Free Shrine to Murder by Roger Silverwood Page B

to a lot. She seemed a nice lady…a widow, on her own. Mrs Oxtaby.’
    ‘ Mrs Oxtaby?’ Angel said. ‘She’s been seen, but we’ll have another word. Anybody else?’
    ‘ No. I’m afraid that was the extent of Dad’s social life these recent days.’
    Angel wrinkled his nose. He lifted his eyebrows and looked at Crisp who shook his head very slightly. He turned back to Mrs Krill. ‘Right. Thank you. I’d like to see your husband now.’
    She looked up and said, ‘Is that all?’
    ‘ Yes. For now.’
    She picked up the phone, told her husband that the police wanted to see him, then directed the two men down the hall, out through the back door and down a path through a lawn to a bungalow. Krill came out of the building and stood in front of the door as they approached.
    ‘ What do you want?’ he said. ‘Have you come to tell me who murdered old man Redman, then?’
    Angel said, ‘Do you think we could talk inside, sir?’
    Krill hesitated then moved away from the door and said, ‘You’ll have to make it quick. I haven’t much time.’
    ‘ Nor have we,’ Angel said and he passed in front of him, stepped into the bungalow and made for the only room ahead with the door open.
    Crisp followed.
    Krill brought up the rear, closed the door, stepped behind a desk, pointed to chairs facing him and the three men sat down.
    Angel got straight down to business. ‘You went down to London to an exhibition? You stayed there on Saturday night?’
    ‘ Yes. What about it?’ Krill said.
    ‘ The exhibition organizer said that you went with your wife.’
    ‘ So what?’
    ‘ Your wife says that she spent the weekend in the house alone.’
    Krill breathed in quickly and rubbed his chin. ‘The organizer doesn’t know my wife. He’s obviously confused.’
    ‘ It wasn’t the organizer who wrote Mr and Mrs Cyril Krill in the visitor’s book, sir. It was you .’
    ‘ Did I? Did I really? You have been busy little boys. Slip of the pen, I expect. I had a thousand things on my mind. It’s something you do automatically…it’s of no importance.’
    ‘ Normally it may have been of no importance, but on this occasion I need to know where you were overnight.’
    ‘ In London.’
    ‘ You didn’t return home, where did you stay?’
    ‘ I don’t remember now…there are…places.’
    Angel ’s jaw muscles hardened. ‘I need to know where you were, sir.’
    Krill glared back at him. ‘I don’t know exactly. There are places where you can drink all night and…relax…and enjoy yourself.’
    ‘ Where, Mr Krill? For your sake, you may need to know exactly where?’
    Krill shook his head. ‘I was having a drink in a cocktail bar called the Mediterranean on Winter Street, and this girl came in. Very attractive. We got talking. Her name was Marilyn…or Madelaine…or something; anyway she said she knew a great new nightclub just opened, so we went there. It was a small restaurant with singing and dancing. We had a table at the front. We had a few drinks and watched the floor show. I was having a great time. But I don’t remember much after that. I may have been drugged. We went back to her place, I think, or somewhere. I don’t know where it was. I remember waking up, on the Embankment, hanging on to a lamppost, being sick over a grate. I had a raging headache. All the cash had gone from my wallet and my watch had been taken. I still had my credit card and my overnight bag. That’s all I remember.’
    Angel rubbed his chin. ‘Did you pay for anything with your credit card or by cheque?’
    ‘ Nightclubs and bars only take cash. They took all of mine.’
    Angel shook his head. Unless the girl could be traced and her evidence accepted, there was no alibi there. ‘What about yesterday morning between 8.40 and 9.00?’
    ‘ I was here. Working in this office, why?’
    Angel noted that that at least was in accord with his wife’s reply, unless she was covering for him. He must move on.
    ‘ A woman was murdered. A