The Vanishing Box by Elly Griffiths

Author:Elly Griffiths
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Fourteen

Thursday

Wednesday’s edition of the Evening Argus had led with Horror in Hove House so there was quite a crowd of reporters gathered outside Lansdowne Road when Emma and Bob arrived in the morning.

‘Emma, Bob.’ Don from the Argus made use of his local knowledge. ‘What’s the news? Is there any link with the Montpelier Crescent stabbing?’

‘No comment,’ said Emma.

‘We’ve got the nationals here today,’ said Don, with some pride. ‘I need a local exclusive.’

‘I’ve got chilblains,’ said Bob. ‘Will that do?’

‘Can’t see my editor holding the front page for that.’

Emma knocked on the door and it was opened almost immediately by Norris. He must have been waiting for them, she thought. It can’t be much fun being the landlord of a Horror House.

Edna was in the hall holding a feather duster like a prop. ‘Can you stop those newspaper men harassing us?’ she said.

‘We can ask them to give you some privacy,’ said Emma, ‘but we can’t do anything unless they trespass or threaten you.’

‘I’m sure one of them stole a milk bottle,’ said Norris. ‘The milkman always leaves two on a Thursday.’

‘We’re sorry to bother you again,’ said Emma, ‘but we’ve got a few more questions for you. We’d like to speak to Betty and Janette too, if possible.’

‘They’ll still be in bed,’ said Edna, with a hint of a sniff. ‘They’re not early risers.’

Emma looked at her watch. It was nine-thirty. It seemed amazing that anyone was still asleep, especially with all the noise the reporters were making outside, but she supposed that show-business people went to bed late and got up late. The DI had been to see the show last night but he was already at his desk when she got in that morning. She couldn’t tell from his face whether or not he’d had a good evening.

Edna went upstairs to knock on the girls’ door while Norris ushered them into the snug and offered tea. He was rather an ineffectual man, thought Emma, but he was very good at making tea.

When Edna came back in, Bob said, ‘When I spoke to Mr Entwhistle yesterday, he mentioned seeing a man in the house last week, possibly on Wednesday or Thursday. We wondered if either of you had seen this man.’

‘I told you,’ said Edna. ‘There was no man here. Mr Entwhistle imagines things. It’s a shame you people can’t leave him alone.’

Emma put a photograph on the table. ‘Have you seen this man?’ she said. ‘Either in the house or waiting around outside.’

They had borrowed the photograph from the flat in Montpelier Crescent where it had stood in a silver frame on the sideboard. It showed Cutler standing beside a gleaming Rolls Royce and had clearly been taken to showcase the car, and not the man, as Cutler was on the very edge of the picture. But then, thought Emma, he seemed to have been a man who preferred backstage power to centre stage.

Edna peered at the photograph. ‘That’s Vic Cutler, isn’t it?’ she said.

‘Do you know him?’ said Emma.

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