down the hideous killer.'
'Did she do this often?'
'Only about three times a year, she told me. We were old friends because we went to the same boarding school. I'm small and you know how vicious some girls can be. Viola used to protect me.'
'So you know Fox Street?'
'Quite well. I used to go and see her and we'd have a meal in her flat. She was a marvellous cook. I'm not going to the police because if they came to my work place the Parrot might use it to have me chucked out of the Civil Service. I need the job, you see.'
'Don't go to the police, then. A very able man, no longer in the police, is investigating the murder. May I tell him what you've told me? It's up to you.'
'I could do with some support.' Coral finished her coffee. 'I trust you, so if you trust this investigator – and you must – then it's OK by me to pass it all on to him. If you're ready to go I'd like you to come and see me sometime. My pad is just down the road. I could show you.'
'I'd like that,' Paula said with a smile.
Coral insisted on paying the small bill. As they were leaving the cafe, which was beginning to fill up, she took a plain visiting card from her handbag. She slipped it to Paula, who palmed it.
'It's got my address, phone number, mobile number,' Coral went on as they turned right towards the main part of Covent Garden. 'The mortgage was terrifying but I liked the place. Tucked away. Here it is.'
They paused before the entrance to a slim three-storey building, recently built after the demolition of several small shops, Paula guessed. She looked up as Coral pointed, gazed up. Paula had a shock.
'That window on the first floor is my living room,' Coral explained. 'The window is frosted glass for privacy. Not much to look out at anyway.'
Paula stared at the tall frosted-glass window. It had a horrible similarity to the blood-drenched window in Fox Street, where Viola had been slaughtered. She forced herself to smile as Coral continued speaking.
'Not much space except in the living room. You see now why I put up with the Parrot -I need the salary.'
'Here is my card,' Paula said, giving her the version with General amp; Cumbria Assurance, the cover name on the plate outside the SIS headquarters. 'If I'm out speak to Monica, give her your first name only. If you're worried I'll come as soon as I can.'
'I have enjoyed your company,' Coral said as they shook hands. 'Let's see each other soon.'
'I have a photograph of the murderer of Vander-Browne,' Tweed was saying on the phone when Paula returned. Newman and Nield were sitting down, facing each other like antagonists.
Tweed clapped his hand over the phone to inform Paula.
'I'm on the phone to Chief Inspector Hammerhead.' He removed his hand, continued. 'Yes, a photo of the murderer…'
'What!' Everyone in the room heard the policeman's explosive outburst.
'You heard me correctly,' Tweed replied calmly. 'I'm sending it over to the Yard for your attention by courier. No, I've no idea who pushed the envelope containing it through my letterbox. The lettering on both envelope and back of the photo is in deliberately crude block lettering. Yes, I've had both items checked for fingerprints. None at all, as you'd expect. I must go now. Sorry. Goodbye.'
'Is it the original?' Paula asked. 'And why send it to him anyway?'
'Because as well as me he's investigating the case. I don't like the man but I play fair, when necessary. You never know, he might just stumble over something.'
'The only thing he'll stumble over will be his own feet,' she replied.
'And how did you get on?' Tweed asked, looking at Newman.
'I made a complete and utter balls-up,' Newman began bluntly. 'Pete introduced me to the informant and I couldn't get a word out of them. I think I went about talking to the person concerned in one hundred per cent the wrong way. I've apologized to Pete.'
Paula admired Newman's frankness about his failure. She also noticed he'd made no reference which could even vaguely identify Coral. Tweed must have read her mind, which he often did, as she frequently read his.
'Man or woman?' Tweed demanded.
'I don't remember,' Newman replied, staring hard at his chief.
'A washout, then,' Tweed suggested.
'Absolutely. I think it's done me good. Brought my big feet back on the ground. I'm taking Pete out for a drink in a minute.'
'I've had a thought,' Paula began. All eyes turned to her. She stood up, walked to the far side of Tweed's desk, folded her arms.
'I can't get out of my mind that cat with its neck screwed round the wrong way. It was an act of sadistic cruelty – done by the sort of person who in later years could chop Viola into pieces for the fun of it.'
'Interesting.' Tweed frowned. 'I think you have detected a significant pointer to the killer. Trouble is, we don't know which of the three teenagers maltreated the cat in such a beastly fashion.'
'Unless it was the General himself,' she remarked.
'Oh, my Lord.' Tweed clasped both hands behind his neck. 'That would be a very strange twist in the plot.'
'And,' Paula went on, 'we know from Frank that the General makes three-day trips up to London. Frank called him 'virile'. Just a thought which crept into my head.'
'I could phone every decent hotel in London and persuade them to tell me if he stayed there – and if so when,' volunteered Monica.
'Do it,' said Tweed.
Except, Paula thought as she returned to her desk and not voicing the idea aloud, he's clever. He'd probably stay at some rundown boarding house, giving a false name, and never the same place twice.
When Tweed had started talking to Chief Inspector Hammer, Marler had glided into the room. The Invisible Man, as he was nicknamed in the office, had followed Paula, parked his car in Covent Garden, had seen everyone who had entered and left Popsies.
Now he announced, 'I'm going out on the prowl. Never know what I might see.'
'You've just been out somewhere,' Paula said with a smile.
He squeezed her shoulder. 'And I'm just going out again. Toodle-pip.'
He saw no point in revealing that his destination was Covent Garden.
16
On the Thames, Mugger Morgan was steering his barge in close to the dock. He was the only crew aboard his huge vessel but that was because of what he was carrying in his pocket – a large packet of cocaine which would bring him a load of money when he handed it over to the waiting dealer.
He swore when his mobile phone started buzzing. The last diversion he wanted at this moment was someone asking him to do a job. Knowing he'd wonder all the time who had called, he kept one hand on the wheel, used the other to take out the mobile and answer the call.
'Yes,' he growled.
'It's Fitch, Mugger. Need your help bloody fast or I'm a goner.. .'
'What is this crap?'
'Mugger, I've been shoved down the chute at the warehouse. I'm 'angin' with a rope round me bleedin' neck. I've got me feet propped against the side of the chute but they won't hold much longer. For Christ's sake…'
'How much?'
'What!'
'How much for me to come and haul you out? I'm a businessman. You should know that by now.'
'Five 'undred nicker. In cash. For Gawd's sake, Mugger!'
'I'm on me way. You 'ang on.'
Mugger chuckled as he put away the mobile. He rather liked the humour of his remark.
