Free The Snuffbox Murders by Roger Silverwood Page A

bars or cash, there’s sometimes deeds to a property, love letters, promissory notes, account books, a lady’s garter, a will, some thing. To find Razzle’s safe empty … is a great … a very great surprise.’
    ‘Yes, sir. I agree.’
    ‘Which suggests that it must have been burgled. Any signs of a recent assault on the lock?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    ‘Were there any prints on the safe handle?’
    ‘Funny thing, sir. It had been wiped clean.’
    Angel smiled and shook his head. ‘Right, Don.’
    He replaced the phone.
    After a few seconds he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a used envelope covered with his own small handwriting, which he began to read. From time to time he broke off reading, and, deep in thought, rubbed his chin, and gazed straight ahead in the direction of the green stationery cupboard. Then he would return to deciphering the tiny writing. This was repeated several times, then, after twenty minutes of this, his nose turned up and the corners of his mouth turned down, he sniffed and shook his head.
    There was a knock at the door.
    ‘Yes? Come in,’ he said and put the envelope back into his inside pocket.
    It was DS Carter.
    ‘I was just thinking about you.’ Angel said. ‘Sit down. Find anything?’
    ‘Nothing, sir. We moved all equipment from the walls and sprayed them with water. We also sprayed the ceiling and the floor. The same with the rest of the basement area. There are no hidden doors, trapdoors or exits, or hiding-places in the basement, I’ll stake my life on it.’
    Angel frowned.
    She continued: ‘Also it is not possible to move around in the basement area outside the workshop door without being caught on the CCTV camera, which is fitted right in the corner of the area.’
    Angel ran his hand through his hair. ‘Somebody expects us to believe that the robot Charles Razzle built actually murdered him. Then after all that, he was able to cross over to the robot and wipe his prints off its hand and the finger round the trigger of the gun. His prints were just about everywhere else … even on the undischarged bullets in the gun.’
    ‘But it has to have been Charles Razzle because nobody could have entered the workshop, sir. They would have been on the CCTV tapes. And anyway the door was closed, locked, and he was the only person who knew the combination.’
    ‘That’s all true, Flora,’ Angel said. ‘It’s a puzzle. It would have been tidier if he had left a suicide note.’
    ‘If it was spontaneous there wouldn’t have been one.’
    ‘I know. I want you to find out about his state of mind … whether he had any serious health issues … whether he was on drugs, prescribed or otherwise, also whether he was on the bottle. You can start with Don Taylor. He will have turned up the name of Razzle’s GP by now.’
    She stood up. ‘Right, sir.’
     
    Angel climbed the stairs of the Feathers Hotel and knocked on the door of suite number 1.
    It was soon answered by Rosemary Razzle, who was wearing a brightly coloured summer dress. Not the sign of a woman in deep mourning, he thought.
    ‘Ah, Inspector Angel,’ she said brightly. ‘Please come in. You’ve come to tell me I can return to my house?’
    He pursed his lips, then said, ‘No, Mrs Razzle, I’m afraid I haven’t.’
    ‘Oh.’ She pointed to a chair. ‘Please sit down. I hope you are not going to keep me from it for much longer.’
    ‘Not much longer,’ Angel said. ‘I need to ask you a few more questions.’
    ‘Oh yes? I’ll do my best.’
    ‘It is becoming obvious that your husband shot himself either deliberately or accidentally….’
    ‘Accidentally, definitely,’ she said.
    ‘Very well, accidentally. By use of a remote control, he aimed the gun at himself and fired it, three times. That would have been very unusual. I need to ask if he was depressed about anything?’
    ‘Huh! Charles Razzle depressed? Certainly not. He was always quietly spoken. Gentle. Confident and always busy. That