His shoes were almost new too. He had bought them at the same store. He could work the same dodge with them. He would then have replaced the suit and shoes so Ann wouldn’t know he had got rid of the original suit and shoes.
He made a parcel of the suit and another parcel of the shoes and put them in the hall. As he was turning back to the bedroom he saw the newspaper delivery boy coming up the path. As soon as the newspaper came through the letter-box, he grabbed it and took it into the sittingroom. He went through the paper from cover to cover, his heart thumping and his hands clammy.
He didn’t expect to find any mention of Fay’s murder, and he wasn’t disappointed. If there was anything to report, the evening newspapers would have it.
It was almost time now for him to leave for the bank. He put on his hat, picked up the two parcels, locked the front door, and left the key under the mat for Carrie to find.
As he walked down the path to the gate, a car drew up outside the bungalow with a squeal of brakes.
Ken felt his heart turn a somersault, and for one ghastly moment he had to fight against a mad impulse to turn around and bolt back indoors. But he kept hold of himself with an effort, and stared at the car, his heart thudding.
Parker, red-faced and cheerful, waved to him from the car.
“Hello, sport,” he said. “Thought I’d pick you up. One good turn deserves another. Come on — hop in.”
Ken opened the gate and crossed the sidewalk to the car, aware that his knees felt weak and the muscles in his legs were fluttering. He opened the car door and got in.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “I didn’t know you were driving up this morning.”