CHAPTER EIGHTEENPosition Is Everything
Nordhall and Sergeant Murphy came into the flat very much as Gamadge’s cat Martin would have come into it for the first time—warily, curiously, with an indefinable air of scepticism. Nordhall followed Gamadge into the studio; the sergeant, methodically and as a matter of routine, plodded to and fro looking into rooms and closets, opening and shutting doors.
Nordhall’s eye fell on the scattered gift cards. “Couldn’t wait for your witnesses after all. I don’t think you meant me to put much stock in all that, did you? I mean you didn’t expect to actually find anything.”
“Well, as a matter of fact I did find something.” Gamadge held out the black valentine. “Poetry in it.”
Nordhall looked at him, looked at the bright flowers on the cover, opened the v
