instructions, fitted bolts at the top and bottom of the kitchen door. Maggie paid him from Fell’s cheque book. He had left three signed cheques for her.
Then the furniture man arrived and tut-tutted at the ripped upholstery but offered Maggie a figure which was better than she expected. That was deducted from the price of the newly bought furniture. Two men carried the three-piece suite out. Maggie handed over a cheque, and the new furniture was carried into the sitting room.
Then the burglar alarm system was installed, and Maggie carefully listened to the instructions. The police, said the man, would turn out twice a year for false alarms, but any more and they would not come at all.
When they had all finished, Maggie went into the sitting room. She was pleased with the furniture. She took two lamps they had brought through from the living room and plugged them in. Then she took down the William Morris-patterned curtains from the living room and replaced the nasty, dusty velvet ones in the sitting room with them. They had replaced the fitted carpet in the living room with colourful rugs. She carried some of them into the sitting room and spread them on the floor. She surveyed her work with satisfaction. The odd mixture of furniture worked very well.
Maggie then went quietly up the stairs and looked into Fell’s room. He was lying asleep on top of the bed.
She decided to leave him to sleep. She drove home and collected the suitcase she had packed the night before and then took down two paintings from the walls of her room. She had picked both up at an auction. One was a seascape and the other was a bucolic countryside scene.
When she got back to Fell’s, she hung the pictures in the sitting room, switched on the lamps, and then went in and arranged a bottle of whisky, glasses, a jug of water and some crisps and nuts in bowls and carried them into the sitting room, just as she heard Fell come down the stairs.
He came into the sitting room, rubbing his eyes. “Sorry I’ve slept so long. Oh, this is
He sank down on the new sofa. “Goodness, pictures, too.”
Maggie wanted to ask him if he felt like talking, but bit back the question as it rose to her lips. It would be something to do with Melissa and she did not want to hear anything about Melissa, good or bad, ever again.
The phone rang and Fell jumped. “I’ll get it,” said Maggie. “We’d better get an extension cord tomorrow and move the phone in here.”
Maggie went into the living room and picked up the receiver. It was Peter. “Can you talk?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“What about coming out for a drink?”
“Not tonight.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, all right. Where?”
“The Red Lion, say about nine. I finish work then.”
“Okay.”
Maggie replaced the receiver and went back to Fell.
“Who was it?” he asked.
“Just Peter. I’m meeting him for a drink tomorrow night. Is that all right?”
“Of course it is. Does he know we’re not really engaged?”
“No, I haven’t told him.”
“Might be a good idea not to tell him yet, Maggie.”
“Why?”
“You don’t really know him. Might be safer to hold back from telling him until you do.” He fished in his pocket and brought out the engagement ring. “You may as well put this back on, Maggie. People will wonder why you’re not wearing it.”
Maggie longed to ask him to put it on her finger so that she could pretend for a moment that she really was engaged, but quietly took it from him and slipped it on her finger instead.
Maggie said, “I’ve got the new door keys. We’ve a set each. You’d better come through and I’ll show you how the burglar alarm works.”
They were standing at the front door, examining the control box, when the doorbell rang.
Maggie opened the door. It was Detective Inspector Dun-widdy. “Just thought I’d drop by for another chat.”
“Come in. We’ve just had a burglar alarm installed,” said Maggie, chattering brightly because the sight of the inspector unnerved her. “We’ve moved to the sitting room.”
The inspector followed them to the sitting room. “Nice,” he said, looking round and unconsciously echoing Fell.
“Sit down,” said Maggie effusively. “Whisky?”
“Don’t mind if I do. Not too strong and lots of water.”
The inspector settled back in his chair, cradling his glass in his large hands. “So,” he said, “this break-in interests me. I’m off duty but I thought I’d have a chat with you. I see you’ve cleared up. Find anything of value missing?”
“No,” said Fell.
Dunwiddy looked at Maggie’s hands. “I see you’ve got an expensive ring there. You weren’t wearing it when I last called. You’re lucky they didn’t take it.”
“I take it off for work. I was working in Katy’s Kitchen when Fell called about the burglary.”
“Well, it looks definitely like whoever it was thought you might have found out something. Or it could be someone thought your father was involved in the train robbery and had hidden the money somewhere. That would explain why even jars of coffee and flour had been tipped out.”
“But the thief would surely be someone who was involved in the robbery and who would therefore know my father had no part in it.”
“We’ve never really been sure about that. Or it could be someone who’d heard you’d come into money and was looking for some of it. I think there must have been more than one. Someone to watch and report when you left, someone to warn the thief when you were coming back.”
He drank a great gulp of whisky. “It’s all very odd after all those years. Such a coincidence Andy Briggs coming back. Hadn’t a penny and signed on for the dole. There was something odd came up at the autopsy as well.”
Fell and Maggie stared at him like rabbits caught in a headlights’ glare. “Oh, he died of knife wounds, that’s for sure. But he’d a great bump on his head. Just before he died, someone had hit him very hard over the head with something heavy.”
“Maybe it happened during the fight,” suggested Maggie, amazed that her own voice sounded quite calm.
“No. Too many witnesses to the fight. Mind you, he seemed to have a Way of getting folks riled up, particularly when he was drunk. Took after his old man. Did your father ever say anything about Tarry Briggs?”
“I can’t remember anything at the moment,” said Fell. “He sometimes would talk to my mother about passengers. He was very impressed by what he called the nobs. But I never heard him discuss the railway workers.”
The inspector drained his glass. He stood up. “Go carefully now. And if you remember anything or notice anything strange, let me know.”
Fell saw him to the door. “Did you question the neighbours?” he asked nervously. “I mean, did any of them notice anyone in the street outside who might be suspicious?”
“No one but the postman delivering a parcel.”
“But there was no parcel,” said Fell excitedly. “It must have been someone masquerading as the postman. The post comes very early, about seven in the morning.”
“Ah, well, now, that’s interesting. We’d better check the theatrical costumer’s down in the Foregate and ask at the main post office whether anyone’s missing a uniform.”
After Dunwiddy had left, Fell returned to Maggie and told her about the postman.
“Do you know,” said Maggie, “I don’t think anyone would need to go to the lengths of renting a costume to look like a postman. Any sort of peaked cap would do. And a blue shirt or sweater. The badge could be faked up
