I knew where Angela lived.
Perhaps that might be the one mistake she had made if there was a mistake to be made. I had to admit, I was beginning to think she was more involved in Al’s affairs than she admitted, even to the point where I suspected she might be helping him. Ten million, or even a small slice of that was a big incentive.
Perhaps Al had settled a score with Joe on her behalf for Cathy, in exchange for help in his plans.
It was probably naive of me to think she would still be there, in now what seemed to be the final card being played, but I was ever the optimist.
I knocked on the door.
Jennifer Jones answered it. I’ll be honest; I was surprised to see her at Angela’s.
“Harry, what are you doing here?” If I was not mistaken, her tone was tinged with a little annoyance, and a small measure of shock.
“I could ask the same question. What are you doing here?” After the momentary surprise of seeing her in the doorway, I noticed she had one hand behind her back. I was ot sure then why it mattered.
“I was just having tea with Angela, so do come in. You came at the right time.”
She stood to one side, opening the door. I passed by her, and she closed the door behind us, after a quick glance out into the street. I think, at that moment I realized that she had been expecting someone else.
That sound of the door closing sounded very final, and I knew then something bad had happened in this place. When I stepped into the room off the passage from the front door, I had two sensations, the first, an off smell, one I would associate with death, and the other, the sensation of an object prodded into my back.
“Don’t stop now, Harry. Move forward, and don’t give me any trouble.”
I moved further into the large room, and at the end of the table adjacent to the kitchen, I saw Angela, gagged and bound in a chair. I turned and Jennifer had a gun pointed at me, what looked like the same gun Angela had handed me in the Outtel basement.
“I’m not sure I understand,” I said.
“Look in the kitchen.”
A few more steps, I stood at the kitchen entrance and on the floor was the body of a man. It looked like Al. I moved closer and knelt down to see if there was a pulse. It was Al, with a bullet hole in his forehead, and he looked very, very dead.
And although this looked exactly like the body I’d seen in the Outtel basement, I was equally sure that body hadn’t moved from Outtel to here, a few days later. This body was still warm.
I stood and looked at her. “Did you kill him?”
“No. Why would I?”
“You have a gun in your hand and I suspect it has been recently used?”
“Then that’s on Angela. I found the gun, and the body here when I arrived.”
“What about Miriam Walters? They were not having an affair were they? She was an embezzler, whether it was for Al or Joseph or both I guess we’ll never find out. Did you kill Miriam?”
“No. Her death, I believe Sykes said, was a suicide.”
“I looked at the gun in her hand. Where did you get that weapon?”
“Like I said, it was here when I got here.”
“And why is Angela tied up?”
“I found her like that.”
“How did you get in?”
“The door was unlocked.”
“Didn’t you think that was unusual?”
She shrugged. “I didn't think about it at the time.”
“Angela will corroborate this if I talk to her?”
“I doubt she’ll tell you the truth.”
“You have the gun, what harm could it do to ask a few questions.”
Jennifer shrugged, “It won’t help her in the end.”
© Copyright Charles Heath 2018
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