Page 98 of Lies in Little Sutherland
“Shall I take a look?”he asked.
I glanced around.All the Marsdens were watching, more or less avidly.“Perhaps later.I’m not about to cause a scene by disrobing in the breakfast room.”
“Good show,” Francis said.“Can you use it?”
“As long as I’m careful.”I stretched the arm out and pulled it back in, slowly.“See?Nothing to worry about.If it’s not better in a few days, I’ll find a doctor and have him look at it.”
He nodded.“And you didn’t see who it was who maimed you?”
“By the time I had clawed the blanket off my head, the carriage house was empty.And I wasn’t about to chase whoever it was up to the house.”
“No, certainly not.”Christopher shuddered.“I would hope you stayed where it was safe.”
I assured him I had done.“The glass on the torch had broken, but it still worked.So I used it to look for oil spills underneath all the motorcars.”
“Oh.”Comprehension dawned on his face, and on those of everyone else, as well.“Was that what you were doing there?”
“I thought it might at least point to someone other than Aunt Roz and Uncle Herbert,” I said.“We know they were in the village, or at least that they motored through it, but we don’t know whether anyone else was.”
Constance murmured something, and Francis nodded.“And did you see any oil, Pipsqueak?”
“I did,” I said, “but I’m not going to tell you whose motorcar it was that was leaking.”
He tilted his head to contemplate me.“You do know that I can simply go down there and look for myself, don’t you?”
Of course I did.“I’m sure you checked the Crossley after we returned from the Cotswolds the other day.Didn’t you?”
Francis allowed as how he had done.“And it was fine.So not that, then.And probably not the Phantom, as it’s practically brand new.Crispin’s little speed machine, perhaps?It’s had the most wear of the lot.”
“I told you,” I said.“I’m not saying.”
“You’ll tell Tom,” Christopher asked, “won’t you?”
“I don’t see why I should do.He said it himself yesterday, that he’s not in charge of the investigation.Besides, I’m sure they looked for themselves, don’t you think?I wouldn’t be telling them anything they don’t already know.”
Nobody had an answer for that, and I looked around.“Where is Tom, anyway?And everyone else, as well?”
“Uncle Harold isn’t down yet,” Francis said.“Tommy was here, but Crispin came downstairs and asked to speak to him, and they went off together.”
“Tidwell said that Crispin had gone to the village,” I said.“He didn’t mention Tom, but I suppose Tom might have gone with him, if he didn’t come back in here.”
Crispin might have wanted the moral support if he was going to give himself up.
“The village?”Christopher repeated doubtfully.
“The constabulary.Or so Tidwell said.”
“Why would he go to the constabulary before ten in the morning?”Francis wanted to know, and I watched Christopher turn pale.It wasn’t as if we hadn’t discussed the possibility of Crispin’s guilt at length yesterday, after all.
“Let’s not talk about it,” I said, and tried to make it sound as if I weren’t thinking anything at all.“I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”
Christopher visibly pushed away any thoughts of speaking he may have had, and nodded.“Let me get you something to eat, Pippa.Eggs?Bacon?”
“Coffee,” I said, “if you don’t mind.And perhaps some buttered toast?I’m not feeling well enough for anything else this morning.”
My stomach churned anxiously, and I didn’t like the idea of what would happen if I tried to put anything but the very basics into it.
“One minute.”He pushed his chair back and withdrew to the buffet, where he kept his back to us while he filled a plate and a cup for me.His back was so rigid that I thought he might shatter if anyone tried to touch him.
