Coffin Knows the Answer

by Gwendoline Butler

  ‘A wide age range,’ said Miller. ‘I wonder if that means anything?’ He was looking for help all round and knew it.

  ‘Nothing except they were out and around at a convenient time when the killer wanted to work.’ This was from Winnie Ardet.

  ‘So nothing personal, we think? Just an accidental choice?’

  ‘No, that can’t be,’ said Phoebe who had kept as quiet as she could. ‘I think the killer knew them or something about them. The Chief Commander thinks so too … he thinks he is on the list.’

  ‘I think that too,’ said Les Henderson, surprising himself. His voice had popped out louder than he had meant. ‘He knew them. Even tracked them down, maybe.’

  ‘Except for the tracking down,’ said Winnie slowly, ‘I am coming round to that view.’ What the Chief Commander thought she was willing to think too. Added to which she had learnt to take Phoebe Astley’s judgement as reliable, as well as admiring Phoebe’s long-legged athletic look. Winnie was heavy boned and solid but she had beautiful fair hair which she kept well cut and groomed.

  ‘I hope we are looking after the Chief Commander,’ said Les. ‘We’d miss him all right. And Miss Pinero, her ladyship.’ He admired Stella, just as he also admired Winnie. On the short side himself and with big hands, but he liked to think with a bigger than average brain, he knew he was no beauty.

  ‘You needn’t worry about the boss,’ said Phoebe shortly. ‘He’s been through this sort of thing before. We are keeping an eye on him, and also on Stella after her attack.’

  Word of which had been going round the Second City Force with speed.

  ‘So we shall be watching for her.’

  ‘I’ve heard that she actually saw the man who might be our serial killer,’ said Henderson.

  ‘Yes, ’ agreed Phoebe. ‘All two of him.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘In her case, two men were involved.’

  ‘How did she get away?’

  Phoebe had wondered about this herself. ‘Luck,’ she said shortly.

  ‘She can be very helpful to us in finding and identifying the killer,’ said Miller.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Phoebe. ‘One of the men was masked, the other, the driver of the car, which was stolen by the way, she only saw briefly and is sure his face was made up. She could smell make-up. She is a performer, remember, and would know.’

  The car had been taken from outside Waterloo station, reported as stolen by the owner and identified when dumped outside a police station on the Greenwich to Deptford Road.

  ‘Didn’t know there was one,’ observed Les.

  ‘Oh just off it.’

  ‘Yes, there is a station there. He’s local, this killer, has to be,’ Les again. ‘And what about that remark of hunting in pairs? Sinister and we shouldn’t forget it.’

  ‘May not mean anything,’ said someone.

  ‘Or the double-headed man,’ joked someone else, causing Les to grind his teeth in irritation.

  ‘You don’t have to live locally to get local knowledge,’ said Miller. ‘He could walk around, prospect, work things out. I’ve done it myself.’

  For a deliriously happy moment, Les pictured Miller as a criminal, a murderer even, then he pushed the thought away.

  ‘He has some local links, this killer,’ said Phoebe firmly. ‘We mustn’t disagree too much here, we must come to a common judgement if we are to get anywhere.’

  ‘I think disagreement counts,’ said Les. ‘Lets things out of the bag.’

  Miller went to the door, then came back with a tray laden with cups. ‘Tea, I ordered it. Thought we’d need something. There is coffee for those who prefer. I reckon tea clears the brain better.’

  Most of them took tea because the coffee was so poor. The tea tasted of something, as Les had said once, whereas the coffee was just dark coloured water. ‘Sometimes not even hot,’ Les had added. ‘Although I remember one case where the chill of the coffee helped me … it was in Shillingford. Remember that case, do you?’

  ‘Shut up, Les,’ said Winnie. ‘You’re rambling.’

  ‘No, only trying to help one and all clear their minds,’ said Les, not at all hurt, and who knew exactly what he was doing, perhaps not exactly clearing the mind as much as stopping the slight altercations that were breaking out, as they always did at such meetings. He was not exactly a man of peace but he liked to get on with the job, and arguing did not help.

  ‘What we have to talk about now,’ said Phoebe firmly, feeling she was the voice of the Chief Commander, ‘is how we catch this serial killer.’

  ‘By working bloody hard,’ said Les.

  Phoebe laughed. ‘I know you are a hard worker, Les. But intelligence and thought comes into it too. I can trust you there.’

  ‘Can we be sure that the same killer is at work with all the victims?’ Les asked.

  There was a mutter from his colleagues.

  ‘Right. On the whole we think so. Frankly, I can’t believe that we have two different serial killers working at the same time in the Second City. Not saying it is impossible, but not likely. So we have one killer.’

  ‘Two killers according to Stella.’ This was Miller.

  ‘I accept that: two men working together. Possibly not all the time.’ Phoebe spoke quietly.

  ‘If once, then the second man is always there in the background.’ This was Les. ‘Whatever that background is. Not sure if I know at this moment.’

  ‘It should be easier to locate two men than just one,’ said Winnie. ‘or am I being over-hopeful?’

  ‘Hopeful,’ said a voice from the door. The Chief Commander had arrived. He had not been expected, except perhaps by Phoebe. She knew that Stella had been persuading him to find out exactly what was being said and done.

  ‘No one tells me anything,’ she had complained to Phoebe, and I am a victim: I want to know.’

  ‘There may not be much to tell,’ Phoebe had said, although she knew that the Chief Commander was well able to keep what secrets he chose.

  ‘I think I’ll make him retire. He’s got his knighthood, although as far as I can see he rarely uses it.’

  ‘Could you make him retire?’

  ‘No,’ said Stella, without hesitation.

  Phoebe looked at her quizzically.

  ‘No,’ said Stella, ‘he couldn’t make me retire either. In fact, I am having a particularly successful run.’

  So Phoebe was not surprised to see the Chief Commander come into the room. ‘Stella’s putting on the heat,’ he had said to her and Paul Masters only an hour or two ago. ‘Can’t blame her.’

  ‘Any coffee for me?’ he asked, advancing towards the tray.

  Superintendent Miller poured him a cup. ‘Hope it’s hot enough.’

  It wasn’t hot but Coffin drank it. Nor was it strong. So not a good cup of coffee but he didn’t drink it with that in mind, it was more a social gesture. The tea was probably more reliable but bound to be dark and stewed by now.

  ‘How are things?’ he asked, putting his cup down.

  ‘We’re talking everything through,’ said Miller. ‘I expect you know how it goes, sir, at this time in this sort of case.’

  ‘We haven’t had a serial murder for some time, I’m glad to admit,’ Coffin answered.

  Phoebe could see that he had come with a message.

  ‘The local television news programme asked to interview us about these murders. They wanted Stella as well, in fact I am sure it was Stella they really wanted. You know “famous actress talks to us about the attack on her”. Stella didn’t want to do it, she doesn’t want to talk about what happened except in what you might call an “official kind of way” - in other words except to you lot, you can ask her what you like and if she can help, she will. But the interview idea itself is valuable and so I suggested two of you.’

  Phoebe looked thoughtful. She could see what was coming her way.

  ‘So I suggested you, Phoebe, and Jack Miller.’

  Winnie Ardet was disappointed: she
would have enjoyed it, but she recognised that Phoebe Astley had the greater status.

  Phoebe and Superintendent Miller looked at each other. They were not friends but they knew how to behave. If they had to do an interview together, then so be it.

  ‘I think Winnie would be better at this interview than me, sir,’ said Phoebe. ‘I’m not bad on the radio, but I never do well on TV. I suggest Winnie takes my place, she always comes across as very natural.’

  Winnie looked gratified, although well aware that she had never been on television and if she had then it was very doubtful Phoebe would have seen her.

  ‘I don’t mind doing it,’ she said. ‘If the Superintendent agrees.’

  Miller nodded, he would prefer Winnie.

  ‘See my secretary, she’ll give you the details.’ Coffin walked to the table on which were spread notes about the cases. ‘A bit more information has just come in about the latest victim: Lotty Brister. She was seen getting into a car and going off with the man who may have been her killer.’

  ‘That’s the only sighting we’ve had,’ said Ted.

  ‘So far,’ said the Chief Commander. ‘It would be very helpful to have some others. Stella has put her bit in, of course, but it hasn’t helped much yet. May do in time. In these affairs it is a matter of adding one fact to another till we get a shape, a picture.’

  ‘So he uses a taxi? Is that the suggestion? ’

  ‘Could be,’ said Coffin who was having one of those moments when his mind cleared and he seemed to see everything hard and bright.

  ‘You sound doubtful.’

  ‘If I was a serial killer, hoping to get away with it, then I wouldn’t always use the same technique.’

  ‘A taxi might be a good idea,’ said Winnie,‘but you would have to own the taxi, not borrow it or hire it, too risky.’

  ‘Do you mean the killer is a taxi driver?’ The suggestion was made again by someone at the back of the room.

  For some reason this silenced discussion.

  ‘I thought you were going to tell us something else, sir,’ said Phoebe Astley.

  ‘Yes, the last victim called herself Lotty Brister, that name meant something to me, so I got Paul Masters to do some digging. He didn’t have to look far: it was a name she had started to use after she came out of prison.’

  The room came to attention.

  ‘Yes, she’d been inside for a particularly nasty murder. A new name for a new life seemed a good idea, I suppose.’

  ‘I remember the case now,’ said Inspector Winnie Ardet.‘Yes, it was nasty, a child, wasn’t it? She claimed it was an accident but not many people believed it. There was a bit of sympathy, she was quite young herself.’

  ‘Well, she was older when she was killed,’ said Coffin. ‘She served her sentence.’ He too remembered the case, not one of his, but some cases you recall. Mary James, she was then, (and even that did not sound like a real name so perhaps she was inventive there too) he didn’t know where the name under which she died came from. No doubt they would find out as the investigation went on.

  ‘Do you think her killer knew her for what she was?’ Jack Miller wanted to know. ‘An ex con?’

  ‘Be interesting, wouldn’t it?’ Les Henderson said. He had been silent for some time, but thoughtful. He was one of the cleverest of the present team, one whom Coffin had marked down as a man likely to go right to the top. Coffin looked at him now in his baggy jeans and turtleneck sweaters and thought Well, I suppose he knows how to dress the part, only what part?

  Coffin was grooming Les for a rapid rise upwards, but should that include clothes? But perhaps Les had got it right, times had changed. He would have to consult Stella, she would know, you could trust Stella’s judgement on matters of dress. His own clothes were, he knew, ordinary. But for him that was right, it was safer for him to look unnoticeable. Good but not memorable, that was the style of his suits. Stella had taken one look at his clothes after they came together again after years apart, and sent him to Mr Herries, the tailor who made suits for the best productions in town.

  ‘Boss figure but not flashy,’ she had ordered.

  Apparently Mr Herries knew what she meant because he measured Coffin up and delivered a wardrobe of some six suits whose price alarmed Coffin but which came as a present from Stella. There must have been something in Mr Herries’ eye and cut because with in a few months Coffin was offered and accepted the position of Chief Commander of the Police in the Second City. He was still wearing the suits. He intended to be still wearing them when he retired. Stella, of course, would never retire, she would be performing into any new millennium, and as long as she was there, working in the theatre, he would be close by.

  He looked towards Miller. ‘What about the post mortem reports, any help there?’

  Miller nodded. As senior detective, all these reports were coming to him first. ‘I’m collating them all, then I’ll pass them on with my comments. A couple of doctors are working on the bodies. They do what’s necessary and let me know. But each victim was killed in the same way: manual strangulation and the later ones were then cut up with a sharp knife, rape but no semen. Forensics are still at work, of course. I’m hoping to get something there. But nothing helpful so far.’ He yawned. One way and another he hadn’t got much sleep lately, he was getting too tired to think. He saw the Chief Commander looking at him with what might have been sympathy and might not. ‘Sorry, sir.’ He began to sneeze, a cascade of sneeezes. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered,‘an allergy, I think.’

  ‘How’s Lady Coffin? … Miss Pinero,’ said Les Henderson hastily. Partly because he could see Miller was embarrassed but more because he wanted to know. Everyone liked Stella.

  ‘Behaving well, too well, really, I wish she’d talk about it a bit more. She’s told all she can that helps.’ He frowned. ‘I am worried about her safety.’

  ‘We are looking after her, sir, I promise you.’

  Coffin smiled at Les. ‘I know. And I am keeping an eye on her too, don’t worry.’

  ‘None of us will rest till we’ve caught this chap. He’s a clever bugger, but he’ll make a mistake … and then we’ll have him.’

  Coffin hoped his young friend was right. He walked back to his office to find a telephone call from Stella waiting for him.

  ‘You ought to be resting.’

  ‘I am resting. Well, in a way. There’s something that I wanted to tell you. ’

  He could tell by her voice that she was enjoying herself. His own spirits lightened. ‘Come on, what’s it all about?’

  ‘First, I don’t think I was in any danger, they wanted to frighten me, or you, but not actually to harm. They wanted to make an impression.’

  ‘They did that all right.’ He at least took the ‘hunting in pairs’ seriously.

  ‘But if I hadn’t escaped, then I guess they would have seen that I did.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘So, they wanted me to escape.’

  ‘Did they happen to explain why?’ Coffin was sceptical.

  ‘No, but they were acting. I could tell. Made-up, dressed up. Wigged up and acting.’ She sounded triumphant.

  ‘You’re the expert,’ said Coffin reluctantly. ‘If you say they were acting, then they were.’

  ‘Yes, you have to admit that I know what I am talking about.’ Stella was not laughing. ‘I don’t know why the act was put on but I knew it for what it was. But I’m not sure that they wanted me to know they were acting. ’

  ‘So they didn’t want you to know them in their real persona? Is that what you are saying?’

  ‘I’m not sure what I’m saying. You’re the detective. I’m just giving you information, you work out what it means.’

  Stella sounded very confident and almost gay. But she was an actress as Coffin reminded himself. As far as he was concerned the idea of the killer being an actor did not appeal, but he would pass it on to Phoebe and tell her to see it did the rounds.

  Phoebe took what he had to say calmly.
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  ‘Reckon she was in a state to make a judgement?’

  ‘On that sort of topic, yes. She’s a pro’, don’t forget‘. She didn’t say a good actor, just acting.’

  ‘Too much to hope she might recognise him?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Coffin. ‘What do you want … Stella to solve the case?’

  ‘Wouldn’t mind,’ said Phoebe. ‘It’d give us all a good laugh.’

  Especially Stella, thought Coffin.

  ‘Leave it with us, sir,’ said Phoebe, ‘each investigating team will be working on it.’ Although I don’t know exactly what and how, she thought, something will give somewhere.

  She did what she thought Coffin intended she should do by telephoning round the group to tell them what Stella had to say.

  On drinking a cup of strong canteen coffee while she thought it over, surprisingly she found herself valuing Stella’s contribution. But this was because she had come to have a high opinion of Stella Pinero.

  Tacitly she admitted to herself that when she first came to the Second City to work under the Chief Commander she, Phoebe, had been jealous of Stella.

  There had been a short episode between Phoebe and John Coffin when they both worked on a case together in Birmingham. Phoebe remembered it with more intensity than the Chief Commander who, as she knew now, had just met Stella Pinero again.

  ‘And who am I to compete with Stella?’ she had asked herself more than once. Later, she had accepted the Chief Commander’s offer of an important promotion to work in the Second City. It was a good job, she wanted it. One or two passing loves had come into her life, at least one remaining as a good friend, but during that time she had certainly not liked Stella.

  But now, she found herself both admiring and respecting the other woman. So she passed on to the heads of each investigating team Stella’s judgement that the men who attacked her were acting.