‘I’m not having that great clown pawing through my things!’
‘Start with the bedroom, Harry.’
Harry, completely lost, reluctant to leave the two women alone together, hesitated. Virginia said firmly: ‘Harry!’
He left. Freda’s hand slapped down on the phone. ‘I’ll have a car here in two minutes.’
‘Yes, you do that. I’ll have quite a few official misdemeanours to outline. Better, perhaps, to get them into a copper’s notebook while I can remember all of them.’
Freda sat back on the chair. Her face was now pale, like punched putty. She fumbled for another cigarette, drawing on it angrily. Virginia reached out her own brown ones, and smoked slowly, quietly, considering the outcome she expected — and feared. Inside, she was shaking.
Two heads jerked round as Harry entered. He looked baffled and worried, his frown like a knife wound across his forehead. ‘In the wardrobe,’ he said gruffly.
He was carrying a single pink shoe with a stiletto heel. Virginia held out her hand. He seemed pleased to be rid of it.
‘So…’ said Virginia. ‘Didn’t I tell you the shoes mattered?’
‘What’s it all about?’ Harry muttered.
‘Perhaps Freda can tell us.’
Freda tossed her head. It was a gesture designed to avert her eyes.
‘Well, perhaps I can guess.’ Virginia peered into the shoe. ‘Yes, it’s the correct size. Certainly Angela’s shoe, her left one. Now let me guess. Freda phoned Cynthia, then hung back to give her time to see for herself, as she insists. But when Freda eventually got to the scene there was no sign of Angela, not by the phone box, not at the lay-by, and Freda began to believe that Cynthia had taken it a little further than just seeing for herself.’
‘Hmph!’ said Freda.
‘So she reported in, and was told to return to her beat, but later, when Angela still hadn’t been heard of, she was told to take another look. It was then that she discovered Angela’s body in the bin, and there was every indication that she’d been attacked with one of her own shoes. A woman, assaulted, always has one weapon. She whips off her shoe. It’s a good weapon if it has a stiletto heel. But if that shoe is taken from her and used against her…a different story altogether.’
‘Why don’t you get on with it?’ demanded Freda angrily.
Because Virginia was feeling her way into the mind of a woman tortured by the rejection of her lover. She had to ease her way into it.
‘The murderer had taken away the murder shoe. But Angela was still, at that time, wearing the other shoe — her left one. Now…Freda has said she believed, at that time, that Cynthia had done it. But already she had something to offer to Cynthia to prove her devotion.’
‘That?’ asked Harry, pointing at the shoe.
‘Now don’t be foolish, Harry. What she had to offer was the fact that she was intending to keep silent about her phone call to Cynthia. No more than that. See how I love you, Cynthia darling. My career on the line. I know you did it, but I’m with you all the way.’
‘Oh God, you bitch!’ said Freda.
‘Trying to get the feel of the part, dear.’
‘I didn’t think it out like that.’
‘Clearly you didn’t, if you took the shoe.’
‘All I thought was that she’d done it.’ Freda’s face was red with passion.
‘But you did take the shoe. For heaven’s sake, why?’
Freda made a dismissive gesture. For one second a tiny smile of pride had flickered across her face, of superiority. Panic or not, she’d known what she was doing. ‘It seemed obvious.’
‘The obvious thing to do? You intrigue me, Freda. Perhaps it was the only thing you could think to do? Confusing the issue, was that it?’
‘You’re so clever, work it out for yourself.’
‘I can see you would have to do something. You couldn’t have the CID coming along and sorting it out in no time at all. But…that! Didn’t you see — can’t you see now — that if you’d left the shoe, the evidence could have pointed to a man or a woman. Take it away, and it looked more like a woman’s crime. But you do see. I can tell you do. Don’t tell me…’ She tapped her teeth with her thumb nail. ‘By heaven, I get it! You could go to Cynthia, tell her you’d faked the evidence, not just keeping quiet about your phone call, but actually taking something away…’
‘Oh, clever.’ Freda lifted her chin in contempt.
‘Another detail to present to Cynthia. I’m protecting you, dear. Stuck my neck out for you, sweetheart, made myself an accessory.’
Freda was stubbornly silent, staring at the far wall. No protest, no approval for the theory.
‘Surely not,’ said Virginia. ‘Did you actually suggest it’d be thrilling, if you both ended up in the same cell?’
She had taken it deliberately to the point of ridicule, trying to spark a reaction, but there was still no response. Freda was complacent. She could not, Virginia decided, have been very bright.
‘Not very sensible, was it?’ she suggested gently, and the hint of compassion drew Freda’s head round, her eyes now blazing. ‘No matter.’ Virginia waved it away. ‘You took the shoe to confuse the issue. Later you’d visit Cynthia to tell her what you’d done to protect her. And there she’d be, flatly denying she’d killed Angela.’
‘Pitiful!’ But Freda did not say whose efforts were pitiful, Virginia’s or Cynthia’s in denial.
‘Throwing your precious gift back in your face. But three days or so later you’d have heard about the medical evidence and the timing involved. Then it seemed impossible Cynthia could have done it. But did you take her that gift! I suspect not.’
Freda tossed her head. It was a feeble appeal for sympathy. ‘If you’d heard what she said…’
‘But by that time, or not very much later, it would have filtered through to you from the CID that Angela’s lack of shoes had been considered, and that she’d been assumed to have driven without them. So they were working on the assumption that she’d been killed by a woman, using one of her own shoes.’
Harry spoke, his voice a deep and dangerous growl. ‘I see now. I begin to see.’
Virginia said nothing. Her eyes were fixed on Freda. Her voice took on an edge, an acidity. Something was bitter in her throat.
‘And that was when it changed. No more gifts — they were simply rejected by Cynthia, anyway. Now it was the threat. No more pretence that you believed she had done it. Now you could tell her you believed what she had told you…but would anybody else? With Cynthia’s motive, what chance would she have? With you, Freda, revealing the truth about the phone call to her, what chance then? Oh, no mention of the medical proof of her innocence. Keep that secret. But plenty of mention of the shoes. Oh yes, the lack of shoes. With that, the case against Cynthia would be clinched. But if you’re nice to me, Cynthia, as it was in the old days…and believe me, Cynthia, you’ll soon see it’s the only way to live…if you’re nice to me Cynthia, one day I’ll bring you a really terrific present. I’ll bring you the proof that you didn’t do it. I’ll bring you Angela’s other shoe.’
‘Now I see,’ said Harry, but he said it with a baffled frown.
Virginia got to her feet, surprised to find she could barely stand without swaying. ‘So I’ll save you the trouble and take it myself. For God’s sake, Harry, let’s get out of here.’
Freda was on her feet. ‘Nobody’ll believe this twaddle.’
‘A psychiatrist might.’
Virginia bit her lip. As an exit line it might have gone well on the stage, but she was aware that it’d been flip and gratuitous, when she’d tried so hard to be subjective and unemotional.
Freda threw her cigarette at her. Like her authority it had no weight, and fluttered down to the carpet, where the regulation shoe stamped a full stop to the scene.
Harry was silent. He had said he understood. This was not true. There was something in the reasoning he couldn’t quite accept.
‘You take it, H
arry,’ said Virginia, thrusting the shoe at him. ‘Stick it inside your jacket. A present for your Cynthia.’
It made an awkward bulge. That, with the heavy pistol in a side pocket, along with thoughts of the coming meeting, made Harry distinctly uncomfortable.
Chapter Fourteen
The front door was still open, but there was no response when Harry tapped his lightest and called her name.
‘She’s not in.’
He looked round. Virginia waited, staring beyond the house and watching the movement in the shrubbery up by the railway hard-core.
‘Cynth!’ Harry bellowed.
The side door in the spraying shed swung open. ‘I’m in here.’
‘Got somethin’ for you.’
Harry marched ahead across the dusty surface of the yard. The mud from the previous day had hardened. Virginia was content to allow him to take charge. This was Harry’s scene.
Whatever Cynthia had been doing in the shed was not evident. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps communing with Charlie’s ghost. She waited for them, standing back against the bench in a defensive posture. The light was again poor, as before consisting of daylight from the gap in the main doors and the open side door. It would have needed only a flip of the switch. Virginia located the switch beside the door she’d just entered, but she did not touch it. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom.
Harry was making a performance out of it, advancing with a prancing parody of a stately dance.
‘It’s y’r birthday, Cynth!’ he cried. ‘Got a pressie for you.’
Then, with a cross-draw that Baldy would have admired, he whipped out the shoe from its hiding place and offered it to her.
She stared at it, lying in his great palm, but made no move.
‘It’s for you.’
Then her face was lifted and her eyes contained understanding. ‘You’ve been to Freda’s?’
He nodded vigorously. ‘An’ we persuaded her to part with this.’
She took it from him with both hands and looked down at it, then clasped it to her and laughed, though there were tears in it, and said: ‘You great idiot, Harry.’ And leaned forward and kissed him on the corner of his grinning mouth.
Then she threw back her head and laughed fully. ‘Bet she was furious.’
‘Didn’t seem happy,’ Harry agreed. ‘Four years she’s kept it, four years usin’ it to frighten you. Cynth, you can tell her to go take a jump. You can tell her…’
Cynthia turned away and placed the shoe on the bench. She spoke away from him. ‘I don’t think I’ll burn it.’ She whirled to face him, her eyes alive, her face, now that she’d completely accepted it, dancing with delight and mischief. ‘You know what I’m going to do with it, Harry? I’ll have it mounted and put in a glass case, and I’ll fix it to the wall over the fireplace. Like a stuffed stag’s head in those posh places, so’s when she comes she can see it there, and know…’
‘When she comes?’ he asked. ‘You mean Freda?’ He was shaking his head.
She reached forward and caught his wrist. Her eyes were now dreamy, her smile, if he hadn’t known this was Cynth, complacent.
‘She’ll come. In two days, perhaps three, she’ll come creeping round, tap on the door and put her head round. It’s me, Cynthia. Then there’ll be the apologies and the protestations. I’ll understand, Cynthia, if you never want to see me again. I can hear it in her voice. And I’ll be all grand and forgiving, then there’ll be tears and laughter, and…and…Harry, you are a dear, to have understood…’
‘Am I?’
‘Because it’ll be there, Harry, staring at her, and she’ll know I’ve got it now. And all her silly threats…how furious that made me, Harry, Freda believing she could threaten me! But now it’ll be me, and she can lump it. And d’you know something? She’ll like it. Love it. Lap it up. Oh, I know my Freda! Harry, don’t look at me like that. Did you think she was hard and callous and strong? Oh no. Not Freda. She could be so…so tender and gentle. Like a big, purring neutered tom cat with his claws in and tapping gently at a ball of wool. God…so tender…’
She turned back to the bench. The tears could no longer be withheld.
‘As long as you’re pleased, Cynth.’ Harry didn’t know what he was saying. Anything would fill the gap.
Virginia’s voice cut in, calm and practical. ‘But we’d expect a little co-operation, Cynthia.’
Cynthia turned with her face fixed in a hard smile, tears salting it. ‘Not a present, then? You expect payment.’
‘Only information. Charlie went somewhere in his car. Nobody’s seen him since. Where could he have gone? Simple enough. It wouldn’t hurt you to say…if you know somewhere.’
The smile, with the barest flicker of change, became cynical. ‘You work hard for it, no mistaking that. I suppose you’re entitled to something, though. There was a petrol station. Charlie bought it years ago, when they built that stupid industrial estate place. Said it’d be a gold mine when all the factories opened. But they didn’t open, did they? Two or three tried it, and fizzled out. So Charlie had that place — some grand scheme of selling his own cars or something. Got it all rigged out, repair bay, shop, car wash, petrol pump tanks and the bases for the pumps. But it never got as far as petrol pumps. Never sold a gallon or saw a customer. Go and look at it if it’ll make you happy. It’s derelict.’
‘And its location?’
‘The corner of Fourteenth Avenue and C Street.’
Harry was looking from one to the other. Was this what they’d come for? He had come in order to witness Cynth’s joy at her release from Freda’s domination. Get her off her back, he’d put it to himself. He didn’t understand what was happening.
‘But the shoe…’ he murmured.
‘Harry, Harry!’ Cynthia cried. ‘It means nothing. This silly shoe!’ She turned, picked it from the bench, and threw it away from her. It clanged against a distant empty paint can. ‘As though it meant a thing! She thought it did. Poor Freda, she never had much on top…and wonders why she hasn’t made sergeant! All it meant…all her taking it away from that bin meant…was that the murder looked like a woman had done it. Looked like! It didn’t mean that it was. It was still anybody’s murder, man or woman. As though I’d be scared of a silly shoe! She couldn’t take it to her Inspector and say: look what I took from the body. It was the not producing it that mattered. So…what’s changed? Now it’s me not producing it. Harry, I’m happy. Can’t you see you’ve made me happy? Don’t pug at me like that.’
‘I was,’ he said with dignity, ‘working it out. You’re telling me that now you can produce it and say: there you are, that means it doesn’t have to be a woman?’
Her shrug was as large as she could make it. It expressed her despair that he’d ever understand anything. ‘If you like, Harry.’
‘If things got bad, you mean, and they actually accused you?’
‘If you like.’
‘Because you think that’s likely?’
Harry was driving on stubbornly, with his head down between his shoulders and his eyes unhappy, because he had to hear it and from Cynth herself. Her eyes snapped. He would normally have ducked for cover.
‘You can just cut that out!’
‘Well…I dunno.’ His hand came up and rubbed his chin, rasping away. ‘Are y’ tellin’ me…you ain’t sayin’ you did do it, Cynth?’
‘No!’ she shouted. ‘No, no and no. How many d’you want?’
‘But Freda phoned you…that day. You said nobody phoned.’
‘All-bloody-right. So I told you a lie.’
‘An’ now you’re sayin’ you didn’t drive there?’
‘I’m saying nothing. Not another word.’
‘You mean you didn’t? Didn’ go there and see Charlie’s fancy piece…’
‘Of course I went there!’ she shouted. ‘Now you know. So what?’
Harry didn’t know what. He knew only that this was his Cynth, only she wasn’t his Cynth at all. He was losing someth
ing, was watching it drain away. And he couldn’t prevent himself from giving the plug another jerk.
‘But you didn’t dash off straightaway?’
She nodded agreement, impatiently. ‘I’m not gonna dance to anybody’s tune.’
‘You wouldn’t do that, Cynth. Never. You’d wait a bit…but you’d go, all the same.’
He’d meant that as a compliment, but she took it as a sneer.
‘I waited until I was good and damn well ready. Then I went.’
‘Waited long?’ He could hardly get the words out.
‘D’you think I timed it?’
‘But you went there…and saw somethin’?’
‘I saw nothing. I did nothing. I came back here. Now bugger off, Harry. And don’t come back.’
She might just as well have slapped his face, though that would have hurt her too. She realized it, put a hand to her mouth, but he was already turning away.
It was Virginia who rounded it off for him. ‘If you saw nothing and did nothing, Cynthia, it was a waste of time bringing you the shoe.’
Then she stood aside for Harry to fumble past her, and closed the side door behind them.
They were a mile along the lane before she spoke. ‘You did that well, Harry.’
‘Sarcasm,’ he said, ‘I can do without.’
‘No. Really. It was splendidly calculated.’
He jerked round in the seat, straining the seat belt to full stretch. ‘Calculated? You think I worked it out?’
‘Getting her to think she owed us something — and we got the address of the petrol station. Then pressing her until she lost her temper — and we got the information that she did drive to the layby after all.’
‘Is that how you do it? You work it out in a pattern, and steer it… Damn it, that’s indecent.’
She laughed. ‘Harry, I’ll let you into a secret. I just talk, and see where it leads me. But honestly, you did do well. I’ll treat you to lunch.’ Knowing he was broke.
‘Take it from my ten per cent of the money I might get for this damned gun in my pocket.’
‘We’ll have to start an accounting system, Harry. Who owes who what.’
The Second Jeopardy Page 16