The Andre Norton Megapack - 15 Classic Novels and Short Stories

night.”
    “I think there is.”
    Perhaps a beer would help. “Well, anyway, let’s not stand here and broil.”
    They walked along Spruce Street and crossed the road to the Coach and Horses. Peter secured two beers and they went out to sit in the shade of the garden. It was deserted, and a little cooler than inside.
    For some moments they were silent and then Peter said, “You know, Brewster, that if you persist in this attitude, you’re going to become an object of suspicion in the town.”
    “Suspicion of what?”
    “Murder.”
    James put his mug down heavily and the beer slopped over the edge and ran down in little rivers on to the table top.
    “And who, I would like to know, has said anything about murder?”
    “Granted we won’t know for certain until we get the result of the autopsy, but Dr. Scott, Carey and I haven’t liked the look of this from the moment we saw Catherine’s body. There were certain symptoms that looked too much like poisoning—”
    “Poison? Nonsense! She took too much dope. We all knew it would get her if she didn’t stop.”
    “Yes. You all knew. It made a wonderful blind, didn’t it, Brewster?”
    “See here, just what are you driving at?”
    “You tried, last night, to hush everything up. You thought Dr. Ted would let it slip by as you wanted him to. But he wouldn’t have. Even if Carey and I hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have. He’s no country bumpkin, James. That’s where you miscalculated.”
    James gripped the edge of the table. The beer tasted sour in his mouth. “You’re insinuating things, Mohun. What’s more, you have no grounds whatever for these insinuations—”
    “All right then. You went to look for Catherine yesterday afternoon. Where did you look? If you have nothing to conceal you should be quite willing to supply this information.”
    James’s face was now green in colour. He put his head in his hands and said nothing.
    “You’ve got to come clean, Brewster. You know it as well as I do, and it might as well be now. After the autopsy it will look worse.”
    James began to draw pictures with one hairy finger, tracing the beer across the wooden boards of the table. “All right, then,” he said slowly, as though choosing his words with great care, “I went first to the Farm. Looked all over the damn place. Not a soul anywhere. Back to the fields out there. I suppose the rumours also had it that Catherine and I were going to get married. She had that in mind, too, and she was obsessed with this idea of my building a palace for her—”
    “You weren’t obsessed with it?”
    “No. Hell, I’m not a marrying man, Mohun. You know that. I’m only just this side of fifty—I’ve steered clear this long and I intend to stay clear.”
    “Then what were you doing over in those fields just now?”
    “What? Oh, just having a last look around…” James said lamely. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead.
    “Well—did you find Catherine?”
    “Yes. That is, I found her body.”
    “What?”
    “Yes. She wasn’t in the fields so I went by the bookshop. She’d said something about taking back that book she’d taken out on Sunday. And there she was—just like you found her—dead in that damned hammock. The book was on the ground. I—I picked it up. And then I panicked. My God, I didn’t want to marry the b—the woman—but I didn’t want her dead.”
    “You’re quite sure about that?”
    “What? See here, Mohun, you’re not accusing me, are you? I’m telling you the truth—though God knows why I am.” James got up unsteadily. “I’m ill. That’s all I have to say. And, what’s more, I’ll stick to it—autopsy or no autopsy. I left the—body—exactly as it was. I’ve got the book in my apartment if you want it.”
    “Yes. I’ll just go back with you and collect it. By the way, Brewster,” he added as he followed the older man out of the inn, “just why didn’t you report this—er—find of yours to the—shall we say since you seemed so insistent on this point last night—to Dr. Scott?”
    “Look here, Mohun, I’ve talked too damn much as it is. But I’ll confess, since I’ve been such a fool already, that I—well—I just plain didn’t want to get involved in this thing. I’ve got my profession to think of—and my position in this town. She was dead. I couldn’t do anything about that. I decided to let someone else find the body. And that is fact.”
    “I see. It’s very clear,