MARGARET JONES, WHEN they had her in the station for questioning, was very vague and still inclined to be weepy about the death of her lodger.
‘Why are you asking me all these questions?’ she demanded at one point. ‘I’ve already answered most of them once.’
‘You know why, Mrs Jones. Did your husband or Peter Allbright murder Jaws Harrison? Did you dispose of the weapon?’
‘Me? Of course not. According to what I’ve heard, it was a hammer that was used to kill him. Ours isn’t the only hammer on the street. Besides, it was still in the shed when Mr Harrison’s body was found.’
‘That’s as may be, but very few people left the vicinity of Primrose Avenue after the murder and had the opportunity to dispose of the weapon before uniformed police arrived. You’re one of them.’
‘Our hammer’s not ev
