SETTING & SCENARIO

“I can’t believe poor Tommy is dead. I just had coffee with him not two hours ago.” Dr Adamson certainly seemed distressed. “He and I co-own this building, along with Michael Taylor on the second floor.”

Chief Inspector Bryant nodded. “So I understand. I believe Mr Talbot was a private investigator?”

“Yes. My practice is on the first floor, Michael has a law office on the second, and Tommy’s office is up top. We shared the mortgage payments equally between us. He never seemed to have any trouble keeping up his share.”

“Did anyone?” asked Bryant.

“Well, Michael has been having a rather tricky time recently, and I know he’d like us to sell this building so he could move somewhere cheaper. Tommy and I had offered to let him reduce his share a little for a few months, though, until things picked up. I don’t know what will happen now. How did he die, may I ask?”

“Our investigations are ongoing,” Bryant said.

The victim’s receptionist, Annabel Mortimore, knew exactly what had happened. “It was poison,” she told Bryant tearfully. “He and Dr Adamson had just finished their morning coffees. Tommy went into his room, and made a call. He got as far as “Good morning”, when he gasped and started wheezing horribly. He started to stagger towards my room. He looked terrible. Then he fell to his hands and knees, crawled a few paces, and . . . and . . . he died.” She burst out weeping again.

Chief Inspector Bryant offered her a handkerchief and gave her a few moments. Once she had recovered a little, he smiled at her encouragingly. “What happened then?”

“I screamed,” Annabel said. “Then I ran downstairs to find Dr Adamson. He had got out, but Helena, his assistant, called the police, and looked after me until you came. It . . . it must have been Dr Adamson! They’d just had coffee. But why would he kill Tommy? He seems so nice.” She broke down again.

“Perhaps,” said Bryant gently. “Where was Mr Taylor in all this?”

“Oh,” she sniffled, “Mr Taylor was here early, and I could hear that he was disagreeing with Tommy about something. But then he left to go to meetings across town, so he’s been gone for hours. No one else has come by today.”

“Thank you, Miss Mortimore. You’ve been a great help.” Bryant left the receptionist and went into the detective’s office. The room was dominated by an untidy desk bearing an empty coffee mug, various papers, several file folders, a jug of water with a couple of glasses, a telephone on its stand, an inkwell and pens, and some sheets of blotting paper. Behind it was a comfortable chair and in front stood a pair of more formal chairs for visitors. Filing cabinets lined one wall, and bookshelves the other. The building’s mortgage agreement was prominent amid the clutter on the desk.

Taking great care, the chief inspector cautiously sniffed the mug, noticing a faint, bitter hint of almond. Definitely poison, then.

He returned to the reception area and sat down next to Annabel again. “I now know enough to bring the murderer to justice,” he told her.

Who is it, and how does Chief Inspector Bryant know?