Graveyard to hell, p.36
Graveyard to Hell, page 36
‘And you got into conversation?’ Mallory said.
‘On the contrary, I picked her up quite deliberately. She was waiting for her boyfriend and he was late. I invited her to the party.’
‘Why did you do that, sir?’
‘Because I knew it would be infested by a miserable bunch of stuffed shirts and I thought she might liven things up a bit. She was that sort of girl. Ask Miller, he was paying enough attention to her from what I could see. An honest tart. Hair out of a bottle and a skirt that barely covered her backside.’
‘You were at the party for about twenty minutes before I left,’ Miller said. ‘You couldn’t have stayed for long.’
‘About half an hour in all.’
‘And the girl left with you?’
‘You already know that, for Christ’s sake.’ He swung on Mallory. ‘Are you sure you won’t have that drink?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then I will.’ He went behind the bar and reached for a bottle. ‘All of a sudden, things seem to be taking a rather nasty turn.’
Mallory ignored the remark. ‘You say she was here for no more than ten minutes.’
‘That’s right.’
‘I would have thought she’d have stayed longer.’
‘If I’d brought her back to sleep with me, the poor little bitch would be alive now, but I didn’t.’
‘Why did you bring her back?’
‘To pose for me.’ He swallowed a large whisky and poured himself another. ‘I offered her five quid to come back and pose for me.’
For a brief moment Mallory’s composure slipped. He glanced at Miller in bewilderment and Faulkner said, ‘As it happens I’m a sculptor. That little lot on the dais behind you is a commission I’m working on at the moment for the new Sampson building. The Spirit of Night. This is just a rough draft, so to speak – plaster on wire. I thought a fifth figure might give more balance. I brought Grace back with me to stand up there with the others so I could see.’
‘And for that you paid her five pounds?’
‘Ten, as a matter of fact. I wanted to know and I wanted to know right then. She happened to be available.’
‘And what did you decide, sir?’ Mallory asked.
‘I’m still thinking about it. Well, what happens now?’
‘Oh, we’ll have to make further enquiries, sir,’ Mallory said. ‘We’ll probably have to see you again, of course, you realize that.’
They walked to the door and Faulkner opened it for them. ‘What about her boyfriend, Superintendent? Harold, I think she called him.’
‘I don’t follow you, sir.’
Faulkner laughed boyishly. ‘I suppose I’d better come clean. He arrived just as we were leaving The King’s Arms. There was something of a scene. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but he was pretty angry at the girl more than me.’
‘That’s very interesting, sir,’ Mallory said. ‘I’ll bear it in mind.’
He went out. As Miller moved to follow him, Faulkner tapped him on the shoulder. ‘A private word, Sergeant,’ he said softly and the smile had left his face. ‘Stay away from my fiancée in future. One likes to know when a friend is a friend. The trouble with all you bloody coppers is that you’re on duty twenty-four hours a day.’
There was a sudden viciousness in his voice, but Miller refused to be drawn. ‘Good night, Mr Faulkner,’ he said formally and went out.
Faulkner slammed the door and turned with a frown. For a while he stood there looking thoughtful, then moved back to the drawing board. He removed the clean sheet of cartridge paper, disclosing a sketch of the four statues. After a while he picked up his pencil and started to add an additional figure with bold, sure strokes.
Outside in the street, it was still raining heavily as Miller and Mallory got into the Chief Superintendent’s car where Jack Brady waited with the driver.
‘What did you think?’ Mallory demanded.
Miller shrugged. ‘It’s hard to say. He’s not the sort you meet every day of the week. Did you buy his story about taking the girl back to the studio to pose for him?’
‘It’s crazy enough to be true, we just can’t tell at this stage. He’s certainly right about one thing – the girl’s boyfriend wants checking out.’ He turned to Brady. ‘You can handle that one. The fiancé’s name is Harold, that’s all we know. The girl’s father should be able to give you the rest. When you get the address, go straight round and bring him down to Central for questioning.’
‘What about me, sir?’ Miller asked.
‘You can go back to that damned party. See Joanna Hartmann and check Faulkner’s story. I still don’t understand why he left so early. I’ll see you at Central as well when you’ve finished. Get cracking then – I’ll drop Brady off.’
His car moved away into the rain. Miller watched it go and sighed heavily as he got into the Mini-Cooper. His second visit to Joanna Hartmann’s that night was something he didn’t fancy one little bit.
8
The party had just about folded and the guests had departed except for Jack Morgan and Frank Marlowe who sat at the bar with Joanna and her aunt, having a final drink before leaving.
The door bell chimed and Joanna looked up in surprise. ‘Now, who on earth can that be?’
‘Probably Bruno,’ her aunt remarked acidly. ‘Returning to tell you that all is forgiven.
‘Well, it won’t work – not this time.’ Joanna was annoyed. ‘He can stew for a while.’
There was another ring and Frank Marlowe started to rise. ‘I’d better go …’
‘No I’ll handle it. I’ll see him myself.’
She opened the door, braced for her encounter and found Nick Miller standing there. ‘Why, Nick,’ she said in bewilderment.
‘Could I come in for a moment?’
‘Certainly.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m afraid nearly everyone’s gone home. We’re just having a final drink. Why don’t you join us?’
‘I’d better not,’ he said. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m here on business.’
As she closed the door, she stiffened then turned very slowly. ‘Bruno? Something has happened to Bruno?’
Miller shook his head quickly. ‘He’s perfectly all right – I’ve just been speaking to him. There was a girl here earlier – a girl called Grace Packard. He brought her with him, didn’t he?’
Jack Morgan got up from his stool and came forward. ‘That’s right, but she left some time ago. Look here, Miller, what is this?’
‘As I said, I’ve already spoken to Faulkner. She went back to his studio with him and left at approximately ten-thirty. She was found by a police officer less than fifteen minutes later in an alley a couple of streets away.’
There was a shocked gasp from Mary Beresford and Marlowe said in a whisper, ‘You mean she’s dead?’
‘That’s right. Murdered. Her neck was broken, probably by a sharp blow from the rear.’
‘The Rainlover,’ Mary Beresford said so quietly that it might have been a sigh.
‘It could be,’ Miller said. ‘On the other hand that kind of killer tends to work to a pattern and it’s a little close to his last one.’ He turned to Morgan. ‘You’ve been here all the time?’
‘Since I arrived at eight-thirty or so.’
‘I can confirm that,’ Joanna said quickly. ‘We all can.’
‘Look here,’ Marlowe said. ‘Can we know where we stand? Is this an official call?’
‘Just an enquiry.’ Miller turned to Joanna again. ‘I understand from your fiancé that he didn’t stay very long. Isn’t that rather unusual considering that it was your birthday party?’
‘Bruno’s very much a law unto himself,’ she said calmly.
Mary Beresford came in under full sail. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake tell the truth about him for once, Joanna. He didn’t stay long because he was asked to leave.’
‘And why was that?’
‘I should have thought it sufficiently obvious. You were here – you saw what happened. He picked that little tart up in a saloon bar and brought her here with the deliberate intention of ruining the party for everyone.’
‘Aunt Mary – please,’ Joanna said.
‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ The old woman’s eyes glittered fiercely. ‘He arrived dressed like a tramp as usual and within twenty minutes was trying to break the place up.’
Miller turned enquiringly. Jack Morgan picked up the two halves of the wooden chopping block that lay on the bar. ‘Bruno’s latest parlour trick.’
‘Karate?’
‘That’s right. Imagine what a blow like that would do to somebody’s jaw.’
A brown belt who was soon to face re-grading to first Dan, Miller could have told him in detail. Instead he looked at Marlowe speculatively. ‘That bruise on your face – did he do that?’
‘Look here,’ Marlowe said angrily. ‘I don’t know what all this is leading up to, but if you think I’m laying a complaint against him you’re mistaken. There was a rather undignified squabble – there usually is when Bruno’s around. Nothing more.
‘And he left with Grace Packard. You must have found that rather upsetting, Joanna.’
‘God knows, but she’s had enough practice by now,’ Mary Beresford said. ‘You say he took her home with him?’
‘That’s right, but apparently she only stayed ten minutes or so.’
‘A likely story.’
‘Confirmed by the time the body was found. He says that he gave her ten pounds to pose for him. Would you say that was likely?’
Frank Marlowe laughed harshly. ‘More than that – typical.’
Joanna had gone very white, but hung on to her dignity with, everything she had left. ‘As I’ve already said, he’s very much a law unto himself.’
‘He’s been working on a special commission,’ Jack Morgan said. ‘One of the most important he’s had. It started as a single figure four or five weeks ago and now comprises a group of four. He was discussing with me earlier the question of adding a fifth to give the thing balance.’
Miller nodded. ‘Yes, he did mention that.’
‘Then why did you have to ask?’ Joanna said sharply.
Miller frowned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t follow you.’
‘Are we to take it that my fiancé is under some kind of suspicion in this business?’
‘Routine, Joanna, pure routine at the moment. But it has to be done, you must see that surely.’
‘I don’t at all,’ she said hotly. ‘What I do see is that you were a guest in my house earlier this evening because I had imagined you a friend.’
‘Rubbish,’ Miller said crisply. ‘You asked me to your party for one reason only. Because my brother is probably the most influential man in Northern Television and you’re worried because you’ve heard there’s talk of taking off your series at the end of this season.’
‘How dare you?’ Mary Beresford said. ‘I’ll complain to your superiors.’
‘You can do what you damned well like,’ Miller helped himself to a cigarette from a box on the table and smiled calmly. ‘With my present service and including certain special payments my annual salary at the moment as a Detective Sergeant is one thousand three hundred and eighty-two pounds, Mrs Beresford. It might interest you to know that every penny of it goes for income tax. Gives me a wonderful feeling of freedom when I’m dealing with people like you.’
He turned back to Joanna Hartmann. ‘Whether you like it or not you’ve got a few unpleasant facts to face. Number one as far as I’m concerned is that Grace Packard was murdered within an hour of leaving this flat in company with your fiancé, so don’t start trying to get on your high horse because we have the impudence to suggest that he might be able to help us with our enquiries.’
‘I’m Mr Faulkner’s solicitor,’ Jack Morgan said. ‘Why wasn’t I present when he was questioned?’
‘Why not ask him? He was certainly offered the privilege.’ Miller turned very quickly, moved to the door and opened it. ‘I’ll probably have to see you again, Miss Hartmann,’ he said formally. ‘We’d appreciate it if you’d make yourself available during the next couple of days.’
‘But Miss Hartmann’s due in London tomorrow for an important business conference,’ Frank Marlowe said.
‘I can’t prevent her going,’ Miller said, ‘but it would certainly be a great pity if Faulkner happened to need her and she wasn’t here.’
He closed the door and chuckled grimly as he went along the corridor to the lift. He’d certainly stirred things up there. It would be more than interesting to see what the outcome, if any, would be.
The heavy silence after Miller had gone out was first broken by Frank Marlowe. ‘I don’t like the smell of this – don’t like it at all.’
‘Neither do I,’ Jack Morgan said.
Joanna went up the steps to the door, opened a cupboard and took out a sheepskin coat. She pulled it on quickly.
‘Did you come in your car, Jack?’
‘Yes.’
‘Good … I’d like you to run me round to Bruno’s.’
Her aunt put a hand on her arm as if she would restrain her. ‘For goodness’ sake, Joanna, don’t be a fool. Stay out of this.’
Joanna turned on her fiercely. ‘You don’t like him, do you, Aunt Mary? You never did. Because of that you want to believe that he’s somehow mixed up in this business. Well, I never will.’
The old woman turned away, suddenly looking her age and Frank Marlowe said, ‘Want me to come?’
Joanna shook her head. ‘Better not. Would you mind. hanging on till we get back?’
‘I’ll be here.’
Jack Morgan opened the door for her and as Joanna turned, her aunt made a final try, ‘Joanna,’ she said sharply. ‘You must listen to me. It’s for your own good. Think of your career. You can’t afford to get mixed up in the kind of scandal this could cause.’
Joanna ignored her completely. ‘Ready, Jack?’ she said and led the way out.
They didn’t talk during the drive to Bruno’s place, but when Morgan pulled in at the kerb and switched off the engine, she put a hand on his arm.
‘You’ve known Bruno a long time, Jack, longer than any of us. You don’t believe he could …’
‘Not a chance,’ he told her emphatically. ‘He’s a wild man, I’ll give you that, but I couldn’t accept the kind of suspicions Nick Miller obviously holds for a moment.’
‘That’s all I wanted to hear.’ She smiled her relief. ‘Now let’s go up and have a word with him.’
But they were wasting their time. There was no reply to their insistent knocking at Bruno’s door. After five minutes of fruitless effort, Morgan turned to her and said gently, ‘Better leave it for now, Joanna. He’s probably had enough for one night.’
She nodded wearily. ‘All right, Jack, take me home. We’ll try again in the morning. I’ll cancel my trip to London.’
On the other side of the door, Faulkner listened to the footsteps fade as they descended the stairs. His head was hurting again. My God, but it was hurting. He took a couple of the pills the doctor had given him, poured himself a large whisky and stood at the window and looked out into the night.
Rain spattered against the glass and he rested his aching forehead against it. But it didn’t help. Quite suddenly it was as if he was suffocating. Air, that’s what he needed – the cold air of night to drive away this terrible pain. He grabbed his trenchcoat and hat and let himself out quickly.
9
‘Last time I saw you in the ring was when you fought Terry Jones for the area title,’ Ma Crowther said. ‘I thought you had it in your pocket till he gave you that cut over the eye and the ref stopped the fight in the third.’
‘I always did cut too easily,’ the Gunner said. ‘If it hadn’t been for that I could have gone right to the top. The Boxing Board took my licence away after the Terry Jones fight on medical advice. Just a vale of tears, isn’t it?’
He looked anything but depressed sitting there at the table wearing an old sweater the girl had found him and a pair of boots that had belonged to her father. He had already worked his way through three fried eggs, several rashers of bacon and half a loaf of bread and was now on his third cup of tea.
‘You’re a funny one and no mistake.’ Jenny Crowther shook her head. ‘Doesn’t anything ever worry you?’
‘Life’s too short, darlin’.’ He helped himself to a cigarette from the old woman’s packet. ‘I shared a cell once with a bloke who was big on this yoga lark. You’ve got to learn to relaxez-vous. Live for today and use the talents the good Lord’s given you.’
Jenny laughed helplessly. ‘I think that’s marvellous. Considering the way you make a living.’
He wasn’t in the least embarrassed. ‘So I scrounge a few bob where I can. The kind of people I hit can afford it. Insured up to the hilt they are. I don’t go around duffing up old women in back street shops.’
‘The original Robin Hood,’ she said acidly. ‘And what happens when someone gets in your way on a job? Do you go quietly or try to smash your way through?’
She piled the dirty dishes on to a tray and went into the kitchen. The Gunner moved across to the fire and sat in the opposite chair to the old woman. ‘Is she always as sharp as that?’
‘She has to be, lad, running an outfit like this.’
‘You mean she’s in charge?’
‘Her dad passed on a couple of months back – cerebral haemorrhage. Jenny was a hairdresser, a good one too, but she dropped that and took over here. Been trying to keep things going ever since.’
‘Having trouble, then?’
‘Only what you’d expect. We’ve eight drivers and two mechanics and there isn’t one who wouldn’t take advantage if he could. And then there’s the foreman, Joe Ogden. He’s the worst of the lot. He’s shop steward for the union. Always quoting the book at her, making things as difficult as he can.’
‘And why would he do that?’
‘You’ve seen her, haven’t you?’ She poured herself another whisky. ‘What about you? Where do you go from here?’
