'In price. What they charged for their services, if you see what I mean.' She had another drink. 'At least, Marina was. Viola wasn't. What they charge a man for you know what.'
'I see.' Paula took another small sip. This was a new development no one had mentioned before. 'Where does Marina live, then?'
'She has a luxurious pad in a street off Mayfair. Do you want the address?'
'If you don't mind…'
She studied Coral while she was scribbling on a pad. Her movements were jerky. Nerves? It could be the brandy but Paula doubted it. Coral was informally dressed in denims and a white blouse buttoned to the neck. Coral handed her the sheet she had torn off the pad. Paula noticed the writing was neat but jerky. She folded the note, put it inside her hold-all in a zip-up pocket.
'Thank you.'
'It has her address, her phone number, her mobile number.'
'I suppose Viola gave you this information,' she said gently.
'That's right. I was having a drink with her one evening in her Fox Street flat. She asked whether I'd consider going to see Marina. To try and patch up the relationship. I didn't go, didn't like the idea.'
'Probably very wise. Are you hungry? I think I am.'
Paula had decided it was time to go to the restaurant before Coral used the brandy bottle again. They had reached the front door when Paula noticed the simple lock.
'Covent Garden is getting all sorts of people floating round it these days. I'd feel happier if you installed better locks. Maybe a Banham and a Chubb.'
'How nice of you to think of my safety…'
'Do any of those three men come on to you?' Paula asked before they went outside.
'No trouble from Nelson. Sometimes I don't like the way Benton looks at me when he's wearing those rimless specs. The one I have to fend off is Noel, but I can handle him. I'm afraid I'm not really dressed for dinner.'
Paula looked at her. Coral had her glorious crown of red hair piled up on top. She gave Coral a quick squeeze as she spoke.
'You look gorgeous. And I'm not exactly dressed for the Ritz. Neither will some of the other women be fit for a fashion parade!'
Once outside, she was immediately aware of the chill, but Coral had slipped on a jacket. Paula glanced around casually. No sign of her 'protectors' but she knew they would be there.
'Marina? A twin sister?' The surprise was evident in Tweed's voice.
Paula had just returned very late from her visit to Coral. The only other occupants in the office were Marler and Monica.
'And where are the three I sent to watch over you?' Tweed demanded fiercely.
'Not to worry,' replied Paula, perched on the edge of his desk. 'Newman escorted me here, saw me safely inside, then said he was going back to his car. I think he's gone back to join Pete and Harry. I suspect they're staying for some time, watching the entrance to Coral's flat, now I've gone. Which I think is smart. Maybe someone else watched me leave.'
'In that case they are smart. They're acting on the advice I've hammered into everybody. Think for yourselves. Now tell me about your evening.'
'Before I start, here are Marina's details. Address and so on.'
Tweed handed the folded sheet to Monica, asked her to record it. She opened the sheet, looked at it, returned it to Tweed.
'I've memorized it. I'll transfer it to the key address book.'
Paula had a lot to say. She recalled every word of her conversation with Coral, adding her own thoughts as she continued. She was aware that, behind her, Monica was using her hundred-and-thirty-words-a-minute shorthand to take down every detail.
As she'd expected, Tweed became a Buddha, sitting motionless, his eyes never leaving hers. His powers of concentration were legendary. She waved a hand as she concluded.
'Now you have the lot. Interesting?'
'And I've got the lot,' Monica called out. 'I'll type you a report. How many copies?'
'Five, please,' Tweed told her. 'A copy for each member of the team. It's so important everyone has the data in this situation. Paula, interesting? I think it was vital you decided to go and see Coral. Significant is the word.'
'Why?' Paula asked.
'Because the Parrot is playing a devious game. Also because now we know of the existence of Marina. I shall have to go and see her.'
'Want me to come with you?' Paula suggested ironically. 'To protect you?'
'So far I've been pretty good at protecting myself against alluring and predatory women. And thank you, Paula, for doing such a professional job. Now I'm going to do something I should have done earlier, but we've been chock-a-block.'
'What's that?'
'I intend,' he said after checking his watch again, 'to visit the scene of the crime in Fox Street. If I go now I should arrive at roughly the time Saafeld said the hideous crime was committed.'
'I'm coming with you, of course,' said Marler.
'I agree,' Tweed said reluctantly.
He could hardly have refused. Not when he was hammering on about everyone's safety. He stood up and Paula slipped off the edge of his desk. He took hold of her shoulders and again his voice was fierce.
'You are not allowed to leave this building until someone – Newman, Pete or Harry – has got back. They will escort you home, will check out every corner in your flat before you enter it, then they will sleep on that sofa in the living room, or in the spare bedroom. ..'
'Oh, for Heaven's sake,' Monica burst out. 'They'd do that anyway. Are you suffering from paranoia?'
Tweed made no reply, but grabbed his coat, and put it on as he went down the stairs followed by Marler. Outside the night was fresh and colder. Tweed opened the car, slipped in behind the wheel as Marler dived into the rear.
The passenger door next to Tweed was opened, and Paula was on the seat next to him as he switched on the engine. She slammed her door shut. Tweed opened his mouth but she beat him to it.
'No argument. You've said before I take over if you're out of action. On top of that I'm well guarded with the two of you. And, on top of that, we're visiting the flat of a poor woman – woman – who was foully murdered. I'm a woman. I could spot something a man could miss.'
Tweed, driving away from Park Crescent, had opened and closed his mouth twice. Like a fish, Marler thought, watching him in the rear-view mirror. Tweed's mind was revolving as he drove on, heading towards Covent Garden.
Paranoia, Monica had said. Could she be right? Was he in danger of overdoing his warnings? Paula had done a good job, extracting information from Coral, and some of it might eventually lead them to the psychopathic murderer.
'You've got a point,' he ultimately admitted.
Paula showed no elation, no hint of triumph. She was gazing out as they neared their destination. Fox Street, a name which would go down in the history of criminology.
No one was about at this depressing hour. The car wobbled over cobbles. They had entered Fox Street. Tweed slowed the car to a crawl. It was a narrow street, with poor illumination from ancient lamps protruding from walls on metal arms.
'Nearly there,' Paula said. 'Within yards…'
She had been checking the house numbers, which were lit up by lights behind them. Tweed parked on the pavement. They could now see the notorious house, police tape still strung across it. As they got out the door opened, Marler had his gun in his hand.
'It's Chief Inspector Hammer,' Tweed warned.
The burly policeman, huddled up in an overcoat, stood hands in his pockets. Mistake, in this area, Tweed thought. If Hammer was attacked he'd never get his automatic out in time. He went up to Hammer, who was
