NO CASE FOR THE POLICE a gripping classic crime mystery full of twists by CLINTON-BADDELEY V.C

Author:CLINTON-BADDELEY, V.C.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Ostara Classics
Published: 2022-11-20T00:00:00+00:00

III

After dinner Davie telephoned to Irene. It was not an easy call to make. He had said he had finished in the library, and here he was back again. There had to be a reason, and it looked as if he might have to speak plainly. But Irene showed no surprise. Indeed she seemed pleased to hear his voice. “I’ll ask Donald to pick you up — and you like nine-thirty, don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

“Nine-thirty it is.”

“Good night.”

Irene was always brisk on the telephone. A rare and admirable quality in women.

Davie returned to the lounge, lowered himself into an armchair, and briefly reviewed his fellow visitors. Some were different from those of last week. Different but the same, so many white permanent waves, so many widows, so much cheerful conversation about the dead. “I haven’t heard anything of Margaret for a long time.” “Margaret died.” “Did she? I didn’t know.” Rosemary had died too. Jean was not expected to last more than a week or so. It was, he supposed, a natural subject of conversation. The old ladies were glad to have beaten Margaret and Rosemary and Jean, but the race was not over.

Davie shut his eyes. It had been a long day. He hardly felt he could do any useful thinking. He felt sure that Arthur Parsley’s snowstorm was a match with the snowstorm which ought to have been on K W Myrtle’s mantelshelf. From the start he had asked himself why anyone should break into a college room and steal an inexpensive ornament, unless it had contained something. He hadn’t the smallest doubt now that it had contained something — something in a cavity in its detachable base. “Snow” in a snowstorm! The cynicism was detestable.

The cavity in Arthur Parsley’s snowstorm had been clean. Did he know it was there? Parsley had given nothing away. Was that because he had nothing to give away? Because he was not concerned? Possibly. But Davie had a distinct and uncomfortable feeling that Parsley had indeed noted his particular interest in the guitar players. That was bad luck. He had been betrayed by a sunbeam.

A gentle sleep descended on Dr Davie. It was quite early when he awoke, barely half past ten, but the lounge was empty; the permanent waves had all retired.

Before retiring himself he walked up the garden to listen to those other waves, retiring and advancing, below the cliff. But it was low tide and a calm sea, the draw on the pebbles hardly audible.

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