Manhattan in Reverse Read Online Free PDF Page A

hands with both of us, giving me an equal amount of respect. As flattery went, I have to admit he scored a partial success.
    ‘Hope you don’t mind my sitting in,’ he said pleasantly. ‘There are two of our flock involved so far. Best to make sure they conduct themselves correctly now. Could save a lot of time later on. I’m sure everyone wants this appalling incident cleared up as soon as possible. My condolences, by the way.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Francis said. ‘I’m most gratified that you’re here. The more people working on this investigation, the faster it will be solved. Hope you can manage the crowding. I don’t believe this room was built with such a large audience in mind.’
    ‘Not a problem.’ Neill Heller Caesar sat down next to Antony, giving the young man a reassuring smile. Antony needed the gesture. He had obviously had quite a night; his tie was unknotted, hanging round his collar, his jacket was crumpled, and there were several stains on the fabric. Apart from that he came over as perfectly average, a short man with broad shoulders, who kept himself fit and healthy.
    ‘You had dinner with Mr Raleigh and your other friends this evening?’ Gareth Alan Pitchford asked.
    ‘That’s right.’ Antony Caesar Pitt’s voice was strained, attempting defiant contempt. He couldn’t quite pull it off, lacking the internal confidence to make it real. He searched round his jacket pockets and pulled out a silver cigar case. Selecting one of the slim cigars and lighting it was another attempt at conveying calm nerves. He took a deep drag.
    ‘I understand the dinner finished around ten o’clock. Where did you go after that?’
    ‘To some friends.’
    ‘And they are . . . ?’
    ‘I’d rather not say, actually.’
    The detective smiled thinly. ‘I’d rather you did.’
    Neill Heller Caesar put a friendly hand on Antony’s leg. ‘Go ahead.’ It was an order more forceful than any the detective could ever make.
    Antony exhaled a thick streamer of smoke. ‘It’s a club I go to occasionally. The Westhay.’
    ‘On Norfolk Street?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Why were you there?’
    ‘It’s a club. Why does anyone go to a club?’
    ‘For a dance and a pleasant evening, usually. But this is different. People go to the Westhay, Mr Caesar, because there’s an unlicensed card game there most evenings. I understand you’re a gambling man.’
    ‘I enjoy a flutter. Who doesn’t? It’s not as if having a game with friends is a major crime.’
    ‘This is not the vice division; I don’t care about your personal shortcomings, I’m investigating the murder of your friend. How long were you there?’
    Antony chewed the cigar end. ‘I finished just after one. They wiped me out, and believe me you don’t ask for credit at the Westhay. It’s strictly cash only. I walked back to my college and your constables were waiting for me. But look, even if I give you the names of the guys I was playing with it won’t do you any good. I only know first names, and they’re not going to admit even being there.’
    ‘That’s not your concern right now, Mr Pitt. I gather you and Mr Raleigh played cards on a regular basis.’
    ‘For Mary’s sake! I wouldn’t kill Justin over a couple of hundred pounds.’
    The detective spread his hands wide. ‘Did I say you would?’
    ‘You implied it.’
    ‘I’m sorry if that’s the impression you received. Do you know of anyone who had any kind of dispute with Mr Raleigh?’
    ‘No. Nobody. Justin was genuinely a great guy.’
    The detective leant back in his chair. ‘So everyone tells us. Thank you, Mr Pitt. We will probably need to ask you more questions at some other time. Please don’t leave the city.’
    ‘Sure.’ Antony Caesar Pitt straightened his jacket as he got up, and gave Neill Heller Caesar a mildly annoyed glance.
    One of the station’s secretaries came in as Antony left. She handed a clipboard to Gareth Alan Pitchford. His expression of dismay deepened as he