sharp. “Ah, good morning, Mr. Foxton,” he said, opening the front door and offering his hand. “And how is your toe today?” “It’s fine,” I said honestly. “It doesn’t hurt at all.” And I’d forgotten to limp. “Nasty things, ingrown toenails,” he said. “Had one myself years ago. Hurt like hell.” “Luckily, I’m a quick healer,” I said. “Now, how can I help?” He stepped to the side, and I walked past him and into the hallway of Herb’s flat. I still thought of it as Herb’s flat although, I supposed, it was now technically mine, or it would be in due course. “Are you certain Mr. Kovak was not in personal financial difficulties?” the chief inspector asked while closing the front door. “No, I’m not certain, but I have no reason to think he was. Why do you ask?” He waved a stack of papers towards me. “What are they?” I asked. “Credit card statements,” said the chief inspector. “So?” “Mr. Kovak appears to have had more than twenty separate credit cards, and, according to these statements, at his death, he owed nearly a hundred thousand pounds on these cards alone.”
What do You think about Dick Francis's Gamble (2011)?
