I take Sundays off – no writing, no admin, and start the day late with a warm croissant and strong coffee. Unfortunately Wheatley has no such luxury. Here he is on a Saturday morning interviewing the manager of Tamplin and Sons, Brewers, while investigating his latest murder:
“Now, sir, if you could just arrange for me to interview the drayman and his assistant who delivered to the Eclipse Public House on Wednesday, I’ll pursue my enquiries elsewhere.”
“Impossible, I’m afraid. Deliveries already started you see. Listen.”
Wheatley listened. “I’m afraid I don’t hear anything,” he said.
“Exactly,” said Mr Boxell, moving to his office window. “No rumbling of horses and carts, no thunder of rolling barrels. No shouts of encouragement. All is loaded, drays have departed and the workers moved on to other tasks.” The manager stood, nodding satisfactorily, looking out of his window. And when Wheatley joined him, he could see that the yard was indeed empty, all activity ceased.
“Perhaps this evening?” he said.
“Impossible. I only work half-days on Saturday. I’ll be gone way before the delivery drivers return.”
“Tomorrow then?”
“Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy,” thundered Boxell. “Are you a heathen, Detective? Tamplin and Sons believe in six days of labour, and the seventh for spiritual matters. The brewery will be locked up as tight as… well, tight as a barrel, tomorrow.”
“I wish the criminal fraternity shared your piety,” said Wheatley. “I shall be on duty tomorrow.”
(c) Barry Silsby 2022 ‘Wheatley over a barrel’
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