MAXWELL’S SUMMER a thrilling murder mystery with plenty of twists by M.J. Trow

Author:M.J. Trow [Trow, M.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JOFFE BOOKS crime thrillers and mysteries
Published: 2025-02-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

‘Mr Maxwell.’

‘DCI Hall.’

‘I’m sorry to have to bother you again . . .’

‘Because yet again, you were the first to find a body,’ Gamage put in.

‘Thank you, Sergeant Gamage,’ Hall said, acidly. ‘If you could just take notes, please. On both occasions, Mr Maxwell was not the first person and I would like to make it clear both in the notes and to you, that he is not a suspect in this case.’

‘Thank you, DCI Hall,’ Maxwell said, with a formal smile. ‘I . . .’

‘Got an alibi, have you?’ Gamage asked.

‘Gamage.’ Hall was a hard man to read and Gamage had not yet learned to do it. ‘Get out. And not only out, but back to the nick. I’ll see you in my office today at . . .’ the DCI glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantle. ‘It’s eleven now. Let’s say two thirty.’

‘But, guv . . .’

‘Two thirty. It’ll take you that long to walk back to town from here.’

‘Walk?’ Gamage was incredulous. He was an urbanite through and through. He didn’t do walking.

‘Yes. I need the car. If you set off now, you should be all right. And don’t accept any lifts from strange men.’

Gamage stood up and folded his notebook ostentatiously and put it in his pocket.

Hall looked up. ‘Still here?’ he said, blandly, the light from the window blanking out his glasses.

Gamage left, his staccato steps drumming as he stomped out like a toddler. He closed the door with such elaborate care that it was worse than a slam.

Henry Hall shrugged his shoulders. ‘What do you reckon?’ he asked, as he took out his pen to do his own notes. ‘Six months?’

‘At the most,’ Maxwell said. ‘Not one of nature’s gentlefolk, as I may have observed before.’

‘No.’ Hall looked up and Maxwell settled down for a chinwag about the latest atrocity. ‘What time did you find the body?’

‘Well,’ Maxwell said . . . ‘it must have been about . . .’

In his pocket, Hall’s phone began to ring. He fished it out and grunted. ‘It’s your wife,’ he said, then, into the phone, ‘Jacquie.’

Maxwell could just hear his wife’s voice on the other end — he would know the cadence of her speech anywhere, the rises and falls, the pattern of her words — but not what she was saying.

Hall let her finish and said, ‘Is it worth searching, do you think?’

The answer was short and simple.

‘I’ll see if there’s anything in plain sight, otherwise we’ll need a warrant. Anything else?’

Another answer, a little longer.

‘Have they? I’ll tell the Hale-ffinches. I’m sure they must be worried. Pets, that kind of thing.’ Hall bobbed his head at Maxwell. He wasn’t a pet man himself, but he knew all about Maxwell and his cat. ‘Anything . . . ? Okay. I’ll see you later. Oh, by the way, can you just put it out, on the quiet, that if any patrol sees Gamage walking to Leighford, they’re not to pick him up.’

This time, Maxwell could work out the question.

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