A Match Made for Murder by Iona Whishaw (top 10 best books of all time txt) 📗

Rain was coming down in earnest when the two men stood on the small porch knocking on the door. They’d been relieved to see smoke coming out of the chimney as they pulled to a stop on the overgrown grass in front of the cottage.

“You again.” Mrs. Watts stood with the door only half open, as if she would resist asking them in, but then she stood back. “You’d better have news. Or my car.”

The policemen stood on the doormat, hats in hand. “We won’t stay, Mrs. Watts. We just wondered if you could tell us what you found in your husband’s locker when you cleared it out.”

She hesitated. “Nothing unexpected. His boiler suit, a towel, some toiletries, a couple of extra shirts. Why?”

Ames could feel, rather than see, the infinitesimal glance Terrell gave him. “We know he was planning to run off with that girl. We were wondering if there might have been anything in the locker that might have something to do with this.”

Mrs. Watts frowned and stepped back. She looked behind her and then back at them. “He must have been planning it for months. I thought it might be—” She stopped, then said, “If he was with someone, you have your murderer then, don’t you?” She glared at them.

Had she been about to say who she thought it might be? Ames wondered. “I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am. Now did you find girl’s clothing among the items from the locker?”

Her lips moved marginally into an expression of disgust. “No, I did not. If you must know, I can’t bear to have his things around. I’ve been burning everything.”

“And you had no notion prior to our telling you that he might have been planning to go off with anyone?” Ames asked.

“No. Why should I? Do you think I would have let it happen if I’d known?”

“I wonder if you’ve made sure to check the pockets in the garments?” Terrell asked suddenly.

“To see if there was any money in them? Ha! He’d have it squirrelled away for that hussy, wouldn’t he? As it happens, we’ve been going short lately.”

“I meant more—did you find any notes, names, destination, receipts, that sort of thing?”

“Not a thing,” she said. “What about the car?”

“The trouble is, we haven’t located the keys yet. I’m not sure if a locksmith can make one, but that might take some time. We could have it towed back here, but unless you have spare keys, it won’t do you much good,” Ames said.

She sighed. “Good day, then.”

Tina looked at the two men, her jaw working, her lips clamped, her right hand holding a spanner in a manner Ames was far from easy about.

“If I’m to understand you, you think I went into town to two different shops and bought myself some fancy clothes to run off with a man I hated even more than I hate you right now?” She turned when she heard her father come into the bay with a cup of coffee. “It’s all right, Dad. I’ll take care of this.”

Mr. Van Eyck paused, looking anxiously at the three people talking in the dim light next to the black Chrysler he’d been working on, and then turned away. Tina glared at the police.

“I’m sorry, Miss Van Eyck, we have to ask. The fact is, someone fitting your description was seen buying the clothes that we found in the trunk of Watts’s car. A car in which he was subsequently found murdered.” Ames could feel the bitter overtones of his delivery and wished he could be dispassionate, but his failure to find any record of a sixteen-year-old Tina reporting an assault to the police now loomed large. She could have made that up as well.

“So I murdered him now, too, did I? Which is it? Did I murder him or plan to run off with him?”

Terrell cleared his throat. “We are only trying to eliminate people from our inquiry, Miss Van Eyck. Do you have a recent photo we could use? That should take care of it for now. We can show it to the dress-shop people.”

“Unbelievable!” she said, storming off.

The two men stood with their hands behind their backs, both wondering if she was coming back, and then she exploded back into the bay holding a small, folded identity card.

“It’s my Auxiliary Territorial Service identification. I’d like it back, if you please.” She pointedly handed it to Terrell, who flipped it open. The picture inside was of a younger Tina, her head slightly tilted, wearing a khaki cap, her hair cut shoulder length, the curls ballooning out from under the cap behind her ears. It was a good likeness.

“One more thing, Miss Van Eyck. Have you given any thought to who you might have talked to at the police station? Have you remembered anything since we spoke?” Terrell asked.

Here Tina looked down. “I thought I was so close the other day. I remember he was a big man. I feel like it’s a Scottish name, but I’ve tried all ‘Mac’ anythings and nothing is sticking.”

“Could you keep at it and give us a call if anything comes to you?” he said.

They were about to return to the car when Ames stopped. “Miss Van Eyck, do you keep rat poison on the premises?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask my dad. Dad! Have you got a minute? The sergeant here wants to know if we keep rat poison here.” She did not disguise the sarcasm in her tone.

“I almost believe she made him up,” Ames said glumly when they were bumping up the road from the garage. “The policeman she supposedly told about the rape.” Even as he said it, he couldn’t believe her capable of that kind of lie. She was short tempered, standoffish, yes, but in his heart, he believed she was a straight shooter.

“She provided us with her identity card with no difficulty.” Terrell hesitated. “Can I ask, sir, why you seem so, well, off kilter with this one?