The Oxmarket Aspal Murder Mystery Read Online Free PDF Page B

about?”
                  “I am opening a further inquiry into Marcus Dye’s case,” I said, never hindered by a pedantic regard for the truth when working on a case. “At the certain request of certain relatives of his.”
                  “Didn’t know he had any.  Anyway, he’s been found guilty hasn’t he?”
                  “Yes, but his relatives believe there has been a miscarriage of justice.”
                  “Do they now,” he said unimpressed.  “Who are these relatives of his?”
                  “I am bound by client confidentiality, Mr Ottley,” I said, “but I can say they are both rich and powerful.  Immensely rich.”
                  “You surprise me.”  Andy Ottley was unable to help thawing slightly.  The words ‘immensely rich’ seemed to have an attractive and hypnotic effect on him.  “Yes, you really do surprise me.”
                  “Dye’s mother, the late Mrs Dye,” I explained, “cut herself and her son off completely from her family.”
                  “One of those family feuds, eh?  Well, well.  And young Marcus without a pot to piss in. Pity these relatives didn’t come to his rescue earlier.”
                  “They have only just become aware of the facts,” I explained.  “They have engaged me to do everything possible to try and prove Marcus Dye’s innocence.”
                  He leaned back, relaxing his business manner.
                  “Don’t know what I can do.”
                  I leaned forward.  “Marcus Dye worked for you.  You can tell me about him.”
                  “Precious little to tell – precious little.  He was one of our salesman. Quite conscientious but really struggled to get new customers.  Just didn’t have the right personality for the job. Wasn’t pushy enough.  There’s a certain psychology to selling and he just didn’t have it.”
                  I leapt at the word.  “Psychology?  How right you are, I can see that you are a good judge of character.”
                  “Not too bad. Not too bad,” Andy Ottley said modestly.
                  “So what was your impression of Marcus Dye?  Strictly between ourselves do you think he killed Faith Roberts?”
                  He stared at me long and hard.
                  “Of course.”
                  “And you think too, that it was a likely thing to do.  Psychologically speaking of course?”
                  “If you put it like that, then no, not really.  Would have thought he would have need to strap a pair on before he could do that. If you asked whether I thought he was a bit mad, then I would answer you differently.  He was a bit of a beef-burger short of a barbeque and what with being out of a job and worrying about being in debt then that might have tipped him over the edge.”
                  “Did you have a specific reason for getting rid of him?”
                  Ottley shook his head.  “Bad time of year.  Staff didn’t have enough to do. We sacked the least competent. That was Marcus Dye.  Always would be.  I gave him a good reference but he couldn’t get another job. He just didn’t have enough get up and go.  Would always make a bad first impression on people.”
                  It always came back to that, I thought, as I left the office.  Marcus Dye made a bad impression on people. I took comfort, as I drove out of the industrial estate, in considering various murderers I had known whom most people had found full of charm.
                  I stopped for lunch at Duncan’s, a small restaurant between Oxmarket and Oxmarket Aspal and ensconced myself in a small corner table. The interior was rather dark specialising in an old-world