The Hangman's Row Enquiry Read Online Free PDF Page A

sight, he thought. Then she said, “Would you like me to join you, possibly?”
    “That won’t be necessary, thank you,” said Ivy firmly. “And if Mr. Halfhide would like a sherry at such a daft time of day, then please send that girl up with one. Nothing for me, of course. What an idea! Mother would turn in her grave.”
    When Mrs. Spurling had retired scarlet-faced with annoyance, Gus attempted to calm the atmosphere. “Tell me about your mother, Miss Beasley,” he said. “She sounds a most interesting woman.” An evil old bag, more likely, he thought, but settled back in his chair prepared to listen.
    Ivy looked at him, frowning. “You don’t want to hear about my mother,” she said. “You want to know some more about the Blakes, don’t you. D’you know what I really think about you, Mr. Halfhide?”
    Oh Lord, now what, thought Gus, but he nodded bravely.
    “I’m sure you’re up to more than you’ve said, young man,” she said. Gus was quite happy about the adjective, until Ivy added that most people looked young to an old lady like herself. “No doubt you have a good reason for living on your own, and you don’t seem one of those.”
    “One of whats?” Gus said, knowing perfectly well what she meant.
    “Fancy men,” Ivy said flatly. “I’ve always liked to call a spade a spade, and Mother always said she’d have no truck with fancy men.”
    “Ah,” pounced Gus. “Your mother. Now do tell me more about her. She must have been a great character . . . like mother, like daughter, would you say, Ivy?”
    Ivy wondered whether to point out that she never allowed people she hardly knew to call her by her Christian name, but decided to ignore it. Actually, she quite liked it from Augustus.
    “Yes, she was a character. Very forceful. Boss of our house, no doubt about that. My father was a good man, but not as strong as she was. Came from farming stock, and had been brought up to work on the farm from an early age. I was an only child, Mr. Halfhide, but that didn’t mean I was spoilt. Oh no. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child.’ That was my mother’s favourite saying.”
    “You mean she hit you?” Gus said in a shocked voice. No wonder the old thing was so sharp-edged.
    “On occasion,” Ivy said. “But not with a stick. Flat of her hand on the back of bare legs. That was her way. My father used to go out of the room. He couldn’t stay. Didn’t hold with smacking girls, I heard him say once to my mother. But she just laughed.”
    “Now, that’s quite enough about Mother,” she went on, conscious that Gus Halfhide was looking a bit green about the gills. “Let’s talk about the reason you’re here. It’s finding out who killed old Mrs. Blake. And my guess is that you’re nothing to do with the police. Right?”
    Gus nodded firmly.
    “And you want me to help you. Right?”
    Gus nodded.
    “Very well,” Ivy said. “I like the idea of something to occupy the brain. It can go to mush, you know, if it’s not exercised. But Deirdre has to be in on it, too. She’s a pain in the neck, but not stupid. And she has money. We might need that. Add to that the fact that she’s fit and well and has nothing to do, I reckon she’d be useful.”
    “Can she keep her mouth shut?” Gus said meekly.
    “Like a clam,” Ivy said. “She’s had plenty of practise, spending her husband’s money without the rest of his family knowing,” she added, smiling grimly.
    Gus stood up and extended his hand. “A deal, then, Ivy?” he said.
    “A deal, Augustus,” she said, shaking his hand vigorously.

Seven

    DEIRDRE BLOXHAM HAD married money, but not class. But then, she hadn’t been exactly classy herself, not upper class nor even upper middle, but good solid working class, eminently respectable. She was a bright schoolgirl, and went on to improve herself in adulthood with all kinds of further education courses. It was on one of these, a basic introduction to motor maintenance, that she met her