Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem - Charlie Cochrane Page 0,36
from that generation to answer our questions.” Atherton made to take his leave.
Jonty raised his hand. “I have one final question. What happened to Mary’s brother?”
“Not a good end, which was another salutary lesson my mother taught me. She said such a man was born to be hanged, but it didn’t come to that. He got roaring drunk, tried to cross a train track and was killed by a train carrying freight. One of my earliest memories is of Mary being distraught at the news.”
“And when was this?”
“Two weeks after the old lord’s funeral, Dr Stewart. Now, we must go or we’ll be in trouble for delaying luncheon.”
Orlando asked, as they went to re-join their hosts, “Did you have the same thought as I did about the brother?”
“Not yet being blessed with the gift of mind-reading, I can’t say. I did pick up the fact he was roaring drunk, which meant he must have got money for drink somewhere. Perhaps from his lordship, as he lay on the ground, but that’s a bit of speculation too far.”
Chapter Eight
Back in Cambridge, Orlando and Jonty quickly set their various hares running, before dedicating a few days to nothing other than their proper work. It would take some time for the enquiries to satisfactorily bear fruit, although satisfaction of another kind was agreeably achieved that very evening. Orlando woke on Tuesday morning feeling both satiated and inspired. While he couldn’t yet work out a solution to the accident-that-might-have-been-murder, he was more determined than ever to resolve the matter. As for the treasure trove, surely that had gone Herron’s way and it was now simply a matter of proving the fact.
By Thursday evening, the Coppersmith/Stewart partnership had its their first report from the house of Stewart, which they listened to together via the main telephone and the extension.
“Saggers had a broken spine, which left him paralysed from the waist down,” Mr Stewart said, once they’d got past the initial pleasantries involved in any call between the two households. “The story about the adapted billiards table is quite right, by the way. One of the old chaps at the club, Billings, has played on it.”
That was slightly annoying, because Orlando had started to build a nice theory about Saggers’s injury being exaggerated.
Mr Stewart continued. “Your mother had the brilliant idea of asking Billings and his wife to dinner last evening, after I’d discovered he’d known Saggers quite well while he’d still been mainly based in London, prior to his accident.”
“Well done, Mama,” Jonty said, at a pitch whereby Mrs Stewart, who was reportedly standing next to her husband, would be able to hear. “Did the stratagem work?”
“Yes, if you include us learning all about the adaptations the man had made to his house. Fascinating. Saggers had been very upset by his old friend’s death, though.”
Orlando took a deep breath. “So you gained no impression there’d been any animosity or the like between Saggers and Byrd?”
“Not a jot. Albeit Billings said that he and his wife only went to stay at Saggers’s house once, because it upset them so much to see the change in the man’s condition. Cowardly of himself, Billiangs called it, although he had my sympathy. They subsequently exchanged letters but never again met face to face.”
“Orlando won’t be happy with that.” Jonty chuckled. “He’s got a hunch that Saggers was somehow involved in the old lord’s death.”
“We can’t help on that front, although it did turn out that your mother had known Christine Saggers—his sister—at one point. Indeed, she and Mrs Billings turned out to have lots of mutual acquaintances. Billings and I ended up taking to a game of snooker ourselves, leaving them to it.” What sounded like a subdued yelp indicated that Mr Stewart may well have been subjected to a light slap on the backside from his wife. This was followed by what must have been a hand being put over the mouthpiece, a brief conversation and then Mrs Stewart’s tones ringing out.
“I feel I must defend myself, boys.”
“There’s no need for that, Mrs Stewart,” Orlando said, gallantly. “I’m sure your conversation was primarily in the interests of the investigation.”
“Thank you, dear, but it would be a lie for me to say that. It was simply rather nice discussing old times. Funny how much one forgets about people until reminded. How Christine Saggers could have slipped my mind is a mystery in itself, although I wasn’t yet married when we were acquainted. She wasn’t what one would call a