The Equivoque Principle Read Online Free PDF Page B

up in it, I want it brought to an end sharpish. If that means we have to take steps ourselves, then so be it.’
    ‘And wise for us to be involved?’ the Inuit asked tentatively, eyeing the familiar steely determination in his employer’s eyes. ‘Could bring more trouble.’
    ‘It’s a little late for that, my friend,’ said Quaint. ‘Thanks to whoever drugged our strongman, I’m afraid we’re
already
involved.’

CHAPTER VI
The Inside Man
    T HE SKELETAL REYNOLDS made his way down the thick-carpeted stairs and into a dingy, ornately decorated hallway. Dark-green curtains draped on either side of the front door, and faded oil paintings hung lifelessly on the walls, dusty and forgotten. The house didn’t suit Reynolds at all. It was far too sumptuous, far too exotic, but at the same time, he seemed very much at home there. His face was no longer strewn with dirty smudges as it had been the other night, and his ripped and stained clothes were gone, replaced by garments of an altogether different class and finery. Reynolds wore a long velvet indoor coat, and frilled cauliflower cuffs flourished from each sleeve. His dark hair was slicked back tightly against his skull, like the shell of a bullet, and his face was neatly clean shaven. All similarities to the man who previously met Bishop Courtney in the dimly-lit backstreets of Crawditch had vanished, replaced by a man very much in control of his own destiny, and with a devilish glint of mistrust in his eyes.
    Reynolds’s thin cigar, quivering on his lower lip, stopped dead as the house’s doorbell rang throughout the ground floor hallway. His narrow eyes shot straight to the open drawing room door, to the lifeless body of the house’s true owner. Lying with his feet protrudinginto the hall, the dead man’s face was grey, and purple-brown bruises marked his neck where Reynolds had squeezed the life out of him.
    ‘Sorry, old chap,’ Reynolds said as he picked up the old man under his armpits. The carpet ruffled under the dead body’s heels as Reynolds dragged him into the room out of sight. ‘Highly undignified, I know, but needs must.’ The man had been dead for two days by this time and carrying his rigid corpse was like dragging a wardrobe.
    Reynolds stepped out of the drawing room, straightening his neckerchief in the hallway mirror. As he strode to the front door, through the misted glass panes, he could make out the unmistakable silhouette of a policeman standing on the doorstep. He checked the carriage clock on the nearby reception table, and pulled open the door swiftly.
    ‘Ah…Constable Jennings,’ Reynolds said. ‘You’re early. I wasn’t expecting you until lunchtime.’
    ‘Morning, sir, I ’ad a bit of business nearby, so I thought I’d kill two birds, like. Actually, I wasn’t sure I ’ad the right address. I mean…didn’t old Mr Lehman used to live ’ere? The old Polish chap?’ asked Constable Jennings, examining the number painted on a plaque affixed to the outside of the house.
    ‘He still does live here, Constable,’ said Reynolds hastily. ‘He’s my uncle. In a bad state of health though, bless him. The poor fellow is simply dead on his feet.’ Reynolds flattened down his hair. ‘So…you didn’t come all this way for a social visit, I trust? You have some news for me, as per our agreement?’
    ‘Yes, sir. Well, you see, we’ve ’ad some developments in town. There was another murder late last night. A young girl this time, down by the docks, it was. Real nasty stuff, I saw it myself. Folks at the station’re pretty worried, let me tell you.’
    Reynolds’s cold face forced a brief smile. ‘Really? Well, thankyou for the information, Constable Jennings, here’s a little token of my appreciation,’ he said, as he pulled his wallet from his inside breast pocket. ‘Same fee as usual, I trust?’
    ‘Um, well, actually, sir…there’s something else,’ Jennings gulped, his young face as white as a sheet. ‘That