The Stately Home Murder Read Online Free PDF Page B

was—the Earl of Ornum maintained a high standard. Surmounting the pillars were two stone spheres, and crouching on top of the spheres was a pair of gryphons.
    Constable Crosby regarded them critically. “They’re funny-looking birds, aren’t they? Can’t say I’ve ever seen anything like that flying around.”
    â€œI’m glad to hear it, Constable. They don’t exist.”
    Crosby glanced up over his shoulder at the solid stone. “I see, sir.”
    â€œA myth,” amplified Sloan. “Like unicorns.”
    â€œYes, sir.” Crosby slid the car between the gryphons and lowered his speed to a self-conscious fifteen miles an hour in deference to a notice which said just that. Then he cleared his throat. “The house, sir. I can’t see it.”
    â€œStately homes aren’t meant to be seen from the road, Constable. That’s the whole idea. Carry on.”
    Crosby subsided into silence—for perhaps half a minute. “It’s a long way, sir …”
    Sloan grunted. “The distance in this instance between the rich man in his castle and the poor man at his gate is about a mile.”
    â€œA mile, sir?” Crosby digested this, dropping a gear the while. This particular police car wasn’t used to a steady fifteen m.p.h.
    â€œA mile,” confirmed Sloan, whose own single latched gate led up a short straight path to a semidetached house in suburban Berebury. In his view his own path had the edge—so to speak—on the Earl’s inasmuch as it was flanked by prize rose bushes as opposed to great oak trees. Sloan favored roses. He felt that there should be a moratorium on crime while they were in bloom.
    â€œSir, if we were to go over fifteen miles an hour would a prosecution hold under the Road Traffic Acts?” Crosby was young still and anxious for promotion. “They’d have to bring a private prosecution, wouldn’t they? I mean, we couldn’t bring one, or could we?”
    Sloan, who was watching keenly for a first glimpse of Ornum House, said, “Couldn’t do what?”
    â€œBring a prosecution for speeding on private land.” Crosby kept his eye on the speedometer. “Traffic Division wouldn’t be able to do a thing, would they?”
    Sloan grunted. Traffic Division were never ones for being interested in the finer academic points of law. Their line of demarcation was a simple one.
    Fatals and non-fatals.
    However, if Crosby wanted to split hairs …
    â€œGoing over the limit anytime, anywhere, Constable, isn’t the same thing as proving it.”
    â€œNo, sir, but if you had two independent witnesses …”
    â€œAh,” said Sloan drily. “I agree that would be different.” He peered forward, thinking he saw a building. “I don’t know when I last saw two independent witnesses. Rare birds, independent witnesses. I’d put them in the same category as gryphons myself.”
    Crosby persisted, “But if you had them, sir, then what? I could ask Traffic, I suppose …”
    Sloan happened to know that Inspector Harpe of Traffic Division wouldn’t thank anybody for asking him anything else just at this moment. Superintendent Leeyes had today posed him about the most awkward question a police officer could ever be asked. It was: “Why were all the damaged cars from the accident jobs attended by his three crews finding their way into the same garage for repair? If anyone was getting a rake-off there would be hell to pay …”
    â€œSir,” Crosby pointed suddenly. “Something moved over there between the trees. I saw it.”
    Sloan turned and caught a glimpse of brown. “Deer. And there’s the house coming up now. Keep going.”
    There was a young woman sitting by a baize-covered table near the front door. She had on a pretty summer frock and she was all for charging Sloan and Crosby half a crown before she would let