Page 34 of Marriage and Murder
Stokes had been jotting notes in his ever-present book. He looked up and said, “Let’s move on to the man who brought the jewelry to you yesterday. Describe him if you would.”
Swithin pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes as if studying an image in his mind. “A trifle above average height. Youngish—perhaps twenty or so, twenty-five at the outside. I must confess that I’m not adept at guessing young people’s ages these days. He had dark hair—dark brown and straightish—and a rather shifty expression. Blue eyes, I think—oh, and he had rough hands. Workman’s hands with callused and leathery palms.”
Stokes exchanged a glance with Barnaby and Penelope, then in a murmured aside, said, “That description fits two of our suspects—BG and JS.”
Barnaby grimaced. “Regardless of whether they murdered our victim or not, either of them might have gone to the house and gained entry after she was dead.”
“They had an entire evening and night in which to do so.” Penelope arched her brows. “Perhaps it was they who searched the house and found the jewelry and took it away.”
“But they left the other, more valuable pieces, remember?” Stokes said. “That doesn’t fit with a straightforward robbery, before or after the murder.”
Stokes refocused on Swithin and raised his voice. “We believe we know who you might mean—one of two possible suspects. Would you be willing to come with us to Ashmore, the village where Miss Huntingdon lived, and identify the man for us?”
Barnaby added, “We’ll take you down in our carriage and return you here the same way afterward.”
Penelope added her voice and a smile. “It shouldn’t take too long. An hour or so there and the same time back.”
“The identification itself won’t take much time at all,” Stokes said. “You just have to look and point to the man who came here.”
Swithin looked torn. After an indecisive moment, he said, “Miss Viola and her family—well, I did know them for a very long time. I suppose I could ask my assistant to watch the shop.” He stared at Stokes. “Will I have to confront the villain?”
Stokes smiled reassuringly. “No, not at all. You can remain in the carriage and just point him out to us. All we need is your confirmation of which of the two suspects it was.”
“And my confirmation will help catch Miss Huntingdon’s murderer?” Swithin asked.
“We believe so,” Penelope replied. “At the very least, it will advance us significantly toward that goal.”
“Well, then.” Swithin raised his chin and squared his shoulders. “I can hardly refuse, can I?” Then he shook his head. “Poor dear lady. If you’ll wait just a moment, I’ll inform my assistant and fetch my coat.”
Five minutes later, with Swithin’s assistant installed behind the shop’s counter, they all climbed into the coach and set off for Ashmore village at as quick a trot as Phelps would risk.
Barnaby glanced out of the carriage as they rattled into Ashmore from the north. Phelps had made good time, and it was barely four o’clock as they approached the triangular junction at the heart of the village. The pond lay just ahead.
They’d discussed how to approach their two suspects, and Stokes planned to take Swithin to see Jim Swinson first, reasoning that Jim would be the easier to locate, given he would most likely be assisting Arthur Penrose in his orchard.
Phelps slowed the carriage to make the turn onto Green Lane and thus to Penrose and Lavender Cottages.
Seated beside Barnaby, Penelope was looking out at the green and the pond. Suddenly, she sat straighter, her gaze locked on the vista. “There’s a group of young men by the pond, and I think one of our suspects is there.”
Barnaby rose and rapped on the ceiling. “Phelps, pull up.”
Immediately, the carriage slowed, then rocked to a halt.
Swithin was sitting opposite Penelope. She caught the jeweler’s gaze. “Mr. Swithin, if you could take a look outside, can you see the young men by the pond?”
Swithin peered out, then nodded. “I see them, yes.”
Barnaby looked over Penelope’s head and glimpsed a group of lounging lads. Presumably, Billy Gilroy was among them, but from that angle, Barnaby couldn’t make him out.
Somewhat portentously, her gaze locked on Swithin, Penelope asked, “Is the young man who brought the bracelet and necklace to your shop among that group?”
Methodically, Swithin studied the lads, then he stiffened, raised a hand, and pointed. “That’s him! The one on the far right.”
Stokes had risen and was staring out over Swithin’s hat. “You’re certain?”
“As certain as I am that I’m sitting here,” Swithin staunchly replied. He pointed again, more emphatically. “That’s definitely the young man who brought me Miss Huntingdon’s bracelet and necklace.”
Stokes dropped a hand on the jeweler’s shoulder. “Thank you. That’s all we need you to do. Please remain here, out of sight, while we speak with the lad.”
