The Adventures of Inspector Lestrade by M J Trow Read Free Book Online Page B

it. And then he placed it alongside the first. There was no doubt about it. They were written on different typewriters. But the doggerel sounded familiar, if this time more informed:
    Here is cruel Frederick, see!
    A horrid, wicked boy was he;
    He caught the flies, poor little things,
    And then tore off their tiny wings,
    He kill’d the birds, and broke the chairs,
    And threw the kitten down the stairs;
    The trough was full and faithful Tray
    Came out to drink one sultry day;
    He wagg’d his tail and wet his lip,
    When cruel Fred snatch’d up a whip,
    And whipp’d poor Tray till he was sore,
    And kick’d and whipp’d him more and more:
    At this, good Tray grew very red,
    And growl’d and bit him till he bled;
    Then you should only have been by,
    To see how Fred did scream and cry!
    The realisation was borne in on Lestrade. The mourning letters addressed to him at the Yard. No traceable clues in postmark or typeface. Two pieces of verse, each with definite knowledge of the murder under investigation. And, from the style of the verse, written by the same hand. Even Lestrade’s unpoetical eye could see that. He placed the disturbing evidence before McNaghten.
    The Head of the Criminal Investigation Department brushed his cravat and straightened his moustaches.

The Vicar’s Daughter
    It took Constable Dew nearly ten minutes to find it in the atlas.
    ‘Here it is, sir,’ he told Lestrade. ‘Wildboarclough.’
    ‘Ridiculous name,’ grunted Lestrade.
    ‘About six miles from Macclesfield, sir, as the crow flies.
    Lestrade did not fly. He caught a series of trains as far as Macclesfield and hired a pony and trap to get him on to the Pennines towards Wildboarclough. It was early May, but there was no sign of Spring up here. He was within a crow’s flight of the Cat and Fiddle Inn, one of the highest in England. It was a hiker’s paradise, but Lestrade saw no hikers today. As his pony climbed the narrow twisting roads, the snow lay crisp in the hollows. On the higher slopes above him, he saw the sheep, huddling together for shelter against the biting wind. He passed a lamb, dead by the roadside on the open moors. Its eyes had been pecked out by crows – one of those Dew was thinking of, no doubt, that flew from Macclesfield.
    As Lestrade rattled into Wildboarclough, the moors were less visible. There were deep chasms here, haunting and dark, sheer cliffs of northern granite rearing up above the bare, still, winter trees. He passed the new post office, specially built for Her Majesty’s visit to Lord Derby’s estate and the school. The vicarage was away to the left, above the small, grey church. All the houses were grey, tall and silent, stark against the evergreen clumps of rhododendron bushes.
    A housekeeper-shaped woman answered the door as the gardener took charge of the pony and trap. Lestrade explained who he was and was shown into a drawing room. He peeled off his doeskin gloves and cupped his hands over a minimal fire. As he watched it, it went out, leaving a single spiral of smoke. Lestrade contented himself with blowing on his fingers, trying to bury their tips into the thawing fronds of his moustaches. He stamped up and down trying to remember when he had last felt his feet. The books on the ceiling-high shelves were what he would have expected – theological tomes, discursive works on ecclesiastical history.
    ‘Inspector Lestrade?’
    The inspector turned to face a bull-necked, purple-faced man about twice his own width. ‘Swallow.’
    Was this an old Cheshire custom, wondered Lestrade. Or perhaps a cure for frostbite. He was in the act of complying with the command when the realisation dawned – ‘Inspector Swallow, Cheshire Constabulary.’ Lestrade hoped his Adam’s apple had not been too visible as he shook the inspector’s hand.
    ‘Bad business,’ Swallow grunted.
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘I may as well be blunt,’ Swallow announced grumpily. Looking at him, Lestrade wondered how he could be