The Monday Theory by Douglas Clark

Author:Douglas Clark [Clark, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2019-05-09T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Robson and Middleton were waiting for them.

Robson approached Masters as the four Yard men left the car. Green said to Middleton: “Had a good day, lad?”

“Not so’s you’d notice, sir. Everybody round here is blind.”

“Don’t you believe it, son. If you haven’t found anybody who saw those two cavorting about, it tells you something.”

“What?”

“That they weren’t cavorting about.”

Middleton wasn’t impressed with this thought, and said so.

“You’re wrong, lad. It’s important. If those two died Tuesday night—having come down on Monday—they would have had more time in which to be seen. But they weren’t seen. That supports the Monday theory.”

“If you say so.”

“I do, lad, I do. Now then, have you examined that car in the garage?”

“Not examined it exactly. I’ve looked at it.”

“Right. You and Sergeant Berger examine it closely. And the gateposts. We want to know if it had a bump on the way in. Berger will tell you why as you have a look.”

“I’ll go round the house looking for bottles,” said Reed.

“Don’t forget the bin,” warned Green. “And I don’t suppose the dust cart comes out here, so look about for a rubbish sack or a dump.”

Green moved across to join Masters and Robson. It was still light, the westering sun glowing red above the horizon.

“I’ve set the lads on,” said Green. “They might as well start to earn their keep.”

Robson said: “Mr Masters has been telling me a few things.”

Green grinned. “Little points you never thought he’d come up with, were they?”

Robson looked slightly uncomfortable. “I can’t say that, seeing I didn’t know anything about them, but . . . well, yes, I don’t reckon Sergeant Middleton and I would have been able to . . .”

“Forget it,” said Masters. “Now about the drink.”

“What drink?” demanded Robson.

“Didn’t he get as far as telling you they must have been kalied when they went to bed?”

“No. Just about the source of the arsine.”

“Well, I’ll tell you how we know.” Green gave Robson the gist of the matter and ended by saying the object now was to find the evidence.

“There’s nothing of that sort,” said Robson. “Nothing at all except a nearly empty gin bottle and some white wine, unopened.”

“No empty bottles of any sort?”

“No.”

“Nor dirty glasses?”

“No.”

“Odd,” murmured Masters.

Robson looked from one to the other of the Yard men. His voice sounded sceptical as he said: “You couldn’t have made a mistake about the source of the arsine as well as about the drink, by any chance?”

Masters said mildly: “Shall we wait to see what the forensic report tells us before we get into any arguments about whether we’re right or wrong?”

“I’m more than willing to do that,” said Robson sourly.

“Good. Now, I’d like to look round the house while there’s still light enough. Bill, would you take the upstairs? I’m not expecting you to find much up there, so you can make it very cursory. I shall be downstairs.”

“What about me?” demanded Robson.

“Please join me,” said Masters. “We’ll look round downstairs.”

“There’s nothing,” declared Robson.

“You’ve looked? But of course you have.

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