“You are also a newcomer to the district and living on your own.”
“As you can see, Mr Purbright.”
“Yes, well I don’t have to spell this out for you, do I? No policeman in similar circumstances would be doing his duty if he failed to warn you.”
She surprised him with a broad, fond smile.
“Of course not, my dear inspector. I appreciate it. But I must beg you not to worry.”
“I shall try not to,” he said drily.
“Good. Now is there anything else I can do for you? Are you sure you will not have coffee?”
“Quite sure, thank you.” He reached to an inside pocket. “But there is one way in which you can be specifically helpful. This gentleman you say you have met...oh, what’s his name, by the way?”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I think, if you do not mind, inspector, that I should keep that to myself for the time being.”
“Are you sure you’re being wise?”
“Not unwise, I hope. Ethical, certainly.”
He shrugged. “As you wish. But at least you can tell me if you have received any letters from him.”
“Naturally. That is how these introductions are effected, you know.”
Purbright placed on the table a slip of stiff white paper on which were five or six lines of writing.
“This is a photographic copy,” he explained, “of part of a letter which we are satisfied was written by the man who made contact with the two missing women. Would you mind letting me see one of the letters you have received from your friend?”
“I should have no objection at all, Mr Purbright, but there is not one here for you to see. They were simply formal meeting arrangements. I did not keep them.”
Purbright looked disappointed. “Mightn’t you be able to find something, Miss Teatime? Even an odd piece or two in a wastepaper basket would be enough.”
She smiled. “In an hotel, Mr Purbright, one does not throw letters into a wastepaper basket. One tears them up and consigns them to the toilet.”
“I see. Well, will you take a careful look at this writing and tell me if you notice any resemblance to what you can remember of your friend’s.”
He waited until she had taken out her spectacles, then handed her the slip.
Miss Teatime scrutinized it for nearly a minute. She removed her glasses, replaced them in her bag, picked up the slip and gave it to the inspector.
“Quite, quite different,” she said. “Of that I am perfectly sure.”
The inspector sighed. “At least I seem to have been able to put your mind at rest.”
“Oh, but it was never anything else, Mr Purbright. Not really.”
When the inspector had gone, Miss Teatime had a nice long think. Then she left the table and sought out the young lady in the reception office, whom she asked to recommend a car hire firm that might be able to oblige her at somewhat short notice.
The girl gave her an address in St Ann’s Place. Ten minutes later, Miss Teatime was on her way there, unfollowed by policemen.
The garage manager prided himself on an ability to guess, from his first look at a customer, what kind of a vehicle was likely to be preferred.
He regarded Miss Teatime judiciously while she made her request, then nodded like a store Father Christmas and announced: “Just the very thing for you.”
He led her behind the service bay to an enclosure where about a dozen cars were standing. He went straight to a pale blue Ford Anglia and opened the door.
“Full tank. Key’s in. Just drive away. Lovely.”
He shut the door and motioned Miss Teatime to precede him back to the office where minor formalities could now be disposed of.
To his surprise, she stayed where she was.
“Is this the only car which is available?”
“Well...not exactly, but...”
She stood back, to get a view of the line.
“May I choose from these?”
He shrugged, a prophet without honour.
Miss Teatime scrutinized the row of bonnets in a single, slow-ranging inspection, then stepped forward and placed a gloved finger on the bronze paintwork of a car near the end.
“I shall have this one, if you please.”
The manager gazed dubiously at the low, clean-lined Renault, crouched in the row like some cat-napping athlete.
