She nodded. “Anne had a cottage at Lakeham. French bought it
for her. He used to go down week-ends or whenever he had the time.
Mrs. Brambee looked after the place.”
“Why did they keep you a prisoner?” I asked, giving her another
cigarette.
“French wanted the police to think I and not Anne died in my
flat.”
“But why, for God’s sake?”
“He knew they couldn’t trace him through me, but he and Anne
had been around a lot together, and he was scared they’d connect
him with her death. There was something going on at the cottage he
didn’t want the police to find out, and he thought the police would
find the cottage if they began to make inquiries about Anne.”
“What was going on at the cottage?”
“I don’t know.”
“How did you find this out?”
“Mrs. Brambee told me. She was scared of French and liked
Anne.”
“When I turned up, he realized his scheme wouldn’t work, is that
it?”
“Yes. But Cole telephoned him, told him you had been up and
that you would most likely want to see the—the body. French got into
a panic, and with a couple of his men took Anne from the mortuary.
They rushed her down to the cottage, fixed it to look as if Anne had
committed suicide there instead of at my flat.”
“Well, I’ll be double damned,” I exclaimed. “You mean to tell me
the girl who died in your flat and the girl found in the cottage were
one and the same?”
“It was Anne.”
“But one of them was a red-head and the other a blonde.”
Netta shuddered. “French stopped at nothing. My hair’s not really
red. I had a bottle of henna dye and he dyed Anne’s hair while she
was drugged. Then when he brought her to the cottage he used a
peroxide wash, brought her hair back to its natural colour.”
I grimaced. This guy was certainly a cold-blooded rat if ever there
was one.
“Well, go on, what happened then?”
“I was in the way. The police were looking for my body. French
planned to kill me and plant my body where the police could find it. Ju
Cole wouldn’t let him. Ju and I had always got on together. As long as
Ju was with me, I was safe. He told me French had planted one of
Allenby’s rings in my flat and the police were looking for me. I got
scared. I thought the police were after me, and I knew French was
waiting his chance to kill me. I made Ju help me escape. I got away,
came to London. There was only one place I could think of to hide in .
. . here. Selma and I were friends. I used to come here in the old days,
before she married Jacobi. I knew Selma had gone to America with
Peter, after George had been killed. Peter smuggled her over.”
“Peter? Peter who?”
She frowned, passed her hand across her eyes. “I was forgetting
you didn’t know him. Peter Utterly. He was an American, over here in
the Army. He was nice, and when Selina was in trouble, he offered to
take her back to his home and to look after her.”
“Was he the guy who gave you the Luger pistol?”
“Luger pistol?” she repeated blankly, then nodded. “I’d forgotten
that. I promised to keep it for him, but when he went we both forgot I
had it. How do you know about it?”
“Corridan has it,” I said. “We both thought it was the gun that had
killed Jacobi.”
She went white. “But they know now it isn’t?”
“Sure, they know,” I said, patting her knee. “I’m nearly through.
Why did you go to Bradley?”
“I had to. I hadn’t any money. Bradley has always been decent to
me after our first fight. I had no one to turn to. I was scared to come
to you. Ju told me you were always going around with the police. I
wanted to come to you, but Ju said it was too dangerous. So I went to
Bradley. I told him the whole story.
He was decent and gave me two hundred pounds. Then you
arrived; I got in a panic and ran.”
I stroked my nose. “Go on,” I said.
“I came back here,” she went on, suddenly gripping my wrist. “I
let myself in, came upstairs. I heard someone moving about in the
sitting-room. I thought it was French. I swear I thought it was French.”
She broke off to stare into my face. “Steve! You must believe me.
“Go on,” I said.
“I thought he had come to kill me. I was crazy with fear. I didn’t
know what I was doing. I grabbed the poker, waited in the dark.
Something moved, came at me. I—I lost my head . . . hit out.” She hid
her face in her hands. “Steve, you must help me. I’m so frightened.
Say you believe me. Say you’ll help me. Please. . . .”
I got to my feet, walked the length of the room. “How the hell can
I help you?” I asked. “They’ll find him here sooner or later. They’ll find
out he was working for me. They’ll find out you’ve been hiding here.
The only thing we can do is to tell this story to Corridan. It’s the only
way, Netta. He’ll understand. He’l help you.”
She stood up. “No! French will kill me before the police can do
anything. If he doesn’t, they won’t believe me. I know they won’t. No
one would believe me except you.” She put her arms around my neck,
held me close. “Steve, I’m asking you to help me. I know you can do it.
You can get me out of the country the way Peter Utterly got Selma
out. We can go in a day or so. Before they find him.” She looked
shudderingly over her shoulder. “Peter took Selma back in one of his
friends’ aircraft. Can’t you do the same for me? Can’t you get me out
of this after what we’ve been together?”
“Let me think,” I said, sat on the bed, lit another cigarette. I
stayed like that for several minutes. Then I said, “Okay, Netta, I’ll do it.
I’ll get you out of the country and then I guess we’re quits. I owe you
something, but I didn’t think the price would be as steep as this. But
I’ll do it.”
