Free To Make a Killing by K.A. Kendall Page B

tenant.”
     
    Keane followed the Colonel into his flat and sat in the chesterfield at the Colonel’s beckoning.
     
    “Can I offer you a tipple, Superintendent?”
     
    Keane glanced at the Colonel’s drinks cabinet and promptly answered yes.
     
    “I have a very nice Madeira that I’m particularly fond of at the moment.”
     
    “Yes, that would be nice, thank you.” Keane received the crystal glass and was immediately taken by the cloudy amber sheen of the Madeira. The bouquet confirmed his suspicion that this was not a special offer from Sainsbury’s. The drink was like nectar.
     
    “Chin chin!” said the Colonel
     
    Keane looked up and realized that he hadn’t even wished the Colonel good health. “I’m terribly sorry; I was just so taken by this exceptional wine.”
     
    “That’s quite alright. From the moment I saw your discerning look at my selection, I knew you would appreciate this. It’s a hundred years old. Of course they top it up along the way, but still.”
     
    Keane placed the glass on the mahogany sofa-table, deciding he would appreciate the rest of the drink even more after he had asked his questions.
     
    “It’s a lovely drink. I just have a few questions, Colonel. What can you tell me about this French lady, I believe her name is Marie Passant?”
     
    “Well, I hardly spoke to the woman. Or rather, she hardly ever spoke to me. Seemed to spend most of her time in the flat, which struck me as being odd. She didn’t have a 9 to 5 job, and she wasn’t on holiday or she would have been out more. Could have been a writer, I suppose.”
     
    “Did she receive any visitors?”
     
    “Not many. Now don’t get the wrong impression, Superintendent. I do have better things to do than to watch the coming and goings of my neighbours all day long.” Keane was not entirely convinced by this objection. ”No. since she moved in, I only saw two people, two men, who didn’t look like they were visitors to the Eastmans – the floor above, you know . . .” Keane nodded. ”. . . or student types – top floor.” Keane nodded again.
     
    “What was it about these men that singled them out?”
     
    “Well, for one thing they were . . . what’s the word I’m looking for? . . . Furtive. Yes. You see, as often as not they came after nightfall and left carrying large boxes.”
     
    “Could you describe the boxes?”
     
    “Well, not really. Cubic I suppose, about two feet in each dimension. Probably made of some light wood not cardboard. No markings.”
     
    Keane took out the picture of Russell. “Could this be one of the men?”
     
    “Yes, it could be. Yes, he looked very similar to the first man.”
     
    “This is the man who was found murdered out on the street on Tuesday.”
     
    “Oh, I see.”
     
    Keane paused for a second. “Colonel, you just said ‘first’ man.”
     
    “Yes. Well the second man replaced the first one. That is . . . now let me see. Yes, I only saw the second man once, and that would have been . . . Wednesday, late evening, I think.”
     
    “In what way replace?”
     
    “Well, carrying the boxes.”
     
    “I’m sorry to inconvenience you, Colonel Cross, but I am going to have to ask you to come back to the station with us, to give us a full statement and a photo fit description of this second man.”
     
    “Well, that’s hardly the way to repay a man who shares his best Madeira with you”, chided the Colonel. “But I suppose that makes me what you chappies call a material witness!”
     
    Hayes knocked on the door as he entered “Sorry to interrupt, but forensics are here, sir.”
     
    “Has Jenkins got the key, yet?”
     
    “No, she’s still trying to contact the Arab.”
     
    “Tell her to drop that. We’re going to have to break down the door.” Hayes eyes lit up.
     
    “Er, Colonel, I don’t suppose you happen to have a crow bar we could borrow?”
     
    “Well, yes, as a matter of fact. Just a moment.” The Colonel left the