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

about interfering with Lane and Darling’s honeymoon yet again. On the other hand, Tina had been ill-treated and he, at least, could right justice, even if only a little, after stumbling about making such a mess of it.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You’re all I need,” Darling said with asperity into the phone. “Now what do you want?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I couldn’t think of another way,” Ames said.

“Waiting till I got back? Solving it yourself? Putting O’Brien or Terrell on to it? Your lack of imagination is astounding. We are back in less than a week. What couldn’t wait?”

Ames plunged in, bringing Darling up to date with the developments, especially as they involved Tina Van Eyck, which, in spite of himself, Darling found interesting. “So, I went on a search for the file and I couldn’t find it, but O’Brien found it misfiled. It turns out she had reported the assault to someone called Galloway who dismissed her out of hand. I think you knew him, before he left. I just wondered if he ever mentioned the case, or if there’s anything you could tell me about him. Why did he leave here?”

Darling’s mouth worked. He’d been thinking quite a lot about Galloway himself. He too, given what he knew now, wondered if there was anything more to Galloway’s abrupt departure in ’37.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Ames, I’m here. Off the top, I can tell you he never spoke of the case. I am heartily sorry he would have dismissed a report of a violent assault. Was she . . .” but he wasn’t able to finish his question.

“Yes, sir,” Ames said shortly.

“And this is related to your current investigation?”

“Yes. The man involved has been murdered.”

“I see. Do you think Miss Van Eyck is implicated?”

Ames felt the air go out of him. This was really the crux of what he thought of as his own misdeeds. “I honestly don’t think so, but I’ve been very determined to not let the fact that I know her blind me. It was a decade ago, but he’s been up to no good recently, apparently planning to run off with a local high-school girl. I just feel awfully bad because I had to question Tina, and I wasn’t at my best. I should have let Terrell do it. He’s good and he has no stake in this, if you see what I mean. Now I just feel I owe it to her to get to the bottom of it.”

“Ah. I gather she’s not talking to you, then. It’s a rotten thing to have happened to her, and having you blundering around being officious must have compounded the offence.”

“It didn’t help,” Ames admitted. “We did have one lead about a woman fitting her description, but it turned out to be someone else. It doesn’t put her right out of the picture, I suppose, but it’s becoming less likely.”

“I wish I could help. I can tell you this,” Darling said, “if she’d seen any other policeman in our force, she’d have been treated differently. At least, I hope so. She just had bad luck.” Darling hesitated, looking through the bedroom curtain at the hotel guests strolling in the garden. The sun had finally warmed the place up, and the guests were in summer clothes again. Should he tell Ames he had Paul Galloway right to hand? He was vaguely aware of some embarrassment at his having chosen Tucson for their honeymoon partly on the basis of Galloway having been an old comrade. A comrade with clay feet.

“Look, Ames, keep your eye on the prize here. You’re trying to find out who killed Watts. I can tell you for absolutely certain it wasn’t Galloway, however repellent he is. As it happens, he is the assistant chief of police here in Tucson and has been here the whole time. So, who have you got lined up?”

“He’s there, sir? How is it that—”

“Never mind. He just is.”

“I see.” He didn’t. “Well, there’s the father of the teenaged girl and—”

“No, Ames, a rhetorical question. I don’t actually want to know. I’m on my honeymoon. You and Terrell can run along and sort it.”

“Yes, sir.” Before he could stop himself, Ames added, “Did you used to gamble sir?”

“Certainly not.”

“O’Brien told me that Sergeant Galloway seemed to be an okay guy who stood people drinks after work and gambled a bit. I was wondering, if you played cards with him anytime, you might know who else he played with. I’m wondering if he played cards with the dead guy. When he was still alive, obviously.”

Darling almost smiled at his end of the line. This was how he did it, he thought. Ames bumbled around and then asked an interesting question.

“Sorry, I can’t help you. I really never took to it. But it’s not the dimmest question you ever asked, I’ll say that.”

Darling hung up the phone and tapped his fingers on it thoughtfully. Galloway was an absolute ass—that was plain and had been all along. So, why had he left Nelson so suddenly in ’37? Just the weather?

Darling went back to the pool to join Lane, his mind full of grim thoughts about how much more disreputable Galloway could prove to be. He found her looking contentedly into middle distance, her book closed on the table next to her.

“Finished it, have you?” he asked, settling onto the deck chair.

“I have. I shall have to go find another, though I won’t find another Dorothy L. Sayers, which is sad, because it’s what I’m in the mood for now. Actually, I’d better find something short and snappy. Our Arizona idyll is almost over. Who was on the telephone? I admit I keep expecting your chum Galloway to call up and shout angry questions about where his wife is.”

“It was Ames, but funnily enough, Galloway did come into it.”

Lane sat up and looked at him. “He never! How?”

Darling related what he had learned from Ames. “I bet poor Amesy could use the Winslow shoulder to cry on just now.