![]() ![]() 'Here it is,' said Jim, '"Wheelbarrow Clue in Double Slaying. ![]() 'Ow, ooh, get off, get off.' These imprecations were directed towards Jim Pooley, whose oversized boot had come snugly to rest beneath Omally's chin. Omally awoke with a start, something was pressing firmly into his throat and stopping his breath. 'I was just talking about that to Pooley,' said Neville, gesturing towards Jim's table.īut naught, however, remained to signal that either Jim Pooley or John Omally had ever been there, naught but for two half-consumed pints of Large going warm upon the table and a saloon-bar door which swung quietly to and fro upon its hinge. Before him a monstrous heap of such peelings spoke most fluently of the restricted diet upon which the two were at present subsisting. Omally was not listening, he was peeling a potato. 'I mean we might tell the police about what we saw it might start an investigation into what is going on in the Mission.' They looked at each other, dropped the newspaper and fled. The two men did not wait to see what might happen. 'But "early arrest", what do you think that means?' ![]() 'Where you have been for the last two days, in my bloody allotment shed.' A plainclothes detective and three burly constables leapt from the vehicle and swept into the saloon bar. Driven at high speed, the car came through the red lights at the bottom of Haling Road, roared past them and screeched to a standstill a hundred yards further on, outside the Flying Swan. The words were drowned by the scream of a police-car siren. Jim took one of these and rattled the letterbox in a perfect impression of a man dropping pennies into it. Norman's shop was closed for the half day and a few copies of the midweek Mercury still remained in the wire rack to the front door. ![]()
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