Free 1974 - Goldfish Have No Hiding Place by James Hadley Chase Page A

at me.
    “I have no problems. You take care of your problems. Within an hour, we'll be on our way.”
    “The police will check.”
    “Of course. Men always check, but there will be no problem. You and Linda have been quarrelling. She came to me. I took her to her mother. You wanted to give her money so you told the bank you needed an emergency fund.”
    I stared at her, then nodded. Then not looking at Linda, I left the room and started the long walk back to my house.
    Back home again, I called Jean.
    She answered so quickly, I had the impression she had been sitting by the telephone.
    “Could we meet somewhere?” I said. “There are complications.”
    “Come to me? 1190, Westside, top floor.”
    “In twenty minutes.”
    As I started to the door, the telephone bell rang. I hesitated, then lifted the receiver.
    “Steve? This is Max,” Berry said. “I've got the photocopy of the Hammond estimates. It's taken me until now. Man! Will this cut this punk down to size! I've also got photocopies of the three estimates from the other contractors. They really kick the floor from under Hammond.”
    “Wonderful! Let's go over them tomorrow. I have your gun and pistol permit.”
    He laughed.
    “See you tomorrow, Steve. I thought I had to tell you. Linda okay?”
    “Sure . . . great work, Max,” and I hung up.
    Again as I started for the door, I paused. Why go without the gun? I had asked for a gun and I had got it. I would look a pea brain if I ran into trouble and had left the gun at home.
    Taking the gun and the holster from my desk drawer, I put the gun on the desk while I strapped on the holster. As I was about to put the gun into the holster, I smelt gun powder. I have a very sensitive nose. I can smell things that few people seem able to smell. I lifted the gun barrel to my nose. It had been fired very recently. I stared at it for a long moment, then slid out the magazine. I had loaded the gun with six slugs. Examining the magazine, I found there were only five slugs.
    I stood there, feeling a cold chill run through me. The gun had been fired. Was the ejected cartridge case lying on the floor of Gordy's shabby living room?
     
    ***
     
    Jean opened the door of her apartment a moment after I had pressed the bell.
    She was wearing a claret-coloured pyjama suit and her feet in embroidered slippers. To me, she looked lovely.
    I moved into the big, furnished room as she stood aside.
    “More trouble, Steve?” she said as she closed the door.
    “I'll say.” I looked at her. “I shouldn't have come here, but I just had to talk to someone and who better than you?”
    “Sit down and tell me.”
    “Jean . . . Linda wants a divorce. Our marriage is washed up.”
    “I'm sorry, but sit down.” She moved away from me and sat in a chair a yard or so from the chair she waved me to.
    “Is that the jam or is there more?”
    I sat down and told her the whole story of what had happened this evening and concluded with the gun.
    “I'm almost certain that someone took the gun, killed Gordy with it and put it back,” I said. “So you see . . . I'm really in a hell of a jam.”
    “But you don't know Gordy was shot. He could have been stabbed.”
    “The gun was fired. Gordy is dead. Why else was the gun fired?”
    She nodded.
    “Yes. Let's accept the fact that he was killed with your gun.” Her calm, quiet voice had a soothing effect on my jumping nerves. “Let's take a look at this from what we already know. From Wally's report, we can suspect both Latimer and Creeden: both have motives for getting rid of Gordy. You found Latimer outside your house. You tell me the front door was unlocked. Suppose he entered, looking for you, saw the gun and took it? Suppose he went to Gordy's place, killed him while you were talking to Linda, returned and replaced the gun. Creeden could have done exactly the same thing, couldn't he?”
    “Yes, but will the police believe it?”
    She sat motionless, her hands gripped between her knees, then