“I see, you think these initials here, and here, and here,” Tompkins carefully placed his fingerprints on the papers by the letters, “are mine, and these here, here, and here, and here, are my wife’s, well that’s interesting, misguided, but interesting.”
“Well, you’ve just interfered with some potential evidence,” said Ingram, who’d reddened slightly, “but if you’re telling the truth, it’s not so important.”
“It’s not a question of the truth, it’s a question of whether TT is the same as CAT, and FT is the same as PST, which in the English language are never, ever going to be the same. Anyway, I never asked you how you gained entry to this abode when you have no search warrant?”
“The family had contacted the police and asked us to check Mr. Mills’s home hadn’t been burgled by the perpetrators of the crime,” replied Evans as though reading from a piece of paper.
“Is there proof of this contact or was it an anonymous tip off?” asked Tompkins.
“Who can say,” replied Ingram, “we’re here now and everything appears to be in its place, so we shan’t bother you any longer.”
With that Evans and Ingram marched out of the room, leaving the papers on the table.
“What are they playing at?” asked Tompkins to Dexter who came into the room just as the police closed the front door.
“I swear to you, Mr. Tompkins, that these papers weren’t put here by Mr. Mills,” implored Dexter.
“But did the police put them here?” asked Tompkins.
“They must have,” replied Dexter, “unless someone broke in and placed them here.”
“But there’s no sign of forced entry?”
“No, sir, none.”