Gently with the Innocents Read Free

mine. Says there’s no doubt the old fellow took a tumble – thin skull, y’know. He was getting on.’
    ‘And the local Superintendent?’
    ‘Chief Inspector. Fellow called Boyland. He’s all right. He’s not too happy, but there’s nothing to go on. Doesn’t like the nephew – that’s a fact.’
    ‘What about this treasure?’
    ‘Oh, poppycock. Stories like that about Merely Manor.’
    ‘But there is this medal.’
    ‘Won’t be worth much. I collect them, y’know. What d’you say it is?’
    Gently told him. There was a slight pause at the Merely end of the phone.
    ‘Innocent III?’
    ‘So Peachment says. And the inscription reads INNOCENTI III .’
    ‘Describe it to me.’
    Gently described it. He had a feeling that Sir Daynes was holding his breath.
    ‘That’s dashed queer.’
    ‘Is it worth much?’
    ‘My dear Gently, it’s almost priceless. There are only two or three known examples. How did old Peachment get his hands on one?’
    Gently smiled at the spitting fire. This was young Peachment over again! But clearly the old harness-maker’s house at Cross held one mystery. Unless . . .
    ‘Of course, we’ve only the nephew’s word about where he got it.’
    The phone made irritable noises.
    ‘Doesn’t matter where he got it, man. We still want to know where it came from.’
    ‘It’s in Extremely Fine condition.’
    ‘You’re making my blasted mouth water!’
    ‘But doesn’t that suggest . . . say, a collection?’
    ‘Now you’re making a little sense.’
    Gently prodded the medal where it lay on its envelope.
    ‘I’ll check, of course, if one is missing. Seaby’s will know where they are . . . if there are only three, it shouldn’t take long. But suppose none of the known ones are missing?’
    ‘Then you’ll grill that nephew silly.’
    ‘But if he’s telling the truth?’
    Sir Daynes made throat-noises. ‘Yes . . . begin to see what you mean.’
    ‘A collection . . . a fabulous collection . . . perhaps other semi-unique pieces. Maybe nothing to do with the legend, but certainly something to do with Peachment.’
    ‘But a theft like that—’
    ‘It may not yet have been discovered.’
    ‘But there’d be records of such a collection.’
    ‘Not if it were put together illicitly by someone buying stolen coins.’
    Sir Daynes honked and hawed a little. The smile was still on Gently’s face.
    ‘So what do we do, man?’
    ‘It’s up to you. I think, on balance, perhaps Peachment was murdered.’
    ‘Hrmph! And I’d certainly like to see that medal.’
    ‘I could bring it along. If I got the case.’
    When he hung up the smile was a grin. He poured himself a Cognac and sat down to drink it. Then he picked up the phone again, raked off a number, propped the receiver under his chin.
    ‘Gently . . . send me a car, will you? I have some property that should be under lock and key.’
    Half an hour later, when the car arrived, the rain was changing into snow.

CHAPTER TWO
    C ROSS WAS a slushy, two-and-a-half-hour drive up the A’s 12 and 140, with dimmed headlights and wipers grinding at a dirty mist all the way. You turned off at Broome, a village with a handsome coaching-inn, and a murderous mile later ran into the outskirts of the little town.
    On another day it would have been charming. It was built on a slope beside a small lake. Across the lake you saw Georgian houses forming a crescent around the lake shore.
    Water Street, the principal thoroughfare, spread out and divided at the top of the slope, showing off handsome gables and facades and the Ionic portico of the Corn Exchange.
    A piece of Old England! But you needed to come back in June. Just now it was huddled in a dirty gloom which the glowing shop windows seemed to make more dreary. Pedestrians’ breath smoked and they pulled away from cars that hissed past the narrow pavements. A few grimy pigeons huddled into the nooks of the Corn Exchange.
    Gently held second all the way up Water Street, where vans parked