Dead End for Murder E-Book

Rosemary Hellyer-Jones

• Herausgeber: Ernst Klett Sprachen GmbH
• Kategorie: Fremdsprachen
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Seitenzahl: 74

Beschreibung

Der Postbote findet Colonel Townsend ermordet in der Field Lane. Inspector Chapman, neu in der Stadt, muß diesen Fall klären. (Hinweis: Die französische Version dieser Geschichte hat den Titel "Pas de vacances pour le commissaire") Lektüren Sek I / Niveau A2 / Lektüren mit Annotationen

Leseprobe

Dead End for Murder

Rosemary Hellyer-Jonesand Peter Lampater

Dead Endfor Murder

Rosemary Hellyer-Jonesand Peter Lampater

Dead End for Murder

1. Auflage

Das Werk und seine Teile sind urheberrechtlich geschützt. Jede Nutzung in anderen als den gesetzlich zugelassenen Fällen bedarf der vorherigen schriftlichen Einwilligung des Verlags. Hinweis zu § 52 a UrhG: Weder das Werk noch seine Teile dürfen ohne eine solche Einwilligung in das Internet oder ein Netzwerk eingestellt werden. Dies gilt auch für Intranets von Schulen und sonstigen Bildungseinrichtungen. Ein weiterer kommerzieller Gebrauch oder die Weiterleitung an Dritte sind nicht gestattet.

© Ernst Klett Sprachen GmbH, Rotebühlstr. 77, 70178 Stuttgart, 1976.Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Internetadresse: www.klett.de / www.lektueren.com

Satz: Satzkasten, StuttgartUmschlaggestaltung und Umschlagbild: Elmar Feuerbach

ISBN 978-3-12-547922-7eISBN 978-3-12-909004-6

Contents

Death in Field Lane

Mr Beedie

Saturday’s Work

Four Winds

What Happened to Dorothy?

The Legacy

The Alibi

Frank Grab’s Story

Dead End

Comprehension Questions

Death in Field Lane

I had been at Great Stapleton for only a few weeks when Colonel Townsend was found murdered. Nobody could have been more surprised than I was myself, for Great Stapleton isn’t exactly the kind of place where you would expect to investigate a case of murder! It is a small country town in the South of England, not much bigger than a village. Its inhabitants live quiet lives; there are only a few shops in the High Street, and if you want to go out in the evenings, the local cinema and the ‘Horse and Jockey’ are the only places that are open. When Mr Robb the postman, his round face red with excitement, rushed into my room at the police station on Friday morning with the news, I thought at first that it must be a joke.

“What? Colonel Townsend murdered?” I asked in horror when I saw that the postman was serious.

“Found him in Field Lane just a few moments ago, Inspector. I was on the way to his house with a few letters, and suddenly I saw him there, lying on the ground. Terrible!”

Who could have done it, I wondered? Or had the postman made a mistake? Perhaps the Colonel was ill and had had some kind of an attack; I had seen him go into Dr Sutton’s surgery only the day before. I decided that this was the most likely explanation. But if it was murder after all …? I realized that I would be in rather a hopeless position, for I only knew the Colonel by sight, and had no idea who his friends or enemies might be; I wished that I had been at Great Stapleton longer.

Constable Davis and I put on our coats and a moment or two later we could see for ourselves that Mr Robb’s astonishing story was true. I recognized Colonel Townsend at once. He lay motionless on the ground. He wore a light coat and no hat; I noticed spots of blood in his thick grey hair. Dr Sutton had been informed, of course, and shortly after we had arrived, he drove up the narrow lane in his car, jumped out and hurried over to us, his black bag in his hand.

The doctor was the only person at Great Stapleton whom I felt I knew at all. I had joined the local golf club a week before, and he and I had had a couple of games together. He was slightly younger than myself, about 35, I guessed, and I felt that we had something in common, for he, too, was a comparative ‘newcomer’ to the town – he told me he had come to Great Stapleton about three years ago. He came up to us now with a serious expression on his usually smiling face.

“Good heavens! Colonel Townsend! What an awful thing! But you don’t really believe it’s murder, do you, Inspector?”

“I’m afraid it looks like it, Doctor,” I said. “Have a look at him.”

Dr Sutton bent down and examined the body. It only took him a few moments. He looked up at us with a shake of the head.

“You’re right, Inspector. He seems to have been hit over the head from behind. Death must have been immediate.”

“Any idea what kind of weapon the killer could have used, Doctor?” I asked.

His answer was what I had expected. “Some kind of blunt instrument. Something heavy, I suppose. Impossible to be absolutely sure.”

“Quite. And the time of death?”

“Oh, obviously quite some hours ago,” said Dr Sutton, looking down at the Colonel’s body and then at myself. “Eight or ten hours. Possibly longer.”

I looked at my watch. It was just after nine. So he must have been killed some time during the night. I tried to imagine the scene …

“Noticed this, sir?” said Davis. He pointed to a brown leather glove lying beside the body. “Could be a useful clue, sir.”

I smiled, and turned to the doctor. “I think Constable Davis has been reading too many detective stories. He looks for clues in everything.”

I picked up the glove.

“You may be right, Davis,” I said, putting it into my pocket. “But that wallet over there in the road will probably help us more. Have a look at it, Davis.”

The black leather wallet that had been thrown away was marked inside: H. R. T. It was empty.

“Someone after the poor old Colonel’s money,” said Dr Sutton. “And someone with rather violent methods. What a way, to get a few pounds!”

It certainly looked as if the Colonel had been attacked by someone who was after the money in his wallet. I doubted whether there had been a struggle; he had been hit from behind and probably never knew who it was. It was a bad business. Of course it was possible that the killer had acted from other motives. The empty wallet might be a blind … As for the glove, I guessed that it must belong to the Colonel himself.

In the afternoon I saw Mrs Townsend. It was the first time I had been inside Rose Cottage, the Townsends’ house. In fact, since I had arrived at Great Stapleton a few weeks before, I had not been inside more than one or two people’s houses. I had not made any friends, though I hoped that a friendship might develop between myself and Dr Sutton. My wife and I agreed that nobody seemed to be very interested in newcomers to the town; we felt that we were outsiders, and that we would never be allowed to enter the circle of true ‘Stapletonians’. As I walked through the garden, I wondered how Mrs Townsend would receive me.

I had expected to see an older person, for the Colonel was at least sixty. So I was surprised when an attractive well-dressed woman of between 35 and 40 came forward to shake hands. She had already put on a black skirt and blouse, and was very pale, but there was no sign of emotion in her voice when she spoke to me.

“Inspector Chapman?”

“Mrs Townsend?”

“Some questions about my husband, I suppose?”

I nodded. She showed me into the large sitting-room. The furniture was nearly all new, and everything was expensive-looking. There was a beautiful Persian carpet on the floor.

I sat down in one of the large armchairs.

“When did you last see your husband, Mrs Townsend?”

“Last night, before he went to the chess club.”

“The chess club?”

“Yes. My husband always played chess at the club on Thursday evenings.”

I couldn’t help noticing how she had used the past tense, without hesitation. ‘My husband always played …’ It was interesting.

“And how long did he usually stay at the club?” I asked.

“Oh, he was always at home again by half past ten or eleven o’clock.”

“And last night? Didn’t he come home?”

Mrs Townsend blushed slightly. “I – I’m afraid I really don’t know, Inspector. You see, I went to bed myself at about ten, and I didn’t know that he was missing until breakfast time this morning.”

“You and your husband had separate bedrooms, then?” I asked.

She nodded.

“But who could have done it, Inspector?” she asked suddenly. At last a flash of emotion crossed her face. “Who could it have been? Who could have wanted to kill him?”

I showed her the wallet. “This was your husband’s, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was. He was robbed, you mean?” she asked, seeing that the wallet was empty.

“It looks like it,” I said. “And just one more thing before I go, Mrs Townsend. Is this your husband’s glove?”

I showed her the brown leather glove which Davis had thought was such a valuable clue. I was surprised when she shook her head.

“Are you quite sure?”

“Absolutely.”

I thanked her and apologized for having disturbed her.

“Come again if there are any more questions,” she said.

I left Rose Cottage and walked down Field Lane in the direction of the chess club. I felt that I had already discovered something important about the Colonel, his life and his personal relationships. A picture was beginning to take shape in my mind. He was obviously wealthy, he enjoyed a game of chess; his wife was not in love with him and had probably married him for his money. Killed him for his money perhaps? It was still impossible to guess.