There was something he wanted her to see. He picked up the folder containing the report that Paul Masters had made for him; he had only just handed it in.
Coffin had a photograph in his hand. ‘While on the job Paul was snapped by a journalist with one of those cameras that pop out the snap so you can see it straight away. Paul grabbed it and took it away.’ Didn’t study it, though.
Coffin held it out to Stella.
There was Paul in the photograph, talking to one of the hospital staff.
‘Nice-looking woman,’ said Stella.
‘One of the administrators . . . but it’s not her. Look closer.’
In the background, in the shadows, there was another figure. Stella could just see the face. She looked up at her husband.
‘Yes, it’s Sam,’ said Coffin, sadly. ‘Got everywhere, didn’t he?’ He put the photograph away. ‘If I had seen that earlier, the case might have ended there.’ He did not blame Masters, only himself.
Stella said thoughtfully, ‘Would make a good film. Might get my name in it.’
Coffin was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘You might have a new name by then, Stella.’
She stared.
‘Lady Coffin,’ he said
‘Well, well,’ said Stella.
‘I won’t accept, if you don’t want me to.’
Stella laughed. ‘You don’t mean that . . . but I do want it.’ She mouthed her new name, ‘Lady Coffin . . . I love it.’
In the morning, he went to see Larry Lavender.
‘Thanks, Larry. You deserve a medal.’ And Coffin would see he got one. ‘How do you feel?’
‘Not too bad at all. Just superficial, so the surgeon said.’ He winced a bit as he drew breath. ‘Mind you, I don’t know what he calls superficial. Want a couple of vital organs punctured, I suppose.’
The pair looked at each other. There’s a bond now, thought Coffin.
‘That other business,’ said Larry.
‘Yes, I wondered about that.’
‘Thought I didn’t mind dying, eh? No, not my way. That was why I called that meeting . . . Go out with a bang, I thought. Anyway, it was a false alarm. A couple of doses of antibiotics for the wound, and Bob’s your uncle. No alcohol, though, till the doses are over.’
‘Good,’ said Coffin.
He was still muttering, ‘Good,’ with general relief when he got into his office, thinking also to himself, ‘My wife is one tough lady.’
There were were still points to puzzle over. But in any crime enquiry there were always unanswered questions, as Coffin knew well.
He worked away quietly until Paul Masters tapped on the door and came in.
‘I thought you’d want to know at once, sir. A car has been found on the coast near St Andrews in Fife; a man and woman and dog inside. All dead. Gassed by the car fumes. I’m afraid it’s the Lumsdens.’
Coffin went to the window to look out. It never ended, did it?
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
GWENDOLINE BUTLER is a Londoner, born in a part of South London for which she still has a tremendous affection. She was educated at Haberdashers and then read history at Oxford. After a short period doing research and teaching, she married the late Dr Lionel Butler, Principal of Royal Holloway College. She has one daughter.
Gwendoline Butler’s crime novels are very popular in Britain and the States, and her many awards include the Crime Writers’ Association’s Silver Dagger.
She spends her time travelling, looking at pictures, and, of course, writing.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
One evening in April 1988, I sat in Toynbee Hall in the East End of London, near to Docklands, listening to Doctor David Owen (now Lord Owen) give that year’s Barnett Memorial Lecture. In it, he suggested the creation of a Second City of London, to be spun off from the first, to aid the economic and social regeneration of the Docklands.
The idea fascinated me and I have made use of it to create a world for detective John Coffin, to whom I gave the tricky task of keeping there the Queen’s Peace.
ALSO BY THE AUTHOR
COFFIN’S GHOST
A GRAVE COFFIN
COFFIN’S GAME
A DOUBLE COFFIN
A DARK COFFIN
THE COFFIN TREE
A COFFIN FOR CHARLEY
CRACKING OPEN A COFFIN
COFFIN ON MURDER STREET
COFFIN AND THE PAPER MAN
COFFIN IN THE BLACK MUSEUM
COFFIN UNDERGROUND
COFFIN IN FASHION
COFFIN ON THE WATER
A COFFIN FOR THE CANARY
A COFFIN FOR PANDORA
A COFFIN FROM THE PAST
COFFIN’S DARK NUMBER
COFFIN FOLLOWING
COFFIN IN MALTA A NAMELESS COFFIN
COFFIN WAITING
A COFFIN FOR BABY
DEATH LIVES NEXT DOOR
THE INTERLOPER
THE MURDERING KIND
THE DULL DEAD
COFFIN IN OXFORD
RECEIPT FOR MURDER
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