The Troutbeck Testimony by Rebecca Tope Read Free Book Online Page A

or was it just a coincidence that he spoke to you?’
    ‘He asked for me.’ Moxon was shuffling on his kitchen chair. He rubbed his nose and avoided her gaze, confirming her suspicions.
    ‘He wanted to talk about me, didn’t he? All that stuff about the pub and the dog was just a pretext to get to speak to you.’ She was still far from enlightened, but glimmers were detectable. ‘Although I don’t really see …’
    ‘You’ve got it wrong.’ He made a visible effort to relax. ‘It’s less about you than him, I think. And your mother. Although …’ He rubbed his nose again and Simmy wondered whether he was suffering from the same spring allergy that seemed to be afflicting so many people. ‘I oughtn’t to speculate. I’ll probably get into very deep water if I start trying to understand complicated family dynamics. The fact is, that whatever his motives, he did supply some rather useful information. The dead dog suggests a connection to the ongoing case we’re investigating. And then there are the events of this afternoon,’ he finished, with a look of real regret. ‘Which we have an unhappy feeling is directly connected to everything we’ve just been saying.’
    Simmy groaned. ‘I saw the cars down near Town End. Don’t tell me there’s been some sort of break-in and thosemen are the ones who did it. I’m sorry, but I really wish my dad had kept quiet, in that case. Why the silly man should ever think it sensible to voluntarily get involved with the police defeats me. I mean’ – she burst out with reckless anger – ‘it’s all so trivial . And you can’t really think he’s given you anything useful.’
    Moxon adopted an expression she had seen before, in which he struggled not to display the hurt feelings she had caused. Throughout all her dealings with him, she had maintained an attitude that he found deplorable. Whilst acknowledging that murderers should be caught and wrongdoing punished, Simmy Brown remained her mother’s daughter to the extent of wishing someone else would do the dirty work of apprehending and punishing. For her, the police carried an inexorable miasma of sleaze, combined with a jargon-ridden mindset that took little cognisance of the realities of human behaviour. She did not like them, and she was sure she never would.
    ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘But there it is.’
    He sighed. ‘There’s more,’ he said, almost reluctantly. ‘I’ve been trying to lead up to it gently.’
    She narrowed her eyes. ‘What?’
    ‘It wasn’t just a break-in at Town End. A man has been killed. In a farmyard. It looks like foul play. And it turns out that the car you saw is registered to a man we believe to be the victim.’
    Her hands curled into instinctive fists, while her stomach churned in terrified apprehension. ‘Then why aren’t you out there chasing the person who did it?’ she blustered. ‘Why are you here , for heaven’s sake? Am I under suspicion? Are you hoping I’ll magically name the culprit for you? Whaton earth are you doing here?’ Her voice had become shrill and her heart was thumping.
    He held her gaze. ‘Your father heard two men talking as if they might be preparing to commit a crime. A crime has been committed. His testimony – and yours – are now possibly quite central to the investigation. Could you please try to describe those men you saw?’
    She ground her teeth in futile fury, even as she wondered why she was so angry. He had wasted several minutes in convoluted preliminaries, when all the time he wanted something specific from her. She stared at his eyes, behind old-fashioned thick spectacles that implied poor sight. His dark lashes lowered, curtaining his thoughts. Her own thoughts were clashing painfully. She should do all she could to help, if something really serious had happened. But all she wanted was to go and watch the setting sun on her patio and remember the good feelings that had come from a strenuous walk with her father. ‘It was