It took all my will power not to say, “Elementary my dear Watson,” as we sat in the Dog & Doublet that evening, starting in on a second round of pints. Even Caroline, who is not a beer drinker, could not resist the celebration.
For I had gotten Roger “off,” and I was explaining that it was just a matter of paying attention to two salient characteristics of Sandon village life: traffic and weather. The case, as I saw it, hinged on the following observations:
- The omnipresence of heavy and fast-moving traffic in such a small village.
- The fact that the police could provide no satisfactory reason for the elderly church warden to be walking past the Dog & Doublet in the rain and darkness.
- The coincidence of the young Miata owner washing his car two days in a row, especially after a heavy rain.
Sure enough, a quick inspection of the Miata had shown traces of blood in the trunk (or “boot” as the English say) and red paint that had been scraped off the fender.
What seemed to have happened is this: About an hour after reporting Roger’s transgression to the police (who, by the way, had had no intention of pursuing the complaint), the warden went out for the post, which was located just down the lane, past the former village schoolhouse. Our young Miata man, heading out to the main road at a perilously fast speed, hit and killed the warden, whom he did not see due to the driving rain and early dusk.
Panicked – he had already had two driving-while-intoxicated infractions against him and knew he would face years in prison for manslaughter – and using the deserted lane and early nightfall for cover, he put Hedges in his trunk (just big enough for the tiny man), and drove to the lock. Pulling off to the side of the road where his car could not be seen, he rummaged the bow of our boat for the anchor.
The lock was empty at the time and so, after dumping the anchor-clad Mr. Hedges, he used our windlass to open the paddles and fill the lock to prevent the body from being discovered right away.
“Why didn’t the police suspect it was a hit and run all along?” Gregory asked. “Wasn’t that more plausible than Roger killing the man in an argument?”
I shrugged. “First, the guy moved the body to make it look like the incident happened at the canal. It wasn’t until the coroner’s exam this afternoon that the police knew for sure how Mr. Hedges got his injuries. In the meantime it was our anchor that was used to hide the body. And, frankly, I think Inspector Waggens was getting a kick out of accusing Roger. I’m not sure he really thought Roger did it as much as he wanted to have fun scaring a dope-smoking Yank.”
“What I want to know,” said Caroline, looking sternly but fondly at her husband, “is if this incident has taught you anything?”
Roger smiled sheepishly. “When you see a boat full of boys from Amsterdam, keep on cruising!”
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