Good Year For Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

fingers of your uniform gloves for flicking street urchins over the head. The Chief had a strong, athletic build. He had actually enjoyed a short career as a second string right wing for the Fort York Tagger Football Club. And although slightly overweight, he was in reasonable physical shape for a man his age. His head was too large for his body, and his ears and nose were too large for his head. The deep furrows and lines that crisscrossed his face gave him an interesting, weathered appearance. Most new men were fascinated by the movements of his nose and jowls when he spoke. Even Tretheway found himself staring at the loose, wrinkled folds of skin rippling around Zulp’s neck when he groped for the proper word or phrase. Chief Zulp enunciated concisely, but expressed himself mostly in short, ungrammatical bursts of information.
    â€œSo we’re after a religious fanatic. My opinion. Strong. Very muscular. A lone strangler.” Zulp rose up and down on the balls of his feet again. “Questions?”
    â€œSir!” Tretheway stood up.
    â€œWhat is it, Tretheway?” Zulp snapped. He hadn’t expected a question from one of his own men.
    â€œOn Sunday, at the scene of the murder, Dr Nooner, the police medical…”
    â€œI know who he is, Tretheway.”
    â€œHe suggested that there were at least three, maybe four assailants …”
    â€œNonsense!”
    â€œSir?”
    The Doctor had, years ago, in his abrasive bedside manner, quickly and correctly diagnosed one of Zulp’s heart attacks as gas. “He’s no investigator,” Zulp said. “Not trained.”
    â€œHe mentioned bruises on the arms of the deceased.”
    â€œCould’ve come from anything. A fall, maybe. Or something.”
    â€œBut Dr Nooner said …”
    â€œTretheway.” Zulp smiled and spoke slowly as though to a child who couldn’t grasp his multiplication tables. “If you cut your finger. Or break a bone. Or get scarlet fever. Then by all means, listen to the Doctor. Sensible. But remember. He’s no policeman. But we are.” He pointed at Tretheway. “Inspector.” He pointed at his own chest. “Chief.”
    Tretheway sat down.
    â€œMore questions?”
    Gertrude Valentini raised her hand.
    â€œMrs Valentini?” Zulp said.
    â€œWhat are you going to do about us? About our protection.” Although Alderman Valentini was perversely proud that she had been the first victim, she still shivered when she thought of the unknown and now murderous hands that had packaged her unusual St. Valentine’s Day gift. “He could strike at any time.”
    â€œAlderman Valentini.” Zulp smiled. “Glad you asked.”
    He nudged one of his Deputies who dove into a bulging briefcase and handed him a sealed envelope with the official Fort York coat of arms embossed in the corner.
    â€œThank you.” Zulp made a small ceremony of opening the envelope. He pulled out a sheaf of letterheads—with the official crest again, this time accompanied by the heading “From the Office of Chief Constable”—and waved them reassuringly to the throng. “The Master Plan.”
    The Master Plan was simply a list of the Fort York Aldermen, Controllers and Mayor. Beside each was the name and rank of the two policemen who would guard each politician day and night. That was all there was to it. The junior Aldermen were assigned Constables. Senior Aldermen were guarded by Sergeants (ward four naturally had a Matron) while Controllers had Inspectors and their assistants watching over them. The Mayor, of course, was protected by the two Deputy Chiefs, except for official functions, parties, celebrations, etc., when Chief Zulp himself took over. Henry Plain had given Zulp a minor problem. Although Henry Plain was the unqualified ruler of the civil servants, he stood at the bottom of the political pecking system and, therefore, was an unlikely but