The Man Who Couldn't Lose Read Online Free PDF Page A

whatever-your-name-is? Last night, just before he left, he gave this to me. It’s beautiful, ain’t it? Antique.’
    Angel agreed, but she needn’t have made such a performance about it. He wasn’t making any particular point. He shrugged.
    â€˜Very nice,’ he said, to be polite.
    She flicked the eyelashes again and smiled.
    â€˜So Horace Makepiece came round to the house?’ he said, moving on quickly.
    â€˜Yes. He was round in a few minutes. Wheeled my husband out to the Bentley … and that was the last I saw of him….’ Her voice trailed away.
    â€˜And you had no idea where he was going?’
    â€˜Not at the time. When Joshua wasn’t back at ten, I began to wonder where he could have gotten to. I tried to get Horace. There was no reply from any of the numbers. I phoned everywhere. Nobody knew anything about either of them. I was beginning to be seriously worried. I thought that even if Joshua had got stuck in a card game somewhere, he would have told Horace to let me know. I went to bed but I couldn’t sleep. I got up about two-thirty, went into the sitting room and poured myself a stiff whisky, drank it, came back and eventually dropped off to sleep. I woke up with a start at nine o’clock. It was the doorbell ringing. I was a bit groggy, but I got out of bed, threw on my housecoat and went down to see that it was Horace. He had come to collect my husband. He said he had dropped him off at The Feathers last night and he had told him to leave him there, he’d make his own way home, but to be certain to pick him up here at nine this morning. I told him my husband hadn’t been back all night and that I didn’t know where he was. I asked him why I couldn’t reach him on his mobile last night and he simply said that he had switched it off. He looked really scared, then he said he’d go out and look for him. He knew his haunts, so off he went. I had a quick swim in the pool to clear my head, then a few minutes on the sunbed to think things out, then I phoned the police. The rest you know.’
    â€˜Where can I get in touch with Horace Makepiece now?’
    â€˜Horace? He normally doesn’t go far. If he isn’t at his flat, he’ll be in the printing shop or at the billiard hall on Duke Street or the bookies next door. I’ll give you the numbers. I’ll write them down.’
    She zipped open the small white leather handbag.
    â€˜Got some paper?’
    Angel watched her slim, white, manicured fingers fumbling around inside the bag. He reached into the drawer in the table, looking for something for her to write on. He found a pad of Witness Statement forms. He pulled it out, closed the drawer, dropped it on the table and pushed it across in front of her.
    She held up a stubby, gold-coloured ballpoint pen she had exhumed from her handbag.
    â€˜Ah. Thank you.’
    She squared the pad in front of her and began writing.
    The door opened and Ahmed came in with the teas. He passed them round as Mrs Gumme was writing. Then he sat down next to Angel.
    Angel patiently sipped the tea.
    Mrs Gumme finished, looked over her handiwork, nodded and pushed the pad over to Angel.
    â€˜There. I have put the addresses and the phone numbers of the places where he usually hangs out.’
    Angel glanced at it and raised his eyebrows. It was neatly printed in an irregular assortment of block and lower-case letters, and numbers of the same size. Although unusual, it was perfectly clear and understandable.
    â€˜Thank you, Mrs Gumme.’
    He tore off the page, folded it roughly, slipped it into his inside jacket pocket and put the pad back in the table drawer.
    â€˜Tell me, did your husband have any particular enemies who might have wanted him … out of the way?’
    The eyelashes flickered briefly.
    â€˜Joshua was always a winner. He never lost at anything he did. He was bound to upset people … he wasn’t the most tactful