The Coffin Lane Murders Read Online Free PDF Page B

has she?' she asked eagerly.
    'Not as far as I know.' Opening the drawer on a formidable array of unhappy-looking knives, forks and spoons which had seen better years, he said, 'What about carving knives?'
    She stared at him, frowned and said: 'We have only the one, and it's hanging on the nail - over there - by the stove.'
    He nodded. 'Any other long sharp knives?'
    'No. Just the one. Why do you ask that?'
    Ignoring the question he hurried towards the door leading upstairs and into the hall. 'Are you and Molly the only staff Miss Errington employs?'
    'Yes. She doesn't hold with armies of servants. Waste of money-'
    'Thank you, Adie. You've been very helpful.'
    Emerging from the baize door, he observed Miss Errington in the sitting room with Dr Mills attentively pushing her wheelchair towards him.
    'Well, Inspector, what did you find?' Miss Errington demanded. There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice, as if she knew the answer that there was nothing of a personal nature in the bleak, cold room to indicate that Molly knew the identity of her murderer.
    'Nothing of value. But thank you for your assistance, madam.' And preparing to leave as Dr Mills offered consoling words to his patient, Faro produced the contents of Molly's reticule. 'There was an unposted letter to your solicitor, madam.'
    'How very tiresome. It was most urgent.' She tut-tutted. 'Wretched girl.' And suddenly realising how the wretched girl had met her end, she said stiffly, 'Thank you for letting me know. Perhaps you would be so good as to put it in the mailbox at the end of the street.'
    Faro bowed assent, waiting politely on the doorstep to be joined by Dr Mills. He stared up at the windows. 'Big house for one invalid lady to keep up.'
    Dr Mills smiled. 'Miss Errington belongs to the old school. Values her privacy above all else. Has plenty of money, you would guess, but refuses to countenance the upkeep of a flock of servants in accordance with her station in life.'
    Such ideals obviously did not run to a sturdy fire or two, and Faro shivered as he trudged through the snow down the Pleasance towards the High Street.
    There would be a good fire in his office and a good strong cup of tea at his command.
     
    Hoping there would be something more in the nature of evidence relating to Molly's murder, Faro was eager to see the police surgeon's report which stated that the stab wound was superficial, not severe enough to be fatal, having missed any vital organ. She had bled to death in the snow.
    Faro sighed. This frenzied but inept murder attempt confirmed his own conclusions. Namely that Molly had some secret life beyond the walls of the house he had just left, but spared her employer's feelings, or more likely spared herself the chill wind of Miss Errington's displeasure.
    Had he been a betting man, he would have put his money on Conan's theory of a jealous lover who had lured her to her death in Coffin Lane, almost certain to be empty on such a night.
    Why, was the first question. Who, would come later. A married man, perhaps, and, desperate to escape from Miss Errington's clutches, was Molly threatening to reveal all to his wife?
    Blackmail was a common enough occurrence, a costly business, which all too often rebounded and cost the blackmailer his or her life.
    Whatever the reason, their meeting had been urgent enough to occupy all Molly's thoughts and let her walk past the post-box carrying her mistress's important letter, her excuse for leaving the house in such appalling weather.
    Her agitation and forgetfulness had been greater than her regard for that lady's wrath, which Faro suspected might be considerable.
    Murderers, he knew from thirty years' experience, were usually known to their victims and most likely to be found in the family circle or in the ranks of close friends.
    In Molly's case, for family circle, he read Miss Errington or some other occupant of the house. An unlikely enough choice between an invalid and a shivering kitchen maid. Although