Read Online The Cloned Identity by David Hughes - Free Book Online Page B

she was attacked.”
    â€œNo! That’s not true. Yes, I did call to see her, but she wasn’t in. I told you the truth before.”
    Still he did not look up. I noticed that he was now clenching and unclenching his fists as if in some sort of pain or turmoil.
    I carried on: “After calling at Miss Wood’s what did you do then?”
    â€œWell, I had my dog with me so I carried on to the park, to give him a run.”
    â€œWhich park did you go to?” I asked.
    He looked at me, puzzled. “The one at the end of Miss Wood’s road of course,” he snapped.
    â€œThat’s right,” I said.
    â€œWell, if you already knew, why did you ask?” His voice lacked the normal anger I am sure he would have shown under different circumstances.
    â€œWhy exactly did you call on Miss Wood?”
    â€œI was worried she might forget about our appointment the following morning. The church magazine proof had to be at the printer’s by nine thirty.”
    â€œCouldn’t you have phoned her?” asked Joe.
    â€œYes, I could have, but I was going out anyway to take the dog for a walk.”
    â€œDid you go round to Miss Wood’s often?” I asked.
    â€œNo, not often – just now and again. She was kind enough to invite me round for tea, and sometimes supper.”
    â€œSo you have been round to Miss Wood’s in the evening on other occasions, then?”
    â€œYes, Inspector, I have, but not on a regular basis.” He tried to sound as bored as he could as he answered. “Is all this relevant?” he asked.
    I ignored his question.
    â€œWhen was the last time you went round in the evening?”
    â€œLet me think.” I could sense he was getting his confidence back. “That must have been a couple of weeks ago. I remember that because we spent the evening working on the magazine; it comes out fortnightly.”
    â€œCouldn’t you have worked on the magazine at the vicarage?” asked Joe.
    â€œWe do usually, but we get too many interruptions. You should try to understand that being a vicar is a twenty-four-hour job. Anyway, Susan suggested we finish it off round her place.”
    I felt the vicar was starting to take over, so I fired another question at him: “What time did you leave the park?”
    He looked at me in surprise, as the tone of my voice reminded him we weren’t there for a cosy chat.
    â€œWhy, the light was just going – I would say about eight thirty.”
    â€œWhich way did you go back?” I asked.
    â€œThe same way as I went, of course. There is no other way.”
    I nodded. “So you went back past Miss Wood’s house, then?”
    â€œYes, it would be impossible to go any other way, unless you think I suddenly sprouted a pair of wings and flew back,” he answered sarcastically.
    â€œAnd the dog,” Joe said.
    The vicar gave him a dark look and said, “Quite so.”
    â€œDid you notice that Miss Wood was now at home?” I asked.
    â€œYes, I did. The lights were on.”
    â€œSo you went and knocked on her door again?”
    â€œNo, of course not,” he answered angrily, obviously thinking I was trying to trick him (as if I would!).
    â€œAre you telling me that you went out on purpose to speak with Miss Wood, but then changed your mind?” I asked in my best sarcastic voice.
    â€œIt was getting dark. She probably wouldn’t have opened the door,” replied the vicar, shifting in his chair.
    â€œBut you said you often went round in the evening, for supper,” I asked with a doubtful look.
    Again the vicar fidgeted in his chair. “Yes, yes, but then she would have been expecting me, wouldn’t she?”
    He was looking a bit edgy, so I asked him if he would like a cup of tea. He nodded and I looked at Joe and we got up and left the room. Out in the corridor I collared a passing PC and asked if he could rustle up some cups of