Lisa had given was not convincing. Paula checked her Browning. 32 automatic which was tucked inside a holster strapped to her lower left leg and was escorting Lisa down the stairs with Tweed behind her when Harry Butler, the toughest and cleverest member of Tweed's team, came into the office. Tweed called down to the two women.
'Wait in the hall for me. Only be a moment. '
He followed Harry into his office, closed the door carefully, gave him his instructions. He described the strange characters Lisa had alleged had stalked her, told Harry to collect his car from the park at the back of the building.
'Sounds crazy, ' Harry agreed, 'but I’ll be not far behind your Audi, You won't see me. '
'The target never does when you are following him.'
When Paula opened a rear door of the Audi she expected Lisa to sit on the pavement side. But no, she dived across and chose the seat overlooking the street. Paula sat beside her as Tweed took the wheel. Bexford Street? It was curious that Lisa lived in a rented house quite close to the stately terraced house he had purchased just before the property boom.
'It's the next side street, ' Lisa called out as they passed Tweed's home. They turned, drove down a narrower deserted side street. 'Then, ' she continued, ' you turn left and my place is the first on the left round the corner.' ghastly shock awaiting him.
Guilty? The word kept reverberating through Tweed's head. He was totally unprepared for the ghastly shock awaiting him.
ONE
Police tape was strung across the entrance to the house on the corner, before Tweed turned into the next quiet street, the house next to Lisa's round the corner. He was driving slowly, pulled in next to the tape. As he alighted, telling his passengers to wait in the car, Paula glanced at Lisa. She was staring fixedly at the street on her side.
Tweed crouched down by the body spread out down the steps. It had been covered with a bedsheet but no policeman was on guard. Slipping on latex gloves, he lifted the sheet at the top, sucked in his breath.
Not a pleasant sight. It was the body of a well- dressed woman in her late thirties or early forties. He lifted an arm. Rigor mortis had come and gone – which meant she had been lying there for hours. Probably murdered during the night.
Her slender throat had been slashed open from ear to ear. Tweed felt real horror seeing what had once been a handsome face. Past tense. Her forehead cheeks, nose and chin had been gutted with some strange instrument; a series of deep squiggles had rendered her, he felt sure, unrecognizable. Such brutal butchery he had not experienced before.
I’ve never seen anything as hideous as this. ' Paula's calm voice said over his shoulder, ' Don’t worry – I’ve left Lisa in the car 3 locked all the doors.'
He replaced the sheet over the horrific face, walked down the steps, continued round the corner to Lisa's house. No police tape there. But the house beyond did have more police tape – and another body sprawled down the steps, also covered with a sheet. No police guard.
Climbing the steps, still wearing the latex gloves, he lifted the sheet. Like the previous corpse it was a woman, of a similar age, with fairish hair and was expensively dressed. Her face had been ruined with a similar weird instrument – or the same one. Deep squiggles of flesh had been torn open, were coated with dried blood. Her throat was slashed from ear to ear. Tweed lifted an arm. No rigor mortis. This body had also lain here for hours.
The door to the house was jerked open, slammed back. A figure stood in the doorway in a police uni form. It was a tall overweight officer, his peaked cap on his head above cunning eyes glaring viciously at Tweed, Chief Inspector Reedbeck.
'Heavens!' whispered Paula. 'Old Roadblock. ' Her nickname for the most incompetent police officer Tweed had ever met.
'What are you doing messing about here?' the offi cer demanded snidely. 'Commander Buchanan has placed me in sole charge of this murder investigation. And already I have the killer locked up in our new Pine Street police station just down the road. '
'Chief Inspector Roadblock. ' Tweed started again: Paula had thumped him in the ribs. 'Chief Inspector Reedbeck,' he began grimly, 'how long have the two bodies been lying on their doorsteps? And surely you're not alone?'
' Of course not,' Reedbeck snapped. 'I have Sergeant Peabody and Constable Brown with me.'
' Then why aren't they here guarding the bodies? And how long have you been here? Why hasn't the pathologist arrived? '
'Because -' Reedbeck had folded his arms, his expression distinctly smug – 'Peabody and Brown are inside the houses trying to establish the victims' iden tities. Nothing in their handbags…'
'Both men should be outside guarding the bodies. You could deal with searching the houses.'
' I don't need any lessons from you, Tweed. And I've been here two hours, I'm waiting for the pathologist I phoned almost that long ago. Professor Arpfels. '
'Why not Professor Saafeld? He'd have been here ages ago and the bodies would be in his mortuary. '
'Your pet pathologist. ' Reedbeck sneered.
'Who happens to be the top pathologist in the coun try. Arpfels is useless. And what is this about your having a serial killer at Pine Street? What is his name – and what evidence have you to charge him with this beastly crime? '
'Well, even you know that. A murderer often returns to the scene of his crime. I spotted this joker stopping, looking at the body here, then going round the corner and stopping again to stare at the other corpse, I dashed out and nabbed him.'
'He went under the police tapes and examined the faces?'
'Well, no he didn't. ' Reedbeck was losing some of his arrogant self-confidence. 'He refused to give his name, refused to say one word to me or at the police station. I had him searched s but he'd nothing on him to say who he was. Don't you find that significant?'
'Maybe you didn't search him thoroughly.' Tweed raised his voice. *I think you're disgraceful – leaving two corpses out in the open without guards. The Yard could well do without you.'
Tweed returned to his Audi, parked round the corner. Paula had run ahead of him. Behind him he heard Reedbeck's barking yell.
I’ll remind you I’m in sole charge of this murder investigation.'
Paula had unlocked the Audi and Lisa dived out onto the pavement, started running towards Tweed. She stopped briefly, tucked a card in his top pocket. Her face was ashen but she managed something of a smile.
'I'm going to lock myself in my house, try and eat some breakfast. Thank you so much for your help…'
As she disappeared round the corner he heard Reedbeck bellowing. His manner was back to bully ing.
'You're confined to your house. Miss Clancy. I'll be round later for a thorough interrogation.'
Tweed sat in his car behind the wheel. He made no attempt to start the engine. He was reading the printed card Lisa had given him. Her address was 77 Lynton Avenue, He turned the card over. She had written on the back: Will wait here until you or Paula call me. Lisa.
'And now,' Tweed said to Paula fiercely, 'if you'll loan me your mobile, I'm going to set in motion a volcanic eruption.'
Tweed pressed the buttons for Commander Buchanan's private number at the Yard, was relieved when Buchanan himself answered. Seated beside him, Paula clearly heard every word Buchanan used in reply. He was livid.
I’ll flay that Reedbeck alive. Leaving two bodies unguarded in the street! It's a scandal. I sent him out there well over two hours ago, when the woman called to tell me about the bodies… No, she didn't leave a name. Sounded well spoken, rang off when I asked her for a name. '
'Why send a man like Reedbeck?' Tweed broke in.
