Gently Down the Stream by Alan Hunter Read Free Book Online Page A

him – I wouldn’t put it past her to know what was going on.’
    ‘But you don’t think it was suspected by Mrs Lammas?’
    ‘Well there, I couldn’t say. But if she suspected, she didn’t know or there would have been more made of it.’
    ‘Mr Lammas gave an excuse of business for his absence last week. Had he done so before?’
    ‘Once or twice he had lately, but only for a day or so.’
    ‘What do you mean by “lately”?’
    ‘Why … he didn’t use to go off much. It was only these last two or three months.’
    ‘And Mrs Lammas accepted the excuse without comment?’
    ‘If she didn’t, I never heard about it.’
    ‘Can you remember if these absences occurred at the weekend, or was it during the week?’
    ‘He was always here at the weekend.’
    Gently nodded. ‘And now, Miss Roberts, we should like to hear what you can tell us about the chauffeur, Hicks …’
    The cook folded her plump arms and cogitated a moment, as though passing the subject under review. Then she frowned and said:
    ‘Well, you know … he’s not the person I should have thought of to go and do a thing like that …’
    Gently clicked his tongue. ‘Perhaps you could tell us a little more?’
    ‘Oh yess! I was just saying! But really it came as a surprise when I heard about it. I’ve known Joe to lose his temper, and once for certain Mr Lammas would have sacked him if Mrs Phyllis had permitted. But there wasn’t no spirit in the man, he didn’t have the go in him to up and kill somebody.’
    ‘He was also a servant of long standing?’
    ‘Indeed he was. Mrs Phyllis engaged him when she was having Mr Paul and apart from the war, when we got along without a chauffeur, he has been with us ever since. Very attached he has always been to Mrs Phyllis, besides being one of the few people Mr Paul hits it off with. Taught him to drive, he did, and likewise to fish. You could hardly drop on a man less likely to stick his neck out.’
    ‘Taught him to fish, did he?’ A dreamy expression stole into Gently’s eyes and once more they wandered to the bright-lit expanse of broad with its thousand reedy inlets. He pulled himself up.
    ‘You couldn’t find a picture of him for Inspector Hansom … have you been able to find one since?’
    ‘There now – I was forgetting!’
    She felt in her wide apron-pocket and produced a postcard print of the sort vended by street photographers. It was taken on a promenade and showed a man of medium build in dark uniform, the maid on one arm and the cook on the other. He had a stolid but far from naive Northshire countenance. His lips were thin and his mouth rather wide.
    ‘Took last year it was, on the front at Starmouth.’
    ‘He looks quite presentable. Did he have any girlfriends?’
    ‘Well, we had our larks, but I never heard of him going steady with a girl.’
    ‘Did he ever mention Miss Brent?’
    ‘No, not to me.’
    ‘Had he any people or special friends in the locality?’
    ‘Only his aunt, who lives at Upper Wrackstead.’
    Gently stowed the photograph away in his wallet. ‘Now we’re on the subject of photographs, I don’t see any of Mr Lammas about.’
    The cook cast a quick look towards a bureau at the far end of the room, her eyes rounding in perplexity.
    ‘That’s funny now … there used to be one here. Perhaps he took it with him.’
    ‘Are there any others?’
    ‘Oh yess, no doubt, in Mrs Phyllis’ albums.’
    ‘But none about the house?’
    ‘No, certainly. She would not have them there.’
    ‘Just one more question, Miss Roberts, and then I think we can let you go.’
    The cook looked up attentively.
    ‘Was Hicks a musical man … did he, for instance, play a concertina?’
    ‘Why yes he did – but very badly, though!’
    ‘Thank you, Miss Roberts … that’s everything for the moment.’
    Hansom watched her thoughtfully as she got up and departed. Then he reached out absently towards the bag of peppermint creams. ‘You’re right …’ he said to Gently,