Free Who Killed Stella Pomeroy? by Basil Thomson

and down the road. On sight of him the man made a signal, and Richardson quickened his pace.
    â€œThere’s a message just come through for you from C.O., sir. Mr Aitkin replied that you were out on an enquiry but might be expected here at any moment.”
    â€œAre they holding the line?”
    â€œNo sir, but Mr Aitkin understood that it was urgent.”
    Richardson ran up the steep stairs two steps at a time. Inspector Aitkin hurried out to meet him on the landing.
    â€œThe assistant commissioner himself has been on the line asking for you,” he said. “I told him that you would ring up as soon as you came in. Shall I call him up?”
    â€œPlease do.”
    â€œYou’re through, sir,” said Aitkin, putting the receiver into Richardson’s hand.
    â€œRichardson speaking, sir, from Ealing Police Station.”
    â€œI’ve been waiting for a report from you, Mr Richardson.”
    â€œI’ve been so busy with enquiries, sir, that I’ve had no time to write a report, but I have enough evidence to show that the man Pomeroy ought to be set at liberty.”
    â€œThat is why I’ve had to ring you up. The coroner has been to the Home Office to report that his jury ran away with him and returned a verdict on quite insufficient evidence. The Home Office has asked me to report by telephone whether that is also the conclusion of the police.”
    â€œYes sir, it is. I hope to let you have my report this evening.”
    â€œYou might tell me now whether you have come to any conclusion about the case.”
    â€œNo sir. I’m following up one or two lines of enquiry, but it is too early yet to say that I have formed any definite theory.”
    â€œVery good, Mr Richardson. Carry on, and let me have in writing only your opinion as to the innocence of Pomeroy.”
    â€œVery good, sir,” replied Richardson, hanging up the receiver. He turned to Inspector Aitkin. “When Pomeroy is released where do you think he will go?”
    â€œHe won’t go back to that bungalow if I know him. He’ll be more likely to go to his father’s house in Rosewear Road. He used to live there before he took that bungalow. Why, do you want to see him?”
    â€œYes, I do. You might arrange to find out whether he goes there. It’s a quarter to four now. If they telephone to Brixton Prison he ought to be out early this evening, but I may not see him until tomorrow morning. I’ve got an enquiry to make in London, and if I want to catch them before closing I must hurry up. Putting Pomeroy out of the question, have you formed any theory about the murder?”
    â€œThere’s no one else that I can see but Pomeroy, unless it was a passing tramp who came in to steal and the woman tried to stop him. To me it seems quite a motiveless murder.”
    â€œYes, and that goes against all our training, which is to look first for the motive. That is why I’m running off to town. Quite by chance I met a man at luncheon who told me that the murdered woman had come into money, and if that is true it may alter the whole complexion of the case. I got from him the name and address of solicitors in Southampton Street who know about this legacy, and I want to catch them before they close. I shall be back again between six and seven, I hope.”
    As soon as Richardson was out of the building Inspector Aitkin remarked to his sergeant, “Of course, it’s not for me to criticize higher authority, but we shall all look foolish if we have to rearrest Pomeroy for the murder of his wife. He could have been the only man who was on the premises at the time.”
    â€œYes,” said Sergeant Hammett. “I’ve thought all along that it was just a typical case of a jealous husband.”
    Richardson reached Southampton Street in time to find the offices of Messrs Jackson & Burke still open. The principals had gone home, but Mr Wilson, their managing clerk, received