Blood Storm (19 page)

'I think I'd better go now.' Newman stood up and called
the waitress for the bill.

'Don't pay for me,' she said through clenched teeth.

Newman walked out into the street. He spread out his hands wide in frustration as he saw Nield
approaching.
Seated now in the Fiat with her head hunched down, Paula
saw, understood the gesture. She was not surprised. She
waited until Newman with Nield by his side had driven
away, then got out, put more coins in the meter and walked
along and entered Popsies.

The cafe was empty except for Coral Flenton, who had
ordered more coffee, as if to get over her annoyance. Paula
stood, staring round vaguely, caught Coral's eye, walked
slowly to her table.

'Excuse me, but if you're not waiting for someone I
dislike having even coffee alone.'

'Sit down,' Coral invited with a flashing smile. 'The
coffee here is rather good.' She waved to the waitress and
ordered another cup.

'I'm a bit of a fake,' Paula confessed. 'I'm a friend of Pete Nield, work closely with him.'

'Really.' Coral became guarded. 'And also a friend of Mr
Bob Newman?'

'I'm senior to him.' She paused. 'Friend is the wrong word,' she said, implying she didn't much like him. 'He is a very able man but he has to be careful with me otherwise I'd rip him to bits - verbally.'

'So you work for the same insurance outfit,' Coral
pressed her.

'Yes, I do . . .' Paula paused. 'I rarely say this to anyone
because it sounds so egotistical but I'm second in
command. I heard Pete saying he was going to Covent
Garden so I thought I'd see if I
could find him - to tell him to take the evening off.'

God, I'm awful, Paula thought, making all this up - but this woman could be important. She saw Coral's features
relax and when she spoke her manner was animated and
friendly.

'You then saw it was Newman so you waited until he had
pushed off. If I can help in any way to solve that dreadful murder I will. You see I knew Viola, that is Miss Vander-Browne.'

'Do you know any of her men friends by chance?'

'No, I don't. I do know the Parrot - that's my boss, Miss Partridge - was in a fury and I wondered if she was having
a thing with the murderer.'

'Why would she do that? Be in a fury, I mean.'

'Because Viola was very much a woman of the world. I
don't wish to speak ill of the dead but Viola, a really nice
person, spent the night with rich men for a lot of money. She spent so much on clothes the generous legacy she
inherited didn't always cover her wants. I don't think Viola
would have minded my telling you if it helps to track down
the hideous killer.'

'Did she do this often?'

'Only about three times a year, she told me. We were old
friends because we went to the same boarding school. I'm
small and you know how vicious some girls can be. Viola
used to protect me.'

'So you know Fox Street?'

'Quite well. I used to go and see her and we'd have a meal
in her flat. She was a marvellous cook. I'm not going to the
police because if they came to my work place the Parrot
might use it to have me chucked out of the Civil Service. I
need the job, you see.'

'Don't go to the police, then. A very able man, no longer
in the police, is investigating the murder. May I tell him what you've told me? It's up to you.'

'I could do with some support.' Coral finished her coffee.
'I trust you, so if you trust this
investigator - and you must
- then it's OK by me to pass it all on to him. If you're ready
to go I'd like you to come and see me sometime. My pad is
just down the road. I could show you.'

'I'd like that,' Paula said with a smile.

Coral insisted on paying the small bill. As they were
leaving the cafe, which was beginning to fill up, she took a
plain visiting card from her handbag. She slipped it to
Paula, who palmed it.

'It's got my address, phone number, mobile number,'
Coral went on as they turned right towards the main part of
Covent Garden. 'The mortgage was terrifying but I liked
the place. Tucked away. Here it is.'

They paused before the entrance to a slim three-storey
building, recently built after the demolition of several small
shops, Paula guessed. She looked up as Coral pointed,
gazed up. Paula had a shock.

'That window on the first floor is my living room,' Coral
explained. 'The window is frosted glass for privacy. Not
much to look out at anyway.'

Paula stared at the tall frosted-glass window. It had a
horrible similarity to the blood-drenched window in Fox
Street, where Viola had been slaughtered. She forced
herself to smile as Coral continued speaking.

'Not much space except in the living room. You see now why I put up with the Parrot -I need the salary.'

'Here is my card,' Paula said, giving her the version with
General & Cumbria Assurance, the cover name on the plate
outside the SIS headquarters. 'If I'm out speak to Monica,
give her your first name only. If you're worried I'll come as
soon as I can.'

'I have enjoyed your company,' Coral said as they shook
hands. 'Let's see each other soon.'

'I have a photograph of the murderer of Vander-Browne,'
Tweed was saying on the phone when Paula returned.
Newman and Nield were sitting down, facing each other
like antagonists.

Tweed clapped his hand over the phone to inform Paula.

'I'm on the phone to Chief Inspector Hammerhead.' He removed his hand, continued. 'Yes, a photo of the murderer . . .'

'What!' Everyone in the room heard the policeman's
explosive outburst.

'You heard me correctly,' Tweed replied calmly. 'I'm
sending it over to the Yard for your attention by courier.
No, I've no idea who pushed the envelope containing it
through my letterbox. The lettering on both envelope and
back of the photo is in deliberately crude block lettering. Yes, I've had both items checked for fingerprints. None at
all, as you'd expect. I must go now. Sorry. Goodbye.'

'Is it the original?' Paula asked. 'And why send it to him
anyway?'

'Because as well as me he's investigating the case. I don't
like the man but I play fair, when necessary. You never
know, he might just stumble over something.'

'The only thing he'll stumble over will be his own feet,'
she replied.

'And how did you get on?' Tweed asked, looking at Newman.

'I made a complete and utter balls-up,' Newman began
bluntly. 'Pete introduced me to the informant and I
couldn't get a word out of them. I think I went about talking
to the person
concerned in one hundred per cent the wrong
way. I've apologized to Pete.'

Paula admired Newman's frankness about his failure.
She also noticed he'd made no reference which could even
vaguely identify Coral. Tweed must have read her mind,
which he often did, as she frequently read his.

'Man or woman?' Tweed demanded.

'I don't remember,' Newman replied, staring hard at his
chief.

'A washout, then,' Tweed suggested.

'Absolutely. I think it's done me good. Brought my big
feet back on the ground. I'm taking Pete out for a drink in
a minute.'

'I've had a thought,' Paula began. All eyes turned to her.
She stood up, walked to the far side of Tweed's desk, folded
her arms.

'I can't get out of my mind that cat with its neck screwed
round the wrong way. It was an act of sadistic cruelty - done
by the sort of person who in later years could chop Viola into pieces for the fun of it.'

'Interesting.' Tweed frowned. 'I think you have detected
a significant pointer to the killer. Trouble is, we don't know
which of the three teenagers maltreated the cat in such a
beastly fashion.'

'Unless it was the General himself,' she remarked.

'Oh, my Lord.' Tweed clasped both hands behind his
neck. 'That would be a very strange twist in the plot.'

'And,' Paula went on, 'we know from Frank that the
General makes three-day trips up to London. Frank called
him "virile". Just a thought which crept into my head.'

'I could phone every decent hotel in London and
persuade them to tell me if he stayed there - and if so when,'
volunteered Monica.

'Do it,' said Tweed.

Except, Paula thought as she returned to her desk and
not voicing the idea aloud, he's clever. He'd probably stay
at some rundown boarding house, giving a false name, and never the same place twice.

When Tweed had started talking to Chief Inspector Hammer, Marler had glided into the room. The Invisible
Man, as he was nicknamed in the office, had followed
Paula, parked his car in Covent Garden, had seen everyone
who had entered and left Popsies.

Now he announced, 'I'm going out on the prowl. Never know what I might see.'

'You've just been out somewhere,' Paula said with a
smile.

He squeezed her shoulder. 'And I'm just going out again.
Toodle-pip.'

He saw no point in revealing that his destination was
Covent Garden.

16

On the Thames, Mugger Morgan was steering his barge in close to the dock. He was the only crew
aboard his huge
vessel but that was because of what he was carrying in his
pocket - a large packet of cocaine which would bring him a
load of money when he handed it over to the waiting dealer.

He swore when his mobile phone started buzzing. The
last diversion he wanted at this moment was someone
asking him to do a job. Knowing he'd wonder all the time who had called, he kept one hand on the wheel, used the other to take out the mobile and answer the call.

'Yes,' he growled.

'It's Fitch, Mugger. Need your help bloody fast or I'm a
goner . . .'

'What is this crap?'

'Mugger, I've been shoved down the chute at the
warehouse. I'm 'angin' with a rope round me bleedin' neck.
I've got me feet propped against the side of the chute but
they won't hold much longer. For Christ's sake . . .'