No Graves as Yet_ A Novel - Anne Perry [63]
“Not really what you’d call news,” Perth replied, shaking his head. “Oi bin talking to your young gentlemen, o’ course.” He ran his fingers over his thin hair. “Trouble is, if a man says he was in bed at half past foive in the morning, who’s to know if he’s telling the truth or not? But Oi can’t afford to take his word for it, you see? Different for you, ’cos Oi know from Dr. Beecher that you was out rowing on the river.”
“Oh?” Joseph was surprised. He did not remember seeing Beecher. He invited Perth to sit down. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to help. There would be no one around in the corridors or on the stairs at that time.”
“Unfortunately for us.” Perth sat in the large chair opposite the one Joseph had risen from, and Joseph sank back into his own. “No witnesses at all,” Perth said dolefully. “Still, people ain’t often obliging enough to commit murder when they know someone else is looking at ’em. Usually we can write off a goodly number because o’ their being able to show they was somewhere else.” He studied Joseph gravely. “We come at a crime, particularly a murder, from three sorts of angles, Reverend.” He held up one finger. “First, who had the opportunity? If somebody weren’t there at the time, that cuts them out.”
“Naturally,” Joseph nodded.
Perth regarded him steadily. “Second,” he continued, putting up the next finger, “there’s the means, in this case a gun. Who had a gun?”
“I have no idea.”
“That’s a shame, you see, because no one else has neither, leastways not that they’re telling of.” Perth still had a pleasant air about him, as if he were a lecturer with a bright student, leading him through the points of a piece of logic. “We know it was a small gun, a revolver of some sort, because of the bullet—which we got, by the way.”
Joseph winced at the horrible thought of its passage through Sebastian’s torn brain, presumably into the wall of the room. He had not looked. Now he was aware of Perth’s eyes watching him, but he could not keep the revulsion from his face, or the slight feeling of sickness from his stomach.
“An’ o’ course it would be awkward like to be carrying a rifle or a shotgun around with you in a place like this,” Perth went on, his voice unemotional. “Nowhere to hide it from being seen, except in a case for a trumpet or something like that. But what would anybody be doing with a trumpet at foive o’clock in the morning?”
“Cricket bat,” Joseph said instantly. “If . . .”
Perth’s eyes widened. “Very clever, Reverend! Oi never thought o’ that, but you’re right. A nice early practice out on that lovely grass by the river, or even one o’ those cricket fields—Fenner’s, or what’s the other one, Parker’s Piece?”
“Parker’s Piece belongs to the town,” Joseph pointed out. “The university uses Fenner’s. But you can’t practice cricket by yourself.”
“O’ course. Town and gown—separate.” Perth nodded, pursing his lips. The difference was a gulf between them, uncrossable, and Joseph had inadvertently just reminded him of it. “But then, you see, our fellow might not have bin sticking to the rules,” he said stiffly, his expression tight, defensive. “In fact, he might not even have practiced at all, seeing as he would have had a gun in his case, not a bat.” He leaned forward. “But since we’re having a lot o’ trouble finding this gun, which could be anywhere by now, that means we got just the last thing left on which to catch him, doesn’t it? Motive!” He held up his third finger.
Joseph should have realized it from the moment Perth had come in. The inspector knew Joseph would have nothing to give him on means or opportunity. He would hardly be here simply to keep Joseph informed. “I see,” he said flatly.
“Oi’m sure as you do, Reverend,” Perth agreed, a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. “Not easy to find that out. Not even counting the fact