The Poker Game Mystery: A Crampton of the Chronicle adventure (Deadline Murder Series Book 4) by Peter Bartram

Author:Peter Bartram [Bartram, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Bartram Partnership
Published: 2019-11-21T20:00:00+00:00

I didn’t return to the office with Figgis and Susan.

There didn’t seem any point. I’d already written my update on the Telford story for the day – and there were no other developments.

Instead, I headed for the seafront. It was a fine October day. The sun was low in the sky, but the air was warm. I walked towards Black Rock with the sea on my right. A fresh breeze whipped up white horses on the waves which broke on the beach. Seagulls screeched as they wheeled above the sea.

I was trying to think of a plan that would thwart Pell’s take-over of the Chronicle.

But every plan I thought of was either riddled with flaws or too fantastical to succeed.

Besides, it wasn’t my job to cover the tracks of a foolish lord who squandered his inheritance.

Except that if I didn’t, I’d be a loser. And so would all my colleagues.

I couldn’t get Pansy Flowers out of my mind either. She would lose more than me. Her life. I couldn’t believe that the scallywags would really go through with a dangerous crime to fund her treatment in America.

And then there was the question of who’d killed Steve Telford. I didn’t think the cops would get very far with that. But I had my suspicions about each of the three scallywags I’d met.

When I reached Black Rock, I turned around and walked back into the town. I sat on a bench not far from West Pier as the sun sank in the west and the light faded from the horizon. The illuminations on the pier sparked alight.

I felt tired…

Ever so tired.

I closed my eyes.

My head lolled forward.

A hand rested softly on my shoulder.

I opened my eyes and looked up.

Shirley stood in front of me smiling.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked.

She sat next to me.

“I called you at the Chronicle and they said you’d quit for the day. There seemed to be some trouble there, but no-one would say what it is. Does it involve you?”

I told Shirley everything.

“Jeez! This Rackham guy lost the Chronicle on the turn of a card? He’s a double Dumbo.”

“Triple if you ask me.”

“There must be something you can do about it.”

“I’ve walked to Black Rock and back and cudgelled my brains for an answer every foot of the way. It’s not just that I want to save the Chronicle, I can’t forget Pansy. Not now I’m sure I know what a cockeyed plan the scallywags have. And I desperately want to get a line on Steve Telford’s murder.”

“So just the three problems,” Shirley said. “And each of them a brainteaser in itself.”

“Yes. Three different problems. And hardly any time to think up a plan to solve even one of them.”

Shirley edged around me, leaned forward, and kissed me. She drew back and for a few seconds we just stared into each other’s eyes.

She said: “But you have a plan to solve all three of them at the same time.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because I found you sitting here.

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