The Players And The Game by Julian Symons Page A

them had any record of sadistic violence but they were still interrogated, without result.
    The existence of an actual body, as distinct from a theoretical suspicion about foul play, changed the police pecking order. A murder case outside a big city is normally in the charge of the head of the County CID, and when the body was found Paling took over a job for which he was not by nature suited. Paling was aware of his own limitations. He knew himself to be a sceptic, lacking in the positive aggressiveness that makes a really good detective. He soon got bored with interrogating suspects, found many of them distressingly uncouth, and regarded most of the uniformed or plain-clothes policemen he knew as only one or two degrees nearer civilisation.
    Paling was a bachelor who lived in an expensive service-flat, and was deeply interested in collecting old coins. He subscribed to the Numismatist. He never went to police concerts or dances, and was known at County HQ as the Toff. Such were his disadvantages. On the other hand, Paling had the ability to administer and co-ordinate that many good detectives lack. He took on this role in the Allbright case, giving Hazleton control of day-to-day inquiries. The DCI had the feeling that he was somehow being cheated by a man more sophisticated than himself. Why was it always Paling who made statements to the Press? Hurley received another rocket for his slackness, and had no further connection with the case. Hazleton had, however, formed a good opinion of Plender, and gave him quite a lot to do. It was Plender who conducted an interview which proved vital to the case when he saw Mr Borrowdale of Borrowdale and Trapney, at his office in Broad Street, just off the High Street.
    Hazleton’s obvious conclusion from the fact that the windows of the cottage were closed, and the doors not broken in, was that entrance had been made with a key. A key meant the estate agents, and they were Borrowdale and Trapney. They were the oldest-established agents in Rawley, but the flyblown pictures in their offices, the threadbare carpet and the general air of gloom made it clear that they were not the most successful.
    Success, indeed, seemed an alien word in the presence of Mr Borrowdale. He was a lank man in his sixties with large hands bearing reddish knuckles the size of walnuts, which cracked occasionally, and a few strands of black hair plastered over an otherwise bald yellow head. His laborious voice was that of a preacher who has long since lost most of his congregation.
    ‘Yes, Planter’s Place is ours,’ he acknowledged. The idea obviously did not cheer him. He went to a filing cabinet, took out a sheet of paper and handed it to Plender, who saw that it contained the typed details of the property, beginning ‘A DELIGHTFUL COUNTRY COTTAGE in need of some renovation.’ He put the paper in his pocket. ‘It’s been with us for, oh, a couple of years now. It was owned by a man named Medina who had been a tea planter in Ceylon and then came home. He wanted a place of his own, and named it accordingly. A humorous name, you see. But it wasn’t his for long, poor fellow. Has dry rot, you understand.’ He lowered his voice as if he were referring to bad breath. ‘It may be that this unhappy affair will stimulate some interest. People do like a house where there has been a murder. But there will still be the dry rot. Selling houses today, Mr Plender, is not easy.’
    Plender was momentarily diverted. ‘I understood prices were going up all the time.’
    Mr Borrowdale cracked his knuckles. ‘So they are. But all the business here goes to these newfangled agents, the ones who produce advertisements saying that a place is falling down and is very ugly, and yet manage to make it sound a bargain. Gammon of Gammon and Moody is very strong on that. He and Pilbeam get all the new business that’s worth anything. Do you know Pilbeam? I understand he’s a very go-ahead man.’
    He showed every sign of being