Free The Silver Ghost by Charlotte MacLeod

through. ‘Be not overcome of evil, but overcome evil with good.’ Romans 12:21.”
    “Which means we have to isolate the evil before we can do any good,” said Max. “What’s this?”
    He’d entered an alcove beside the changing room, about eight feet square and none too well lighted. The side walls were of smooth concrete like the rest of the shed’s, but the back was oddly roughened. “Did somebody get into the wet cement?”
    “Oh, that.” Bill managed to work up a smile of sorts. “Another of Wouter’s little whimsies. It started one weekend about five years ago. Our grandchildren were still in the pre-teen stage and so were some of the Tolbathys’. Young Dork’s daughter was only a toddler then and had a nanny, so we rounded up all the kids and left them here with the nanny to run after them and Cook to feed them. Rufus went along with us and the other grownups to a big antique car rally. Since there were enough of us to drive all ten Rollses, the shed was left empty, so the children had permission to use it for a playroom.”
    “It would be a great place for kids to run,” said Max.
    “Yes, and that’s what we’d assumed they’d be doing. Unfortunately, this silly girl believed in self-expression and supplied all the children with colored chalks. By the time we got back, they’d expressed themselves over every inch of the walls and floor.”
    “Must have been a cheerful homecoming.”
    “Oh, it was. I thought Rufe would go into convulsions. I’ll admit I was none too pleased, myself. But anyway, Wouter offered to stay and help Rufe wash the walls, so Abigail and I went off by ourselves to another rally. In the New Phantom, as a matter of fact. When we got back, we discovered Wouter had got the rest of the place shining but he’d put a skim coat of mortar on this one wall and scratched in his own graffiti. He said he’d always had an urge to deface a wall. Even Rufe laughed. One had to, you know, at Wouter.”
    “So you left the wall as it was.”
    “Oh, we talked every so often about having it plastered over, but for one reason or another we never did. Then Wouter died and the wall became a sort of monument to his memory. I wouldn’t change it now for anything. Yes, Chief Grimpen, did you want me for something?”
    “Only to tell you that I’m going along now. I’ve accomplished everything that needs to be done here. It’s perfectly obvious what happened. Your man there,” he nodded at the robe-covered heap on the counter, “was in league with a well-organized gang of antique car thieves. He may have been blackmailed into it,” Grimpen added out of deference for Mr. Billingsgate’s feelings.
    “Anyway, he let them into the car shed, helped them get the Silver Ghost away, then raked the gravel to obliterate the traces they’d left, and locked the gate behind him. At this point it must have occurred to your man that he’d put himself in an impossible position. Seeing no way out of being convicted and disgraced, he hanged himself.”
    “Having rigged a hoist in advance just in case he might take the notion,” Max Bittersohn amplified.
    “How am I supposed to know what the hoist was for? Maybe he’d planned to do some tree work.”
    “We have professional tree people come in for that sort of thing,” said Bill. “Have you arranged for the autopsy?”
    At last he’d managed to make Grimpen uncomfortable. “I—er—was just going to consult with you on that point. I assumed you’d prefer to wait until your guests were gone before we had the body removed. So as not to spoil your party,” he added hopefully.
    “Most considerate of you.” Max hadn’t thought Nehemiah Billingsgate could ever use that tone toward anybody. “Tell them to come as soon as possible, please. You’ll wait for them, I expect.”
    “Sergeant Myre will stay. I have pressing business elsewhere, I’m afraid. Myre, you’re in full charge as of now. Order the ambulance and arrange for the