Chapter EighteenA knock sounded on Trevor’s doorframe, and he looked up from studying the Harrell case notes. Police Constable Warren Parris entered the office then saluted. “Good afternoon, sir. Hope I’m not interrupting. I have a report about Miss Brown.”
“Excellent.” Trevor waved Parris to one of visitor chairs, and the constable seated himself. “What do you have?”
Parris retrieved a small notebook from his pocket and flipped it open. “My handwriting is atrocious, so I’ll type these up for you.”
“Fine, but go on with your report.”
“Yes, sir.” Parris ran a finger around his collar. “At nine o’clock yesterday morning, Miss Brown left her flat and went to the Broadcasting House. She was there until eleven o’clock. Then she stopped by a small café where she sat outside and drank two cup
