Alibi

and he thought he heard thunder in the distance, while the sky was a metallic blue. He drove towards Westminster Bridge in thick traffic, and was at the far side, waiting at the traffic lights which protected the approach to Parliament Square when he heard his name on the crackling radio. A dozen other names had been almost inaudible, but he recognised his own in a flash, and switched to Information.

“This is Superintendent West,” he said. “I am at Parliament Square heading for the Yard. Will the message keep?”

“I doubt if you’ll think so, sir,” Information said. “A flash has just come in from division that Maisie Dunster has been found in her apartment, badly injured. A pretty messy business, they say.”

Roger felt himself going cold, and it was some time before he answered, roughly, “I’ll go to her flat right away.”

Chapter Sixteen

DYING STATEMENT

 

As Roger turned into the terrace where Maisie lived, an ambulance appeared from the other direction, white and shining. There were four police cars, three of them double-parked. Roger pulled up behind the third and jumped out, becoming one of a crowd of thirty or forty people being pushed back by two policemen. Men and women were at windows and doorways and gates; there was even a youth on a roof.

“Back a few yards, please,” one policeman was intoning.

“Make room for the ambulance, please.”

“Make room . . .  Back a few yards . . .  Make room . . .”

Roger pushed his way through the crowd which was showing neither resentment nor eagerness at being pushed back. He found himself confronted by a massive policeman whose huge hand was spread out, palm outwards; he touched but did not push Roger.

“Please go back, sir.”

“All right, constable, let me through,” Roger ordered.

“If you’re a relative—” The man turned a big, weather- browned face towards him. Recognising Roger, his eyebrows rose comically. “Oh, Superintendent! Please pass through, sir.”

Two ambulance men were on their way across the small garden with its table-smooth lawn; there were no flower beds. A policeman stood at the front door. Suddenly, pushed out ahead of the ambulance men, was a big, lean, hungry-looking man with high and shiny cheekbones and big and shiny nose. This was the Divisional Superinten-dent, Abe Court. He had big eyes with stubby eyelashes so black that it almost looked as if he wore eye shadow.

He espied Roger.

“Hallo, Superintendent.” He shook hands.

“Hallo,” said Roger. “How is she?”

“Not a chance,” Court answered grimly. “The doc’s with her now, and she’s asking for you.” As they went upstairs in the wake of the ambulance men Court went on, “Doc wants to give her a sedative, but I persuaded him to wait until you got here.”

Roger nodded. While the ambulance men were manoeuvring their stretcher up the narrow stairs, he slipped past them, and into Maisie’s room. A woman stood on one side of the bed, a man was bending over the other.

As Roger neared them, he saw Maisie’s head and face.

From the eyes downwards she appeared uninjured, but her forehead and her fair hair were a bloodied, broken, tangled mess. Roger gulped as he reached the doctor’s side. The girl’s eves, so brilliant and seductive last night, were swollen and bloodshot. Yet obviously she recognised him, and she turned her head.

“Two minutes,” the police surgeon said. He held a hypodermic syringe, already loaded.

Roger nodded, went down on one knee, and took Maisie’s limp hand.

“Who was it?” Roger asked, in a whisper.

She moistened her lips, and the woman moved from the other side of the bed and moistened them with a sponge.

“Just give me his name,” Roger urged.

“You—won’t believe me,” she muttered.

“Never mind whether I’ll Relieve you,” Roger said. “Maisie, I’m terribly sorry. An® the quicker I know the quicker we can get you to hospital and—”

He actually saw a movement at her lips.

“Waste of time,” she said. “I’m done for. It was— Mario.”

“Mario Rapelli?” he echoed, incredulously.

“There you are,” she said. “You don’t believe me.” She closed her eyes. “I didn’t know there were such things as —good cops. Give me a kiss—Handsome.”

The doctor had gone to the other side of the bed, the woman rolled up the girl’s sleeve, and Roger stood up and bent over her and kissed her lightly. Quite deliberately she opened her mouth, and he rested his lips on hers for a long moment. There were movements which he saw out of the corner of his eyes, and suddenly her lips, her face, her whole body went limp.