Richardson's First Case by Basil Thomson Read Free Book Online

have, but she had a lot to put up with from her husband, who was a violent-tempered old man that never said a civil word to anyone. He was here on the afternoon of the day before her death and was in one of his vilest tempers. You see, the lawyers had made him give her a flat rent free to live in, and he wanted to sell the whole house, but instead of a flat he wanted her to move into what was no better than a couple of attics in another house. Naturally, she wouldn’t turn out. I heard him say, “I’ll give you till tomorrow to agree, and if you don’t I’ll have you out if I have to throw you out into the street with my own hands.” Those were his very words. He was the cruellest and the meanest old man I ever met—the sort that would skin a flea. Well, on the day of her death she told me that she was going to see him and she was determined to defy him. I tried to dissuade her. I said with a man like that you never know what he might do—why not go to the magistrate about it? But you couldn’t shake her when once she was set on a thing; she was determined to defy him to his face, and we know what happened.’”
    Beckett put down the report. “Now, in the face of that woman’s statement, what have we more probable than that the husband had a violent quarrel with her and strangled her? I suppose she struck Reed as a reliable witness?”
    â€œYes, sir, but he said that she was strongly prejudiced against Catchpool, and you know what women of that class are when they are prejudiced.”
    â€œShe may be, but how else can you account for the wife having got into the shop when the husband carried the only key.”
    â€œWell, sir, you remember the evidence about that young man, Arthur Harris; he was the man Catchpool was on his way to see; his was the only note of hand missing from the file. One witness of the accident declared that he heard Catchpool say ‘Very well, then, I’ll call a policeman.’ Suppose—it’s only a suggestion—that Arthur Harris, who, mind you, told a lie about not knowing the old man—suppose he met him in the street, snatched the key from him, ran to the shop, leaving the door open in his hurry, and started looking for his note of hand and, just as he found it, the wife walked in and began to scream for the police, as she would when she saw a strange man ransacking the drawers. Then, seeing what he’d done when he took her by the throat to stop her screaming, he had the sense to lock the door after him and take the key.”
    â€œVery ingenious,” said Beckett. “It does you credit, but I think you’ll admit that there are a few missing links in your chain.”
    â€œI know there are, sir; that is what I’m working on now.”

Chapter Four
    â€œT HAT GANG of yours,” said Kennedy when he was alone with Morden, “didn’t seem much impressed with the valuable stuff I brought them. That’s the worst of you professionals: you’ve no vision. Good Lord! What a heap of papers you’ve got on your table. That’s the way you waste your time. How can a man have vision with his nose buried all day in documents? One has to be out among men to solve mysteries.”
    â€œI suppose that you’ve never heard of such a thing as the law of evidence.”
    â€œThank God, no! You want to get at the truth, and you tie yourselves up with a lot of musty laws. Look here, Morden, I don’t mind betting you an even bob that if you took me to the scene of that murder I’d put you in the way of solving the whole bally mystery in five minutes. Seriously, why not leave your office table for an hour, run me up to the shop in your car, and then come and lunch with me at the Savoy afterwards? You see, mine will be a fresh eye. All you fellows here get stale dealing with detectives’ reports day after day.”
    Morden seemed amused. He toyed with the idea of reducing his