Motive for Murder by Anthea Fraser Page B

matter.’
    We moved over to the lifts. ‘Self-operated, you see,’ Matthew said to me, ‘so no convenient liftman with a good memory.’
    â€˜I’m sure Mr Dawson is as good as any liftman,’ I said tactfully, and was rewarded with an appreciative smile from behind the bristling moustache.
    â€˜Well, miss’ – as a mere secretary I was no longer addressed as madam – ‘I always say, once I see a face, I remember it. And can usually put a name to it, too.’
    The lift stopped and we got out on the second floor. A long, deeply-carpeted corridor swept in both directions, an arrow pointing to numbers 21 to 25 to our left, 26 to 30 to our right.
    â€˜Number 23 it was,’ remarked Dawson. ‘Can’t let you in, I’m afraid – there’s a new owner there now.’
    We moved down the passage and stopped outside a royal blue door. The gilt number 23 gleamed on the paintwork and a card read, ‘Fredericks, Major P.C.’
    I thought suddenly, I’m standing where the murderer stood! and a frisson lifted my hair.
    â€˜And the party was just opposite,’ Matthew said, looking at the door facing us, with its matching gilt number.
    â€˜That’s right, sir. Young Mr Gilman. His parents were away on a cruise and he seized the opportunity, as you might say.’
    â€˜I suppose you didn’t know the guests?’
    â€˜That I did not, sir, nor wouldn’t want to, neither. A very strange bunch, to my way of thinking. Not a decent haircut among them.’
    â€˜How old is Mr Gilman?’ I asked suddenly, and Matthew glanced at me in surprise.
    Dawson ran his fingers through his moustache. ‘Twenty-three, twenty-four.’
    â€˜So his guests were about that age too?’
    â€˜Anything from seventeen to thirty, I’d say.’
    â€˜In which case,’ I mused, ‘the murderer must also be a young man – or woman.’
    Matthew turned questioningly, and Dawson nodded approval.
    â€˜Well,’ I explained, ‘the only reason he or she wasn’t spotted was because a lot of other young people were in the building that night. A stranger who didn’t fit in that age group would, I’m sure, be remembered by Mr Dawson.’
    â€˜My God,’ Matthew said slowly. ‘No doubt the police have registered that, but I confess it hadn’t struck me. Well done, Emily.’
    â€˜Which,’ I finished with a smile, ‘disposes of several fictitious characters at least.’
    â€˜I suppose you know all the members of Mr Menzies’ family, Dawson?’
    â€˜Oh yes, sir. Miss Lesley-that-was, and Mr Holloway, and Mr Jack Menzies and his wife –’
    â€˜And they weren’t here that night?’
    â€˜Certainly not!’ Dawson looked shocked, as well he might, considering the implications behind Matthew’s question.
    â€˜And there’s no one, Dawson, no one at all, who made an impression, who arrived by himself, perhaps, or didn’t seem to fit in with the others?’
    â€˜No sir, I can’t say there was.’
    I said suddenly, ‘You’d have noticed, wouldn’t you, if someone had come down again almost straight away?’
    â€˜Yes, miss. But they reckon he ran down the service stairs and out the basement door.’
    â€˜He couldn’t have come in that way, and avoided being seen at all?’ Matthew asked hopefully, mindful of his plot.
    â€˜No, sir. The door was locked on the inside. The murderer unlocked it to let hisself out.’
    â€˜No doubt wiping the handle and key when he’d done so,’ said Matthew resignedly.
    â€˜Quite so, sir.’
    Money again changed hands and Matthew and I were back in the car. I gave a little shiver.
    â€˜Cold?’ he asked. ‘Or is it just distaste for the job?’
    â€˜A bit of both, suppose.’
    â€˜Well, let’s go and have a drink somewhere, followed by a decent meal.