Free The Darke Chronicles by David Stuart Davies Page A

and explained that he’d just been for a quiet meal at Leonardo’s restaurant. At the mention of the phrase ‘quiet meal’, Darke and Carla exchanged amused glances.
    As predicted, in less than five minutes they had arrived at Stone’s impressive town house where more surprises were in store for them. The street door was ajar, and light from the hallway spilled out on to the stone pathway.
    ‘I don’t understand…’ Stone exclaimed as he approached the house. ‘I locked the door myself when I came out this evening. It isthe servants’ night off, you see. My wife has a heavy cold and she retired to bed early. That’s why I went to Leonardo’s alone.’
    ‘We saw you in there,’ Darke admitted.
    ‘Ah, did you,’ replied Stone distractedly. He shook his head in bewilderment. ‘So why is the door open now…?’
    On entering the house it was clear that there had been an intruder. Vases had been knocked over, chairs turned on their sides, and drawers opened and their contents tipped on to the floor.
    Stone ran to the bottom of the staircase. ‘Marjorie!’ he cried out. ‘Marjorie!’
    There was no reply. With Darke and Carla close behind, he ran up the stairs and into the first bedroom on the landing. The sight that met their eyes stopped all three in their tracks. Lying sprawled across the bed in a blue nightgown was the body of a middle-aged woman. A knife had been plunged deep into her breast and the blood was still seeping on to the bedclothes. Although it seemed likely that she was dead, Darke took hold of her hand and felt for a pulse. There was none, although her flesh was quite warm. It was clear that she had not been dead very long. Stone gave a long moan of anguish and crumpled to the floor, sobbing hysterically.
    Carla turned to Darke. ‘I saw a telephone downstairs. I’d better ring for the police. You keep an eye on Mr Stone, but don’t let him touch anything.’
    ‘Call Edward. Let’s have someone we know on the case,’ said Darke, extracting a visiting card from his pocket and handing it to her. ‘His telephone number is on there. He will most likely be at home in bed, but he won’t mind being disturbed…’
    Carla gave him a wry smile. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ she said as she left the room.
    With only a small degree of reluctance, Edward Thornton agreed to come along to investigate the matter. While they waited for his arrival, Carla took Stone away from the murder scene to the drawing room downstairs, where he consumed two large glasses of brandy. The alcohol, along with the shock of discovering hismurdered wife, seemed to send him into a kind of trance. He sat in a high-backed armchair, rocking backwards and forwards, staring at the floor and sighing.
    Thirty minutes later Inspector Edward Thornton arrived, unshaven and somewhat bleary-eyed. He had Sergeant Grey with him, who had similarly been prised from his bed for the occasion. ‘You pick your moments, Luther,’ said Thornton, gazing down at the dead woman.
    ‘I thought you’d be interested. I know you’ve been rather quiet of late. So here I am, presenting you with a nice juicy murder.’
    ‘Tell me all about it.’
    Darke took a large swig from his whisky flask and then told Thornton of all that had happened that evening after he and Carla had gone to Leonardo’s, including details of Stone’s strange behaviour in the Italian restaurant and the murderous assault that had taken place on the hill not far from the property developer’s house.
    Thornton stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘It’s a funny one, all right,’ he said, gazing around the bedroom. ‘It looks as though the intruder murdered the woman first before ransacking the place, which is not the normal course of events in a burglary. There’s no disturbance upstairs, so the chap must have come up here specially to kill her. So it seems that he wasn’t just after valuables… and, of course, we won’t know if anything valuable has gone