A CLASSIC FROM THE GOLDEN AGE OF ENGLISH DETECTIVE FICTION.
The scene is The Blue Boar in the High Street, Lulverton. The occasion: the stag party planned to celebrate Sergeant Bert Martin’s retirement after thirty years’ service.
“It was good while it lasted,” said Bert, putting down his empty tankard with a reflective sigh. “Bein’ in the Force, I mean. Lookin’ back over the long vista of the years…” But Bert had still until midnight before Bradfield was due to step into his shoes.
At nine twenty-five Jimmy Hooker was still very much alive, if a little the worse for wear, when he barged in on the party in the upstairs room. At closing time he was dead in the saloon. “And I don’t think,” said ‘Pop’ Collins, licensee of the Blue Boar, “that it was in the way of nature.”
