“Charles thinks he must have been shot from the bushes opposite the house, on the common,” said Miss Patterdale.
Gavin turned his eyes enquiringly to Charles, who briefly explained his reasons for holding this opinion. “He was sitting in the garden with his profile turned to the lane, presumably reading some papers he's taken out with him. It wouldn't have been a very difficult shot.”
“But where was Mavis while all this marksmanship was going on? Report places her actually on the scene of the crime.”
“No, she wasn't quite that close, though darned nearly. According to her story, she was getting over the stile at the top of the lane when she heard the shot. That's where the murderer was in luck: a second or two later and she would have been on the spot—might even have stopped the bullet.”
“No, she mightn't,” contradicted Abby. “That's fatuous! The man wouldn't have fired if she'd been in the way!”
“Who knows?” murmured Gavin. “I shall go and view the terrain tomorrow morning. Can't you see the stile from the common? I rather thought you could.”
“Yes, I thought of that too,” agreed Charles. “Several explanations possible. The murderer may have been too intent on taking aim to look that way. He may have been lying with the gorse bushes shutting off the stile from his sight.”
“I find both those theories depressing. They make it seem as if the murderer is a careless, slapdash person, and that I refuse to believe.”
“But that's what they usually are, aren't they?” asked Abby. “Real murderers, I mean, not the ones in books. I know I've read somewhere that they nearly always give themselves away by doing something silly.”
“True enough,” said Charles. “It 'ud be nice if ours turned out to be a master of crime, but I'm bound to say I haven't much hope of it.”