The bizarre incident of the death in the call box explained, Ashdown was returning to its daily rounds, with Ida Dotrice filling in at the post-office stores. Thus Jury knew that Constable Pasco was merely indulging the superintendent’s whim. If he wanted to waste his time in the overcrowded cottage of an elderly woman, Pasco didn’t care. Pasco was leaning against the cluttered mantelpiece, chewing gum, as Jury stood with his hands in his pockets and looked around. “Certainly liked knickknacks, didn’t she?” Pasco apparently felt the answer to this quite obvious, given the bits of shells, little stuffed birds, blown-glass animals, Presents from Brighton, the Isle of Man, and Torquay, their greetings written in flaking gold script across shaving mugs, gilt-edged cups and saucers. The little parlor was stuffed with memorabilia. “No family?” “None I ever heard of,” said Pasco, lazily chewing his gum. Jury smiled. The constable’s duties in Ashdown Dean were probably limited to stopping motorists going over the thirty-mile limit and checking locks at night.
