Tom Briggs sat down suddenly on the nearest chair. 'What? How did she die? When did it happen? I was there last night.'
'She died last night or early this morning. What did you do last night?'
'Me? Why are you asking me? I went there to meet Mr Clarkson - Roger. I'm losing money on this farm and I need more land. I want half Mrs Clarkson's garden.'
'You went into the kitchen. What did you do next? Can you remember?'
Tom Briggs looked at Sergeant Foster and then back at Inspector Walsh. 'I remember it very well. All the family were in the kitchen. Peter Hobbs was there, too. I talked to Roger. He wants his mother to sell the house. But he wants the land. He doesn't want me to have it. But now Mrs Clarkson is dead. What's going to happen now?'
Inspector Walsh got up and took the picture of the girl from the table. 'Who's this?'
Tom's face went red. 'Who? Oh! That's a friend. It's not ... It was a long time ago.'
The two detectives walked back to the Clarksons' house through the garden. It was beautiful, green and quiet. Inspector Walsh felt tired and hungry. Who killed Molly? He knew the answer now, but he needed to ask one or two more questions.
'Let's go, Sergeant,' he said, and put on his hat again. 'Tomorrow is a new day.'
Tom Briggs sat down suddenly on the nearest chair. 'What? How did she die? When did it happen? I was there last night.' 'She died last night or early this morning. What did you do last night?' 'Me? Why are you asking me? I went there to meet Mr Clarkson - Roger. I'm losing money on this farm and I need more land. I want half Mrs Clarkson's garden.' 'You went into the kitchen. What did you do next? Can you remember?' Tom Briggs looked at Sergeant Foster and then back at Inspector Walsh. 'I remember it very well. All the family were in the kitchen. Peter Hobbs was there, too. I talked to Roger. He wants his mother to sell the house. But he wants the land. He doesn't want me to have it. But now Mrs Clarkson is dead. What's going to happen now?' Inspector Walsh got up and took the picture of the girl from the table. 'Who's this?' Tom's face went red. 'Who? Oh! That's a friend. It's not ... It was a long time ago.' The two detectives walked back to the Clarksons' house through the garden. It was beautiful, green and quiet. Inspector Walsh felt tired and hungry. Who killed Molly? He knew the answer now, but he needed to ask one or two more questions. 'Let's go, Sergeant,' he said, and put on his hat again. 'Tomorrow is a new day.'
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