Killing the Captain: A post-WW2 crime drama, with a twist by James Hume

Killing the Captain: A post-WW2 crime drama, with a twist by James Hume

Author:James Hume [Hume, James]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2020-06-30T00:00:00+00:00


***

They all left the sports hall with smiles on their faces. Kev punched the air and slapped Adam on the back. ‘Great feeling, man. Bloody great!’

Katy laughed, and shared in their success. They’d just beaten the second top team in the league by eight goals to five. Everyone shouted their farewells, and Katy and Adam walked to their usual café.

‘You must be really proud of them tonight. They did what you’ve trained them to do. Well done, you.’

He chuckled. ‘Yeah, it was a good result. Should take us up to sixth place. If we keep this up, we could finish top of the league. Wouldn’t that be exciting?’

‘Wouldn’t it just?’

They chatted on for a while, then she reminded him they had to go to Archie’s to hear about Mrs Munro.

This time, an older man with grey hair was sitting in the front room. Archie said, ‘This is Davie Watson, our favourite PD. I thought you’d like to hear his feedback for yourselves.’

Katy and Adam shook hands with Davie, and settled down on a sofa.

Davie cleared his throat. ‘I’ve got news for you.’

Katy leaned forward, with her notebook on her lap.

‘I don’t know who your Mrs Jean Munro is,’ he said to Katy. She felt a pang of disappointment. ‘But I know who she isn’t.’ Katy waited for him to go on. ‘She’s not Mrs Jean Munro of 40 Atholl Gardens, Perth.’

Katy looked across at Archie. ‘Wow, I didn’t expect that. Well, that’s my headline gone phut.’ She turned to Davie. ‘You’ve no idea who she is?’

He shook his head. ‘No idea. There is a Mrs Jean Munro living at that address, but she works for a company in Perth, and she was at work as usual today.’

Katy pursed her lips. ‘So, what do we do now?’

‘Well, that’s not the end of it,’ Davie went on. Katy thought he seemed to be enjoying this. ‘Yesterday afternoon, while Mrs Munro was away with Mr Preston on his motor yacht, I spoke to Ella, my favourite receptionist at the Egerton. While I was there, a man came in with a package for Mrs Munro. An envelope about this size, well bound up with tape, maybe with photographs? The receptionist said she’d make sure Mrs Munro got it when she returned, and the man left.

‘I nipped out a side door, jumped on my motorbike, and followed this guy in his car – at a safe distance, of course. He’s staying in a rented property in Bellevue Road. I bunged the letting agent, and he told me the man – a little tough-looking guy – had rented the property until Sunday with two mates. They’re here to sail and fish. He showed me the letting agreement, and the little guy’s name and address is William Garvie, 14 Rochester Road, Camden, in London.

‘Now, I’ve checked this today with a mate in London, and guess what? He’s definitely not the William Garvie that lives there. The real William Garvie works with London Transport as a bus driver, and was on duty today on the 134 route.



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