Below the Clock. David Brawn

      ‘Mr Petrie, this is outrageous!’

      ‘Believe me, my friend, nothing is further from my immature mind than outrage. I came here thinking that you might assist me and that in return for your help I might give you a few words of fatherly advice. You have not enabled me to do anything of the kind. The only way in which you can help me is by complete frankness. I hope you’ll bear that in mind. It might assist you the next time we meet—and that will be before much more water flows under Westminster Bridge.’

      ‘Doesn’t sound as though you’re satisfied,’ said Watson.

      ‘I’m not. Oh! Before I go would you mind telling me what you know about this man Paling?’

      ‘That’s quite easy. I only know that he has been associated with Reardon during the last twelve months. I don’t know how, why, or where they met, and I don’t know what they had in common. It always seemed to me that they were frightened of each other. That’s all I know.’

      ‘Doesn’t help me. Thanks very much.’

      Petrie and Ripple left the building and walked round to the Yard. The miserable Ripple was more melancholic than ever.

      ‘This case will never break in a month of Sundays,’ he complained.

      ‘Maybe it won’t, Sunshine. You’ll find when you do get to the tail end of it that all your trouble has been worthwhile. I can see quite a lot of things that don’t fit. It may help us to discover what’s happened about the analysis of that claret. At any rate, the report should give us a start. Think it will be ready?’

      ‘I imagine so. I’ll give a ring as soon as we reach the office.’

      Petrie sat down with a copy of the Fishing Gazette while the Inspector got his number. The little man heard Ripple’s request for information and then saw the man’s jaw sag. The Yard man slapped down the receiver and slumped into a chair.