Depths of Deceit by Norman Russell

he’s dead, and I hope you’ll catch the killer, and hang him. Do you want to question James – Mr Harper?’
    ‘I do. Please ask him to come here, now. Was your late husband interested in archaeology? Did he read any books about Roman religion?’
    Laura Barnes looked at Box as though he had lost his senses. For a brief moment, she forgot her seething resentments, and her frightened attempt to apologize for her heartlessness.
    ‘Roman religion? I told you he was a Methodist. He didn’t hold with Roman Catholics. And as for archaeology – well, the only thing my husband was interested in was cement!’
    When Mrs Barnes had gone, Box swiftly examined the murdered man’s desk. There were many receipts, all stamped as paid, and a number of carelessly arranged business letters, mainly requests for the supply of what seemed to Box to be enormous quantities of cement.
    In one pigeon-hole of the roll-top desk Box found four small brown manila envelopes, each of which was secured at the flap by a paper-clip. Each envelope contained what looked to Box like dark, coarse sand. Possibly, they were samples of mortar scraped from between bricks. Each envelope was numbered, and inscribed with a few words in a neat copperplate hand. Opening a fresh page in his notebook, Box copied the inscriptions.
Definitely Ancient Roman. Lime, Sand, Water.
Modern, i.e. this century. Bonner has trade analysis.
Definitely Ancient Roman, Lime, Sand, Water.
Not Roman. Probably 17th century.
    So, Mrs Laura Barnes, thought Box, you weren’t entirely right about your husband’s interests. He knew something about the ancient Romans, if it was only about what they put in their mortar.
    He carefully resealed the envelopes with the paperclips, and slipped them into the inside pocket of his coat. But what was this? Really, poor old Barnes had been very untidy! Two notes, pinned together, one evidently the projected answer to the other.
    Barnes (the first note ran), can I trouble you to get these four done?   I’m nearly there, and these four, if they show what I think they’ll show, will be the final proof. – CW.
    The second note was written in the same neat copperplate hand as the inscriptions on the four envelopes.
    Bonner, in Garrick Flags, did these for me. He has the full analyses. Bonner charged me a guinea, which I paid. – Abraham Barnes.
    ‘Garrick Flags?’ said Box, aloud. ‘I know where that is: just off St Martin’s Lane. Perhaps a call on this person called Bonner would be in order. I’d better take those notes, as well as the samples. I’m beginning to think—’
    He stopped speaking as a discreet tap on the door announced the coming of Mr James Harper.
    ‘Inspector Box,’ said Harper smoothly, and without preamble, ‘I’m sure you’ll make allowances for poor Laura. She doesn’t mean half she says, you know. It’s her excitable nature. We neither of us had anything to do with poor Abraham’s death. It’s a tragedy, that’s what it is.’
    Box looked at the handsome young man standing awkwardly in front of him. He was obviously nervous, and seemed to be making an effort not to lick his dry lips.
    ‘And how do you know what Mrs Barnes has been saying to me, Mr Harper? Did she tell you, just now? If so, it wasn’t a very wise thing for her to do.’
    ‘What? No, she said nothing. But I know how she reacts when she’s upset. I don’t want you thinking that either of us killed Abraham Barnes, that’s all. You’re an experienced man, Mr Box. It’s a madman you’re looking for, not a respectable widow and a hardworking manager.’
    Box closed his notebook and stood up. He looked at the handsome young man with unconcealed distaste. Those two, James and Laura, deserved each other. They were both ruthless and heartless. God help the wretched stepdaughter once Laura came into the property!
    ‘I am an experienced man, Mr Harper,’ said Box, ‘and so I don’t need you to tell me who to suspect. Mr Perrivale has called me