From Doon With Death

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‘I think you’re getting things a bit out of proportion, Mr Parsons,’ Burden said. He was tired and he’d been going to take his wife to the pictures. Besides, the first things he’d noticed when Parsons brought him into the room were the books in the rack by the fireplace. The titles were enough to give the most level-headed man the jitters, quite enough to make a man anxious where no ground for anxiety existed: Palmer the Poisoner, The Trial of Madeleine Smith, Three Drowned Brides, Famous Trials, Notable British Trials.

   ‘Don’t you think your reading has ‘been preying on your mind?’

   ‘I’m interested in crime,’ Parsons said. ‘It’s a hobby of mine.’

   ‘I can see that.’ Burden wasn’t going to sit down if he could avoid it. ‘Look, you can’t say your wife’s actually missing. You’ve been home one and a half hours and she isn’t here. That’s all. She’s probably gone to the pictures. As a matter of fact I’m on my way there now with my wife. I expect we’ll meet her coming out.’

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