Blood Red

by John Creasey

  ‘I told you last week that I couldn’t help you.’

  ‘I’m reminding you, you’re not reminding me of anything,’ Odell said. He moved his lips very little as he spoke, and consequently had a quiet voice, but it was not really soft. ‘I want some of Wray’s money. If I took half of it, you would never know the difference. He could still smother you in mink and sable, diamonds and pearls; he could even build you a house with uranium, or let you have crude oil in your swimming pool. Money doesn’t mean anything to Theo Wray, but it’s a dream to me. It was my lucky day when he went to see Norm Kilham. You don’t know how lucky! Know what, Rosie? I can retire after Theo has given me a generous share, and I’d like to retire. Maybe we could have next-door villas in the South of France.’

  ‘I’ve come today for one reason only,’ Rosamund said. ‘To make you understand that there is nothing you can do to make me help you. Nothing at all.’ Her voice seemed thin and almost squeaky, and she was still afraid, for there was one way in which he could bring pressure upon her: a way which might prove unbearable.

  He turned into the street where she lived and pulled into the kerb, but he didn’t get out. He put a hand on her knee; his fingers hurt her.

  ‘You’ve got it wrong, Rosie,’ he said. ‘I can make you. I don’t want to have to use unpleasant persuasion; I don’t want trouble of any kind. All my life I’ve been getting rich without making trouble for myself, but when a prize like this one is dangled in front of my nose, I’ll take a little more risk than usual. Not that it’s a risk, if you do what I tell you to. Any man who will give you a ring which is worth the better part of a hundred thousand pounds will give you the world. All you have to do is to get a passion for jewels, honey. Just get an all devouring passion for the beauties, and let Theo buy them simply to see the light in your eyes. He could make you a gown of diamonds and underclothes of spun gold and shoes of platinum, and still wouldn’t have spent more than petty cash. So all you have to do is to get yourself loaded with jewels, Rosie. I’ll arrange to have them stolen from you, see? You don’t have to do a thing; you’re just the sweet, simple little woman who was waylaid and robbed.’

  Rosamund began to open the door of the car. ‘I won’t have anything to do with it,’ she insisted. ‘If I see Chloe or Frances or any of your favourites trying to win his confidence, I shall warn him.’

  ‘You won’t, you know,’ said Odell, and he put a hand very tightly on her arm, to prevent her from opening the door. ‘You won’t warn him, because if you do, it will tell him one or two things that might upset your applecart. Do you think he would be so pleased with his dewy-eyed Rosie if he knew all I know about you?’

  ‘I’ll have to take that chance.’ Rosamund was very thin-voiced, and still frightened, but she meant to open the door and leave him.

  His grip was very strong; although she tugged against him, she was unable to get away. ‘You aren’t going to take any chance, Rosie.’ He seemed to speak without opening his lips. ‘I’ve planned this very carefully indeed. And let me tell you something. I’m a married man now; I’ve got responsibilities. I wouldn’t mind retiring, and you’re going to help me. I arranged for you to go to that cocktail party because I was told that he might fall for the high neck and the innocent look. You’ve got me to thank for a lot of things. Your memory is too short, Rosie. Only a few years ago you persuaded a nice old boy—that’s your own description, remember?—to make you some very substantial presents. Then you walked out on him.’

  Rosamund was very pale. ‘You forced me to.’

  ‘You say I forced you to,’ Odell sneered. ‘Who’d believe that, Rosie? You wanted to protect your kid sister who was in big money trouble, so you did what I suggested – I didn’t make you. And you couldn’t even prove I suggested it. You got your cut and your sister’s a nice girl now, married and in America, where everyone’s rich. But you’re not in America; you’re here. And your boy friend wouldn’t shower jewels on you if he knew you’d stuck an old man in exactly the same way, would he? He’d more likely break your neck.’

  Rosamund said tautly, ‘I’d have to take that chance.’

  ‘Don’t do it, Rosie. That old geezer you got the jewels from was one of the few who’ve ever been really awkward, so I had to buy him off. I liked you, Rosie, and I didn’t worry about losing all my profit, even for your sister. And you were very grateful at the time, remember. The old geezer is still hale and hearty, and with a little persuasion he would remember all about it. I’m quite sure he would identify you.’

  Rosamund had lost all her colour. ‘That was over five years ago. I was too young to realise what you were making me do.’

  ‘Don’t keep on,’ urged Odell in a harder voice. ‘Stop fighting, Rosie, and it will be better for all of us. You’d never persuade a man like Theo Wray to believe that you were as sweetly innocent as all that. Oh, I know you were, but that’s not the point. You swindled the nice old boy. You actually cheated him out of money and jewels. It was a few years ago, but the police are always boasting about their long, long arm. Even if your Theo would forget all about it, which he wouldn’t, the police would put you away for a year or two. Now stop fighting. The job needn’t take long. Properly handled, Theo will never know what happened, and you’ll be the last person he’d suspect. I’ll come up to your flat with you now, and we’ll go into details.’

  Rosamund said in a quivering voice, ‘If the past has to come out, I can’t help it. I’m not going to help you. If Theo is swindled, I shall tell him all I can about you. Now let me go.’

  Instead, Odell tightened his grip, and twisted her arm. In front of them was a milkman, carrying a metal basket filled with milk bottles. The milk looked very white in the sun. A post-office van, as scarlet as Rosamund’s dress the night before, was at the far end of the street. They saw no one else.

  Rosamund gasped in pain.

  ‘Now think again, Rosie,’ Odell urged. ‘And see it my way, because if you don’t, you’ll get hurt much more than this. You’ll get so badly hurt that—’

  He broke off, with a sharp exclamation.

  He let her go, and snatched at the ignition key. Rosamund saw him stare in the mirror as if suddenly terrified. She saw him stab the self-starter, and heard the engine roar, but before he could take off the brake, the door was wrenched open and a pair of hands clutched Odel’s right arm.

  Rosamund saw Odell trying to get his right hand into his jacket pocket. Before he succeeded, he was jerked out of the car as if by irresistible power. Then Rosamund saw Theo. The whiteness around his mouth and the whiteness at his nostrils was bad, but far worse was the hatred in his eyes, and the glittering expression which cried that he could kill.

  ‘Theo!’ she managed to gasp, and slid across the front of the car to get out on the same side. ‘Theo!’ She saw the flurry of legs, heard a gasping sound, and saw Micky Odell stagger backwards, but Theo still held him with one hand, and was striking at him with the other. ‘Theo, let him go!’ she almost sobbed, and tried to pull him off, because she was so afraid.

  She hadn’t the strength.

  Then a car came speeding along towards them, and she looked up, saw the car stopping, and saw Mannering opening its door.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Man Who Wanted To Kill

  Mannering was out of his car before the door was wide open, and he jumped towards the two men who were struggling by the side of the Italian car. He saw the dread in the girl’s eyes, and knew it was justified; in this mood, Theo Wray was a killer. Micky Odell looked as if he was already half conscious; his efforts to defend himself were pathetically weak, and when he kicked out, he lost his balance. Theo kept him upright, then shifted his grip from the lapel to the throat.

  ‘That’s plenty, Theo,’ Mannering said, but did not think the other heard him. He gripped Theo’s right wrist.

  For a moment Theo was baffled: then he glanced round, saw who it was, and growled through his set white lips, ‘Get out of my way.’

 
Only force would stop him.

  Mannering changed his grip, and twisted. Theo gave a little grunt of pain and surprise. His hold on Micky Odell’s throat slackened, so that Odell sagged away. It was Rosamund who saved him from falling, and helped him towards the car, where he leaned against the wing. He looked like a boxer who had been bashed and battered into a knockout. His eyes were glazed, he was gasping for breath, and there were spots of blood at his cheeks, his collar, and his tie.

  Mannering hardly noticed that.

  He had let Theo go, and the younger man swung round on him, eyes glittering, no longer a killer but furiously angry and set on hurting. ‘I warned you,’ he rasped, and launched himself at Mannering.

  Mannering took one blow on the chest, low down. Then his arms weaved, and he gripped Theo again. There was a moment when they seemed to be standing absolutely still: then Theo began to bend downwards, pushed by an inexorable pressure which Mannering did not relax. Sweat stood out in little beads on Mannering’s forehead; the effort was taking a lot out of him. If this trial of strength lasted much longer he might have to give way, and forever after Theo would want to deal with him as he would have dealt with Odell.

  He exerted more pressure, clenching his teeth, and seeing that Theo was in just as bad a way.

  Then Theo’s resistance collapsed, and he thumped to the pavement.

  Mannering backed away hastily, quite prepared for the other to spring at him. But Theo crouched on the ground, only looking up, tie pulled out and collar awry, but otherwise untouched. Then he took a phial from his pocket, shook a tablet on to his hand, tossed it into his mouth, and swallowed it.

  The whiteness round his mouth faded, and the tension at the nostrils relaxed also. So he was taking drugs – some kind of tranquilliser, probably.

  Theo glanced towards the car, and Mannering spared a moment too.

  A man whom he had not seen before was helping Odell into the seat next to the driving wheel. Rosamund was standing away from the car. Odell’s chin was lolling on his chest, but he was moistening his lips, and once he tried to look round. The other man, who was short and perky and dressed immaculately in grey, didn’t say a word, but ran round to the driving seat. He darted a glance at Theo, as if fearful of being the next victim.

  Theo said, ‘You shouldn’t let him go, John,’ in a clear voice. ‘I wanted to kill him for what he did to Rosamund.’

  The milkman, hurrying to see if he could help, heard that and stopped. The driver of the post-office van, who was slowing down, heard it, and looked shaken. A young woman and an old one, one the other side of the road, obviously heard the words before they were cut off by the sound of the Italian car’s engine. Without another look round, the driver went off as swiftly as if Theo had been at the wheel; the rear tyres squealed under the fierce acceleration.

  Theo said again, ‘That was a mistake. I’ll have a lot of trouble finding him.’ He moved quickly, until he was standing upright. There was no malice, only reproach, in the way he looked at Mannering. Then he stepped to Rosamund’s side. ‘It’s okay, honey,’ he went on in the most gentle of voices. ‘He won’t ever do that to you again; I’ll make sure of it.’

  The milkman said, ‘You’d better mind what you’re saying.’

  The postman said, ‘Well, here’s one for the book,’ and looked along the street and beckoned. Mannering glanced over his shoulder, and wasn’t surprised to see a police constable approaching. The sports car reached the far end of the street, and went out of sight.

  Theo had his arm round Rosamund’s shoulders. ‘Don’t look that way, honey. There isn’t a thing so bad as you think it is.’

  ‘You’d better go to the flat,’ Mannering said. ‘I’ll deal with the policeman.’

  ‘The who?’ Theo glanced along the street, then grinned, as if nothing at all unusual had happened. He ran a hand over his hair, and went on, ‘Oh, the copper. I’m told you’ve got Scotland Yard eating out of your hand, so it shouldn’t be difficult to put a nosebag on this chap.’ He helped Rosamund towards the door of the house, watched by a dozen people, and by others at the windows of nearby houses. As he went into the house, there was a murmur of conversation and condemnation.

  ‘If you hadn’t come along, sir,’ the milkman said to Mannering, ‘I reckon he’d have killed him.’

  ‘What’s all this, Horace?’ the policeman asked. He was a comfortable figure and a comforting-looking man, who gave the impression that nothing would ever make him lose his equanimity. ‘Going to murder someone?’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for this gentleman …’ Horace began. It was ten minutes before Mannering was able to leave them, with the policeman satisfied that there was no cause to make a charge. The front door of the house was open, and Mannering went slowly up the narrow stairs. It had been an ugly interlude, but not really surprising. He had been lucky in one way: he had wanted to see Rosamund quickly, and this had seemed the most likely place. Micky Odell would hardly have taken her to his West End apartment.

  Mannering had saved Odell’s life, but wasn’t likely to get much thanks for it. He might get some from Theo later, and he had learned one fact of great interest. Theo certainly took tranquillising drugs. Some doctors said they were harmless, as many opposed them, and it mattered little either way. At least Theo recognised the need for some kind of cure for his rages.

  Rosamund had looked lost and forlorn as she had turned away, Mannering remembered. What pressure could Odell have exerted to make her leave the Green Street flat with him?

  Had she explained to Theo?

  Theo opened the door just before Mannering rang the bell, stood aside for him to enter, and said, ‘It’s about time you showed up; I hope you can do something with her.’ Then he seemed to realise that he hadn’t given the happiest of welcomes, and gave a rueful kind of smile. ‘John, I guess when I’ve calmed down I’ll know how much I owe you. There are times when it scares me, I see so red. I saw a doctor who gave me some tablets which calm me down a bit. It’s only temporary – guess I need a rest, like you said, and I’ll soon be having one.’

  ‘It’s absolute madness!’ Rosamund declared. She came in from a small room on the left, carrying a tea tray, and looking more composed, although very pale; her eyes had the telltale sign of tears. ‘You can’t go about trying to kill people who happen to have displeased you.’

  ‘Any man who lays a hand on you—’ Theo began.

  ‘Don’t be such a fool,’ Rosamund said roundly, while Mannering silently applauded, and at the same time realised that she had reached some kind of decision. ‘What’s the use of making millions of pounds if you’re going to spend the rest of your life in prison?’ she demanded. ‘Money isn’t going to buy you off murder in this country or anywhere else. You ought to be kept on a chain while you behave like this. And drugs won’t help you. You want rest.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ murmured Mannering.

  Theo was strangely subdued as he said, ‘You see what I mean; I can’t do a thing with her.’ He watched as she began to pour out tea, her hand trembling a little, an indication that she was having to fight hard to maintain her composure. Her movements in the everyday job were unstudied and graceful, and when she had finished pouring out, she sat on the arm of a chair and looked at Theo with a severity which drove every other expression from her eyes.

  ‘Mr Mannering, I refused to tell Theo anything until you were here. After the way he behaved this morning, and last night, I don’t think I can trust him. But I’ve made up my mind to tell him exactly why Micky Odell thought that he could compel me to do what he wanted. If Theo then wants to strangle me, will you please restrain him?’

  ‘He doesn’t know it, but I’ve a gun in my pocket,’ Mannering declared.

  ‘I can believe it,’ said Theo wryly. ‘You have everything, including judo. But next time I’ll be ready for you. Okay, honey, let’s hear this dark secret. Don’t say you’re a secret drinker, or a poisoner.’

  ‘This—is—not—funny!’ Rosamund
stormed at him, and so betrayed her tension. She put her tea down untouched, and tears were close to her eyes. ‘No, don’t touch me. I want to tell you exactly what happened. It was a few years ago. I was not quite eighteen, I’d lived most of my life in the country, and I didn’t know my way about. When I was introduced to Micky Odell, I thought he was a kind of dream hero. For a while he couldn’t have been more friendly; he wasn’t unpleasant in any way at all. But one day …’

  She told the story simply; of her sister’s involvement with a bad set, and heavy debts. Because of the simplicity, the telling was remarkably vivid. She watched Theo most of the time, but now and again looked at Mannering, as if she found more comfort there. It was impossible even to guess what was passing through the other’s mind.

  When she had nearly done, she faltered; she was telling of Odell’s threat while they had been outside in the car. It dawned upon Mannering that he had not thought of questioning her story; but had taken it as gospel.

  Few people were likely to doubt her.

  Would Theo?

  Would their love break upon this rock?

  Theo stood quite still, his face rocklike, his expression quite inscrutable. He was pale, but not white about the gills. His hands were clenched, but not tightly. He was breathing heavily through his nostrils; and that made the only sound except Rosamund’s quiet voice.

  She said, half closing her eyes, ‘And then you came.’

  The silence which followed seemed to last so long that Mannering wanted to break it; soon he would have to. It was a silence between these two, and he was not really involved, but he must try to answer the girl’s unspoken plea: to be believed, to be trusted, to be loved.