Read Jack in the Box for Free Online Page A

Quincey received guests in his room. Nothing unusual about that. ‘Do you have a signing-in book?’ Von saidsuddenly.
    ‘Don’t need one. My tenants come and go as they please, with or without guests.’
    ‘So had Mr Quincey been lodging with you long?’
    ‘He arrived on September 1st. It was a Friday. I remember because my brother was visiting. He always pops in on a Friday. He helped Mr Quincey with his luggage.’
    It was time for the question Von always dreaded asking. The answer could set them chasing their tails. ‘Mrs Deacon, can you think of anyone who might have wanted to kill him?’
    ‘Everyone liked him.’ Her voice became agitated. ‘He was a proper gentleman, he was. Always treated me like a lady. And he was a good tenant. Paid his rent on time every month. In cash. And he was never late.’
    Every month? She’s just told us that Quincey arrived on September 1st. That’s only a fortnight ago .
    Von looked at Steve. He shook his head to indicate he had no further questions. She got to her feet and handed Mrs Deacon a card.
    ‘You’ve been very helpful. If you think of anything, please get in touch.’ She paused. ‘How long have you had this establishment, Mrs Deacon?’
    The woman lifted her eyes from the card. ‘Twenty-three years, this coming month. Why do you ask?’
    ‘Do you keep records of your lodgers?’
    A note of caution crept into the voice. ‘Course I do. Keep everything for the Revenue, don’t I?’
    ‘Had Mr Quincey ever rented from you before?’ Von said softly.
    ‘No,’ came the quick reply. ‘First time I clapped eyes on him was that Friday my brother was here.’
    ‘What about when the play ran in 1985?’
    ‘I don’t remember anything about that.’
    ‘But you know which play I’m talking about, don’t you, Mrs Deacon?’
    A haunted look came into the woman’s eyes. ‘I remember the killings. Who wouldn’t? I mean, it was all over the papers, wasn’t it?’ She turned her body so that Von couldn’t see her face.
    ‘Thank you, Mrs Deacon. We’ll let ourselves out.’

    As they left the building, the sun slipped from behind a cloud, painting the brick walls with light. A man on roller skates sailed past, executing a rapid turn on one leg.
    ‘She’s hiding something,’ Steve said, when they were settled in the Toyota. ‘You saw how she came over all shifty when you mentioned the old murders.’ He turned the car round. ‘So is she in the frame?’
    ‘Because the first person to discover the body is the prime suspect?’ Von smiled. ‘I’d put down good money that there’ll be no end of people who’ll vouch she was at the bingo the night Quincey was murdered.’
    He switched on the radio and the sounds of ‘Lady Hear Me Tonight’ filled the car.
    ‘Can you turn that down, please?’ ‘Not a fan of Modjo, boss?’ he said, reaching for the volume control.
    ‘Never heard of him.’ She gazed out of the window. The autumn wind was rising, blowing dead leaves and litter into swirls.
    ‘So what have we learnt from Mrs Deacon?’ he said.
    ‘That Quincey was a bon viveur .’
    ‘As those Frenchies say. And he was a proper gentleman.’
    She lifted an eyebrow. ‘Not many of those around.’
    ‘No, boss.’
    ‘But Mrs Deacon was lying about one thing.’
    ‘Only one?’
    She turned to face him. ‘September 1st wasn’t the first time she met Quincey. She knew him from before.’

Chapter 5
    Back in the incident room, they found that house-to-house had revealed nothing, the other landladies had neither seen nor heard a thing, and none of the taxi drivers had been round by Mrs Deacon’s on the night Max Quincey was murdered. Mrs Deacon’s payphone had been out of action for weeks, and there was nothing yet from Quincey’s mobile.
    A big fat zero, and more or less what Von had expected. Rapid nil returns came at the start of most murder investigations. She rubbed her forehead. ‘Okay, everyone, DI English and I have been looking through the Jack