Gun Street Girl (16 page)

‘You could say that,' said Sutherland.

‘So they'll be bringing in the big guns in the morning,' I said.

‘Maybe. That's why we need a quick result.'

‘Or a mole in the house.'

‘Precisely.'

‘Don't tell your guv'nors who it is or they might not agree.'

They chewed that one over for a bit, ate it up and spat it out. Then Sutherland came from another angle. ‘Who was in the conservatory when Simpson came through the roof?'

‘I've already told you.'

‘Tell us again.'

‘Me, Elizabeth, Vincent, he's the chauffeur. Miranda, she's one of the maids. The geezer I was holding against the wall – Curtis. And a bunch of other people I could point to. I don't know their names. Fontaine was one, and the girl he was with.'

‘What was the fight about?' asked Sutherland.

‘Curtis was giving Elizabeth Pike a hard time. Technically it was an assault. I just evened things up a bit.'

‘He says you jumped him from behind, and technically you assaulted him.'

‘Police training,' I said. ‘And somehow I don't think he'll be pressing charges.'

‘Don't be funny, Sharman,' said Endesleigh. ‘You're a long way from being out of the woods yet, remember.'

I remembered the Browning and shut up.

‘Were the other members of the family there?' Sutherland again.

‘I didn't see them. They were there earlier. Ask Elizabeth, she might remember.'

‘We did, she didn't. We'll get around to everyone else in the morning. What we want you to do is nose around. Make yourself busy. We'll keep in close touch. We want this cleared up quickly. It doesn't look good on the sheet.'

Endesleigh pulled an oblong of pasteboard from his breast pocket. He picked up the pencil from the table and wrote something on the back. He handed the card to me.

‘Here's another card for your collection,' he said. ‘Don't leave this one lying around.'

I looked at him, then the older man, then the card. I couldn't believe what I was reading, and I looked at Endesleigh again. I could still swear he was no more than a kid. ‘Detective Inspector,' I said.

‘That's right. This is Sergeant Sutherland.'

‘But I thought – '

‘Don't think, Sharman,' said Endesleigh. I remembered that Elizabeth had said something similar when I'd last spoken to her. It seemed to be the way the whole case was going.

‘That's good,' I said. ‘I like that. Clever. Puts people off their stroke.'

‘It does, doesn't it?' said Endesleigh. ‘You can go now.'

‘What about my gun?'

‘We'll look after that for you. A hostage to fortune, as it were. Don't worry, we'll keep it oiled.'

‘Cheers,' I said.

‘Goodnight, Sharman,' said the detective inspector. ‘Sleep tight.'

I thought about Leee coming through the glass roof of the conservatory with a bang that almost made my heart stop, and the blood that was bright orange under the lights, and the bits of him all over the floor and I doubted that I would.

‘'Night,' I said, and got up and left.

Miranda was sitting on a chair outside the dining room and the young copper who had been looking after me was trying to look up her skirt. She had been crying and had a handful of wet tissue. ‘Hello, Miranda,' I said.

‘Hello, Mr Sharman. I've got to talk to the policeman. I'm scared.'

‘Don't be, they're all right and there'll be a policewoman in with you.'

‘Yes, I know, I've been talking to her. She's nice. She's gone off to make some tea.'

‘Great, you've got nothing to worry about then.'

‘It was horrible, Mr Sharman. I can't stop thinking about it.'

‘I know.'

‘I thought it was Miss Catherine.'

‘I know,' I said again. ‘I'll tell her you asked after her if you don't see her first.'

‘That's all right,' Miranda said. ‘She'll be busy.'

‘Not that busy.'

‘I mean she'll be upset. That Leee was funny, they loved each other, you know.'

‘I know.' She started crying again.

‘Have you got a handkerchief, Constable?' I asked.

‘No.'

‘Find some tissues, will you?'

‘I'm not bloody “Boots”.'

I looked him up and down but before I could give him any verbal a young policewoman came round the corner from the direction of the stairs to the kitchen with a tray of tea things. ‘Got any tissues?' I asked.

‘Yes, in my bag. I'll look after Miranda.'

‘I'm going upstairs. Will you get Miranda to bed soon, Miss? Try and keep them in there on a lead,' I said to the policewoman.

She smiled. ‘I will,' she said. See, not all coppers are bastards.

I went upstairs using the lift. The sergeant I'd met earlier was outside Catherine's door. ‘You can't go in,' he said. ‘The doctor is in there. But don't worry, there'll be someone here all night.'

‘That's good. Are her windows locked?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Goodnight then, Sergeant. See you in the morning.'

‘Not me, sir. I'm off duty in an hour but someone will take over.'

‘Fine,' I said and went into my room.

I undressed and took off the Browning. I put it in the drawer of the bedside table with my watch. It was ten to one when I climbed into bed and, despite what I thought, I did sleep straight away. I was bone tired after two days of drinking and being hungover.

I came to when someone slapped me in the face and kept slapping. There was a bright light in my eyes and at first I thought the police had come back and decided to change their tactics and bring the rubber hoses. I struggled to sit up and got pushed back onto the mattress hard. Someone had turned the bedside lamp shade round and the bulb was shining straight into my face. I remember saying something bright like ‘What?' or ‘Who?' but another slap shut me up and I lay still and tried to focus on what was going on.

I was on the bed covered with a single sheet and dressed just in shorts. The room was dark and I had no way of knowing what time it was, whether it was still dark outside or whether the curtains had been closed against daylight. There were at least two other people in the room with me. In the bleed of light from the bulb I could make out their shadowy figures. One was sitting in a chair drawn up close to the lefthand side of the bed, the second was standing on the other side of the bed close enough for me to hear him breathe. I guessed it was him who had been slapping. The light reflected onto an automatic pistol with a long, vented silencer screwed onto the muzzle that the seated man held in his hand. The gun was cocked. The hand holding it was wearing a black, shiny glove which met a striped shirt cuff emerging from a dark sleeve, almost completely covering the gold bracelet of a wrist watch.

I lay still and felt my heart hammering in my rib cage.

‘Don't make a sound,' said a voice from the other side of the room. It didn't come from either of the men beside the bed. Three then. The voice had a Cockney accent. No, not real Cockney. Australian, that was it. I wasn't surprised. I squinted into the light but all the faces were invisible in the shadows. ‘Bit early for trick or treat,' I said. My mouth was dry and I licked at my lips.

‘Funny man,' said the standing figure beside the bed. He had an Australian accent too.

‘We've come to give you a message to pass on to Catherine Pike,' said the man with the gun.

‘And a message for yourself,' said the man standing by my bed.

I said nothing.

The sitting man spoke again. ‘Tell her that she owes us what we agreed. We had a deal and she's reneging. We don't like that.'

I could feel sweat running off my body and dampening the sheets.

‘And as for you,' the standing man said, ‘you're in the way. This thing is nothing to do with you. Give her the message and go home. You're playing in the wrong ball park.'

I licked my lips again. ‘I don't know what you're talking about,' I said.

‘We don't expect you to. Just pass on the message and get lost.'

The man in the chair brought the gun up and pointed it into my face. I instinctively pushed the back of my head deeper into the pillow. ‘I was all for killing you now,' he said. ‘But calmer heads prevailed. I won't listen next time.'

‘Leave him,' said the voice of the man I couldn't see.

‘There's a policeman outside,' I said.

‘We're terrified,' the geezer with the gun said. ‘One unarmed guy, half asleep. Give him a shout. You'll be dead before he can move and he'll be dead the moment he sticks his head round the door. Just do as you're told.'

‘Why don't you tell Catherine yourself?'

‘Give her this.' He tossed a brass-jacketed bullet onto the bedside table. It glittered as it rolled across the polished wood and hit the base of the lamp with a click. ‘Tell her there's another like it with her name on it. There's one for you too if you're not out of here by tomorrow night.'

‘Which one of you is Lorimar?' I asked. It was a guess, but it seemed to hit the spot.

‘What did you say?' The invisible man again, but now I could see him, or at least the shape of him, over by the window. For the first time he didn't seem so sure of himself.

‘You heard,' I said. I addressed the figure. ‘Is it you?'

There was no answer.

‘I thought so,' I said. ‘You killed Leee.'

‘Yes,' he said coldly.

‘What's this all about?' I asked.

‘A business deal, pure and simple. We kept our part of the bargain and she didn't. We aren't happy about that. That's all you need to know. In fact, the less you do know, the better. We're going now. I advise you to stay put. We've got that little belly gun of yours. If you want to raise a commotion, be our guest, but someone will get hurt and it might be you. Now get up and go to the bathroom.'

I did as I was told. The standing man slid into the shadow and I swung myself out of bed and went to the bathroom door. ‘Get inside and stay there,' one of them ordered. Once again I did as I was told. I tried the bathroom light but the bulb must have been removed. I stood in the pitch dark for what seemed like hours but could only have been a couple of minutes. I opened the door and the bedroom was empty. I went back into the room. The bedside lamp had been turned off and the curtains were open, allowing the pre-dawn light to dribble through the window. I went over and peered through it without moving the curtain. The fire escape was as empty as if they'd never been there.

I closed the curtains and switched on the main light. The room looked exactly as when I went to bed. My watch was still in the bedside table drawer. It was 3 a.m. The Browning and its ankle holster were gone. I wasn't having a lot of luck with firearms that night.

Though the room was warm and muggy, the sweat drying on my body was cool and I went back to the bathroom for a towel. Light from the bedroom leaked through the open door and I fumbled around until I eventually found one and rubbed myself down. I fetched cigarettes from the sitting room and lit one and sat on the bed. Things were starting to happen. Things were getting serious. I had been lied to and I wanted to know exactly what was going on. The police presence precluded my jumping straight in with my size tens. I'd have to be patient. I was no longer tired so I sat up for the rest of the night smoking and thinking.

I sat on the bed and watched all-night TV and drank the refrigerator dry of soft drinks. I dozed, then came awake. Leee's death and the film I was watching and my dreams and what Lorimar and his murderous little crew had said ran into each other like the layers of a cake until long after dawn when I got dressed and went downstairs.

There was a different copper guarding Catherine's door. He had found a delicate Chippendale chair and was slumped over it like a lumpy schoolboy, but straightened as I came into the corridor. ‘All right?' I asked.

‘All right,' he replied in an unfriendly way. My reputation had gone before me or else the chair was as uncomfortable as it looked.

‘No chance of anyone getting in last night with you lot about,' I said. He mumbled something unintelligible in reply. ‘Keep up the good work,' I said and walked on past. Christ, I could have been murdered in my bed for all he knew. I didn't ask him about Catherine. He would be the last to know. Cannon fodder.

I went down to the dining room. It was barely six and the room was empty. No coppers, no coffee, and the dining chairs were back in their original positions. I needed to see Elizabeth but I needed coffee more. I went down to the kitchen. Courtneidge was standing next to a cold oven drinking from a huge white china mug. ‘Good morning,' I said.

‘Not for us.'

‘Of course not.' I could see he needed to have someone listen to his gripes.

‘Cook has taken to her bed and is threatening to walk out later. Miranda and Constance aren't even down yet.'

‘The police kept them up late.'

‘They should be here,' he said as if I hadn't spoken.

I shrugged, he wasn't interested in what I had to say. He was too wrapped up in himself. ‘Got any coffee?'

‘Instant, or there's tea in the pot. I must apologise but I have to prepare breakfast for the family on my own. There'll be fresh coffee later.'

‘Does it matter?'

‘Of course it matters. Standards always matter.'

‘Come off it, Courtneidge,' I said. ‘There's a kid spread all over the conservatory floor. Does it matter if the family have to make do with cornflakes instead of that spread that's usually chucked away?'

‘It matters to me.'

I shook my head and spooned some coffee into a mug, added milk and sugar and hot water. It tasted just fine.