The Sleeping Salesman Enquiry Read Online Free PDF

am so sorry if I alarmed you, but I really only wanted to say hello.”
    “Hello,” said Alf.
    Progress, thought Gus. Definitely a better start than before. “I am sure I remember my old father mentioning your name. He had a farm in the Cotswolds and was always going on about his brilliant stockman, one Donald Lowe? Does that ring bells?”
    Alf stared at him. “Supposing it does?” he said suspiciously. “Now, look here, the bus is just coming, so if you’re going into town, come and sit by me and we’ll see if there’s anything in your story. More likely a trumped-up reason to get me to talk. But we’ll see. On you go; you go first.”
    As the bus started on its way, Gus’s arm was touched by a kindly looking matron across the aisle. “Was that your dog?” she said. “Did you mean to leave her hooked up outside the shop?”
    Panic! Gus tried to stand up to stop the bus, but Alf pulled him down in his seat. “Dog’ll be all right,” he said. “Do you want to talk to me or not? I’m not bothered, so you’d better make up your mind. You could get off at the next stop and walk back.”
    Gus thought for half a minute, and then pulled out his mobile. “I’ll get James to take her in until I return,” he said.
    “Don’t know what we’d do without our village shop,” said Alf, with the trace of a smile. “So, I’m supposed to have met your friend at a bus stop a while back?”
    “Yes, that’s right. He said you were having wife trouble—do forgive me if I’m getting this wrong—and he offered the services of our enquiry agency, should you need it. We have just finished a case, and wondered if we could be of any use to you?”
    It would have taken a monster not to be softened by Gus’s anxiety to please.
    “Well, what did you say your name was? Mine’s Lowe. Alfred Lowe. Alf to my friends in the pub.”
    “Barrington pub? Haven’t seen you in there. Mind you, I only go in for the odd pint and a game of darts.”
    “You any good? At darts, I mean.”
    “Not bad. I fill in if one of the regulars can’t make a match in the league. How about yourself?”
    “County champ in my youth. Misspent youth, I should say. I’ll give you a game someday.”
    They were silent then until approaching the outskirts of Thornwell, and then Alf asked if Gus had much shopping to do.
    “None,” said Gus. “If you remember, you abducted me onto this bus.”
    Alf laughed uproariously. “Very good!” he said. “Now, would you like to be abducted to a café in the marketplace? Then I’ll tell you the whole story of my ill-fated marriage.”
    “So it
was
you who met Roy that day?”
    “Roy who?”
    “Roy Goodman. He lives at Springfields residential home in Barrington. You must know him, surely?”
    “Roy Goodman! Was that him that day? I thought the old bugger looked familiar! Well, I never. Roy Goodman, still in the land of the living! His family used to farm near us. A wealthy lot, they were. Several farms here and there. Goodmans everywhere a generation back, you know. What about Roy? Did he get wed, have children?”
    Gus shook his head. He thought he would keep quiet about the forthcoming marriage between Roy and Ivy. “No, he’s been a confirmed bachelor, I gather.”
    “Blimey. When the old man dies, then, there’ll be quite a carve-up, won’t there?” Gus did not answer, and Alf stirred in his seat. “Now, here we are,” he said. “Follow me, and I can guarantee a good cup of tea and the best rock cakes in the county.”
    Gus frowned. This family information did not quite accord with Roy’s oft-repeated denial of any close relations, except for one nephew, son of a now-deceased sister. It could just be true, if all the Goodmans and their offspring were now dead. Except one, and he was to be Roy’s best man. Odd, but possible.
    When they were settled in a scruffy café in a side street off the marketplace, Gus thought it was time to open the subject of Alf’s marriage. But the old man was