Murder by Chance by Peter Drax

Author:Peter Drax
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dean Street Press
Published: 2017-04-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER X

Thompson was as pleased as a dog with another dog’s bone when he discovered the identity of the body found in Graves Crescent. He took a taxi back to the Yard and found Lomax awaiting him in his room.

“Thank God we can make a start,” he said. “That guy who was croaked ran under the name of Geoffrey Hunt. Not known here, but I’ve put Filson on to routing out his habitat, and if anyone can find out about him it’s John Filson. I really believe that man’s not happy unless he’s poking his nose into someone else’s business. And now let’s hear what you’ve turned up.”

“I’ve been over the house,” Lomax began, “but I didn’t find anything of interest. The samples of dust I took from the rooms were nothing like the stuff from the back of the dead man’s coat.”

“Call him Hunt. That was his name. So depressing to go on talking about the ‘dead man’. Well, go on. What about the dust from the steps?”

“Nothing doing there, either. It’s my belief that Hunt was killed somewhere else and brought to Graves Crescent and dumped there.”

Thompson grunted and toyed with a paper-knife. “Yes, that’s quite all right in a way, but aren’t you forgetting that the road was up? It would have meant leaving the car at the end of the Crescent and carrying the body along to No. 96, and that’s a risk which no self-respecting murderer would take.”

“He wasn’t brought in a car,” Lomax interrupted. “I’ve found out how it was done.” And he proceeded to recount the information received from the gardener.

“In a laundry basket, eh? Well, that’s a new one on me. But all the same, even if that is the way it was done, why the Halifax choose the door-way of a house to dump the body in?”

“Oh, wait a minute,” Lomax interrupted. “What about that piece of Hunt’s coat you found lying on the roadway near the railings? There were dragging marks on the back of his shoes too. What happened was possibly this: Hunt was brought to Graves Crescent in the laundry basket with the object of dumping him in the garden and maybe burying him there. In trying to get him over the railings the murderer tore Hunt’s coat, gave it up, and hid him in the door-way of No. 96.”

“Yes,” Thompson agreed. “That is probably the explanation. The murderer naturally would want to put Hunt where he wouldn’t be found for some time.”

“It’s rather an odd thing that the owner of No. 96 is missing,” Lomax remarked. “His name’s Honeypenny, and according to the locals they’ve never known him to go away for a night before, excepting when he slept at his shop.”

“And where’s that?” asked Thompson. “Have you been there?”

“It’s in the Borough High Street. A funny-looking place crammed full of old junk as far as I could see. I knocked and rang the bell but there was no one there.”

“How d’you know? You didn’t go inside?”

“No. I thought of getting a warrant but I couldn’t see there were any grounds for applying.

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