Murder in 1975 (Gay - Romantic Thriller)

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine 

Two weeks after his release from hospital, Philips dropped in to see Harper at his office. His passage through the building caused quite a stir, and Inspector Martin would have given his eyeteeth to have been a fly on the wall in Harper's room. In fact their conversation had nothing to do with Toni Gordon's murder at all, and nobody broke down and made a confession. 

"I've finished the novel Bill, what with all that time in bed. I was wondering if you could come over to my place this evening and read it through for me ... if you're free?" 

"Well, I have got some paperwork to finish, I couldn't get there until about ten," hesitated the detective. 

"You can always spend the night with me if it gets too late," Philips suggested unthinkingly. He could have bitten his tongue out. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded," he said quickly. He paused awkwardly. "If you still ... uh, feel the same about me, I..."  

"Don't worry about that," Harper put in sharply. "That's all finished; I've got over it now." 

"Oh," Philips felt absurdly bereft. "You'll come then?" 

"Yes. Yes I will. Around ten." 

"Fine. I'll see you then." 

Immediately, once Philips was gone, Harper was assailed by doubts. Was he being unnecessarily stupid, facing up to temptation like that? Wouldn't it have been safer to say, "I'm sorry Richard but I better not come, I can't trust myself alone with you?" No; of course not. He would go and he would control himself and he wouldn't touch Philips. He was still telling himself that when Philips opened the door to him. 

The writer had sorted out the relevant sections of the novel earlier on and gave them to Harper to read. Harper sat on the sofa and got started while Philips poured them both a drink. The writer listened intently to Harper's precise comments, noting them down on a piece of foolscap. 

"I had a visit from Inspector Martin in hospital," said Philips when the last page and been finished and they had poured themselves another drink. 

Harper looked up curiously. "Yes?" 

"He told me that the police were withdrawing the charges against me for the present, but not to leave town without permission. I must admit that was a huge relief. I gather some additional evidence has surfaced which gives me the benefit of the doubt, something about fingerprints. But you better be careful, Bill. I think you may have taken my place on the suspect list. He kept slipping in questions about you. How well did you know Toni, and had I ever seen you together? Then he wanted to know if I could describe my attacker a bit better. Was he taller than me? And so on ... Half my answers were 'no' and the rest were 'no comments'. 

"He wanted to know why I had blanks in the gun, of course, so I told him I'd just wanted to use it to threaten you and that started him off on a whole series of questions about what we'd both meant by our final conversation. So I did what you did, I told him it was personal and nothing to do with the case. None of that made him happy, but he had to let it go in the end." He smiled maliciously in remembrance of the Inspector's frustration. After all, Martin had been one of the men who had shot him. 

"Poor Jack," commiserated Harper insincerely. "He's having a hard time with us isn't he? So much suspicion, but not enough evidence." 

Philips yawned, "I'm turning in for the night Bill. Will you be alright on the couch? I'll get some blankets for you." 

Harper felt as if his stomach was dissolving, along with his precarious sense of control. "Yeah, it'll be fine," he managed. He cursed himself violently, there was still time to go home. This was an act of purest insanity. As he was hesitating, Philips brought out the blankets and a pillow and then went into the bathroom to get ready for bed. Biting his top lip, Harper hastily made up the couch and took off his shirt and trousers, waiting for his turn in the bathroom. Then he made the mistake of looking up.