A Great Deliverance - By Elizabeth George Page 0,90
of spun glass, babysmooth skin, and features that looked undeveloped, as if the bones were too soft beneath them.
"I sh-sh-should've s-seen you at once," he stammered, blushing heavily on cheeks and neck. "Wh-when you arrived. But I was to-told you'd c-come to m-me if you n-needed anything."
"Nies told you, no doubt," Lynley guessed. The other man nodded awkwardly and gestured them into his home.
The table was laid out for one and the constable hastily set his meal down on it, wiped his hand on his trousers, and extended it to Lynley. "N-nice to m-meet you b-both. S-sorry about..."
He blushed darker and gestured helplessly at his mouth as if there were something he could have done about his speech impediment. "T-tea?" he said eagerly.
"Thank you. I'd love a cup. What about you, Sergeant?"
"Yes, thank you," Havers replied.
The man nodded in obvious relief, smiled, and disappeared into an undersized kitchen off the room in which they stood. The cottage, they could see, was strictly a one-person affair, not much more than a bedsitting room. But it was conscientiously clean - swept, polished, and dusted. Only the faint odour of wet dog marred it. The source of this lay on a chewed and stringy rag rug, toasting himself before a single-bar electric fire set into a small stone fireplace. He was a white highland terrier, and he lifted his chin, blinked at them seriously, and yawned, revealing a long pink tongue. This done, he turned his nose happily back to the electric blaze.
Langston returned with a tray in his hands and another terrier at his heels. This was a livelier version of the first, for it threw itself upon Lynley in excited greeting.
"H-here, down!" Langston ordered as sharply as his gentle voice would allow. The dog obeyed reluctantly, then scampered across the room to join the other in a heap by the fire.
"Th-they're g-good lads, Inspector. S-sorry."
Lynley waved off the apology as Langston poured the tea. "Go on with your meal, Constable. Havers and I are out prowling a bit late this evening. We can talk while you eat."
Langston didn't look as if he believed this was possible, but he dug into his food with a shy duck of his head.
"I understand that Father Hart rang you directly after he found William Teys's body,"
Lynley began. When the man nodded eagerly, he went on. "Roberta was still there when you arrived?" Another nod. "Did you bring Richmond in immediately? Why was that?" Lynley regretted the question the moment he asked it. Stupid clod, he thought, wondering what it would be like for the man to have to agonise his way through questioning witnesses, especially those like Father Hart who seemed to float between two distinct planes of existence.
Langston was staring at his plate, attempting to formulate an answer.
"I expect that was the quickest way to go about it," Havers offered. Langston nodded gratefully.
"Did Roberta speak to anyone at all?" Langston shook his head. "Not to you? Not to anyone from Richmond?" Again, the negative. Lynley glanced at Havers. "Then she only spoke to Father Hart." He considered the situation. "Roberta was sitting on the overturned pail, the axe was nearby, the dog was under Teys. But the weapon used to slit the dog's throat was missing. Is that correct?" A nod. Langston bit into his third chicken leg, his eyes on Lynley. "What happened to the dog?"
"I...b-buried h-him."
"Where?"
"Out the b-back."
Lynley leaned forward. "Behind this cottage? Why? Did Nies tell you to do so?"
Langston swallowed, rubbed his hands on his trousers. He looked miserably at his two companions by the fire and, seeing themselves the focus of his attention, they wagged their tails supportively. "I..." It was embarrassment rather than his speech that stopped him this time. "I love d-dogs," he said. "D-didn't want th-them to burn old Wh-Whiskers. He...was a p-pal o' the l-lads."
"Poor man," Lynley murmured when they were on the street again. Darkness was falling quickly. Somewhere a woman's voice rose, calling to a child. "No wonder he brought in Richmond."
"What could have possessed him, becoming a police constable?" Havers demanded as they crossed to the lodge.
"I expect he never thought he'd come across a murder. At least not one like this. Who would expect it in a place like Keldale? God knows before this, Langston's most serious duty was probably patrolling the village and checking shop doors to see they were locked at night."
"Then what's next?" Havers asked. "We won't have the dog till the morning."