Murder of a Snob
“said Crisp, when they were outside. “I don’t know the road to Kilburn. We’re calling on Mrs. Cornboise to find out whether Querk prompted her about Ralph’s car.”
Benscombe stowed the box containing the pictures of Claudia, too full of Fenchurch to feel interest in Mrs. Cornboise.
“If you had been on your own,” said Crisp, as they drew clear of the neighbourhood, “you would have detained Fenchurch on suspicion, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, sir. The weak link was where he pretended to think M...rs. Cornboise was a lunatic.”
“Wrong, boy! He may or may not have thought her a lunatic. But he couldn’t have faked the story of her swinging the stocking with a weight in it. There was an earthenware duck’s egg in her bag and three stockings, none of which needed darning. I took them. But as the report on them was negative, I returned them to her.”
The traffic demanded Benscombe’s full attention.MoreLess
Benscombe stowed the box containing the pictures of Claudia, too full of Fenchurch to feel interest in Mrs. Cornboise.
“If you had been on your own,” said Crisp, as they drew clear of the neighbourhood, “you would have detained Fenchurch on suspicion, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, sir. The weak link was where he pretended to think M...rs. Cornboise was a lunatic.”
“Wrong, boy! He may or may not have thought her a lunatic. But he couldn’t have faked the story of her swinging the stocking with a weight in it. There was an earthenware duck’s egg in her bag and three stockings, none of which needed darning. I took them. But as the report on them was negative, I returned them to her.”
The traffic demanded Benscombe’s full attention.MoreLess
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