Read Online Angel and the Actress by Roger Silverwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Roger Silverwood
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should be so lucky. Right, Don. Crack on with it, then. You know what we are looking for?’
‘Blue specks with tails.’
‘Especially on the thumb and forefinger.’
It was 9.30 a.m. before Angel could leave the station and resume his enquiries into the murder of Joan Minter. He pulled up outside the Mansion House on Ceresford Road where he was met at the door by a very angry Erick Cartlett.
‘I have been waiting for you, sir. You have kept me here, hanging around the house, quite pointlessly causing me to miss a very important meeting. I have to warn you that I shall report your conduct in this matter to the American Embassy.’
Angel said, ‘I’m sorry to have caused you any inconvenience, Mr Cartlett. Please come into Miss Minter’s sitting room.’
Cartlett followed Angel into the little room off the hall that he was using as an office.
When Angel had closed the door, he turned to Cartlett and said, ‘I have to point out to you, Mr Cartlett, that owing to the untimely death of your late friend, Miss Minter, she has also been very greatly inconvenienced and will be missing far more than one important meeting. Isn’t it therefore reasonable that we should do our best to find whoever is responsible?’
Cartlett’s jaw dropped. Then he said, ‘Well, I am certainly not responsible. I now hear that I have to wait further for another indignity. A candle wax test, whatever that is.’
‘It’s not an indignity,’ Angel said. ‘It is merely the spreading of warm liquid paraffin wax on your hands andallowing it to harden. It’s quite painless and it doesn’t take long.’
‘What’s that supposed to prove?’
‘The paraffin wax extracts from deep in the pores fine residues given off by the firing of a gun. We can see them in the hardened wax.’
Cartlett turned up his nose and said, ‘But Joan was murdered about thirty-six hours ago. I’ve had a shower and a good soak in the bath since then. And washed my hands several times. Most of us have.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Washing your hands won’t make any difference. The nitrates will be in your pores for up to seventy-two hours whether you’ve washed your hands or not.’
Cartlett’s mood changed again. He straightened up and said, ‘Well, what if I refuse?’
‘Well, I hope you won’t. It would very much look as if you’re guilty. But, I suppose, if you refused, I should have to get a warrant.’
‘Get a warrant, then.’
‘There is another way,’ Angel said.
Cartlett said, ‘What’s that?’
‘I could put you under arrest for the murder of Joan Minter without the need for you to take the paraffin wax test. If you are guilty, it would show that it was a shrewd idea of mine. If you’re innocent, it will hold you here in custody for at least another week, and I shan’t have to worry about you absconding back home.’
Cartlett’s mouth opened wide. His eyes narrowed. He scratched his temple and said, ‘You wouldn’t do that.’
‘I might,’ Angel said, ‘so now will you go through tomy sergeant and have the paraffin wax test? You’ll not be alone. There are three other gentlemen before you …’
Meanwhile …
Crisp had arrived at the quiet T-junction, shortly after a Bromersley Police patrol car.
The two drivers of the Slater Security van were standing around with their hands in their pockets and stamping their feet on the pavement to keep warm. The police patrolmen had swiftly taped off the crashed vehicles, and had started erecting road signs indicating a detour.
Crisp had checked that the men in the security van were unharmed and noted what had happened. He took their names and addresses and asked them a few urgent questions, then phoned Angel on his mobile and reported the situation.
Angel said, ‘Were either of the men able to give a description of any of the robbers and the getaway car?’
‘They said there was nothing distinguishing about the robbers, sir, except that the one that spoke to them had a
‘Blue specks with tails.’
‘Especially on the thumb and forefinger.’
It was 9.30 a.m. before Angel could leave the station and resume his enquiries into the murder of Joan Minter. He pulled up outside the Mansion House on Ceresford Road where he was met at the door by a very angry Erick Cartlett.
‘I have been waiting for you, sir. You have kept me here, hanging around the house, quite pointlessly causing me to miss a very important meeting. I have to warn you that I shall report your conduct in this matter to the American Embassy.’
Angel said, ‘I’m sorry to have caused you any inconvenience, Mr Cartlett. Please come into Miss Minter’s sitting room.’
Cartlett followed Angel into the little room off the hall that he was using as an office.
When Angel had closed the door, he turned to Cartlett and said, ‘I have to point out to you, Mr Cartlett, that owing to the untimely death of your late friend, Miss Minter, she has also been very greatly inconvenienced and will be missing far more than one important meeting. Isn’t it therefore reasonable that we should do our best to find whoever is responsible?’
Cartlett’s jaw dropped. Then he said, ‘Well, I am certainly not responsible. I now hear that I have to wait further for another indignity. A candle wax test, whatever that is.’
‘It’s not an indignity,’ Angel said. ‘It is merely the spreading of warm liquid paraffin wax on your hands andallowing it to harden. It’s quite painless and it doesn’t take long.’
‘What’s that supposed to prove?’
‘The paraffin wax extracts from deep in the pores fine residues given off by the firing of a gun. We can see them in the hardened wax.’
Cartlett turned up his nose and said, ‘But Joan was murdered about thirty-six hours ago. I’ve had a shower and a good soak in the bath since then. And washed my hands several times. Most of us have.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Washing your hands won’t make any difference. The nitrates will be in your pores for up to seventy-two hours whether you’ve washed your hands or not.’
Cartlett’s mood changed again. He straightened up and said, ‘Well, what if I refuse?’
‘Well, I hope you won’t. It would very much look as if you’re guilty. But, I suppose, if you refused, I should have to get a warrant.’
‘Get a warrant, then.’
‘There is another way,’ Angel said.
Cartlett said, ‘What’s that?’
‘I could put you under arrest for the murder of Joan Minter without the need for you to take the paraffin wax test. If you are guilty, it would show that it was a shrewd idea of mine. If you’re innocent, it will hold you here in custody for at least another week, and I shan’t have to worry about you absconding back home.’
Cartlett’s mouth opened wide. His eyes narrowed. He scratched his temple and said, ‘You wouldn’t do that.’
‘I might,’ Angel said, ‘so now will you go through tomy sergeant and have the paraffin wax test? You’ll not be alone. There are three other gentlemen before you …’
Meanwhile …
Crisp had arrived at the quiet T-junction, shortly after a Bromersley Police patrol car.
The two drivers of the Slater Security van were standing around with their hands in their pockets and stamping their feet on the pavement to keep warm. The police patrolmen had swiftly taped off the crashed vehicles, and had started erecting road signs indicating a detour.
Crisp had checked that the men in the security van were unharmed and noted what had happened. He took their names and addresses and asked them a few urgent questions, then phoned Angel on his mobile and reported the situation.
Angel said, ‘Were either of the men able to give a description of any of the robbers and the getaway car?’
‘They said there was nothing distinguishing about the robbers, sir, except that the one that spoke to them had a
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