The Morals of a Murderer by Roger Silverwood

Author:Roger Silverwood [Silverwood, Roger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books crime and mystery
Published: 2019-10-20T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Angel was glad to get back to Bromersley, into his own office, doing his own thing. The next two days were spent trying to get back to grips with the murder that had been at the forefront of his mind before Boodle had appeared and this mad hunt for gold had started. He made further enquiries into the possible reason why fibres of sisal and the smell of menthol should have been found in Leitch’s office, but no positive progress was made. It was later that week, on Friday afternoon, when Gawber knocked on Angel’s door. ‘Come in.’

Gawber closed the door.

‘Don’t know if you’ve heard the news, sir. The four executive directors at Imperial have just announced their intention to resign as soon as replacements for their jobs could be found. It was on the radio.’

‘They would be those four little old men Fleming, Menzies, Reid and Finlay. They did tell me they were retiring. I’m not really surprised, considering their ages. I would have gone years ago, wouldn’t you? They must be rolling in it.’

‘Something else, sir.’

‘What’s that?’

‘About menthol.’

‘Ay?’

‘I looked it up, sir. It’s from a Japanese flower. It’s sometimes called peppermint camphor. It has a strong, minty, cooling smell. Used in flavourings, cigarettes and cosmetics.’

‘I know all that,’ Angel said impatiently. ‘It’s used in cough-sweets and to dab on your hanky for a cold. You can get it in crystals from the chemists to put with boiling water to inhale. Old man Finlay reeks of it.’

Gawber looked glum. ‘Oh.’

Angel threw down his pen.

‘What I don’t get is why Leitch’s office smells of it. They don’t use it in the process of making gin! It’s a smell that’s out of context. It was there the morning after the murder. Leitch can’t offer any explanation. He says that that smell has not been in his office before. There has to be some explanation.’

The phone rang. He reached out for the handset. ‘Angel.’

It was Dr Mac. ‘Michael. Those fibres you sent across to me from one of the suspects, Finlay’s slippers.’

‘Ay — ’

‘Well they’re not the same. It’s sisal all right, but it’s been bleached. The fibres we found in the ageing room were not bleached.’

‘Oh. Thanks, Mac. Goodbye.’

He replaced the handset and turned to Gawber. He told him the result of the doctor’s tests.

‘That rules Finlay out then, sir.’

‘I’m not surprised. He wouldn’t have had the physical strength, and he hasn’t any known motive. Hmm. If we were to believe the facts, we’d be looking for the world’s strongest man, who has a use for sisal, hides keys and has a menthol fetish.’

The phone rang. He reached out for it.

‘Angel.’

It was the super. ‘The commander’s just been on the phone. I have arranged for him to brief his lads here on Monday at — nine hundred hours. He wants you and Gawber there, and he wants the services of you both for the operation on Tuesday.’

The corners of Angel’s mouth turned down.

‘Right, sir.’

‘Tell Gawber to get his suit pressed and his hair cut, and you could do with bit of smartening up, yourself.

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