I’m working on a novella which may boringly be called “Motive, Means and Opportunity” where I will present a chunk of information from which you if you want to, can become the armchair detective.
Here’s the second part, the so-called Means
Everyone knew I had a gun. It was locked away in a safe that was not in an obvious position in the dressing room at home.
Several years ago our neighbourhood had been subjected to several breaking and several people had been injured, prompting the rest of us to seriously consider getting protection.
I got a Glock 19, 9 mm along with several of my neighbours and then both Wendy and I got lessons so we knew how to use it properly, and avoid shooting either each other or in our feet.
The thing is, there had only been that one round of breaking, and since the gun was put away on the safe about eighteen months ago, it had not seen the light of day since.
Or so I thought.
When asked to check if it was still there, it wasn’t, much to my surprise.
Equally, to my surprise, the bullet that killed James Burgman was a nine millimetre. Was that a coincidence, I didn’t think so.
© Charles Heath 2019