m delighted to hear it.Did you by any chance lock the car?”“Well, no.As a matter of fact, I left the keys in the lock, so, you see, I did mean to do it.But I heard a car coming, so I checked to make sure Teazle was well out of the way.”“Did you recognise the car?” he rapped out.“What make, year, colour? I suppose there’s no hope of your having noted the licence plate.”“It was a panda car, actually.Or don’t you like people calling them that? A police car.Bob Leacock’s police car.”“PC Leacock’s police car.The local officer.”“That’s right.Such a nice young man.He stopped to make sure I hadn’t broken down and we passed the time of day.Then he drove on and I climbed up onto the stile.Teazle went underneath.It was a wooden one, not one of those with stone steps built into a wall.That kind I have to lift her over, which is all very well if you have a small dog but how people manage.Sorry! Where was I?”“On top of the stile, I believe.The wooden stile.”Sarcasm again.Eleanor was quite indignant.After all, she had apologised for rambling.She was almost tempted to tell him she couldn’t remember what had happened next.He’d certainly believe her.But not only would that be childish, the more she thought about it, the more obvious it seemed that the loot must have been put into the Incorruptible while she was walking across the field.“Another car came by.It’s no good asking me the make or year or licence plate, but it was grey.The sun was reflected off the windshield and I couldn’t see who was inside, but I waved, just in case it was someone I knew.It drove past.After I had climbed down from the stile and started across the field, I heard the engine cut off.I remember hoping they weren’t going to walk the same way and spoil the peace and quiet.A few moments later, I heard a car door slam.Then they drove away.”“In which direction?” Scumble demanded.“The opposite way to Bob.They must have passed each other as he drove down the hill.”“If he doesn’t know the make, model, and year,” snarled the inspector, “I’ll have him kicked off the force.”ELEVENPC Dawson was young, brash, and muscular.Megan wondered whether DI Scumble had chosen him to accompany her because she might need protection.Visiting rural philanthropists sounded harmless but this was, after all, a murder investigation.The fact that she had passed all the police unarmed combat courses with flying colours was not likely to impress the inspector.Dawson raced the panda Mini along twisting lanes barely wide enough for a single car.The high, banked walls on either side effectively blocked any view of oncoming traffic.It gave Megan a new appreciation for Scumble’s dislike of being driven.She closed her eyes as a bend brought them nose to nose with a tractor.Had it been doing more than three miles an hour, disaster would have been inevitable.As it was, the police car screeched to a halt a scant foot short of its radiator grille.The farm-worker driving it, a red-faced man in a disreputable hat, gave a cheery wave and pointed forcefully at the way they had come.Dawson reversed, swearing.He shot Megan a half-shamefaced, half-defiant look and muttered, “Sorry,” as he backed into a passing niche.After six years in the police, she still hadn’t worked out how to deal with this situation.He’d never have apologised for bad language to a male colleague.On the one hand, he was being polite
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