The Missing Killer by Roger Silverwood

Author:Roger Silverwood [Silverwood, Roger]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Joffe Books murder mysteries
Published: 2019-11-19T05:00:00+00:00

10.

‘Yes. Come in. I’ve been looking all over for you.’

Ahmed protested. ‘I’ve been looking for you, sir. You were out all day yesterday and you were out earlier today.’

‘Well I’m here now. Look lively. You’ve about as much sparkle as a midwife’s bicycle lamp,’ Angel growled. ‘What did that estate agent’s say? Who instructed them?’

‘Yes, sir. Penberthy’s. Apparently, according to Mr Penberthy, Richard Schumaker instructed them himself, just before Christmas, on Friday, 23 December. And they put up the “For Sale” sign at the house on Monday, 2 January.’

Angel sniffed.

‘That was the day he died,’ he muttered grimly. ‘Must have done it in the morning, before he went to Frillies.’

‘And I’ve found Doctor Bell. He is a psychiatrist at the General Hospital on Burton Road.’

Angel’s face dropped.

‘Don’t like the sound of that. It’s those sort of doctors that send you batty!’

Suddenly, out in the corridor there was a loud scream. Sounded like a woman or a girl. It was a very loud scream. Then another.

They both stared at the door.

‘Better see what it is,’ Angel said urgently, waving his hand.

He jumped up, pushed the swivel chair back and made for the door.

The screaming continued.

‘Hurry up.’

Ahmed grabbed the doorknob.

Angel charged out into the corridor.

The cadet followed close behind.

At first there was no sign of anything or anybody. Four or five other office doors opened and anxious faces looked out. Then, from the female locker room a WPC backed out into the corridor. It was clear to see that it was WPC Leisha Baverstock again. She was holding her face with both hands, and, as she turned, Angel could see her big eyes were bigger than ever, her mouth was open and her lips were quivering.

Angel stood there, realization dawning on him. He rubbed a hand slowly over his leathery face. ‘It’s that ruddy mouse again, Ahmed!’ he said, turning away. ‘You’ll have to catch it, Ahmed. You’ll have to catch it!’

Ahmed’s jaw dropped.

‘I can’t catch mice, sir,’ he said pathetically.

Angel growled.

‘Well, see what you can do for her. I must get on,’ he added and headed back to his office.

The Nosy Parkers, hanging out of the offices, withdrew and closed their doors.

Angel stormed down the corridor and reconsidered the merits and demerits of having a station cat. He reached his office, closed the door and slumped in the swivel chair. He rubbed an earlobe between finger and thumb. He recalled that he had heard screams like that in a CCTV recording of a bank siege, where a robber had shot an assistant bank manager. He remembered the crack of the bullet and the horrific reactions of the man’s wife on being told later. His mind then drifted into thinking about the Rossi family and then, inevitably, to Mrs Buller-Price. It was time he was giving her a ring.

He reached out for the phone and dialled a number.

‘Is that Mrs Buller-Price? This is Inspector Angel of—’, hello there, Inspector,’ she said, clearly delighted to hear from him. ‘How nice of you to call, and so unexpectedly.

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