“I’m always there,” she said. “All part of the job. Something else he didn’t tell me at the interview. Anyway, it must have been about nine o’clock. Things had just started to swing when the door opened and Joanna walked in.”
“Just like that?”
“Apparently she still had a key to the private door in the alley. Max was furious. He dragged her into a corner and started telling her where to get off. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but you’d only to see her face to know that she was pleading with him.”
“What happened?”
“As I say, I couldn’t hear what she said, but he laughed right in her face and said, ‘There’s always the river, isn’t there?’ I wasn’t the only one who heard that.”
There was a long silence and then Miller said calmly, “It would seem she took him at his word.” Monica Grey didn’t reply and he got to his feet. “Does he know she’s dead?”
“Not as far as I’m aware.”
“You haven’t been in touch with him since I was last here?”
She shook her head and he nodded, moved to the door and opened it. “You do and I’ll crucify you.”
As he went downstairs, Brady opened the front door. He paused, waiting for Miller to join him. “Any luck?”
“You could say that. How about Harriet Craig?”
“She’ll be fine once she gets over the initial shock. She’s got a lot about her that one. Where to now?”
“The Flamingo Club,” Miller said, “to have a few words with Mr. Maxwell Vernon. I’ll explain on the way.”
He went down the steps quickly and when he slipped behind the wheel of the Cooper, his hands were shaking.
Max Vernon’s office was a showpiece in cream and gold and furnished in perfect taste, the walls lined with expensive military prints, a fire flickering brightly in the Adam grate. He made a handsome figure sitting there at his desk, the last rays of the afternoon sun lighting up the fair hair, picking out the colours of the green velvet smoking jacket, the Guards Brigade scarf at his throat.
There was a knock on the door, it opened and Stratton came in. “I’ve got those figures you wanted.”
Vernon put down his pen and sat back. “Good show, Billy. Just leave ’em on the desk. Anything else?”
“Yes, this copper you were asking about.”
“Miller?”
“That’s right. You’re on a bum steer there. He’s anything but bent. It seems his brother owns a chain of television shops. Miller’s a sleeping partner, that’s where all his gelt comes from.”
“But that’s illegal,” Vernon said. “Coppers aren’t encouraged to have business interests on the side.”
Stratton nodded. “Apparently they all know about it on the force, but they simply look the other way. It seems Miller’s a blue-eyed boy. He’s been to University, got a law degree and that sort of thing.”
“Has he now?” Vernon said. “Now that
There was a sudden disturbance in the corridor outside and then the door was thrown open and Miller walked in. Behind him, Jack Brady and Carver glowered at each other, chest to chest. Stratton took one quick, fluid step forward like a ballet dancer, his right hand sliding into his pocket, and Miller raised a finger warningly.
“You do and I’ll break your arm.”
Vernon sat there, apparently unmoved, a slight smile hooked firmly into place. “Do come in,” he said ironically.
“I intend to,” Miller told him. “Get rid of these two. We’ve got business.”
“Now look here, you bastard,” Carver began and Vernon’s voice rang across the room like cold steel.
“I’ll call if I need you.”
Carver and Stratton obeyed without another murmur and as the door closed behind them, Vernon grinned. “Good discipline — that’s what I like to see.”
“Once a Guardsman, always a Guardsman, is that it?” Miller said.
“The most exclusive private club in the world.” Vernon fitted a cigarette into a green jade holder and gave a mock sigh. “You’ve been checking up on me, sergeant.”
“And how,” Miller said. “The Yard was more than interested to hear you’d turned up again.”
“Let’s get one thing clear,” Vernon said. “I run a perfectly legitimate business here and that applies to everything else I own. If you’ve anything else to say, I suggest you discuss it with my lawyers.”
He reached for the telephone and Miller said calmly, “We pulled Joanna Craig out of the river this morning, Vernon.”
For a brief moment only Vernon’s hand tightened on the ’phone and then an expression of shock appeared on his face.
“Joanna — in the river? But this doesn’t make sense. You’re quite sure it is her?”
“Why shouldn’t we be?”
“The fact is, I understood she’d been living under an assumed name. Nothing sinister — just to stop her family from running her down. She’d had trouble at home.” He shook his head. “This is terrible — terrible.”
It was all there, beautifully detailed by a steeltrap mind which had assessed the situation in a matter of seconds and had come up with the only possible counter with the speed of a computer.
“When did you first meet her?”
The answer came without the slightest hesitation. “About four months ago. Someone brought her along to one of my parties. I discovered she was a very talented artist. I wanted some murals for the club and she agreed to accept the commission. It was as simple as that.”
“And that was all — just a business arrangement?”
“The murals are on the wall of the main casino, you can see them for yourself,” Vernon said. “Anything else that was between us is no damned business of yours. She wasn’t a child. She had a good body and she liked the pleasures of the flesh as much as the rest of us.”
“So you did have an affair with her?”
“If you mean by that did she ever sleep with me, the answer is yes. If you’re really interested, so do lots of other women, though I can’t see what in the hell it has to do with you.”
“Did you know she was a junkie — that she was mainlining on heroin?”
“Good heavens, no.”
“Not good enough. You didn’t even bother to look surprised.” Miller shook his head. “You’re a liar.”
Something glowed deep in Vernon’s eyes. “Am I?”
Miller gripped the edge of the desk to keep his hands from shaking. “I know this girl, Vernon. The first time I clapped eyes on her, she was floating off the central quay two feet under the surface and yet I know more about her now than I do about my own sister. She was a sweet, shy girl, a little bit introverted, interested only in her work. To use an old-fashioned word for these times, she was a lady — a term that wouldn’t mean a damned thing to you in spite of Eton, Sandhurst and the Guards.”
“Is that a fact now,” Vernon said softly.
“You’re from under a stone, Vernon, did you know that?” Miller said. “Now let me tell you what really happened between you and Joanna Craig. She was brought to one of your parties by an old student friend and she must have looked as fresh as the flowers in spring compared to the usual rubbish you keep around. You wanted her, but she didn’t want you and that wasn’t good enough for the great Maxwell Vernon because what he wants he takes. You got her boozed up and gave her a fix and from then on she was hooked because she had to have one every day of the week and that meant coming to you — accepting your terms. That’s the terrible thing about addiction to heroin. There’s no degradation to which the victim won’t stoop to get the stuff and you must have been just about as low as she could get.”
Vernon’s face was white, the eyes burning. “Have you quite finished?”
“I’ll let you know when I have. When you’d had enough, you threw her out and then last night she forced her way into your party to beg you to help her because she was going to have a baby. You laughed in her face, Vernon. You told her there was always the river and she took you at your word.” Miller straightened up and took a
