C S Lewis and the Country House Murders (C S Lewis Mysteries Book 2) Read Free Page A

refreshments before you settle in?’
    He had stepped behind the bar as he uttered these words, but Jack turned down the implied offer of a pint and asked instead for a cup of tea—a large cup of tea.
    Jack and I sank into the armchairs by the fireplace at one end of the bar. It was such an unseasonably warm day for March the fire had not been lit, but the chairs were the most comfortable in the room.
    ‘Now then, Mr Lewis,’ said the publican as he returned carrying a tea tray, with a teapot under a knitted cosy and cups and saucers, ‘who slipped the cyanide into Mrs Worth’s cake?’
    Jack chuckled and said, ‘I assume the murder is the only topic of conversation in the village?’
    Rose nodded in vigorous agreement. ‘Most exciting thing to happen in this village since the Great Plague of 1665. So, Mr Lewis, who’s your hot tip as the most likely suspect?’
    Pouring his cup of tea, Jack said, ‘Solving a murder is not like solving a crossword—it’s not done in minutes. You must at least give me time to examine the cryptic clues first.’
    When the publican had wandered off and left us alone, Jack asked me for the latest news.
    ‘Inspector Hyde still thinks of nothing but how to get me facing a charge of murder at the next assizes.’
    ‘Narrow minded, as I said. He’s rather like a small boy looking through a gap in the paling fence around a playing field: he doesn’t see much of the game. Well, we must find a way to get him thinking in other directions. The stumbling block, I take it, is still the puzzle of how the poison got into the cake.’
    ‘Mrs Buckingham, the splendid cook up at Plumwood Hall, has been in tears over the matter. Her kitchen has been searched by the police from top to bottom. They failed to find a single trace of cyanide, but of course that was always going to be a hopeless search since the cake, fresh from the oven, was completely uncontaminated—except for that one slice.’
    ‘So, freshly baked and perfectly fit for human consumption?’
    ‘Except for a single slice which, Dr Henderson told me, contained enough potassium cyanide to kill a horse—and a fairly robust horse in training for a major racing event at that. There was not even a hint of cyanide in the remainder of the cake.’
    Jack finished his tea and said, ‘That puzzle must wait until we know more. In the meantime, any chance that I might inspect the scene of the crime and meet the cast of this village melodrama?’
    ‘Come on,’ I replied, swallowing the last of my tea and rising from my armchair, ‘we’ll walk up to the hall—it’s not far, just on the outskirts of the village.’
    We stepped out into the sunshine, Jack paused to light his pipe, and then we started down the village street. Just ahead of us my employer, Sir William Dyer, appeared, coming out of the village post office and about to duck into the village chemist’s shop. But when he saw me he stopped and walked over.
    ‘Morning, young Tom. Glorious day.’
    I took the hint that he wanted to be introduced to the visitor beside me.
    ‘Sir William, this is my old Oxford tutor, C. S. Lewis.’
    ‘Delighted to meet you, Mr Lewis. You here to give aid and comfort to young Tom in his hour of need?’
    ‘Something along those lines.’
    ‘Shocking murder, of course—shocking, shocking. Dreadful business. But I think Hyde is an idiot. He’s making it clear to everyone that Tom is his main suspect. His only suspect. Rubbish. Complete rubbish. This young man’s a scholar, not a killer. I’ve told Hyde that too. But he won’t listen. Man’s an idiot. You have my full support, Tom, and complete confidence.’
    ‘Thank you, Sir William,’ I muttered.
    ‘You taking Mr Lewis up to the hall for a look around?’
    ‘That’s the idea,’ I agreed.
    ‘And you must come to dinner at the hall one night, Mr Lewis,’ said Sir William affably, ‘while you’re in the district. Our son Douglas is up at Oxford; I’m sure he’d be delighted to