‘Well, was she in when you yourself got back from Gledge End, sir?’
‘I believe not, but she couldn’t have been much after Plum and me. She was at supper all right. I remember she asked whether we ought to save anything for Judy, in case Judy got over the row she’d had with Peggy and came back. Oh, and she was babbling about some chap she’d met at the farm. I think she spent the day there. We got to know them last year when we were here. Eggs and things, you know.’
‘I suppose she stayed at the farm all the time?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘She mentioned a young chap who was staying there who had a motorbike. Would that be the chap you referred to?’
‘Oh, yes.that’s right. I gather he made a bit of a pass at her and then wanted to take her out riding pillion, but she didn’t fancy him.’
‘So he gave up the idea, did he?’
‘He went off on it, she said, and she saw no more of him.’
‘Do you know anything about Mrs Tyne’s husband, sir?’
Again Giles looked surprised.
‘Only that he died two years ago. I went with Judy to the funeral. They hadn’t lived together for months, but she thought she ought to go.’
Pleased to get rid of one suspect, Ribble went back to the farm.
‘Adam?’ said Mrs Ramsgill. ‘Yes, he’s in. He’s in the parlour. The motorbike? Oh, it kept going wrong, so he took it back to where he hired it and turned it in.’
In the parlour Ribble came to the point without beating about the bush.
‘This motorbike you hired, sir.’
‘What about it?’
‘Where did you go when you went out on it yesterday?’
‘Why do you want to know? If there’s been any trouble about a motorbike, it certainly wasn’t mine.’
‘I would like to know where you went, that’s all, sir.’
‘Oh, I just followed my nose as usual.’
‘Please be more specific, sir.’
‘I did a sort of round trip over the moors.’
‘Yes, sir?’
‘Well, that’s all I can tell you. I went into Long Cove Bay and ate my sandwiches outside the Bull there, went inside for a beer and then I took the main road towards Gledge End and turned off it to by-roads and then stooged around.’
‘What was the number of your bike, sir?’
‘Number? Oh, I don’t remember. It was a red and silver affair, a Kotsac, very unreliable.’
‘From whom did you hire it?’
‘That garage in Long Cove Bay just as you enter the town. May I ask what all this is in aid of?’
‘Did you meet anybody while you were out, sir?’
‘Not to say meet anybody. I picked up a girl at the pub and took her on the pillion.’
‘Her name, sir?’
‘Marion was all I got, no surname. If she’s in any trouble I can’t help you. Nothing happened while we were out except that the beastly bike broke down and the garage chap couldn’t see to it immediately, so by the time it was tuned up — there was nothing much wrong — Marion had got sick of waiting and I suppose she went home on the bus. I couldn’t blame her.’
‘Did you pass a girl cyclist on the moor, sir?’
‘No. We passed a couple of hikers, but they were both men. Oh, later on I saw another fellow. He was stooping over a buckled bike. I shouldn’t think it was his own, though. Looked like a lady’s machine to me. The front wheel seemed to have taken a bit of a knock. He was trying to straighten it, I think, but I didn’t stop and I don’t think Marion even noticed.’
‘Where was this, sir?’
‘Good Lord! I don’t know. I was just out for a ride. Oh, half a minute, though. I do know more or less where it was. I had just passed a signpost to Wayland.’
‘Can you describe the man? How was he dressed?’
‘I only saw him as I whizzed by, and only his back view, anyway. I believe I remember a rucksack, but I couldn’t speak to anything else.’
‘You saw a buckled bike, probably a lady’s machine, and this man bending over it. Nothing else?’
‘Nothing else. I mean, there was nobody who looked as though she might have had an accident, otherwise I would have stopped.’
‘I see, sir. Thank you for your help. May I have your home address in case I need to be in touch with you again?’
It was not far from the farm to the Bull and on the way Ribble, who was thorough-going, first pulled up at the garage which Adam Penshaw had mentioned and checked on the hiring of motorcycles. They recognised his description of the young man and showed him the red and silver Kotsac. They kept self-drive cars for the hire of summer visitors to the resort and a couple of motorcycles, ‘although there’s not much call for them, especially at this time of year, Inspector.’
Ribble took down the registration number of the Kotsac and drove into the town. The Bull was in the middle of its Friday-night revels and the place was full, the dartboard besieged and the pin-tables in full and noisy occupation. Among the customers Ribble recognised some of the party from the Youth Hostel. Apparently they had given up serious rehearsal in favour of conviviality, which did not argue any lasting concern for the dead girl.
The scene was lively and the bar was crowded and very busy. It was hardly the best time to make enquiries, but Ribble wanted to press on. It did not seem to him that he had made much progress so far. Checking the activities of Giles and Plum at the church hall and Peggy’s hairdressing appointment would have to wait until the morning and, in any case, he expected little to come from either. His chief hope was to gain further knowledge of the man who had inspected the buckled bicycle. The girl Marion might have noticed something which had escaped Adam Penshaw. The trouble might be to trace her, which was his reason for going to the pub. Ribble had little doubt that the bicycle had been the property of the dead woman. The turning to Wayland which Adam had mentioned seemed to prove it.
The bar was being attended to by a man and woman. Ribble waited until he could order his beer from the latter. When he received his pint from her he asked whether she knew a girl named Marion.
‘She was in here yesterday between twelve and one with a young fellow named Penshaw,’ he said. ‘Looks about eighteen.’
‘Oh yes? I don’t recollect the name,’ she said. ‘What’s this about Marion? Of course I know her. She’s always in here. Picks up fellows and gets a lot of free drinks that way. I don’t think she picked up your fellow, though. She wouldn’t reckon on a lad of that age having enough money to treat her in the way she was accustomed, and she’s never one to waste her time.’
‘Would you know her address?’
‘Sorry. Any way, I’m wanted.’ A customer at the other end of the bar was becoming insistent. ‘If you want her she’ll be in here tomorrow at her usual time. Hang on! That’s her just coming in. The girl in the cherry-coloured trousers.’
Ribble made his way over. The girl was unaccompanied, he was glad to see. In passing her as she made tracks for the bar, he jostled her and turned with a courteous apology.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘No harm done. You’ve spilt your drink, though.’
‘Not on you, miss, I’m relieved to notice. Perhaps you would do me the honour?’
‘Oh, well, I don’t mind if I do. Help to heal my bruises, won’t it?’
They made their way to the dispensers of refreshment, Ribble this time getting the barman to serve him, and then found a vacant table in a far corner. Conversation of a light-hearted nature followed and then Ribble bought another round of drinks.
‘How did you get on with young Penshaw yesterday?’ he asked. ‘He told me about you and how you went out on the back of his motorbike. Did you have a good time?’
‘Depends what you call a good time. The blessed bike broke down. At least, he said it did.’