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pride. She won’t want to admit that her wayward husband preferred to spend the night with some other filly.”
    â€œShe wasn’t exactly grieving.”
    â€œTrue. I noted her demeanour. Maybe she’s not sorry he’s dead. It doesn’t make her a murderess.”
    â€œThere’s money behind this,” the priest said. “A man who can splash out on champagne and oysters at the Star and Garter is doing too well for a jobbing actor with a wife and father-in-law to support.”
    â€œWe checked the bank account,” the inspector said, pleased to demonstrate how thorough he’d been. “They have a modest income, but two days before his death he withdrew most of what they had, about sixty pounds. And so would I, if I was planning to do myself in. I’d have a binge and a night out with a girl before I pulled the trigger. Wouldn’t you?”
    â€œI don’t go out with girls and I wouldn’t pull the trigger,” said Father Montgomery. “Neither is permitted.”
    They drew up at the Flanagans’ house in Teddington. Emily Flanagan opened the door, saw them together, and said, “Holy Moses!”
    In the kitchen, the brandy bottle was empty. Old Mr Russell was asleep in a rocking chair in front of the stove.
    â€œNo need to disturb him,” Inspector Carew said. “This concerns you, ma’am. An apparent discrepancy in what you told me. You said the fatal shot was fired at midnight.”
    â€œOr thereabouts,” said Mrs Flanagan.
    â€œOur latest information places your husband on a river steamer in Richmond at midnight.”
    â€œThe heel! What was he doing there?”
    â€œDancing with an actress until nearly four in the morning.”
    â€œI’m not surprised,” she said, failing to appreciate what an admission this was. “Which baggage was it this time?”
    â€œDo you admit you lied to me?”
    â€œHow could I have known what he was doing in Richmond?”
    â€œThe time. You lied about the time.”
    â€œâ€˜Thereabouts’ is what I said. What difference does an hour or two make to you? I guessed he was entertaining some little trollop on the last night of his life, but the world doesn’t need to know, does it? Allow me some dignity when I walk behind his coffin, Inspector.”
    â€œDid you know he emptied his bank account and treated his actor friends to oysters and champagne?”
    â€œDid he, the rotter?”
    â€œYou don’t seem overly concerned.”
    â€œHe left no will. As his nearest and dearest I’ll inherit everything he ever owned, including this house.”
    â€œNot if you’re hanged for murder, madam.”
    â€œ
What?
” For the first time in all this sorry business, she looked alarmed.
    Father Montgomery raised his hands to urge restraint on both sides. “Before we go any further, Inspector, why don’t I show you what I discovered in the den?”
    Emily Flanagan, muttering mild expletives, followed them into the room where the body had been discovered. The priest pointed out the bullet hole in the books and remarked that it was unlikely that the victim had held a gun to his head and missed. “I suggest that someone else was holding the gun, someone who waited through the small hours of the night for him to come in and then pointed it at him and brought him in here and sat him at his own desk, where it would look as if he chose to die. I suggest there was a struggle and he deflected the first shot, but the second was fired with the gun to his head.”
    â€œA crime of passion, then,” said the inspector.
    â€œNo. Let me show you something else.” He rolled back the carpet and revealed the copy of
John Bull
. “You can pick it up,” he told the inspector. “Take note of the number seven scribbled on the top right corner. The magazine was delivered to this house as usual. It was Mr Russell’s copy, but