Another Woman's Shoes

by Francis Durbridge

  Outside in the Square Mike nodded amiably to the driver of Rodgers’s car and strode briskly towards Charing Cross Road. When he judged himself safely out of sight he slipped into a doorway and waited. Several minutes later the police car drove past, the Inspector sitting alone in it.

  Mike cautiously made his way back towards Nadia Tarrant’s digs. Saltoni was loitering uncertainly at one corner of the Square. Realising that the Italian might still be under observation Mike hailed a passing taxi and ordered the cabbie to drive slowly past where Saltoni was standing. As the taxi drew level Mike told the driver to slow down, at the same time rolling down the window and calling softly to the youth. Saltoni caught sight of him and slipped quickly into the back of the taxi.

  ‘You wanted to see me?’ Mike said, as the taxi gained speed.

  Saltoni nodded eagerly. ‘Yes. I am told that you are not a policeman, Mr Baxter? The Sergeant said you write for the newspapers. Is that the truth?’

  ‘Yes. And if you’ve got something on your conscience you’d do better to tell it to the proper authorities. Or are you hoping to sell me some information?’

  ‘Sell?’ Saltoni looked puzzled and shook his head. ‘No, that’s not it at all.’

  ‘What do you want, then?’

  ‘I must know … what is going to happen to me at the police station tomorrow? What will they do to me? I’m frightened.’

  ‘Just tell the truth, Saltoni, and you’ve got nothing to be afraid of. They won’t beat you up or force illegal confessions from you, if that’s what you’re thinking.’

  ‘But you forget, I am a foreigner here. You don’t know what it is like, having to watch your step all the time. I cannot afford to get mixed up in anything.’

  ‘You’re mixed up already, aren’t you?’ Mike retorted sharply.

  ‘Momma mia, si! … But … Look, Mr Baxter, you think I have behaved very badly over this, don’t you? You think I ought to have gone to the police the moment I suspected that Nadia was not telling the truth—’

  ‘And why didn’t you?’

  ‘Nadia warned me. She said they would report me to the Ministry of Labour and I would be deported.’

  ‘Rubbish! If you’d told the police the truth they would have been on your side and nothing would have happened to you. Now you’ll be asked to make a written statement and there’s a big doubt whether they’ll believe a word of it.’

  ‘I know. That’s what I’m worried about. You must help me.’

  ‘What on earth do you expect me to do?’

  ‘This Inspector, he is a friend of yours, and you have perhaps other important friends. If you say you believe me, that you are willing to … what is the word – guarantee?… that I am telling the truth, then perhaps I need not …’ He trailed off into a lame silence.

  Mike studied him for a few moments, trying to make up his mind. Eventually he said, ‘Saltoni, I think you know a great deal more about this business than you’ve so far been prepared to admit.’

  ‘I do not! I swear I do not. Please, Mr Baxter, you—’

  ‘What was Nadia Tarrant up to? Why did she say she saw Harold Weldon the night Lucy Staines was murdered? Who bribed her?’

  ‘I do not know, honestly I do not know.’

  ‘You must have some idea, some suspicion. She was your mistress, wasn’t she? Think back – when was the first time you began to worry about her?’

  After a moment’s reflection Saltoni answered, ‘I wanted to see her one night, but she said she could not manage it. Her sister was ill, she said, and she had to go to Aldershot to see her. I had never heard her mention a sister before. I did not believe her. I thought she was getting friendly with another man. I was jealous and decided to try and follow her. Two times I was not clever enough, but the third time I did not let her out of my sight.’

  ‘And she didn’t know she was being followed?’

  ‘No, I was clever. She took the tube train up to Hampstead. She went to a night-club called La Pergola. I felt very ashamed, she did not go to see a man, it was a woman I had seen talking once or twice to Nadia at Farnalio’s, where she worked. There was something strange going on between them all the same. Each time when I had come up to where they were talking at Farnalio’s they stopped talking when they caught sight of me. I got suspicious.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘When I asked Nadia about it she lost her temper, told me to mind my own business.’

  ‘What sort of place was this La Pergola? Perhaps your girlfriend was just asking for a job there.’

  ‘Oh no, it was not at all the kind of place that Nadia could have worked in. It was very smart, very expensive. She was only an unskilled café waitress, you understand. They would not have looked at her.’

  ‘Do you think she had a definite rendezvous with this other woman at La Pergola?’

  ‘I am sure of it. She was obviously waiting for Nadia. I bribed the man at the door, and he told me that they had been there once before together.’

  ‘A pity you couldn’t find out the woman’s name.’

  Saltoni flashed him an excited glance. ‘But I did! The doorman told me. Her name is Irene Long, and she works at some smart dress shop in Bond Street.’

  Mike sat bolt upright. ‘Irene Long, of Conway and Racy’s?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘What does she look like? Describe her.’

  ‘She is quite tall, about forty years old, blonde hair but it is not real, I think. She wears a lot of lipstick and stuff.’

  ‘That’s her, all right.’

  ‘Do you know her, Mr Baxter?’

  ‘Not as well as I’d like to,’ Mike said. ‘But that can be remedied.’

  Chapter Seven

  When Mike got back to the flat Linda greeted him with a quizzical expression.

  ‘I’m so glad you didn’t burst in a few minutes earlier. I was having a tête-à-tête with Mr Sanders.’

  Mike poured himself the drink he badly needed. ‘How very nice for you. What did he want? Does he fancy you as a successor to Irene Long?’

  Linda laughed, but her tone became immediately serious. ‘No, not exactly. But he seemed to want to find out if I’d seen them both having lunch together.’

  ‘And you said you did?’

  ‘Yes. It didn’t throw him for a loop. He muttered the usual thing about being “just good friends”.’

  Mike pursed his lips. ‘It may not be quite as innocent as that, Linda. I’ve discovered some interesting facts about Miss Irene Long this afternoon and—’

  ‘Let me finish, darling. The real purpose of the Colonel’s visit, I’m almost certain, was to find out if I recognized his voice on the telephone at Soho Square. He made up a cock-and-bull story about someone impersonating his voice on the telephone at his own flat this afternoon. He says he’s been burgled, and the burglar got in by ringing up his housekeeper beforehand and pretending to be Sanders, telling her to put the keys of the flat under the front doormat.’

  ‘Sounds a bit thin,’ Mike commented. ‘I presume his idea is to persuade us that some brilliant mimic is at large, ringing up left, right and centre – and, amongst other places, Nadia Tarrant’s digs. You know, we could always call his bluff by checking up whether his flat really had been burgled.’

  ‘I don’t think he’d take very kindly to that.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose he would. There must be subtler ways. Personally, I find this stratagem of his a fairly convincing proof that it was he who spoke to you, and that he did recognise your voice and is rather worried about it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, darling, I did try to disguise my voice, but there wasn’t much time for rehearsal.’

  ‘Not to worry; sometimes if one throws a spanner in the works all sorts of interesting sparks fly off. Let me tell you what I’ve found out about the late Nadia Tarrant and her love-life.’

  ‘What about Irene Long?’

  ‘Wait for it – that’s the curtain line; the dialogue in between is good too!
I just wish Harold Weldon could be here to listen.’

  When Mike had finished his account of the hour he had spent with Inspector Rodgers interrogating Saltoni, Linda’s eyes were sparkling. ‘Darling, this is terrific! It knocks the whole bottom out of the Crown’s case against Weldon. Their one and only witness a fraud!’

  Mike held up a hand to slow her down. ‘Not so fast, old girl! Even if it can be proved that Saltoni is telling the truth and that Nadia Tarrant was indeed sharing his bed at the time she claimed to have seen Weldon – and that’s going to be difficult in view of the fact that she is unfortunately dead – there are still a host of knotty problems to be solved before anyone can ask for a re-trial. I’m inclined to stand by my statement to Weldon this morning: the best way to prove him innocent of the murder is to find out who did do it.’

  Linda sighed heavily. ‘In other words, a full-scale Baxter investigation, right down the line?’

  ‘Right down to the end of the line, darling. Sorry and all that, but this case has bitten me. I’ll crack it if it’s the last thing I do.’

  ‘All right, if that’s the way you feel, Mike – there’s no point in arguing with you. Now what about Irene Long?’

  ‘Saltoni – this boyfriend of Nadia Tarrant’s – told me about her, and gave me a good description. It appears there’s a very definite connection between the late Nadia Tarrant, who by all accounts was no lily of the field, and our ultra-refined Miss Long.’

  ‘Impossible!’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Let me tell you all about it.’

  When he had finished describing his strange conversation with Saltoni in the taxi, leaving Linda wide-eyed, he went over to the bookstand housing the bulky volumes of the London telephone directory. In a moment he had found what he wanted and was scribbling down an address. He glanced at his watch. ‘Miss Long appears to live out Chelsea way, at 412 Reigate House. Let’s get a bite to eat and then corner her in her own den. I don’t fancy a private talk with the good lady at her place of work; she can always hide in a changing booth until we go away. We’ll go out to her private address, and use your new suit as an excuse. Pretend there’s something we’re not quite happy about and ask her advice or something. You can always say you didn’t have time to get to the shop before closing time.’

  ‘Sounds a bit flimsy – do you think she’ll fall for it?’

  ‘She doesn’t have to. All I want is my foot in the door.’

  A little before eight o’clock the Baxters drove to Chelsea and with the aid of a street map were able to locate the large block of flats where Miss Long lived. The street was narrow and they had difficulty finding a place to park. Mike had just found a spot about one hundred yards from Reigate House when Linda nudged him excitedly.

  ‘Darling, look! Isn’t that Mr Staines? Over there, quick! He’s just going round the corner.’ She pointed to a limping figure.

  ‘Yes, I believe it is!’ nodded Mike.

  ‘Does he live this way too?’

  ‘No, he’s in Bayswater somewhere, when he’s in Town. The Guildford people, Keane Brothers, gave me his private address as well as his City phone number.’

  ‘Do you think he was coming from Reigate House? Has he been visiting Irene Long, I wonder?’

  Mike studied the positions of the various buildings and the side street down which Staines had turned. ‘Looks rather like it. I don’t see where else he could have been, it’s a dead end.’

  As they watched Staines disappear Linda said, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Mike – were you satisfied with Staines’s story about Peggy Bedford and their visit to the Lord Fairfax pub?’

  ‘He certainly wasn’t very convincing. What are you driving at?’

  ‘It occurred to me that the Lord Fairfax is about midway between Guildford and Farnham, isn’t it?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘And Staines’s head office is at Guildford?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘Where did Inspector Rodgers say Nadia Tarrant’s murdered body was found?’

  ‘Farnham. Not bad, dear, not bad at all.’

  ‘You don’t sound very impressed. Had you thought it out too?’

  Mike smiled and patted her shoulder. ‘The thought had actually occurred to me. Don’t look so crestfallen, Linda, you’re doing very well. I agree, the circumstances appear rather ominous for Hector Staines, who seems to be on visiting terms with Miss Long. And she appears to know a lot of people we would like to know better, such as Sanders, Saltoni and the late Nadia Tarrant.’

  He opened the door of the car and slid out. ‘Grab your parcel, darling, it’s time to get moving.’

  Linda picked up the large elegant box in which the suit from Conway and Racy’s had arrived that afternoon and together they crossed the road and walked up to Reigate House.

  They rang the bell of number 412 and did not have to wait long before the door opened. Miss Long looked momentarily taken aback to see them but she quickly assumed her mask of professional solicitude which she wore all day long at work.

  Linda somewhat lamely brought out the lines she had been silently rehearsing during the drive out to Chelsea, ending, ‘You see, Miss Long, my husband and I are going abroad almost immediately and time is very short, otherwise I wouldn’t have dreamed of troubling you out of business hours.’

  ‘Why, Mrs Baxter, that’s quite all right, I’d be only too glad to help in any way I can. I’m frightfully sorry to hear that the suit isn’t quite right, but as you see, I’m just dressing for a dinner date and I’m terribly late as it is. Any other time I’d have been delighted. I promise to be at your sole disposal the very first thing at the shop tomorrow morning.’

  Linda was at a loss. ‘Yes, that’s very kind of you. I quite understand … I … er … So sorry to have been …’ she faltered, wishing Mike would come to her rescue.

  Miss Long favoured him with her scintillating smile. ‘I quite understand your wife’s concern, Mr Baxter. We women are dreadful fussers over the tiniest thing, you know. If a frock is as much as a quarter of an inch wrong we just don’t feel comfortable in it. But I must fly. You will forgive me for not asking you in, won’t you?’

  She was just on the point of closing the door when Mike said smoothly, ‘I was hoping to take this opportunity of talking privately to you, Miss Long. About Nadia Tarrant.’

  A flicker of alarm appeared in Miss Long’s eyes, then her expression went blank. ‘Who did you say?’

  ‘Nadia Tarrant. The woman who identified Harold Weldon in the Lucy Staines murder case. You remember it, I dare say,’ he added dryly.

  ‘Naturally, Mr Baxter. But I can’t imagine why you should want to talk to me about that woman.’

  ‘Wasn’t she a friend of yours?’

  ‘A friend? Good gracious me, no!’

  ‘Then let’s say acquaintance. Possibly a business acquaintance?’

  ‘I’m afraid you’ve been misinformed, Mr Baxter,’ she replied frigidly. ‘I’ve never met the woman in my life.’

  There was a growing note of confidence in her tone which was completely belied by her initial reaction. Mike debated swiftly whether to press the issue. There did not seem much point as long as she continued to keep them on the threshold. ‘A pity,’ he said. ‘I was hoping you might be able to help me in my inquiries.’

  ‘I am sorry,’ came the stiff reply.

  As they turned to go Linda turned casually and said, ‘Oh, Miss Long, my husband and I have been having a little bet just now. He swears he saw Mr Staines leave here just a few minutes ago, and I’m certain he was having hallucinations. Which of us was right?’

  ‘Mr Staines?’ she replied, her voice sharp and uneasy. ‘You mean Lucy’s father?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He certainly has not called here. I’ve only just got in, and no one called until you rang.’

  ‘There you are, darling,’ Linda chortled. ‘I keep telling you to see your optician.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ said
Mike, playing up to her tone. ‘Funny – I could have sworn I saw him.’

  Miss Long, now completely recovered, smiled evasively. ‘I’m beginning to think you imagine things, Mr Baxter. Now I must dash! First thing tomorrow morning, Mrs Baxter, I’ll be at your beck and call. Good night.’

  As they walked back to the car Linda murmured angrily, ‘That’s the last time I’ll try anything like that, Mike. She made me feel like an unwelcome rent collector.’

  ‘You’re too sensitive, darling. You must develop a thicker skin. But she wasn’t exactly overjoyed to see us, was she? And what a thundering bad liar she is!’

  ‘I’m not so sure she was lying.’

  ‘About her knowing Nadia Tarrant?’ said Mike in surprise.

  ‘Oh yes, she was lying there all right. She couldn’t have been more shocked if you’d hit her on the head with a hat box. But I really felt she may have been telling the truth about not having seen Staines.’

  ‘I’m with you there. She looked scared at the idea, though. Maybe she doesn’t want him prowling around the neighbourhood, for some reason or other.’

  They reached the car and got in. Mike said, as he started up the engine, ‘You’re quite sure it was Staines that we saw?’

  ‘Yes. Aren’t you?’

  ‘Pretty certain. Chalk up one more mystery to be solved. The triangle now has four sides.’

  ‘Geometrically impossible.’

  ‘We started out this evening with a neat triangle of Victor Sanders, Irene Long and Nadia Tarrant. A fairly strong – if for the moment meaningless – line connected all three of them. Now we get Staines apparently trying to force his way into the design. I don’t get it.’

  ‘I don’t see any design at all, if you draw another line connecting Staines with his late girlfriend, Peggy Bedford.’

  ‘Darling, you are spreading alarm and depression, and my morale is already low enough. Maybe Rodgers will get a break when they question Saltoni tomorrow down at the station. I’m pinning my hopes on that. I’ve a hunch Saltoni hasn’t told all yet.’

  It appeared that someone else must have had the same hunch. Scarcely had the Baxters reached their flat than the telephone rang. Linda picked up the receiver, turned pale, and frantically called for Mike, who was in the next room mixing drinks.