Hell Hath No Fury by Rosie Harris

‘You go. I want to get back to my office and record the finer points of this meeting while they’re still etched on my mind.’
    â€˜Surely, that’s not necessary!’
    She managed a faint smile. ‘It is to me. Superintendent Wilson has such a regimented way of thinking. Come to my office when you’ve had your coffee; I should be through by then.’
    Paddy grinned. ‘I’ll do better than that. I’ll pop down to the canteen and get us both a coffee, and bring them back to your office.’ He was gone before she could protest.
    She was studying a printout of details relating to the latest murder when Paddy arrived with their coffee.
    â€˜Solved it?’ he asked jokingly, putting her cup down on a pile of papers
    She frowned. ‘Far from it!’
    â€˜What’s the problem?’
    â€˜The fact that Sandy Franklin was known to such a wide range of people in Benbury.’
    He took a gulp of his coffee. ‘Why is that such a complication?’
    â€˜It means that absolutely anyone could have murdered him!’
    Paddy shook his head. ‘No one is going to murder him because he’s short-changed them or been late delivering their papers. Whoever did it must have a real grudge against him, probably a strong personal one. He was a bit of a lad with the ladies, you know!’
    Ruth checked her notes. ‘A bachelor. Living on his own . . .’
    â€˜Who liked a good time and female company.’
    â€˜You mean it could have been a jealous husband?’
    â€˜It’s quite possible.’
    â€˜And from his reputation that also means there could be more than one suspect?’
    â€˜Yes, that’s more than likely.’
    Ruth picked up her mug of coffee. ‘So we need to find out the names of his lady friends.’ She took a drink. ‘Have you any suggestions?’
    â€˜Not at the moment, but I’m sure that Franklin’s cleaner, Betsy Grey, would be able to tell us all we want to know.’
    Ruth nodded thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps you should pop along and have a chat with her. That is, if you think she would be helpful.’
    â€˜Catch her at the right moment, and she’d open up. She’s a widow in her mid-fifties and very fond of drinking a G & T in the Red Lion.’
    Ruth’s eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘Right! Well, I’ll leave you to take care of that line of enquiry. I’m sure you won’t mind dropping in there on your way home.’ She scanned another sheet of paper. ‘None of the staff at his shop appear to have been very helpful.’
    â€˜No. They’re all part-timers. They do their hours and then they’re off. They’ve no real interest in him, or the business, from what I could gather.’
    â€˜And the delivery boys?’
    Paddy shrugged. ‘The same. In the morning, their main concern is to get their deliveries over and be at school on time. At night, they want to be finished as quickly as possible and go home.’
    â€˜I think we ought to find out what clubs, or other organizations, Sandy Franklin belonged to, and check if John Moorhouse was a member of any of the same ones.’
    â€˜You think there is a connection?’
    â€˜The two murders are almost identical. That could mean that it’s a copycat murder. If not, then, as Superintendent Wilson said, it might well be that we have a serial killer on our hands.’
    Paddy drained the dregs of his coffee. There were plenty of rumours flying around about who might have murdered Sandy Franklin, but he didn’t think it was his place to mention them. He wasn’t sure if she would approve of gossip.
    If it had been Inspector Ben Palmer on the case that would have been a very different matter, because he would have known exactly where he stood with old Ben.
    Paddy sighed. A damn sight easier dealing with a seasoned copper like himself who had worked his way up from the beat and had real practical