A Murder is Suggested by Lockridge Frances & Richard

Author:Lockridge, Frances & Richard [Richard, Lockridge Frances &]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-01-20T00:00:00+00:00

8

CARL HUNTER HAD been shot, from behind, in the right leg, as he was walking toward the two Elwell houses at around eleven – thirty in the morning. He had been shot just after he had passed the mouth of a service passageway four doors up the sloping street from his destination, his destination being the house the Oldhams lived in; his purpose being to pick Faith up and take her to lunch – an early lunch, since she had a one o’clock class. He had no idea whatever who had shot him, or why anybody would want to.

He had been out of surgery for more than an hour when Bill Weigand and Mullins reached the hospital; he was in a private room.

“Lost a bit of blood.” the resident said. “Feel groggy for a while. Nothing serious. Missed the bone. Sure you can talk to him. He may be a little vague.”

He did not seem to be especially vague; more than anything else, he seemed annoyed. Which was understandable. “Right at a crucial point with the cats,” he said, “and this has to happen. Probably have to start the whole damn series over again.”

Surely he had some idea who might have wanted to shoot him, presumably to kill him? It could hardly be to interrupt his “series” with the cats.

“Mr. Hunter,” Bill said, “do you know more than you’ve told us about the professor’s death?”

“Oh,” Carl Hunter said, “I’ve been thinking about that. Jumps to the mind, doesn’t it?”

“Right.” Bill said. “Well?”

“Nothing,” Hunter said. His gray eyes were entirely steady. “I told you what I know – which is nothing. I was there; I went away anyway fifteen minutes before you say he was killed. All right – I stood outside the bookshop instead of going in right away. And – that doesn’t mean anything.”

“Who,” Bill said, “do you know that’s a good shot, Mr. Hunter? Or, assuming killing you was what was planned, a not very good shot?”

“Nobody.” Hunter said. “Fact is, I don’t know anybody’s got a gun of any kind, or knows how to use one. Or would use one.”

He smiled, faintly.

“I know a very peaceable lot,” he said. “Wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Or a cat?”

“My God no.” he said. “The cats have a fine time.”

“You were walking down the street and there was a bang – I suppose you did hear the gun go off?”

“Yes,” Hunter said. “It didn’t make a lot of noise and I was – it was as if somebody had kicked me in the leg, as much as anything else. I fell down and this man of yours – the patrol – man outside the professor’s house – came running. Did a spot of first aid; got an ambulance on the double. Very efficient man, luckily for me. Might have lain there and drained dry, for all I know.”

“You didn’t see anybody. In the block?”

“Sure. Down at the far end, near the drive, there was a woman pushing a baby carriage. On the other side of the street, there was somebody parking a car.

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