A Spoonful of Luger (35 page)

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Authors: Roger Ormerod

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“And?”

“Norm
wanted
Dennis
to
burn
the
log
book.
Didn’t
want
anything
left
around
to
connect
up,
’cause
of
course
the
police
were
after
him.
But
Dennis
held
on
to
it.”

“Why?”
Even
though
I
guessed.

“Reckon
it
gave
him
something
to
use
against
Norm,
just
supposing
he
needed
it.”

“So
you
guessed
what
Norman
was
after?”

“Yes,
of
course,”
he
said,
eager
to
agree
now
he’d
got
it
out.
“So
how
could
that
Inspector
say
I
could
think
Norm
was
going
to
kill
Dennis?”

“Especially
if
it
was
Dennis
had
the
gun,”
I
said
easily.

“Sure.”

“But
somebody
turned
the
bungalow
upside
down.
They
found
something
.
That
something
could
have
been
Cleave’s
gun.”

“Wouldn’t
be
surprised.
You
finished?”
he
demanded.
“Can
I
go
in
now
and
get
a
bath?”

“Not
quite,
Tony.
What
time
did
you
usually
finish
at
the
yard?”

“Time?
Six-ish,
I
suppose.”

“Fridays?”

He
was
silent
a
moment,
but
he
soon
got
it.
“You
mean
a
week
ago
last
Friday?”

“The
evening
Dulcie
disappeared,
yes.
We
reckon
he
picked
her
up
about
six.
It
looks
like
he
came
back
to
the
yard
with
her ... ”

“Not
with
her
he
didn’t,”
said
Tony
angrily.
“You
don’t
think
I’d ... ”
He
was
abruptly
silent.

“I
don’t
think
you’d
have
done
anything
different
from
what
any
other
person
would
have
done.
You’d
have
gone
for
him.
But
she
wasn’t
with
him,
you
say.
So
you
stayed
late?”

“Yes.”

“How
late?”

“Seven.
After.”

“Waiting
for
him?”

“Not
exactly.
I’m
bloody
frozen.”

“You
mean
you
were
watching
for
him

where
he
wouldn’t
see
you?”

“What’s
so
terrible
about
that?
There’s
plenty
of
places
you
can
hide.”

“But
why
would
you
want
to
hide?”

“Will
you
lay
off
me!”
Then
he
realized
I
was
going
to
persist.
“I
told
you

I
wanted
to
know
if
anything else
was
coming
in.
I
was
short
of
cash!”
he
shouted.

“Very
well,
Tony.
You
stayed
late
on
that
evening,
and
he
hadn’t
got
her
with
him.
Yet
some
way
or
other
he
got
her
down
to
the
town
dump ... ”

It
all
came
out
in
a
rush.
Tony
had
had
enough,
and
he
was
anxious
to
get
it
all
done
with.

“He
came
back,
with
nothing
on
the
tow,
and
started
to
clear
out
the
pickup.
The
inside.
You
know.
I
thought
he
was
crazy.
Then
he
loaded
up
a
lot
of
stuff
on
the
back.”

“Bits
of
blue
Austin
and
primrose
Rover?”

“That
sorta
thing.”

I
sighed.
It
was
clear
that
Cleave
had
left
Dulcie’s
body
somewhere,
and
then
realized
he’d
better
do
something
to
hide
it,
and
to
cover
up.
He
knew
the
police
would
be
down
on
him
like
a
swarm
of
bees,
and
he
wouldn’t
be
able
to
count
on
Norman
for
an
alibi
this
time.
In
fact,
he
might
even
have
realized
that
he
was
in
danger
from Norman
on
this
murder,
because
he
had
exposed
his
hand
on
the
Annabelle
killing,
and
Norman
would
balk
at
the
coincidence
of
another.
But
on
the
Friday,
all
he
could
think
about
was
that
the
child’s
body
had
to
be
taken
to
where
it
was
unlikely
to
be
found,
and
the
pick-up
had
to
be
cleaned
of
all
possible
traces.

“You’d
better
get
inside,”
I
said,
and
he
pounced
his
hand
on
the
door
catch.

I
watched
him
enter
the
house,
then
backed
into
his
drive,
and
drove
to
the
nearest
phone
box.

“Are
you
on
my
panel?”
asked
Dr
Forrester.

“You’re
the
only
doctor
I
know,
and
it
may
just
be
that
you’re
treating
Mrs
Randall.”

“I
am.”
His
voice
was
sharp.
“What
about
it?”

“Then
perhaps
you’d
better
get
down
there.
I’m
on
my
way,
myself.
We’ve
found
Dulcie,
and
of
course
she’s
dead.”

He
cut
off
sharply,
and
I
took
it
easy
to
the
Randall’s
half
hoping
he
would
beat
me
to
it.
But
I
was
first.
I
parked
outside
and
Forrester
was
two
minutes
later.
We
went
in
together.

Two
cars
outside
had
warned
them.
They
were
in
the
lounge
and
Mrs
Randall
needed
only
one
glance
at
our
faces.
She
screamed
and
fainted,
and
Forrester
went
quickly
to
her.

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