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They left the copybook village of Ornum behind and got on the open road.

They were on the outskirts of Berebury when they saw the ambulance.

It was in a hurry. Crosby slowed down and eased to the side of the road as it flashed by in the opposite direction. The sound of its siren was nearly extinguished by the roar of the motorcycle that was following the ambulance at great speed.

“That’s Pete Bellamy, that is,” observed Crosby inconsequentially.

“Well I hope Traffic pick him up.”

“Always follows the blood wagon, does Pete.”

“Say that again, Crosby.”

“About Pete Bellamy, sir? He lives opposite the ambulance station.”

“Where does he work?”

“Some garage in the town, sir. He’s just got himself the bike.”

“So that each time the bell goes down he chases the ambulance.”

“That’s right.”

“Only when he’s not at work of course.”

“That’s right, sir.”

“What’s his dinnertime?”

“I couldn’t say, sir. It is important?”

“And if it’s a smash-up he rings his boss.”

“I expect so, sir. They don’t pay them a lot you know. Not apprentices.”

“And his boss comes out with the breakdown truck on the off chance.”

“They do it in other places,” said Crosby defensively. “Big mainroad counties. Near black spots and so forth. The truck just follows the ambulance.”

“Maternity cases,” said Sloan sarcastically, “must be a big disappointment to them.”

“It’s probably worth it,” said Crosby. “One good roundabout’s worth a lot of swings in the car trade.” He said anxiously, “Is it important, sir? Shall I have to tell him to stop?”

Sloan breathed very deeply. “No, Crosby. Just to drive more carefully.”

He reached into his briefcase for the formal charge sheet.

Presently he read it out to a sullen silent prisoner.

“Michael Joseph Dillow you are charged that on Friday, June 20, last, you did feloniously cause the death of one Osborne Meredith, against the Peace of Our Sovereign Lady the Queen, her Crown and Dignity…”

Sloan paused.

He hadn’t thought of it like that before either.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Catherine Aird had never tried her hand at writing suspense stories before publishing The Religious Body—a novel which immediately established her as one of the genre’s most talented writers. A Late Phoenix, The Stately Home Murder, His Burial Too, Some Die Eloquent, Henrietta Who? and A Most Contagious Game have subsequently enhanced her reputation. Her ancestry is Scottish, but she now lives in a village in East Kent, near Canterbury, where she serves as an aid to her father, a doctor, and takes an interest in local affairs.

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