Read Death of a Cave Dweller for Free Online

sir,” he said in the firm but reassuring tone he’d spent long hours perfecting. “I’ll be your liaison with the Liverpool Police.”
    Woodend shook the hand, and ran his eyes quickly up and down the local flatfoot. Hopgood was in his mid-thirties, the chief inspector guessed. He had probably only just made the height qualification, had thin pointed features and the sort of eyes which suggested craftiness rather than intelligence. He probably wasn’t a bad bobby in his own way, but he was certainly not one Woodend wanted to let anywhere near a murder investigation.
    The chief inspector cocked his head in the general direction of Rutter.
    â€œThis is my sergeant,” he said. “Bob Rutter. He was a grammar-school boy, you know, which means that he probably has more brains in that head of his than you an’ me have between us. Which is another way of sayin’ that he’s got my complete an’ utter confidence, so if he asks for anythin’, there’s no need to check back with me if he should have it. Understood?”
    So much for the pleasantries, Inspector Hopgood thought. “Yes, sir, it’s understood,” he said.
    â€œRight,” Woodend continued. “Have you booked us in at a bed an’ breakfast or summat?”
    â€œWe’ve got you rooms at the Adelphi, sir.”
    Woodend raised an eyebrow in mock astonishment.
    â€œThe Adelphi!” he repeated. “My, but we are grand. We’d better make this case last as long as possible, then, Sergeant.”
    â€œSir?” Rutter asked quizzically.
    â€œThe Adelphi is probably the best hotel in Liverpool,” Woodend told him. “You’ll not be stayin’ in its like again – not on a bobby’s wages, you won’t – so like I say, we better make the investigation last.”
    A look of concern appeared on Inspector Hopgood’s face.
    â€œThat’s just Mr Woodend’s little joke,” Rutter explained.
    Hopgood turned his attention to the chief inspector, as if looking for confirmation.
    â€œAye, I’m a great one for makin’ little jokes,” Woodend assured him. His eyes narrowed. “I sincerely hope, Inspector, that the Adelphi Hotel – as grand as it is – isn’t too far from the scene of the crime. Because if it is too far, it’s no bloody good to me.”
    â€œHow far
is
too far, sir?” Hopgood asked.
    â€œIf I can walk it from one place to the other in fifteen minutes, that’ll be good enough for me.”
    â€œYou won’t need to walk, sir,” Hopgood pointed out. “You’ll have a car and driver at your disposal.”
    â€œAn’ sometimes I might actually use them,” Woodend countered. “But you don’t solve murders by lookin’ out through the windows of a police Bentley. You have to clog it around. Get a taste of the place. Feel the pulse of it through the soles of your feet. So I’ll ask you again, Inspector. Can I get from the hotel to the scene of the crime in fifteen minutes?”
    â€œI should think so,” said Hopgood, who had pretty much given up walking anywhere since he’d been promoted out of foot patrol.
    â€œIt’ll do champion then,” Woodend said. “Have our suitcases sent up there, will you?”
    â€œWon’t you be going there yourself, sir?” Hopgood asked.
    â€œI’ve never really felt comfortable in posh hotel bars.”
    â€œI beg your pardon, sir?”
    â€œIt’s thirsty work,
travellin’,” Woodend told him. “So where’s
the nearest ordinary, decent pub?”

Four
    I nspector Hopgood – who didn’t approve of drinking in the middle of the day, but in the few short minutes he’d known Woodend had already learned better than to protest – tried to steer the London men into the lounge of the Chandler’s Arms, only to find that he himself was being skilfully