The Problem at Two Tithes (An Angela Marchmont Mystery Book 7) by Clara Benson Read Free Book Online Page B

better come quickly as Mr. Tipping had been shot. Naturally, they had rushed back with him and found Tom Tipping lying dead, shot in the head, with his dog next to him, pawing at him and whining pitifully. Kathie ran to fetch a doctor but there was nothing to be done. The doctor insisted on calling the police, and Norman came to fetch his mother and break the news, and the Tippings and Kathie had spent the rest of the afternoon at the Tippings’ farmhouse talking to the police, until Kathie was given permission to go and tell everybody what had happened.
    Further details were soon known. By Sunday lunch-time the word was all around the village that Tom Tipping and Andrew Norris had been seen together on Dead Man’s Path earlier on Saturday, engaged in an altercation in which Norris loudly threatened to shoot Tipping if he found him trespassing again. The feud between the two men was well known, of course, and everybody nodded sagely and said that it had only been a matter of time before Norris had gone off his head and carried out his threat. On this particular occasion the rumours were slower than the local police, for by Saturday evening Andrew Norris had already been arrested on suspicion of murder and his house was being searched.
    By Sunday evening, however, everything had changed, for to everyone’s surprise Mr. Norris turned out to have an alibi. At the time of the murder—which, given the presence of three witnesses during the fatal period, could be narrowed down to an interval of approximately five minutes—he had been eating his lunch in the Red Lion Inn in Banford Green, in company with his man Ben Shaw. As it was the day of the fête, the inn had not been very busy, but the landlord and one or two other customers, as well as Ben Shaw himself, were willing to swear to Andrew Norris’s presence there at the crucial time. This settled the matter and the police were forced to release Norris forthwith, much to their annoyance (for they had been congratulating themselves on an easy case), leaving the small matter of who had killed Thomas Tipping at present unsolved. An inquest was to be held on Tuesday morning, but it was expected to be adjourned while the police investigated further.
    On Monday morning Angela came down to breakfast a little late to find Humphrey and Elisabeth already in the breakfast-parlour. Mrs. Randall was there too, and the lorgnette immediately sprang to attention as Angela entered. Elisabeth was buttering a slice of toast and holding forth about the momentous events of the past two days.
    ‘Mrs. Hunter says that old Norris didn’t help himself at all when they arrested him,’ she was saying. ‘Apparently, he denied doing it, but said that whoever did do it had done him a favour and that he’d like to shake him by the hand.’
    ‘Good gracious!’ said Mrs. Randall, looking suitably shocked.
    ‘I’d like to know who told her that, though,’ went on Elisabeth. ‘She was laid up all yesterday so it must have been a visitor. Or perhaps she heard it from Mr. Hunter. He might have heard it from someone at church. Yes—that must be it: he probably got it from Mrs. Primm. She’d know from her husband, of course, since he was the one who arrested Andrew Norris.’
    It was too early in the morning for Angela to follow all this, and so she grasped at the one piece of information she had managed to understand.
    ‘Is Mrs. Hunter ill?’ she said.
    ‘Not exactly,’ said Elisabeth. ‘She sprained her wrist and grazed her knees rather badly falling off her bicycle on the way home from the fête. Of course, she’s far too old for that sort of nonsense these days, but she will insist on doing it. Luckily Alice Hopwell saw her and helped her home, but they had to leave the bicycle and Mrs. Hunter was terribly worried about it—the silly woman is convinced the gipsies are out to steal every bicycle in the area—but then Alice said she’d chain it up until Mrs. Hunter’s wrist was