Murder on the Heath: a suave murder mystery with a great twist by Sabina Manea

Author:Sabina Manea [Manea, Sabina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: The Book Folks bestselling crime fiction
Published: 2021-05-10T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Max Penney’s address in Camden Town was a square, unremarkable nineteenth-century semi on Lewis Street, the kind of property that had recently become desirable despite its obvious limitations. This particular one didn’t look like it had been touched in years – the pastel blue paint on the cracked brickwork was peeling, lending it a desolate, neglected air.

‘Bit of a change from Mayfair, eh, Guv?’ remarked DS Trinh, newly invigorated by a triple shot coffee and a delicious salt beef sandwich on the ground floor of a certain upmarket department store on Oxford Street.

‘Yes, this Mr Penney isn’t exactly living it up, unlike his brother.’

The inspector narrowly avoided a pile of pink binbags that had been unceremoniously dumped on the street corner. The stench emanating from them was unbearable – pink meant nappies, and unless you called the council to arrange a special collection, they’d be there for the foreseeable future.

They rang the doorbell, unsure whether or not it was in working order, and waited. As the door opened, DCI Carliss found himself face to face with a carbon copy of the man they had found dead on the kitchenette floor in Well Walk.

‘Ah, Mr Penney. Detective Chief Inspector Carliss and Detective Sergeant Trinh of the Metropolitan Police. May we come in?’

The man was dressed in scruffs – baggy grey tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt that had seen better days. His hair was all messed up, and he hadn’t shaved for a few days. He had either been exercising or he was a slob, and the two detectives were about to find out.

Inside, the house was an absolute tip. It didn’t help that the front door opened directly into the sitting room, with no hallway to act as a buffer. Every single inch of the evidently cheap, flat-pack furniture was covered in sheets of paper, some typed, some covered in wild scribbles. In the middle of the room was a lopsided desk weighed down by a computer and more paper. DCI Carliss looked at Max Penney, expecting an explanation for the chaos.

‘Sorry it’s a bit of a mess. I’ve taken some work home with me. Today’s supposed to be my day off, but I’ve got something to finish up.’

Max Penney spoke breathlessly, as if he’d been running a marathon. He was shifting from one leg to the other, like a child that needed the toilet, while managing to tap the floor furiously with his foot at the same time.

‘I can see you’re busy, so we won’t keep you long. We just wanted to go through the events of the evening when your brother was found at his offices. Routine, you see,’ said the inspector. ‘What is it you do, Mr Penney?’

‘I’m a psychiatrist. I used to work with Alec, actually, but recently I’ve gone back to practice.’ Max’s reply was rather more euphoric than imparting such unremarkable information would require. ‘Apologies, please sit.’

He gestured to two chairs next to the desk that he proceeded to clear, throwing the reams of paper carelessly on the floor.

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