Deadly Petard Read Online Free PDF Page B

killing herself.’
    ‘I know. It’s vicious. As if I hadn’t suffered enough. But I’ve had a detective in the house for over two hours, asking questions, taking away things he says will have to be examined by experts. I’ve had a pathologist examining . . . examining Babs. And there was another policeman taking photos. All this because of that stupid bitch, Mavis.’
    ‘Oh, Keir,’ was all she could find to say.
    He looked across at her, his expression haggard. ‘The detective wanted to know where I was last night at ten. That’s when they think she . . . died. He was trying to check up on me.’
    ‘Then all you had to do was tell him about seeing that man and he’ll know Mavis’s accusation is ridiculous.’
    He shook his head. ‘I couldn’t find the bloke. He wasn’t in any of his usual places.’
    ‘But lots of other people must have seen you?’
    ‘No one I knew, so I can’t name anyone.’
    For the moment, she was nonplussed.
    ‘Gertie, I told the detective that I was with you all evening.’ His voice sharpened. ‘You’ve got to back me up. You know it’s crazy to think I could have begun to hurt Babs. If you tell the police I was here until just before midnight, they’ll realize Mavis has to be out of her mind and Babs really did kill herself. Please, please, you’ve got to do that for me. I just can’t stand any more of their filthy questions . . .’
    ‘Yes, of course.’ she said immediately.
    ‘God, if only you could know how much that means to me!’
    Detective-Constable Cullon was a few years younger than she and three inches taller: he had a rugger player’s shoulders: his hair was light brown and sufficiently curly to prevent any brush or comb bringing much order to it: he had deep blue eyes set above a hawkish nose: his mouth was firm and tilted towards laughter: he looked a man who was conscientious and determined, but who knew how to enjoy life when given the chance: he also looked tired.
    ‘Sorry to bother you, Miss Dean,’ he said as he stepped into the hall of Queenswood Farm. ‘I hope I’m not disturbing anything?’
    ‘No, not really.’
    ‘Good.’ His tone altered. ‘Have you heard the very sad news about Mrs West?’
    ‘Yes, I have.’
    ‘I understand you’re a friend of the family?’
    ‘I am, but I know Keir very much better than I ever knew Barbara.’ He could make what he liked of that, she thought: in any case, having met her, he was not very likely to imagine there had been a passionate liaison between Keir and herself. He wasn’t to know how things had been years ago . . .
    ‘Mr West said you’d known each other since you were children?’
    She suddenly realized they were standing about in the hall and she suggested they went into the sitting-room.
    He stared appreciatively at the inglenook fireplace, then up at the beamed ceiling. ‘You’ve a lovely old house here, Miss Dean.’
    ‘But hardly to be compared to Middle Manor,’ she retorted.
    ‘Middle Manor is like something out of a film set. But this house is . . . Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but it’s much more down to earth. I can imagine myself one day owning a place like this, given a bit of luck. That makes it more attractive to me . . . Now, you won’t want to be bothered with me any longer than’s absolutely necessary.’ He brought a notebook out of the right-hand pocket of his sports jacket, flipped it open, and looked down at it. ‘I know it’ll be distressing to discuss Mrs West’s death, but I can assure you that it’s necessary. There are just one or two points which have to be made clear.’
    ‘Because of what Mavis said?’
    ‘Among other things.’
    ‘She was hysterical.’
    ‘Quite possibly. But you’ll understand, Miss Dean, that whatever the mental state of the person concerned—up to a point—when an accusation like this is made we have to investigate it. Did you happen to see Mr West at any time yesterday?’
    ‘He was here during the