The police obviously had me down as a suspect. In their language I was in the frame but they didn’t have the weapon. That was still safely sitting in the secret compartment in the bottom of the clock. There was also no apparent motive for the murders and no connection between the Boveys and the traveller killings, except for the fact that the same gun had been used in each case. Of course I had had some dealings with the Boveys and I had been in Lyminge forest on the morning of the first shooting but that was all they had, circumstantial evidence. And if Sandra’s brilliant idea of going to the pub held up then I was above suspicion. Then the doorbell rang and suddenly I was not so cock sure. The Detectives were back. My alibi hadn’t worked. I imagined them questioning the staff at the pub and one of the servers recalling the exact time we had arrived. I shouldn’t have been so damned certain it would succeed. With a resigned feeling that I was going to have to face a far more intense interrogation, I got up and went to answer the door but as I turned out of the lounge into the hallway I saw only one figure through the frosted glass.
