Ann Granger by The Companion Read Free Book Online Page B

tramped all over the place, followed by the original constable called to the scene and then Morris and his helpers. If there had been any small clue to be found, it had long been demolished.
    There was a shout from outside. Heavy footsteps echoed in the
hall and Biddle put his pink shiny face and wobbly headwear through the doorway. ‘Gentleman from the railway company is here and that foreman feller, as well – sir.’
    I was not sorry to have the excuse to get out of this claustrophobic place of death. But I remembered to say, ‘Well done!’ to Morris because, in the trying circumstances, he had done well.
    He looked mightily relieved. As we moved back down the hall, he whispered in his hoarse undertone, ‘Her clothes was very good, sir, no old rubbish. Whoever she was, she didn’t live round here.’
    Stepping out of that place into the dusty sunshine was like stepping out of a tomb. Two men were waiting for me. One was clearly the foreman, a burly fellow with a drinker’s nose and an expression of cultivated blankness. I recognised the expression well enough. He did not intend to assist the police. This was probably not because he had anything to hide but simply because, like every other man working here, he disliked us – and that even before we, in his view, had caused a problem. It sometimes puzzles me, when I take the trouble to think about it, that the population at large has so little to say in our favour. The poor claim we harass them. The wealthy claim we don’t do enough. Between the two the vast majority see us as an expense upon the public purse and another burden on the honest citizen.
    Speaking of honest citizens, I turned my attention to the man from the railway company who probably claimed this distinction. He was a pale-faced young fellow in a frock coat, wearing spectacles with oval lenses. His air was one of irritated self-importance. He held his silk hat in one hand and was mopping his brow with the other using a large spotted handkerchief. He tucked this away as he saw me.
    ‘Fletcher,’ he said briefly. ‘I am clerk of the works here and, as such, I represent the railway company.’
    ‘I am Inspector Ross,’ I replied. ‘I represent Scotland Yard.’
    The sunlight glinted on the oval lenses as he gave me a sharp look to see if I meant any facetiousness. But he saw in my face
that what I had meant him to understand was that his credentials did not outweigh mine.
    ‘Quite so,’ he said. ‘I’m hoping, Inspector, that now you’ve visited the place where the unfortunate female was discovered, we may be allowed to begin work here again. Time is money.’
    ‘And death is inconvenient,’ I said.
    This time he didn’t trouble to give me that sharp look. He just pursed his mouth before countering with, ‘You can see for yourself the unstable nature of the buildings behind you. We must proceed to bring them down in the approved manner. If not, they will fall by themselves and there is great risk of injury if not further death.’
    This was true. But I ignored him to turn to the foreman. ‘What is your name?’
    ‘Adams, sir.’ He was chewing on something as he spoke, probably a piece of tobacco. He shifted it to the other cheek and continued to stare at me in that bovine way.
    ‘Before the workmen entered the property this morning and found the dead woman, who last entered it and when?’
    ‘How should I know?’ he retorted. ‘Before we started work on this row of houses, no one went in there. Why should they? Everything was taken out of them weeks ago.’
    ‘And when did you start to demolish this row of houses?’
    ‘Two days ago. They came down easy. We had no trouble until we got here and found her.’
    ‘The men are superstitious,’ put in Fletcher fretfully. ‘When word spread that a body had been found, they all stopped work on the entire site.’
    Unexpectedly Adams took a different view. ‘They showed respect, gentlemen. Respect for the dead. It wasn’t decent to