Unlucky For Some Read Online Free PDF Page B

she wondered if that was what had prompted her mother’s change of mind. Having her own space had been a precondition of her coming to look after Charlotte for them. “Not as far as I’m concerned,” she said. “But are you sure you wouldn’t rather have your flat?”
    “I don’t think I’d use it.”
    No. Judy couldn’t really imagine them behaving as though her mother lived somewhere else altogether. She had her own TV in her bedroom if she got fed up with Lloyd’s choice of viewing, and that was all she wanted, really. It was much friendlier if they all shared the whole house.
             
    By the time Detective Inspector Tom Finch arrived on the scene, the alleyway had been sealed off, and a route to the body had been marked out for essential personnel that cut the already narrow alley almost in half, and made negotiating the pillars far from easy.
    Detective Sergeant John Hitchin, young and keen, was standing talking to a man whose face Tom knew, but couldn’t place. He excused himself when he saw Tom, and walked down to meet him.
    Tom blew out his cheeks as he arrived. “Were you actually born in Antigua, Hitch?” he asked.
    “No, I was born in Malworth. So was my dad. It was my granddad that came over from the West Indies in the fifties.”
    “I’ll bet he wishes he was back there with this weather.”
    “Probably wishes he was anywhere, sir. He died five years ago.”
    “Oh. Sorry.”
    Hitchin smiled. “That’s Mr. Baker, the man who found the body. I’ve suggested that he wait in one of the cars until you get the chance to talk to him. He saw it happen, and the assailant ran off along there in the direction of Murchison Place. No one else used the alley before we got here, so that’s why I cordoned off that side of the alley in the hope that he might have dropped something that could identify him.”
    It was a long shot, thought Tom, but they might get something useful. It was amazing how often those given to violent crime did lose their possessions in the course of the assault.
    “No description, though,” Hitchin went on. “He said he just caught a glimpse of the assailant. It was probably a man, and he was wearing dark clothes. It happened at nine o’clock.”
    “Do we know who the victim is?” Tom asked.
    “Mr. Baker knows her. Her name’s Wilma Fenton, and she lives here, in the ground-floor flat. One of the lads is talking to her neighbor now, to find out who we should notify. She’d won money at bingo—it looks like she was mugged for her winnings, but he just dropped the money and ran when he saw Mr. Baker.”
    Tom was still trying to place the informant. Baker, Baker. He mentally snapped his fingers. Baker—of course, it was
Tony
Baker. No wonder he couldn’t place him—he’d only ever seen him on TV. That explained Hitch’s scrupulous attention to detail, because Tony Baker would be watching their every move.
    “Were there any other witnesses?”
    “No. Mr. Baker says the street was deserted, and so was the alleyway, but I’ve got a house-to-house organized for the flats, in case anyone saw or heard anything.”
    “Right, thanks, Hitch. I’ll go and talk to Mr. Baker. You know who he is, don’t you?”
    “Yes—he makes these TV programs about popular pastimes that attract crime,” said Hitchin. “He’s doing one on gambling—that’s how come he knows the victim. He was at the bingo club himself.” He glanced over to where the body lay. “Her pastime attracted a crime, all right.”
    Tom realized with a jolt that at twenty-six, John Hitchin would have been too young at the time to care how Tony Baker’s TV career had come about. And Hitch hadn’t known that he was under the microscope when he cordoned off half the alley; he really was that conscientious by nature. He turned to go, then turned back again. “Has this alley got a name?” he asked.
    “Innes Passage,” said Hitchin. “But unless they’re from round here, no one’ll know what