Triumph For Inspector West

“They—wanted—to know where my husband was last night.”

“Did you tell them?”

“I didn’t know.”

“You needn’t come that with me! I’m not a rozzer. Did you tell them?”

“No.”

“He was on a job, wasn’t he?”

“I—I think so.”

The man said: “Now listen to me, Katie. I want straight answers. You’re here on the Common alone with me, see? I can do what I like with you. Ever read in the papers of a girl being strangled on a lonely bit of common? That’ll be you if you’re not careful, only you won’t read about it. Give it to me straight, or I’ll fix you. Your husband was out on a job, wasn’t he?”

“Y—yes.”

“Raeburn’s place?”

“I—I think so.”

“What did he want there?”

“He—he doesn’t like . . . Raeburn.”

“So he doesn’t like Raeburn,” mimicked the man. “That’s too bad. I’ll have to tell Mr Raeburn; it ought to keep him awake at night. Why doesn’t Mr Brown like Mr Raeburn?”

“He thinks—”Katie began.

Everything came out more lucidly than when she had told it to Roger. The man kept on prompting her, and she needed only a word here and there to keep her talking. The story showed clearly what her husband felt about Raeburn; how sure they both were that Raeburn had been responsible for Tony’s death; how clear it was to them that Eve could not have seen the ‘accident’ on Clapham Common.

Katie was calmer, but no less frightened. It was getting cold, and she kept shivering; now and again her teeth began to chatter, and she could not control them; the man did not try to force her to speak during those spells. He kept very close to her, holding her arm; and, whenever he spoke; she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheeks, but could not see his face properly; it was just a pale blur in the darkness.

Trees and bushes rustled in the rising wind; there was a frequent hum of traffic on the main road, but all sight of the roadway was cut off from her. There was only the fear and the cold, and this man with the flat, hateful voice.

At last she finished.

“And where’s your husband now?” he demanded.

“I don’t know!”

“You know as well as I do.” The man gripped her arm so roughly that she gasped aloud. He slapped her face with his free hand, and whispered: “Keep quiet!” She I began to shiver, and could not stop her teeth from chattering. He slapped her again. “Where is he? ”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be here!”

“Don’t give me that. Telling me is your one chance of getting away from here alive. Where is he?”

She felt the savage pressure of his fingers on her arm, his breath on her face. His free hand touched her coat, and began to unfasten the top buttons. His hands were against her warm skin. He put his fingers round her throat, and began to squeeze. This was different from his first attack; this was not just to keep her quiet.

He was going to strangle her; he meant to kill her.

His touch seemed like ice.

“Where is he?” he demanded, between clenched teeth.

“I don’t know, I just don’t know!”

He squeezed, making her choke, but a scream burst wildly from her lips. She struck out at him blindly, taking him by surprise, so that he loosened his grip. The scream came out, high-pitched, shivering on the night air, a blood-curdling sound. As it welled out, he clutched at her throat again, using both hands now; her cries stopped abruptly; she began to struggle and fight for breath.

Roger pulled up behind a police car stationed on the main road which cut across the Common. A uniformed policeman and a man in plain clothes came up and recognised him, and the policeman drew back. The detective from the Barnes HQ tried to put a note of enthusiasm into i his voice.

“Very glad to have your help, Chief Inspector. I’m Detective Inspector Gray.”

“I don’t know that I can do any more than you,” Roger said. “Has anything turned up?”

“Nothing that helps at all,” replied the other. “The woman walked down Common Road toward the Common, as far as I can find out, but we haven’t found a trace of her since then. She was seen by a couple who passed the end of the road, but none of my men has seen her. We can’t search the Common thoroughly on a night like this.” He was on the defensive. “We can’t even be sure that she’s here.”

“It’s a good meeting place,” observed Roger. “Are all the roads covered?”

“Yes, but it’s easy enough for anyone to slip through,” Gray answered. “I don’t want to be pessimistic, but I don’t think you’ve got much chance of finding her—not tonight, anyhow. There are so many ways she can creep out.”