of your girls any time she sets foot on the street. They can keep you company in the dock. Harassment …? Don’t tempt me.’
He had leaned closer, his grin unpleasant.
‘Now be a good little pimp and answer Mr Cook’s questions. And we’ll have no more lip out of you — is that understood?’
Shaken by this verbal assault, Ragusa’s tongue had been loosened at last, but to no avail. He had spent the previous evening at his club and had not learned of Florrie’s death until that afternoon. As for the incident in which she’d been involved on the night Rosa Nowak had been murdered, he acknowledged having heard about it — it seemed Ackers had reported the matter to him — but he knew no more than that she’d been questioned by the police.
‘Did you speak to Florrie about it?’ Lofty had asked him.
‘Only once. I told her she must do what the police say.’
‘Did you think of protecting her?’
‘From what?’ Ragusa had spread his manicured hands. And then, ‘Did you?’
His shaft, though it brought a hiss of anger from Joe Grace’s lips, had gone home, at least as far as Billy was concerned, and he acknowledged as much to Sinclair when he knocked on the chief inspector’s door and found him still at his desk.
‘It never occurred to me she might be in danger, sir. Maybe it should have.’
‘So you also feel it’s the same man?’ Sinclair had listened in silence to Billy’s account of the murder scene. For what it’s worth, John Madden seems to agree with you. I spoke to him earlier. He suggested Florrie might have died because the killer believed she could identify him.’
Lofty and I had the same thought, sir. And if we don’t connect them then we’ve got two murders with no explanation for either.’
Sinclair grunted. ‘Let’s not overlook the obvious,’ he said. ‘She wouldn’t be the first streetwalker to end up this way.’
At the back of the chief inspector’s mind, Billy surmised, was a notorious case that had occurred in London before the war when a number of girls managed by a Paris gang had been strangled for refusing to hand over their takings.
‘That’s true, sir. But there’s a difference here. Florrie didn’t fit that pattern. For one thing her pimp was a Maltese, for another she was valued property. His best girl, Ragusa told us. He’s a nasty piece of work. Nicks his tarts’ cheeks with a blade if they don’t behave. Florrie didn’t have a mark on her.’
Sinclair frowned. He was still not satisfied.
‘I’d be happier if we had something more solid to go on. A link of some sort. Evidence to show there’s a connection between these two crimes.’
‘Well, I can’t give you that, sir.’ Billy shrugged. There’s no obvious link between them. But there is a common factor.’
‘Is there?’ Sinclair’s tone was deceptively mild. ‘I seem to have missed it.’
‘It’s something Dr Ransom put his finger on. The way these two girls were topped. Cold-blooded doesn’t begin to describe it. They were disposed of, simple as that. The evidence points to a certain kind of killer being responsible, and the question then is could there be two of them? We don’t think so, Lofty and I. We reckon it’s the same man.’
Billy sat back. He’d made his case. It was up to the chief inspector now, and as yet he had given no hint as to how he wanted the investigation to proceed. Nor could any clue be deduced from his manner. Sealed by the blackout blinds fixed in the window, his office had taken on the aspect of a cave and the single lamp set low on his desk that of a fire over which he bent like some tribal shaman, his face unreadable in the shadows. After a minute he stirred and looked up.
‘Very well. I’ll go along with your judgement. From now on we’ll treat these two cases as one.’
Billy breathed a sigh of relief.
‘But there’ll have to be some changes. This will become a Yard inquiry. Cook can stay on the case, but you’ll be in charge. Will that be a problem?’
‘Not for us, sir.’ Billy smiled. ‘We’re old pals.’
‘Is there anyone else you want?’
‘Joe Grace, if he can be spared.’
The chief inspector signalled his assent with a nod.
‘Now, you’re to keep me informed,’ he continued. ‘Every day, if you can. That means all developments, no matter how minor. Speaking of which, just where do you propose to start? It seems to me you’ve precious little to go on.’
‘With this fellow who was asking about Florrie a few days ago.’ Billy had his answer ready. He felt more relaxed now that the decision had been made. ‘At least, we think it was her he was after. He’s got to be tracked down.’
Sinclair nodded.
‘And there’s another line of enquiry we want to follow up. Rosa’s murder didn’t give us any leads, but it’s different this time. Whoever killed Florrie jimmied two locks, and according to Myers it was expert work. It’s likely this bloke is a villain, a professional. We’re going to have to go through the records in detail.’
‘And what will that involve?’
‘It’s hard to say, sir.’ Billy grimaced. ‘Up to now we’ve been concentrating on men with a history of violence towards women. But that could be a mistake. These crimes aren’t sexual. But whoever this bloke is he’s likely got a record. If we look carefully enough we may find him.’
‘And equally you might not. The image of a needle in a haystack springs to mind.’ Sinclair scowled. And there’s another problem. From what the Desmoulins woman said it seems this man’s fluent in French, which suggests he may well have been active abroad, which in turn might explain why we’ve no record of him here. If that’s the case we’re not likely to find out any more about him till the war ends.’
He sat brooding.
‘You realize what you’re asking for? It could prove a huge waste of time. I don’t want either you or the Bow Street CID tied up doing this, and I can’t spare another detective. But if the job’s going to be done properly it’ll require someone who’s familiar with both cases. Someone with a sharp eye, what’s more.’
Billy nodded sagely. ‘I was thinking the same thing, sir.’
‘Oh, you were, were you?’ Sinclair eyed him with suspicion. ‘You’ll be telling me next you’ve got someone in mind.’
‘Well, yes, sir — as a matter of fact I have.’
Billy grinned. He didn’t know if he could get away with this, but he was going to try.
‘It’s a uniformed officer stationed at Bow Street. Could be just the person we need.’
9
‘We know his name now, sir. It’s Alfie Meeks. But so far we haven’t been able to lay hands on him.’
‘And why is that?’ Bennett snapped. He was in a testy mood.
‘Because we don’t know where he’s living. Not at this moment. He’s been moving about in the past couple of months. Renting rooms here and there for a week or two.’
The assistant commissioner had been away — off sick with a dose of flu — and Sinclair was devoting a good part of their initial meeting to bringing his superior up to date on the inquiry into the murder of Florrie Desmoulins.
‘But for some days now he hasn’t been seen in his usual haunts.’
‘Which are?’
‘An open-air market in Southwark, for one. He’s got a stall there, but hasn’t appeared lately. The same applies to the cafe where he usually eats.’
‘Are we sure he’s still in London?’ The assistant commissioner looked sour. ‘Come to that, do we know he
