An Unmentionable Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

pudding, while grumbling about the long ride from North Horsham.
    A stray dog, hungry for food, circled them warily, waiting for a morsel that could be snapped up before it dropped to the ground.
    The foreman, a muscular ginger-haired brute, strode around issuing orders to which no one paid attention. Only one man appeared to be working and that was the driver of the crane that carried the wrecking ball.
    As the huge machine lumbered across the uneven ground, the men moved out of its way, but otherwise paid little attention to it. Their job would start once the remains of the building fell in a heap of dust and broken bricks. What had once been a promising enterprise, supplying much-needed arms and ammunition to the troops fighting abroad, would be reduced to rubble in a matter of minutes.
    The first thunderous crash of the wrecking ball shook the ground, and some of the men turned their heads to watch the destruction. Again and again the ball struck, startling the crows and causing a mass exodus from the nearby trees. Even the dog abandoned its hungry vigilance and slunk away.
    Dust rose in an ugly cloud above the forlorn ruins as the crane backed away, its morbid job completed. The men reluctantly put away their flasks and prepared to begin the massive cleanup.
    As they moved toward the rubble the dog reappeared, darting ahead of them with its nose in the air as if chasing an enticing odor. It leapt over a pile of bricks and began scrabbling madly at a heap of mangled wood and plaster.
    One of the men at the head of the group shouted, and bent to pick up a lump of plaster to throw at it. Then he paused, his arm in midair. The rest of the men crowded behind him, staring with disbelief at what the dog had uncovered.
    The man in front shuddered, then said quietly, “I think we’d better get the bobbies up here quick.”
    Someone else called out, “Get that flipping dog off the poor bugger.”
    â€œNot that it matters now,” the first man muttered. “That poor sod’s a goner. Looks like someone’s put a bullet right through his bloody head.”

CHAPTER 3
    Elizabeth arrived at the station just as Sid, George’s intrepid partner, was leaving. He greeted her with his usual good humor, though she could tell he was a little put out about something.
    â€œI take it George is inside?” she asked him, nodding at the small brick building that once housed horses and still bore the faint aroma of their presence.
    â€œYes, your ladyship, he is indeed,” Sid said grimly.
    Being well used to the feuding between the two constables, Elizabeth refrained from asking about the problem. Both men had been retired for several years when the outbreak of war and the need for younger men in His Majesty’s Service had removed the entire police force from Sitting Marsh.
    George and Sid had been more or less forced out of retirement to serve their country. Neither of them was too pleased about being deprived of his former pursuits and got by expending as little energy as possible on police business. Their resentment often spilled over into personal attacks on each other, which certainly didn’t help the situation.
    Nevertheless, there were certain procedures that had to be followed before Elizabeth could feel justified in taking matters into her own hands, which she often did, much to the outward annoyance and secret relief of George, who more often than not was completely out of his depth.
    In this case, however, she would need the full cooperation of both men if she was going to launch the extensive search for Martin she had in mind. Upon learning that Sid was on his way to the bakery to pick up pastries for himself and George, she let him go on his way and entered the gloomy confines of the police station.
    George sat behind his desk, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He seemed startled to see her and hastily folded the newspaper as he greeted her. “You’re out and about