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“Listen” he told me, “those photos I took of Brian and your Missus, I ought to hand them in to the police.”
My stomach jumped. I nodded. And gulped. And tried hard not to appear anxious.
“But I’ve given it a lot of thought,” he continued. “Did you ever show your copies of the photos to Sandra?” I shook my head. “And did you have it out with Sandra about her affair with Brian?”
“No I didn’t,” I replied. “I was going to, but then all this came up, so I’ve decided to let it go.”
“Have you destroyed the prints I gave you?”
“Yes.”
He looked relieved.
“I know it can’t have been you who killed Brian, and if I tell the police about his affair with Sandra, it won’t help to catch the murderer,” he said. “All it’ll do is cause you problems, and send the police in the wrong direction. It mi
