Lessons in Solving the Wrong Problem - Charlie Cochrane Page 0,43
sold and are still deposited somewhere.”
“Yes, although not at Herron’s house.”
Orlando raised his hand. “You’re making assumptions. We’re supposed to be avoiding those.”
“You’re quite right. Let’s start with facts, then. Herron’s mysterious income.” Funny how being in their own chairs, at their own fireside, seemed much more conducive to efficient thought than haring round the countryside. “Where does a man accrue wealth if it isn’t from his paid employment or a sound investment?”
“A legacy,” Orlando suggested. “Although that’s unlikely to be so in this case, as Herron’s family would have known about it. What about a win at the races or the tables? If the family didn’t approve of gambling, he would have kept it quiet.”
“Now, that’s more like it. I knew your incisive mind would take you straight to the hub of the problem. For the moment we will ignore all innocent and legitimate forms of income.” Jonty sipped from the little glass of port they’d treated themselves to. “We’ll concentrate on robbery, fraud, blackmail and the thing that Sir Walter Scott refers to as a type of protection-money, although I can’t see Herron—what have I said that’s got you so excited? Normally only a mention of mattress-related things sees your eyes light up in such a manner.”
“Blackmail. Do you recall Henry telling us that Herron liked to poke about in things? I took that to mean archaeological stuff, but what if he meant other people’s business?”
“Who would be his victim in that case? Presumably someone with an awful secret and money to spare. Men like us.” Jonty shuddered at the notion.
“I think not in this instance. Herron himself liked men, so he’d hardly be likely to risk his own exposure.” Orlando took a drink, although it didn’t appear to lubricate his grey matter much. “We may never know who his victim was.”
Jonty, struck by a sudden thought, snapped his fingers. “There’s somebody else in this business who suddenly came into money. Jude the wastrel. He was supposed to be hard up but he suddenly had enough money to get himself roaring drunk.”
“You’re not suggesting he was a blackmailer, too?”
“No, you clown. What if he was the man trying to sell the treasure? What he got paid for the coins would have covered his bar bill and he had a sister who could have known where the hoard was. He was hanging around the house and she might have told him what she knew simply to get shot of him.” Jonty savoured his port with renewed enthusiasm. “If he was a desperate man, he might not have worried about the storm in his desire to dig the stuff up as soon as possible. A big chap, that’s what Atherton told us, so he’d have had the muscle power. That might also explain why Mary apparently decided to tell Herron where the treasure was after being initially reluctant. She knew it was safe to proceed because the stuff had gone.”
“Or maybe it was because Jude was dead by then.” Orlando closed his eyes in thought, then shook his head. “Aren’t you forgetting that he was in jail?”
“No, because we don’t know how long he was there for. He may not have been in a position to unsettle his lordship’s mount, but there were other nights he could have been about his stealing business.” Jonty shuffled his feet, then sighed. “This all still feels very unsatisfactory. We’ve dealt with old mysteries before, but never have we encountered so many untied ends nor had so few opportunities to tie them.”
“I agree. There feels little point in discussing the accident, until we have more information, and I have no idea where that might come from. At least we haven’t yet exhausted all the possibilities regarding Edward.”
“True. It’s less his death than his reappearances that perplex me. Here’s a thought. We know Richard enjoyed playing practical jokes. Is it at all possible that he was somehow involved in playing a trick on his mother? Persuaded a local child with a passing resemblance to Edward to wander in certain places where, at a distance and for a woman whose long sight was not of the best, he could be mistaken for his dead brother? And then he was so ashamed of the act he couldn’t confess to it.”
“I fear that’s an easily dismissed notion.” Orlando lifted his hands to count off on his fingers, an act he was fond of, particularly when it involved countering Jonty’s ideas. “If the incident had occurred only once, that