We did get back by bus, although it took pretty much all evening, what
with waiting for the first bus to arrive and finding it only went as
far as Upper Roundswell, after which we had to wait for another and by
the time that finally trundled into Nether St Yorick, neither of us
were up to anything more than heading off to our respective beds.

I returned to find Mrs Hudson still here. From what I can gather, she
had been waiting specifically to tell me that getting knocked over the
head was the sort of thing I could expect if I started getting up to
tricks with Modern Females. I have to confess I felt sorely tempted
to knock her over the head in return since a lecture was the last
thing I wanted and particularly not one so unflattering to a plucky
girl like Miss Smith. (Can you imagine? Charging off after a car
thief on a bicycle.)

Despite her low opinion of the police inspector (still lower than her
opinion of me, I’m pleased to report), the next morning Sarah went to
tell Mackenzie what had happened with McCrimmon and the car.

This resulted in me receiving a visit from the inspector. My head was
still feeling a bit tender (I’m not used to being bashed over the head
in the normal way of things), so I wasn’t too pleased to find a loud
and insensitive police officer on my doorstep.

“Sullivan,” he barked, marching in over the threshold without waiting
for an invite. “I needed to see you.”

I followed him into my sitting room. Luckily, Mrs Hudson didn’t hold
any strong opinions about policeman (aside from a dislike of their
Dirty Boots), so she brought us some tea and biscuits. She may be a
bit of a tartar, but she makes a near-perfect cup of tea, I have to
say.

“Miss Smith explained about what happened to you yesterday,” he said.
“I’ve got my men out looking for this McCrimmon fellow -.”

I couldn’t help it. “Well, that will keep Constable Benton busy.”

“The chief up at Namechester has also lent a few men,” he said,
without any heed to my inappropriate sense of humour. “Look, I’ve had
to let Jackson go due to lack of evidence, so obviously I’ll bang up
this other chap as soon as I get my hands on him, but I’m a bit
puzzled about some things.”

I nodded. “So am I.”

“You know who went off in your car and made a wreck of it and himself,
don’t you?” he said.

I shook my head.

“Dr Solon,” he informed me. “What is this, some kind of rivalry over
the practice?”

I stared at him. “Dr Solon stole my car and tried to kill Miss
Smith?”

He chomped on another biscuit. “Mmph.”

“But that’s – that’s ridiculous,” I said. “And what did he want?
Sarah said he seemed to be looking for something in the car. That
makes no sense.”

He choked on a biscuit and coughed crumbs over the carpet. “It’s
beyond me. I’ll just lock up this McCrimmon fellow and make an end to
it.”

“But I don’t think it was him,” I said. “I think he was scared of
something – or someone.”

The inspector got to his feet. “That’s very charitable of you, Dr
Sullivan. I never feel very sympathetic when someone’s knocked me
over the head, but I suppose that’s why you’re a doctor and I’m an
officer of the Law.”

“I suppose so,” I agreed.

He turned as he reached the door. “Still, at least it’s cleared up
something.”

“Oh? What was that?”

He put his hat back on. “Well, that solved the mystery of who pinched
Miss Fay’s bicycle. Got Benton to rescue it from the crime scene and
take it back to her. Nice to be able to make somebody happy.”

*

No sooner had he gone, then there was another knock at the door and I
opened it to find Sarah standing there with a bedraggled bunch of wild
flowers in her hand.

“I brought these for you,” she announced. She glanced at the wilting
blooms. “Well, they looked nice when I picked them and I couldn’t get
any grapes.”

I took them from her with a grin. “They are past their best,” I
agreed. “Still, it’s the thought that counts. And I’m not an
invalid, Miss Smith.”

“Sarah,” she reminded me. “Can I come in or is your housekeeper
here?”

I moved forward and pulled the door to behind me. “She is. What did
you want?”

“Firstly to make sure you were all right,” she said. “And I wanted to
know – are you prepared to go on with this detective business?”

I said, “I think we have to. Someone’s obviously got it in for us as
well now. And Mackenzie thinks McCrimmon’s his villain and I’m not so
sure. I think he’s trying to hide something. He didn’t kill me
yesterday, after all.”

Sarah frowned. “I don’t think I’d be so keen to trust him. Still, I
don’t see him strangling Polly Wright. And we ought to see whether or
not he was telling the truth about the Pollards.”

“I could call on them,” I offered, seeing where this was headed.
“Miss Pollard gave me an invite the other day – I’ll say I’ve mislaid
it and -.”

She was biting back laughter. “I can’t imagine anyone believing that
of you.”

“When do you want to go?” I asked. “After all, we’d better stick
together so nobody has a chance to kill either of us again.”

Sarah paused. “Well, I have one or two last things to ask Professor
Smith, so I shall call on him and come back – shall we say 2 o’clock?”

“Of course,” I said.

*

When Miss Smith returned later, she seemed on edge – she refused to
meet my gaze and was much quieter than she had been on the previous
occasions we’d tried investigating together. I thought perhaps she
was more shaken by yesterday’s events than she chose to admit and
didn’t blame her. Other than a brief query, I didn’t press her on the
subject.

We walked down the footpath towards the big house.

I wasn’t thinking about the investigation as much as I should have
been. I was wondering how to take the thing with the flowers earlier
and whether I might have a chance with her if I asked her out to
dinner or if she’d turn and laugh at me. I decided that after we’d
finished at the Pollards’ I’d take the risk.

After yesterday, I reasoned, I should be able to face anything.

As we were walking up the drive, gravel crunching under out feet, we
met the Reverend Magister on his way out.

“Afternoon, Sullivan,” he said. “And is this the charming journalist
I’ve been hearing so much about? Miss Smith?”

She smiled at him. “That’s me.”

“A pleasure,” he said, taking her hand and kissing it. Somehow he
could get away with things like that. If I’d tried it, she’d probably
have boxed my ears. “Anyhow, Mrs Magister is expecting me back and it
doesn’t do to keep her waiting. I’m sure I shall see you again.”

I moved nearer to Sarah as he passed on and whispered, “He’s a funny
sort of chap.”

“What do you mean?” she asked and there was a chilly edge to her tone
that startled me.

I shrugged. “Well, he’s as polite as anything, but I’m sure he
doesn’t like me.”

“And that makes him odd, does it?” she returned at once. “How vain of
you, Dr Sullivan.”

I paused, hurt. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know why – and
he’s supposed to be the vicar. You know, peace and goodwill and all
that.”

“Maybe he’s really the villain?” she suggested, a spark of humour in
her eyes.

I felt relieved that she seemed to have returned to her usual self,
but I couldn’t swallow that. “Oh, no, Sarah – he’s the vicar!”

She gave me a puzzled look that I only understood much later.