Read Online Charters and Caldicott by Stella Bingham - Free Book Online Page A

grunted. Snow nodded towards the portrait and said, ‘Sir Robert Peel. My governor as was.’
    The clubman in Caldicott overcame his hostility to the Inspector’s intrusion. Beckoning Snow to Jean closer, he whispered, ‘Yes, and how he comes to be up there since he was never a member is rather a curious story. It seems that the first chairman of our wine committee was something of a gambler, who in his cups one evening...’
    â€˜Can we get on,’ Charters interrupted. ‘Is this about the murder, Inspector?’
    â€˜Related matters.’
    â€˜It comes to the same thing. You see, there’s no reason why you should be acquainted with our Club rules, Inspector, but under them we’re not permitted, while in the Club, to do business.’
    â€˜A murder inquiry isn’t what I’d call business, Mr Charters.’
    â€˜Ah, but it’s business to you , Inspector,’ said Caldicott, keeping an anxious eye on the other occupant of the library. ‘Pursuit of your profession, don’t you see? For example, supposing I brought you in here for a quiet Scotch as my guest and you started trying to flog me life insurance.’
    â€˜We could always go down to the Yard,’ said Snow, his voice rising. ‘Or there’s the Club steps outside, if you’d find that more convenient.’
    The other member coughed pointedly. Charters flapped an agitated hand towards the Silence sign and murmured, ‘Shall we sit down?’
    They selected a table as far as possible from the other member, pulled chairs up close and put their heads together – literally. ‘That’s another thing,’ Charters hissed as Snow set his briefcase down on the table. ‘Our guests usually leave their briefcases in the cloakroom.’ The inspector gave him a long, withering look. ‘Not allowed to, eh? Well, I suppose you have your rules as we have ours.’
    Inspector Snow, pointedly putting an end to further discussion of Club ethics, snapped back the lock catches of his briefcase. ‘I’ve spent most of the weekend sifting through all Colonel Beevers’ documents and papers. Grubby job, I can tell you. There was the dust of ages in that trunk.’
    â€˜I can well believe it. Something of a squirrel, our Jock,’ Caldicott whispered.
    â€˜You’d say that, would you?’
    â€˜One-man lumber room. Old diaries, letters, reunion dinner menus, photographs...’
    â€˜Score cards,’ Charters supplied.
    â€˜We all keep scorecards, Charters.’
    â€˜Not bridge scorecards, Caldicott.’
    â€˜True.’
    The other occupant of the library, tired of rustling his newspaper in a critical manner, got up and departed with an angry glare.
    â€˜Yes, quite a bundle of those,’ Snow agreed, abandoning his hunched position over the table with relief. ‘So you’ll have had a good look through the trunk yourselves, gentlemen?’
    â€˜Certainly not!’ said Caldicott, successfully distracted from the shame his fellow member had inspired in him. ‘Colonel Beevers’ hoarding tendencies were well known to all and sundry. Why, he even saved our old school mags.’
    â€˜Yes, I know. They were in the trunk,’ said Snow, opening his briefcase.
    â€˜Have you brought them with you?’ Charters leaned forward eagerly but all the inspector took out was a passport. ‘That name ring bells?’
    Caldicott glanced at it. ‘Buckton.’
    â€˜D. W. Buckton?’ Charters asked.
    â€˜Ducky Buckton! Bowling average eight point something, batting average nil. Literally.’
    â€˜Our house captain. Superb bowler – couldn’t bat for toffee.’ Charters waved an arm at the Wisdens on the shelves. ‘It’s all there if you’re interested.’
    â€˜The missing volume turned up, by the way, Inspector,’ said Caldicott. ‘You’ll recall it was because we couldn’t find