Bloodhounds

And yours, Shirley-Ann thought, of mean-mindedness. 'Or neglect.'

'Depravity. He's constantly in public houses, so far as I can make out. His choice of reading is indicative-all that violence he wallows in.'

'Really, Miss Chilmark, I've read a lot of those books myself and I'm not depraved, I hope. Millions of people read them. You admire The Name of the Rose, but it doesn't mean you want to go into a monastery, I mean a nunnery-oh, I don't know what I do mean, except that the books people read are no guide to their behavior.'

Miss Chilmark turned to Shirley-Ann, her broad face pitted with disfavor. 'Let me remind you that Mr. Towers worked for a security firm. They're expolicemen, a lot of them. They know the ne'er-do-wells in this city. If something came to his notice in the course of his duties, something particularly unpleasant regarding one of the Bloodhounds, and that person felt at risk of being exposed, you wouldn't have to look hard for a motive for murder.'

Shirley-Ann had forgotten that Sid was a security guard. It was the first reasonable comment Miss Chilmark had made. 'But that could apply to any of us. Any of us could have a skeleton in the cupboard.'

'Speak for yourself,' said Miss Chilmark.

'Even if I had, I wouldn't see murder as the solution,' Shirley-Ann said thoughtfully. Mentally she was reviewing the other Bloodhounds, wondering what skeletons they might prefer to keep hidden. Jessica? Polly? She had been going to suggest a meeting, if only to compare notes on what the police had said. Now, she was less enthusiastic.

'Poor Mr. Towers didn't batter himself to death,' said Miss Chilmark. 'Someone wanted him dead.'

'At the meeting last night,' said Shirley-Ann, 'do you remember anything that Sid said or did that might have caused someone else to kill him?'

'I was too distressed to notice.'

'Before that. Before Rupert arrived.'

'The only thing I can recall him saying was at the beginning, before we started. There were four of us present-Mr. Towers and the three lady members. Polly asked who was missing- as if she couldn't work it out for herself-and Mr. Towers spoke Rupert's name, adding that Rupert is always late. It was so unusual for Mr. Towers to say anything that I noticed it particularly.'

'He said something later,' said Shirley-Ann. 'Now what was it? A quip of some sort. Just a couple of words. I know! Jessica was giving us her theory about the stealing of the Penny Black. She said it could easily be a collector. She could picture some middle-aged man with a personality defect gloating over his stamps, or something like that, and Sid said, 'Or woman,' and we all smiled about it. You do remember, don't you? After all, you were the one who suggested we discuss the stealing of the stamp.'

'I can bring it to mind now, yes. But I don't see that it makes any difference. None of us took offense, the ladies, I mean.'

'Do you think it was Sid who took offense? Do you think he took the remark personally, about the personality defect? He could have thought it was aimed at him.'

'Conceivably. Who can say?'

Shirley-Ann trawled through her memory of the evening. 'After that, you gave us your theories about the riddle, and Sid made no comment at all, did he?'

'I can't remember any.'

'The next thing was that Rupert's dog appeared.'

'Spare me that.' Miss Chilmark looked away at the recorder player.

'I don't remember Sid saying anything while you were distressed, but when Jessica asked for a paper bag, he supplied one. He took it from his carrier bag. A book was wrapped in it. So it was thanks to Sid that she had the means to cope with your attack.'

Miss Chilmark appeared to wish to dismiss the episode from her mind. At any rate, she said nothing.

Shirley-Ann picked up the thread again. 'Soon after, I read the Stanley Ellin story, and then Milo opened his copy of The Hollow Man.'

'Before that, he insulted Mrs. Wycherley.'

'Who did?'

Miss Chilmark looked as if she had bitten into a sour apple. 'Who do you think?'

'Rupert?'

'You remember, don't you? 'Jesus wants me for a sun-beam'?'

'Oh.' Shirley-Ann tried to stop herself smiling.

'It was meant to wound, and it did.'

'Yes, but it didn't have anything to do with Sid.'

'It demonstrated the depths the man will sink to.'

'Rupert. But we were talking about Sid and the things he did and said that evening,' said Shirley-Ann. 'And now I've remembered something else. At the end of the evening, after Milo opened his book and found the Penny Black, we were talking about what Milo should do next. Some of us said there was no need for him to get involved. He could send the stamp back to the Postal Museum, and no one need say anything about it. Someone-I think it was Rupert-asked Sid for his opinion and he said, 'I can stay quiet.' You must remember because you were one of the people who said he had a duty to go to the police. You and Polly insisted. Everyone else was inclined to turn a blind eye.'

'Don't talk to me in that accusing tone of voice,' said Miss Chilmark. 'It was the proper thing to do.'

'If he hadn't done it, he would have gone straight back to the narrowboat. Very likely, Sid wouldn't have been murdered.'

'That, if I may say so, is about the most stupid thing I have heard you say,' commented Miss Chilmark. 'It's pure speculation and quite pointless. No one can say with certainty what would have happened. Anyway, my recollection is that Milo made up his own mind. It didn't require advice from me or anyone else. He would have gone to the police regardless, and quite right.' She stood up. 'And now, if we have quite finished this futile exercise, I have some business to attend to. Good morning.'

She headed off in the direction of Waitrose.

Chapter Twenty

Julie Hargreaves routinely cleared the surface of her desk at the end of each day's work. She wasn't compulsive about tidiness, but the desk was quite modest in size, and she would transfer everything she could to the filing cabinet and the wire trays. For the pens, pencils, and clips, she had an arrangement of cylinders called a desk tidy. All she expected to find in front of her when she arrived for work next day was the mail, if any. So this Wednesday morning Peter Diamond, whose desk was a disgrace, was making mischief. He had heaped her space with objects in transparent plastic bags-Sid Towers's possessions, ready to be collected for forensic examination. An outraged howl was the least he expected.

She deflated him by saying mildly, 'It's a little early for Christmas, isn't it?'

He said, 'You're an optimist.' He still hoped for an eruption.

But she moved the dialogue smoothly on to professional matters. 'Surely he didn't carry all this in his pockets.'

'It's all the loose stuff from his car as well.'

'Anything of interest?' She picked up one of the bags and rattled the contents. 'Keys.'

'For the car, the doors to his flat and the warehouse where he worked.'

'Nothing so helpful as the key to a certain padlock?'

'You're a superoptimist.'

She handled a bulkier package. 'This will be the book he had with him at the Bloodhounds' meeting. The Three Coffins.'

Diamond frowned as a fresh thought popped into his brain. 'Where's the brown paper bag we heard it was wrapped in?'

Julie shifted some of the objects.