by Colin Forbes
'We are facing ruthless men capable of anything.' Tweed had warned. 'The interview with Benton did nothing to reassure me . . .'
It was a murky evening as Paula drove slowly into Covent Garden. The dark was intensified by a low ceiling of black clouds. Close behind her Newman drove in his car with Nield in his car behind him. A motorcyclist purred past them. In the saddle was Harry, who pulled up a few yards beyond the entrance to Coral's apartment.
Paula saw that the space she'd used on her previous visit was empty. She turned into it, got out, locked the car, inserted coins into the meter. By now both Nield and Newman had found parking spaces. They had planned in advance where each of them would wait. Newman bought a cup of coffee and a newspaper he'd pretend to read opposite Coral's entrance. Recalling the photo sent to them by persons unknown of the scene outside Viola's flat, he was disturbed to see the lighted frosted-glass window.
As soon as Paula pressed the bell the door was opened and Coral stood there, smiling. As she stepped inside Coral threw both arms round her visitor, hugged her. Paula used her foot to kick the door shut behind her.
'I am so relieved to see you,' Coral said as she led the way down a long hall and up a flight of stairs. They went into the living room, modestly but tastefully furnished.
'Has something happened to disturb you?' Paula enquired as she sat on a sofa.
'I suppose it has. I don't know where the hell I am.'
Coral picked up a glass and drank. Paula sniffed brandy. Then she saw the bottle perched on a small table near the sofa. She asked for wine when Coral offered brandy.
'What's the problem?' Paula asked after sipping her wine.
'The Parrot. I don't know where the devil I am with her. For weeks she's been on my back, now she's so friendly. She takes me out for a posh meal - I may have mentioned that before - she even suggested that we stand shoulder to shoulder to outwit the three bullies in the next room. I'm treading warily. She has a terrible temper. And I'm due for promotion into another department. I don't want the Parrot to turn nasty again, to find some excuse for throwing me out. I need the money.'
'Anything else on your mind? Although what you've told me is enough.'
'I keep thinking of poor Viola. I told you we knew each other at school. I read the description of what happened to her and keep thinking of it. Bad dreams. I wonder how Marina, her twin sister, is feeling.'
'Marina?' Paula repeated. 'I didn't know about her. A twin sister. Did they get on well together?'
'They did not.' Coral paused, refilled her glass. 'You see, they both behaved in the same way.' She hesitated.
'You mean with men?' suggested Paula.
'Yes, I do. It sounds awful but they were competitive.'
'In what way?'
'In price. What they charged for their services, if you see what I mean.' She had another drink. 'At least, Marina was. Viola wasn't. What they charge a man for you know what.'
'I see.' Paula took another small sip. This was a new development no one had mentioned before. 'Where does Marina live, then?'
'She has a luxurious pad in a street off Mayfair. Do you want the address?'
'If you don't mind . . .'
She studied Coral while she was scribbling on a pad. Her movements were jerky. Nerves? It could be the brandy but Paula doubted it. Coral was informally dressed in denims and a white blouse buttoned to the neck. Coral handed her the sheet she had torn off the pad. Paula noticed the writing was neat but jerky. She folded the note, put it inside her hold-all in a zip-up pocket.
'Thank you.'
'It has her address, her phone number, her mobile number.'
'I suppose Viola gave you this information,' she said gently.
'That's right. I was having a drink with her one evening in her Fox Street flat. She asked whether I'd consider going to see Marina. To try and patch up the relationship. I didn't go, didn't like the idea.'
'Probably very wise. Are you hungry? I think I am.'
Paula had decided it was time to go to the restaurant before Coral used the brandy bottle again. They had reached the front door when Paula noticed the simple lock.
'Covent Garden is getting all sorts of people floating round it these days. I'd feel happier if you installed better locks. Maybe a Banham and a Chubb.'
'How nice of you to think of my safety . . .'
'Do any of those three men come on to you?' Paula asked before they went outside.
'No trouble from Nelson. Sometimes I don't like the way Benton looks at me when he's wearing those rimless specs. The one I have to fend off is Noel, but I can handle him. I'm afraid I'm not really dressed for dinner.'
Paula looked at her. Coral had her glorious crown of red hair piled up on top. She gave Coral a quick squeeze as she spoke.
'You look gorgeous. And I'm not exactly dressed for the Ritz. Neither will some of the other women be fit for a fashion parade!'
Once outside, she was immediately aware of the chill, but Coral had slipped on a jacket. Paula glanced around casually. No sign of her 'protectors' but she knew they would be there.
'Marina? A twin sister?' The surprise was evident in Tweed's voice.
Paula had just returned very late from her visit to Coral. The only other occupants in the office were Marler and Monica.
'And where are the three I sent to watch over you?' Tweed demanded fiercely.
'Not to worry,' replied Paula, perched on the edge of his desk. 'Newman escorted me here, saw me safely inside, then said he was going back to his car. I think he's gone back to join Pete and Harry. I suspect they're staying for some time, watching the entrance to Coral's flat, now I've gone. Which I think is smart. Maybe someone else watched me leave.'
'In that case they are smart. They're acting on the advice I've hammered into everybody. Think for yourselves. Now tell me about your evening.'
'Before I start, here are Marina's details. Address and so on.'
Tweed handed the folded sheet to Monica, asked her to record it. She opened the sheet, looked at it, returned it to Tweed.
'I've memorized it. I'll transfer it to the key address book.'
Paula had a lot to say. She recalled every word of her conversation with Coral, adding her own thoughts as she continued. She was aware that, behind her, Monica was using her hundred-and-thirty-words-a-minute shorthand to take down every detail.
As she'd expected, Tweed became a Buddha, sitting motionless, his eyes never leaving hers. His powers of concentration were legendary. She waved a hand as she concluded.
'Now you have the lot. Interesting?'
'And I've got the lot,' Monica called out. 'I'll type you a report. How many copies?'
'Five, please,' Tweed told her. 'A copy for each member of the team. It's so important everyone has the data in this situation. Paula, interesting? I think it was vital you decided to go and see Coral. Significant is the word.'
'Why?' Paula asked.
'Because the Parrot is playing a devious game. Also because now we know of the existence of Marina. I shall have to go and see her.'
'Want me to come with you?' Paula suggested ironically. 'To protect you?'
'So far I've been pretty good at protecting myself against alluring and predatory women. And thank you, Paula, for doing such a professional job. Now I'm going to do something I should have done earlier, but we've been chock-a-block.'
'What's that?'
'I intend,' he said after checking his watch again, 'to visit the scene of the crime in Fox Street. If I go now I should arrive at roughly the time Saafeld said the hideous crime was committed.'
'I'm coming with you, of course,' said Marler.
'I agree,' Tweed said reluctantly.
He could hardly have refused. Not when he was hammering on about everyone's safety. He stood up and Paula slipped off the edge of his desk. He took hold of her shoulders and again his voice was fierce.
'You are not allowed to leave this building until someone - Newman, Pete or Harry - has got back. T
hey will escort you home, will check out every corner in your flat before you enter it, then they will sleep on that sofa in the living room, or in the spare bedroom . . .'
'Oh, for Heaven's sake,' Monica burst out. 'They'd do that anyway. Are you suffering from paranoia?'
Tweed made no reply, but grabbed his coat, and put it on as he went down the stairs followed by Marler. Outside the night was fresh and colder. Tweed opened the car, slipped in behind the wheel as Marler dived into the rear.
The passenger door next to Tweed was opened, and Paula was on the seat next to him as he switched on the engine. She slammed her door shut. Tweed opened his mouth but she beat him to it.
'No argument. You've said before I take over if you're out of action. On top of that I'm well guarded with the two of you. And, on top of that, we're visiting the flat of a poor woman - woman - who was foully murdered. I'm a woman. I could spot something a man could miss.'
Tweed, driving away from Park Crescent, had opened and closed his mouth twice. Like a fish, Marler thought, watching him in the rear-view mirror. Tweed's mind was revolving as he drove on, heading towards Covent Garden.
Paranoia, Monica had said. Could she be right? Was he in danger of overdoing his warnings? Paula had done a good job, extracting information from Coral, and some of it might eventually lead them to the psychopathic murderer.
'You've got a point,' he ultimately admitted.
Paula showed no elation, no hint of triumph. She was gazing out as they neared their destination. Fox Street, a name which would go down in the history of criminology.
No one was about at this depressing hour. The car wobbled over cobbles. They had entered Fox Street. Tweed slowed the car to a crawl. It was a narrow street, with poor illumination from ancient lamps protruding from walls on metal arms.
'Nearly there,' Paula said. 'Within yards . . .'
She had been checking the house numbers, which were lit up by lights behind them. Tweed parked on the pavement. They could now see the notorious house, police tape still strung across it. As they got out the door opened, Marler had his gun in his hand.
'It's Chief Inspector Hammer,' Tweed warned.
The burly policeman, huddled up in an overcoat, stood hands in his pockets. Mistake, in this area, Tweed thought. If Hammer was attacked he'd never get his automatic out in time. He went up to Hammer, who was staring at the three of them without pleasure.
'Bit late on the case, aren't you? Place has been given a real search. Nothing.'
'I'm getting a sense of what the atmosphere was like when it happened. Not exactly bustling with people. And, in case it has slipped your memory, I am the chief investigator.'
'What's the girl messing about at?' Hammer asked rudely.
'The girl is a woman. She appears to be checking the street in case something was dropped by the murderer. Did you people do that?'
'Waste of time. Front door was closed when we arrived. Which suggests she knew the killer. Doesn't it?'
'Possibly. On the other hand if she was expecting him -or her - she could have come down to let him in. You hadn't thought of that - or had you?'
Hammer grunted. He was ignoring Tweed, watching Paula as she searched the cobbled street with her torch. She bent down as her beam reflected off something. A diamond ring was slotted inside a crack in the cobbles. She put on latex gloves, picked it up.
'Nothing that matters, I'm sure,' Hammer said aggressively.
Paula walked back to Tweed, showed him the ring by the light of her torch. Tweed recognized it. Viola had worn the ring on the third finger of her right hand when they'd dined together at Mungano's. During their visit to Saafeld at his mortuary he had noticed a mark on the finger where she had worn the ring. The killer must have wrenched it off the severed hand. He must have dropped it when leaving the building.
Hammer grunted again, stalked off towards his car parked in the shadows. Tweed took out a transparent evidence envelope, dropped the ring inside and placed it inside his pocket.
'Could that be important?' Paula asked. 'So much for the chief inspector's careful search. It's eerie round here,' she added. 'It rather frightens me.'
'Then I suggest we go inside this house of horror. I've got the front-door key from Hammer. A plodder, not the most distinguished chief inspector I've known . . .'
They entered. Paula noticed the lock was a Banham. Not easy for anyone to pick. Tweed felt around, switched on the light as Marler closed the door. They were in a long wide hall with tasteful paper on the wall. Ahead of them a staircase rose, built of mahogany with matching banisters. On the first-floor landing Tweed, latex gloves on his hands, opened a door to his right.
'The bedroom,' Marler said. 'Where it happened,' he added quietly. He found a switch and lights came on all over a spacious tastefully furnished room.
Paula's eyes instinctively went to the tall frosted-glass window overlooking the street. There were few signs of blood and she guessed one of Saafeld's technicians had scraped it for DNA samples. A waste of time. Commander Buchanan had told Saafeld the blood was all Viola's.
A double bed stood in the centre of the room. A white sheet covered the entire bed. Paula lifted a corner. Underneath was only the mattress. The sheets and blankets had been taken away for examination. No sign of blood on the mattress, but that wasn't surprising. On the floor on the far side of the bed a chalk mark outlined where Viola's body had been killed and cut up. Faint brown stains where the residue of her blood seeped into the wooden floor. Paula continued moving slowly round the room.
'This is probably useless,' Tweed remarked. 'It will have been searched by experts.'
'I never trusted experts,' Marler said, standing by the closed door.
Tweed was opening drawers, closing them. Paula stood still, clasping her own latex-gloved hands. Where would a woman hide something? She lifted up the lid of a musical box. It began to play a romantic tune, which disturbed her. How many times had Viola sat listening to its melody? She found it very sad.
Inside the box was a selection of expensive jewellery. She emptied it out into one hand, placed it on top of the dressing table where the box had rested. Tweed looked at it as she made her comment.
'Well, the motive certainly wasn't robbery. Not that we ever thought it was. This is very expensive jewellery.'
'Shouldn't have been left here,' he said, and turned away to continue his search.
The base the jewels had rested on was a thick blue cushion. Paula extracted a nail file from her shoulder bag. She pressed the tip gently down the side of the cushion, eased it up. Underneath was a folded sheet of paper. She opened it, read the wording inside.
Marina. Call her and try and make it up. There followed the address and phone numbers Coral Flenton had provided. She showed it to Tweed. He pressed his lips together as he studied it.
'We've found something the police missed,' he told Marler.
'I told you I mistrusted so-called experts.'
Tweed showed him the note in neat handwriting. Marler raised an eyebrow.
'It's a fresh lead.' said Tweed. 'I'm going over to see her when we leave here.'
'At this hour?' said Marler.
'I think, like Viola, Marina is a night bird. Surprise can throw people.'
'Then we're coming with you,' Marler told him. 'Not going to have you wandering round on your own at this hour.'
'All right. But you must both keep out of sight. She won't say a word if she's overwhelmed with three people. Let's get moving.'
26
Paula found it eerie being driven through Mayfair at this hour: not a soul about. There was an unsettling silence when Tweed turned down a cul-de-sac. He parked by the kerb and they got out together. The heavy silence seemed to press down on them.
Marina's flat was situated in one of the old terraced houses lining both sides of the street. The atmosphere reminded Paula of a stage setting for a menacing play. Tweed had gone up the steps, was about to press the button which had a card alongside inscribe
d Marina Vander-Browne, when Marler tugged his sleeve.
'Front door is open,' he whispered. It was the sort of street where you automatically whispered.
Beyond the heavy front door was a narrow hall, an equally narrow staircase leading upwards.
Tweed whispered: 'Follow me. According to the card she's on the third floor.'
They began to climb up three staircases covered with a red carpet. When they reached the third floor Tweed looked up. Above them was another floor. Marler gave Tweed a strange-looking whistle, inserted an earplug with a wire disappearing inside his coat.