glistening under the yellow lights of the sodium lamps, he thought long and hard about Gordon Walker and the other possible suspects in this frustrating case.
Walker stood to gain a fortune, if not immediately, at some time in the future.
Whether or not the prospect of being free to marry his mistress was a significant factor, Meredith was not able to decide. He rather thought not, as a divorce, despite the obstacles in its path in this particular case, was always to be preferred to murder. But all that money was a motive many times over and, in the absence of a better alternative. Walker must remain number one suspect for the time being.
What about the Leighs? Again, money seemed to be the main motive, and a strong one. Even if they had nothing else to gain, ten thousand pounds meant a lot of dollars to a pair who clearly had large drink bills to pay.
The other suspects were so free from motives that he couldnât find any reason to incriminate them. Tate was just a business friend, the Moores were involved only via Pearlâs affair with Gordon.
Eve Arden, Abe Franklin, Martin Myers? There was not the slightest thing to link them with the death. They appeared to have not the faintest hope of benefit from it.
Meredith was worried, for he felt that he had missed something obvious. He had the feeling that something had already been said that he should have followed up, but he couldnât call it to mind.
It was something Stammers had said ⦠no, it was Walker who had said it â that the murderer had got the wrong victim.
The more he thought about it, the less attractive it seemed as a line to follow up. At least, with Margaret Walker as the intended victim, there was motive in the shape of a massive inheritance. But postulate another person as the killerâs target and the motive could be anything you cared to name.
The pattern of marital squabbles and jealousies was clear to see â could any one of these have accounted for a quick stab in the dark? How about Pearl, for instance? She must have cast aside a few lovers in her time â Masters had said that Leo Prince was among them. And then there was her husband, but could jealousy in such people match half a million pounds as a motive? The superintendent did not think so.
The turning to his home came into sight. He turned off the main road and gave up the problem until the next day. Sunday or not, he just had to get a lead in some direction, otherwise the Commissioner would be getting edgy.
Meredith put the car away and went quietly into the house. Shortly afterwards, he slipped between the sheets alongside his sleeping wife and, with a sigh of contentment, settled for a nightâs rest.
He reached out to turn out the bedside lamp, and as his fingers closed over the switch, the phone shrilled alongside him. He snatched up the receiver.
âMeredith,â he said hollowly.
âStammers here. Sorry to disturb you, but the hospital called just now to say that Myers is worse and may not last the night.â
âHuh! Have we got a man at the bedside in case he comes round and makes some dying declaration?â
âYes, but the doctor doesnât give much for his chances of recovering consciousness. Heâs got a clot on the brain or something. They may operate if he lives until tomorrow.â
âOK Let me know if anything dramatic happens before morning. Not that his evidence will be worth a lot as far as I can see! What a hell of a case this is! Goodnight.â
He dropped the phone back on to its rest and lay back in bed, praying for the rest of the night to stay quiet.
Chapter Twelve
Geoffrey Tate was in the utility room, cooking eggs and making toast when Gordon got up the next morning. Geoff brought in two plates of passable food into the lounge and the two men sat down to breakfast.
âYou crawled out?â Geoff said. âI thought you would have a lie-in this morning.â
âI canât.
Walker stood to gain a fortune, if not immediately, at some time in the future.
Whether or not the prospect of being free to marry his mistress was a significant factor, Meredith was not able to decide. He rather thought not, as a divorce, despite the obstacles in its path in this particular case, was always to be preferred to murder. But all that money was a motive many times over and, in the absence of a better alternative. Walker must remain number one suspect for the time being.
What about the Leighs? Again, money seemed to be the main motive, and a strong one. Even if they had nothing else to gain, ten thousand pounds meant a lot of dollars to a pair who clearly had large drink bills to pay.
The other suspects were so free from motives that he couldnât find any reason to incriminate them. Tate was just a business friend, the Moores were involved only via Pearlâs affair with Gordon.
Eve Arden, Abe Franklin, Martin Myers? There was not the slightest thing to link them with the death. They appeared to have not the faintest hope of benefit from it.
Meredith was worried, for he felt that he had missed something obvious. He had the feeling that something had already been said that he should have followed up, but he couldnât call it to mind.
It was something Stammers had said ⦠no, it was Walker who had said it â that the murderer had got the wrong victim.
The more he thought about it, the less attractive it seemed as a line to follow up. At least, with Margaret Walker as the intended victim, there was motive in the shape of a massive inheritance. But postulate another person as the killerâs target and the motive could be anything you cared to name.
The pattern of marital squabbles and jealousies was clear to see â could any one of these have accounted for a quick stab in the dark? How about Pearl, for instance? She must have cast aside a few lovers in her time â Masters had said that Leo Prince was among them. And then there was her husband, but could jealousy in such people match half a million pounds as a motive? The superintendent did not think so.
The turning to his home came into sight. He turned off the main road and gave up the problem until the next day. Sunday or not, he just had to get a lead in some direction, otherwise the Commissioner would be getting edgy.
Meredith put the car away and went quietly into the house. Shortly afterwards, he slipped between the sheets alongside his sleeping wife and, with a sigh of contentment, settled for a nightâs rest.
He reached out to turn out the bedside lamp, and as his fingers closed over the switch, the phone shrilled alongside him. He snatched up the receiver.
âMeredith,â he said hollowly.
âStammers here. Sorry to disturb you, but the hospital called just now to say that Myers is worse and may not last the night.â
âHuh! Have we got a man at the bedside in case he comes round and makes some dying declaration?â
âYes, but the doctor doesnât give much for his chances of recovering consciousness. Heâs got a clot on the brain or something. They may operate if he lives until tomorrow.â
âOK Let me know if anything dramatic happens before morning. Not that his evidence will be worth a lot as far as I can see! What a hell of a case this is! Goodnight.â
He dropped the phone back on to its rest and lay back in bed, praying for the rest of the night to stay quiet.
Chapter Twelve
Geoffrey Tate was in the utility room, cooking eggs and making toast when Gordon got up the next morning. Geoff brought in two plates of passable food into the lounge and the two men sat down to breakfast.
âYou crawled out?â Geoff said. âI thought you would have a lie-in this morning.â
âI canât.
Similar Books
