The Pershore Poisoners by Kerry Tombs

too much of that soup so they said. Didn’t have any affect on me, although I believe most of the others were ill. Poor man. Must have had a delicate constitution.’
    ‘We have since discovered that Mr. Jones was poisoned. Someone apparently put poison in his bottle of port,’ said Ravenscroft watching Cherrington to see what affect this disclosure would have on him.
    ‘Good Lord! Whoever would want to go and do a thing like that?’
    ‘Who indeed, Mr Cherrington? That is what we have come to investigate.’
    ‘Yes, well I can see that. Poisoned you say? Well, I am surprised,’ replied Cherrington before taking another puff on his cigarette.
    ‘Oh, why do you say that?’
    ‘Well, can’t see why anyone would want to kill him like that.He seemed quite a pleasant sort of fellow. Bit on the quiet side. I didn’t have much opportunity to speak to him of course, but he struck me as being quite inoffensive and reserved.’
    ‘Did Mr Jones tell you anything of his history, or what he might be doing in the future?’
    ‘No, I don’t think so. As I said, he wasn’t the sort of man you could have a long conversation with. Played his cards close to his chest, if you see what I mean.’
    ‘Can you think of anyone here who would have wanted him dead?’ asked Ravenscroft.
    ‘No. I can’t see either of the Miss Fanshaws, or straight-laced Miss Martin, killing him, nor that mad Italian, or the miserable old professor,’ laughed Cherrington.
    ‘And Mr. Claybourne?’ asked Crabb.
    ‘Now there’s a mystery man if ever there was one. Claims to be some sort of commercial traveller, although what he is supposed to be selling I have no idea. Just seems to be here for two or three days each week. Where he goes to the rest of time, I don’t know. I suppose he might be your man.’
    ‘And Mr and Mrs Talbot?’ suggested Ravenscroft.
    ‘Talbot!’ exclaimed Cherrington. ‘That man is afraid of his own shadow. Completely under the thumb of that wife of his. He reminds me of a greasy fly waiting to be swatted. I suppose there is always the possibility that she could have killed poor old Jones. Perhaps she was repulsed by his amorous intentions or he complained about the cooking?’
    ‘Now I think you are jesting, Mr Cherrington,’ replied Ravenscroft. ‘Well sir, I think that will be all for now.’
    ‘Oh, is that all? I was quite enjoying our little chat,’ said Cherrington rising from his chair.
    ‘We may need to question you again, sir.’
    ‘Anytime, inspector.’
    ‘I do not suppose you are the author of a letter sent to meregarding Jones’s death?’
    ‘No. Why the devil would I want to do such a thing?’ laughed Cherrington.
    ‘I take it you won’t be leaving Talbots’ in the next week or so?’
    ‘Alas, no. As I said, waiting for my funds to arrive, then I shall put Talbots’ behind me as I head off once more to the capital. Catch up with a few friends, maybe buy a nice little place in Primrose Hill or Highgate. Yes, that would be nice. Can’t understand why they are taking so long. Then again the world of finance can often proceed at an annoyingly slow pace.’
     
    ‘Well, Tom, what do you make of our Mr Cherrington?’ asked Ravenscroft as he and Crabb walked back to their trap.
    ‘Rather a smooth character if you ask me,’ answered Crabb.
    ‘Yes, he had quite a disarming manner. I don’t believe he has been out in India for the past five years.’
    ‘Oh, why do you say that, sir?’
    ‘A man who has just returned from growing tea in India would have had a much darker complexion. I would be surprised if Mr Cherrington has got any further than the white cliffs of Dover. Although well dressed, with an expensive cane and gold cigarette case, I don’t believe that he is waiting for any funds to arrive. There probably aren’t any funds, that’s why he is reduced to staying at Talbots’. I could be wrong of course. I could be doing the man a grave injustice. Did you notice how he quickly