Gently at a Gallop Read Free

Chief Super, Banham; Docking, the C.I.D. Inspector i/c; his Sergeant, Bayfield; and a couple of D.C.s. A reception committee – and Gently had been gracious, shaking hands all round. But now – first things first. What he needed was a beer.
    ‘Will a lager do you?’
    ‘Two lagers will.’
    Banham smiled politely and signalled to one of the D.C.s.
    ‘You found it warm coming along, did you?’
    ‘Yes. It’s a race day at Newmarket.’
    Banham whistled sympathy through his teeth. He was a large man, wearing a tight uniform.
    They sat down round the desk, leaving the chair behind it for Gently. Docking, tow-haired, earnest-featured, was nursing a fat green file. The lager came: Gently swallowed his first glass in silence, then refilled the glass and set it down on the desk. He looked his audience over.
    ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Some facts about Berney to kick off with.’
    They stirred a little. Banham looked at Docking.
    ‘Well, he was a right bastard, sir,’ Docking began.
    ‘With the women.’
    ‘Yes, sir, the women. Didn’t seem able to keep his hands off them. He was paying a couple of maintenance orders, and there were scandals all over the place.’
    ‘Tell me about them.’
    Docking hitched at his file. ‘There was his first wife for a start, sir,’ he said. ‘She’d been married to Laing, Berney’s solicitor, but Laing divorced her, naming Berney.’
    ‘Then she turned round and divorced Berney,’ Banham chuckled.
    ‘Yes, sir,’ Docking said. ‘Their marriage didn’t last long. Berney was named in another suit, and his first wife petitioned, using that as grounds.’
    ‘How long ago?’ Gently asked.
    Docking dived into the file. ‘Nineteen-sixty.’
    ‘But he’s been named once or twice since then,’ Banham said. ‘And we’ve heard of a few cases that didn’t end in court. There was one last year, a fellow called Norman – it’s down in the book as a Domestic Dispute. Norman pasted the daylights out of Berney, but when we got there, Berney wouldn’t complain.’
    ‘Where was Norman on Tuesday?’
    Banham looked at Docking.
    ‘He’s on holiday in Spain, sir,’ Docking said.
    ‘Go on, then,’ Gently said, sipping. ‘What else have we got that’s up to date?’
    Docking had the file open again. ‘I’ve a list of five here, sir. Of course, you realize, sir, it’s based on gossip. It’s not the sort of thing we can . . . well, verify.’
    ‘Understood,’ Gently said.
    ‘There’s Mrs Pleasants,’ Docking said. ‘She’s the doctor’s wife, High Hale village. She’s been seen in Berney’s car. Mrs Drury, she’s the wife of Arthur Drury, the auctioneer. Mrs Wade, her husband is Town Clerk here in Low Hale. Mrs Jefferies, the Jefferies run a guest-house at Clayfield. And Mrs Amies, her husband is the secretary of Gorsehills Golf Club. According to our information, these have all been seen in Berney’s company in the past eighteen months.’
    ‘Sounds formidable,’ Gently said. ‘And a marriage and maintenance orders thrown in.’
    ‘I’d say he was a bit of a nutter,’ Banham put in. ‘The devil, you don’t
need
that number of women.’
    ‘Perhaps he was trying to prove something, sir,’ Docking suggested. ‘Scared about his potency, something like that.’
    ‘It’s the women who ought to have been scared,’ Banham said. ‘Yet they always fall for this kind of a nutter.’
    Gently sipped more lager. ‘You’ll have checked on the husbands?’
    ‘We’ve reports on all five,’ Docking said. ‘The doctor was out on his rounds that afternoon, but the rest were at their places of work.’
    ‘How many own horses?’
    ‘None, sir. But Drury and the Jefferies go riding.’
    ‘Where?’
    ‘Clayfield, sir. The Berneys also used to ride there.’
    ‘It’s about three miles from High Hale,’ Banham explained. ‘A couple called Rising run a stable there. Six or seven hacks and a string of ponies. That’s where the people round here go to ride.’
    ‘And