Read Online Seeing is Believing by E.X. Ferrars - Free Book Online Page A

the hall, with a chair beside it, and a book on the table that contained all thenumbers that we most frequently used. I had just sat down in the chair and opened the book when the telephone rang.
    I picked it up and said, ‘Frances Chance speaking.’
    ‘This is Hugh,’ he said, which was unnecessary, as I knew his voice. ‘Frances, what's happened? All those police cars at the Loxleys’ house and the ambulance and all the men! Has there been an accident or something?’
    ‘It looks as if it's something worse than an accident,’ I said. I thought that his call was only the first that we should be having. The other people who lived along the lane must have seen what he had, and I saw no point in telling him anything but the truth. ‘Peter's dead,’ I said. ‘He's been shot and it's almost certainly murder. Incidentally, I was just going to ring you up to tell you that we've decided the rehearsal will have to be cancelled.’
    ‘Of course it will. Dead? Murdered? Do you mean it? Frances, how terrible. Have they any idea who could have done such a thing?’
    ‘It's too early to say,’ I said.
    ‘Can I help in any way? Is there anything I can do? I suppose you were going to phone round all the people who should have been at the rehearsal. Can I do that for you?’
    ‘Oh, would you do that, Hugh? I'd be so grateful.’
    ‘Telling them about the murder?’
    ‘We were going to say that Peter's been taken ill, but if you feel like telling them the truth, I don't see anything against it.’
    In fact, I thought it the best thing to do, as long as it was not I who had to do it.
    ‘Only I don't know anything about it,’ Hugh said. ‘What actually happened?’
    ‘You could say it looks as if someone broke into the house and killed Peter when he caught him. That's as much as anyone knows at the moment.’
    ‘All right, I'll go ahead with it. And if there's anything else I can do, let me know. How's Avril?’
    ‘In a state of shock, I think. She seems confused about what is and what isn't important. But we're looking after her. She's going to spend the night here.’
    ‘Good, good.’
    He rang off. I put the telephone down and returned to the sitting room.
    ‘That was Hugh,’ I said. ‘He's going to do the phoning for us.’
    ‘And now what about a bit of supper?’ Malcolm said. ‘There's no point in waiting for the police. They may not come round for hours.’
    In fact, they came about half an hour later. Detective Inspector Holroyd, I thought, looked even more like an outsize garden gnome than I remembered, and he had a sergeant with him, a slim, trim-looking, wide-shouldered young man, with a fresh pink face which he took care to keep expressionless. They interviewed us one by one in the dining room, beginning with Avril and ending with me. The sergeant took copious notes in a notebook. By the time that my turn came, the notebook looked pretty well filled. They were both sitting at the table and the inspector gestured to me to take a seat facing them.
    ‘Your husband told us you have something of interest to tell us,’ he said.
    ‘Didn't he tell you himself what it was?’ I asked.
    ‘He told us one or two things, but I'd be grateful if you would tell us about it yourself. Something about hearing a shot, and seeing a man at the Loxleys’ gate. Can you describe him to us?’
    ‘I can do more than that,’ I said. ‘I can tell you who he was.’
    ‘Ah, that's something your husband didn't tell us. He said he preferred to leave it to you to tell us. Quite correct, too. Can you name him then?’
    ‘He's called Fred Dyer, and he lives with a girl calledSharon Sawyer in a flat in the old vicarage. He turned up in Raneswood a few months ago and seems to make a living of a sort doing odd jobs about the village.’
    ‘And you saw him at the Loxleys’ gate as you came home from shopping?’
    ‘Yes, and I think the time was just about twelve o'clock, because Mrs Henderson, who does the cleaning for the