Paul Temple and the Kelby Affair

‘He’s down there,’ the man called. ‘The rain butt by the corner.’

Paul and the inspector ran to the back of the barn. The rain butt was very large, and unless you were deliberately searching you wouldn’t have seen the hand resting over the edge by the drainpipe.

A police ambulance and a doctor were sent for, as well as the photographer and a fingerprint man from the lab. Paul Temple watched in fascination as the whole organisation moved smoothly into action. A constable stayed on duty by the body and the other took statements from the farm hands. It was such a routine operation for them that a man’s violent death became almost an irrelevance.

‘Nobody’s been near this bloody barn for ten days. You can see it’s hardly used at this time of year.’

Paul Temple realised that the farmer was still standing next to him. As the only other man without a part to play he had stayed helplessly by Paul’s side, watching and feeling sorry for himself.

‘When did you last see Mr Kelby alive?’ Paul asked him.

‘I saw him in the village about a week ago. But I didn’t speak to him.’

‘Why not?’

‘I saw him first.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘What do you think it means? It means I avoided him.’ Ted Mortimer stepped aside to allow the doctor to pass. They were about to move the body. It was a bloated, blue-hued impersonal thing, nothing more to do with Alfred Kelby. ‘Wouldn’t you avoid someone if you owed him two thousand quid, and you were up to your bloody ears in debt?’

Paul smiled thoughtfully. ‘That’s a good question. I think I probably would, Mr Mortimer.’

The farmer looked at him for a moment, not quite sure what to make of Paul’s attitude. Then he turned away to stare at the ambulance. The stray hand was visible again, hanging below the white sheet.

‘Did you know that Mr Kelby was coming to see you on Monday afternoon?’

‘That stuck-up secretary of his telephoned; it was like announcing a royal visit. But Kelby didn’t turn up.’

‘Were you at home Monday afternoon and evening?’

‘Yes,’ Mortimer said angrily. ‘And I didn’t see anybody putting him in the rain butt. I would have sent them both packing if I had!’

‘What time do your men go home?’

‘At this time of the year about six o’clock. Now do you mind if I get some work done? I’ve a livelihood to earn.’

Ted Mortimer strode away to the house. Paul smiled to himself and went across to join Charlie Vosper. The ambulance was just departing, and Charlie was watching it go as he lit his pipe.

‘Well?’ asked Paul.

The inspector growled and carried on lighting his pipe. ‘He’s been in that water some time. Probably since Monday.’

‘Was he drowned?’ Paul asked.

‘I don’t know. We’ll have to wait for the autopsy.’ He threw a match into the ground level of the barn and watched to see whether it carried on burning. ‘From the look of him I’d say that his neck was broken, but there’s bound to have been a struggle. I’d like to know which happened first.’

Paul nodded. ‘It would make quite a difference.’

‘If he died of a broken neck he could have been killed elsewhere and then brought here later. That would be easier.’

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