Jonathan Creek- The Problems at Gallows Gate

Chapter 3

  “Still warm,” was Madeline’s comment when she checked for a pulse.

  “Is she?” said Jonathan, not really listening. He was walking around the bathroom, looking for anything that might help solve the mystery. “That’s odd…” he mumbled under his breath. He reached into a wastepaper basket just outside the bathroom door.

  “Her name’s Felicity. It’s in that wallet in her skirt. These little beauties on the floor are obviously her boots. Rather tight, thoug- what are you doing? Do you know how unhygienic that is?” Madeline exclaimed, catching sight of Jonathan’s hand rummaging around in the little dustbin.

  “Don’t go all Health and Safety on me,” he replied, pulling out a long black stocking. He ran his fingers along the black cloth.

  “Hey, look here! Under the basin. There’s a pipe!” came Madeline’s voice from inside the bathroom.

  “There usually is…” said Jonathan, standing up and examining the back door. Bolted.

  “Jonathan!”

  “Right, I’m coming,” he said, walking over and squatting down next to Madeline. “What… oh, that kind of pipe.” On the ground was an old-fashioned wooden pipe, of the kind usually seen dangling from the mouths of nineteenth-century gentlemen.

  “Fell out of the killer's pocket, d’you reckon? In the struggle.”

  Making no reply, Jonathan furrowed his brow in thought. "The floor's pretty clean," was his only comment.

  "Well, not everyone's as untidy as you are, you know. Some people, and I say this at risk of greatly appalling you, do clean with this marvellous invention called a mop." 

  Seeing that he did not intend to reply, Madeline reached for the pipe, only to be stopped by her companion. “Don’t pick it up!”

  “I’m wearing gloves! Don’t be such a worryrat. I’m an investigative journalist, Jonathan, not exactly an amateur.” She picked the pipe up and the pair examined it.

  “Hmm…” murmured Jonathan, standing up. “Kitty said she saw him strangling her in…?”

  “The kitchen.”

  “Is that right…” trailing off, he made his way through the darkened corridors to the scene of the murder. Madeline was right on his heels.

  Switching on the light, he stepped onto the cold linoleum floor and was greeted by broken plates, shattered bowls, fallen cutlery, dishtowels strewn across the tiles. The kitchen was a complete mess.

  “Well, something definitely happened in here,” commented Madeline, her eyes taking in the whole scene.

  “No argument there,” replied Jonathan, “and yet… why has the body been moved back there into the bathroom? Also… what’s up with the tape in the answering machine?” - striding over to the innocent-looking phone on the countertop.

  “What’s the matter with it?”

  “There isn’t any tape is what’s the matter… probably can be explained away, but it still is odd… I did notice it just now, when I called the police, but...” as he trailed off, he absently pulled the stocking from his coat pocket and fiddled with it.

  “Why do you carry ladies’ stockings around with you, may I ask?” inquired Madeline, with raised eyebrow.

  “Found it, in the bin near the bathroom.”

  “Let me see,” said Madeline, snatching it from him. “Well… it’s been torn,” she said, after examining the floppy black object.

  “Is the kitchen door locked?”