Lonely Road Murder

by Fearn, John Russell

  “Of course he will. Right bang on the front page. Mother won’t like it a bit either, probably think her darling boy’s caught up with a terrible creature!”

  Now this was a little too good a guess to be comfortable. Bob’s inane chatter was perhaps very much to the point Stephen’s mother would definitely not feel kindly disposed towards her son’s future wife if she had had her name in all the papers as a murder witness. I sighed despondently.

  “Cheer up,” said Bob cheerfully as the waitress brought our plum puddings. “She’ll forgive you. Let’s eat this and then we can find out what’s on at the cinema. I’ll treat you.”

  “That’s very handsome,” I replied, sarcasm getting the better of my natural feminine sweetness.

  “No, don’t thank me,” he implored. “Mr. Osborne says I show great promise, so I’ll find the money this once.”

  “Your book! Your beautiful book! He’s accepted it!”

  “Not yet. But he’s having another think about it.”

  “I know he’ll take it,” I beamed. “You’ll be as rich as Croesus.”

  “Not on one novel, darling, and he hasn’t accepted it yet. I wish you wouldn’t put out the flags so quickly. I’ll tell you when to start cheering.”

  “I can’t help it. I’m so excited for you.”

  “Well, forget it for a bit, and do hurry. I shall have to spend half the profits I haven’t made yet, on buying expensive seats.”

  I hastily began to eat my pudding. Really, how Bob’s girlfriends stuck to him through this kind of treatment was beyond me. They must be made of iron to stand it, unless of course, love has a softening influence on him.

  After a lot of arguing we decided on the Ritz Plaza, and an American comedy. It was a good film, and we laughed a lot.

  I was quite sorry to come out. Bob consulted his watch. “It’s only seven, Rosie. Let’s go into Charlie’s.” At any other time I would have refused indignantly, but tonight was different, so to Charlie’s we went.

  Charlie’s is a little pub, squeezed between two very old and derelict offices. It’s one and only claim to charm is that you seldom meet the same people there twice, and that is a trait not to be sniffed at. It was fairly quiet, and after a few words with the proprietor, whose name you can probably guess. Bob bought a plate of sandwiches, a pint of beer and a gin and orange and we esconced ourselves at a little table in the corner.

  I sipped my drink, idly looking around me.

  “Got any cigarettes, Rosie? I’m clean out.”

  “Here you are,” I said. “I’ve got plenty. Do you want any for later on?”

  Bob carefully pocketed half the contents of my case and flicked irritably at the lighter. “It doesn’t work,” I informed him needlessly.

  “Indeed it doesn’t,” he muttered. “Here.”

  He lit our cigarettes and tossed me over the box of matches.

  “Better keep it. I’ve got another.”

  I slipped the matches into my pocket and then gave a violent start as a voice suddenly hissed in my ears. “I read it all in the papers. Miss. A dreadful shaking you must have had.” It was Charlie! Seizing his opportunity while it was a bit quiet, he had come over for “a bit of talk” as he expressed it. John and Mary had often dropped in here, and he knew them well. There was genuine sympathy in his eyes and we could not resent his well-meant enquiries.

  I told him the facts as briefly as I could. I managed to keep my voice level but towards the end of the story a little tremble crept in despite my efforts.

  Charlie heard me out, and then turned to Bob. “He never done it,” he said simply. “Young Mr. Francis worshipped the ground his pretty little Mrs. walked on. No, it was robbery, if you ask me.”

  “That’s what I told the Inspector,” I responded eagerly. “Didn’t I Bob?”

  He nodded agreement. “I’d stake my life on John. He isn’t the type. Someone somewhere holds the key to it all.”

  I shivered. There was a horrible certainty in Bob’s voice that sent a chill through me — It was true, but I hadn’t thought of it that way before. In all the teeming crowds someone was sitting talking. Just as we were, even laughing perhaps. But beneath it all, locked in his heart was the terrible knowledge of murder: that last night he had choked a woman to death with his bare hands. He might even be here.

  “I think I’d like another drink please,” I said hastily.

  Charlie raised his hand significantly. “On the house, this one. I’ll send them over. Same as last time?” We thanked him, and he went back, ducking under the counter with the ease of long practice.

  Soon after we left, and strolled slowly home. When we reached the flats, I hurried past that silent door now mercifully shut. The hall had ceased to be a warm inviting place to me, loneliness hovered in the air and I was glad of Bob’s comforting presence. At the door of my flat I paused, fear still strong in me, and Bob seemed to understand. He leaned back against the wall and smiled kindly.

  “Now I’ll tell you what we’ll do Rosie. It’s too early to go in yet. Come upstairs into the spider’s parlour, and I’ll make you a cup of genuine bachelor coffee!” I accepted gratefully and we went up.

  Bob’s flat was in a terrible state. The bed still unmade and the couch he had slept on last night while John stayed, tumbled with rugs and pillows. The remains of a hasty breakfast littered the table and the ashtrays overflowed with cigarette ends.

  “Pardon any dust that may offend your housewifely eyes,” he offered without a blush.

  “Dust!” I cried in horror. “Never mind the dust. Just look at this mess. I’ll tidy up a bit. I couldn’t enjoy my coffee with all this clutter around me.” Bob shrugged and ambled into the kitchen.

  Left alone I tackled the room vigorously. Bustling around did me good, and by the time I had achieved some sort of order out of that chaos, I felt myself again. Bob meanwhile had finally found two clean cups, and made the coffee. A further search revealed a box of cookies. “Elly’s — you scrounger,” I accused, and we settled by the gas fire companionably enough.

  The coffee was surprisingly good. I complimented Bob, who received my remarks with a degree of complacency that nearly made me take them back again; and time went on. It went on so quickly that the clock striking eleven pulled me up with a shock. Bob shook his head significantly over the doubtful morals of young women, who stayed in men’s flats till all hours, then grinned and said: “I enjoyed today. Rosie. It helped didn’t it?”

  “Oh. Bob. You’ll never know how much.”

  He laughed. “Well, if you insist on going. May I escort you home?”

  “I think I can manage one flight of stairs on my own Kind Sir! Goodnight, Bob, and thanks for — the coffee.” I waved my hat at him and went softly down to my flat.

  It was silly to be scared, surrounded by friends as I was. I undressed, washed and sat down in front of the mirror, to brush my hair, humming under my breath. Relaxed and content, I sat, the rhythm of the brush soothing away my last care, when suddenly I heard a noise — A sort of scratching sound behind me.

  I turned round quickly. My bedroom door was open and I could see right through to the living room. The knob on the door was being gently turned. Somebody was trying to get in!

  I got up and walked slowly across the room. The turning had stopped and I said nervously: “Who is it?”

  There was no reply. With trembling fingers I released the catch and pulled the door out. The passage was silent and completely deserted!

  CHAPTER III

  ANOTHER DEATH

  I slept badly. For a long time I lay awake, my nerves jumping at every little sound. Slowly, very slowly the night wore on. Downstairs in the hall the clock chimed the hours. Twelve, one, two, until round about three o’clock; I fell asleep from sheer exhaustion.

  The alarm jangling loudly in my ear woke me after what seemed only a few seconds. I got up thankfully rejoicing in the daylight’s return, and pulled back the curtains. The sun was hidden behind the grey clou
ds, but it was light and that was all I cared.

  My fears seemed a little foolish now. I even began to wonder if I had imagined someone trying my door last night. After all, what possible reason could anyone have for attempting to break in? There were no jewels or money to steal in my flat. Reassuring myself thus, I decided not to mention the incident to Elly or Bob. They would only make a fuss, and I should be frightened all over again.

  I gulped down my breakfast, and decided to wear my grey jersey for the office. Worn with my double row of pearls, it was very effective, and I wanted to look my best for Stephen. He would be certain to seek me out as soon as I arrived.

  No one was about, I couldn’t hear any signs of Elly stirring next door, and Bob left for his office half an hour after me. I shut the door quietly, and set out for the bus stop. I bought a paper at the comer, and glancing rapidly through it found a half paragraph on the second page re-listing the details of Mary’s death, and adding that the police were confident of an early arrest. Well, that was something anyway. The sooner this terrible business was cleared up and suspicion lifted from John, the better I should like it.

  The bus was a long time coming, but I didn’t mind. I had no desire to be early at the office. I could imagine what kind of reception awaited me there. I was not mistaken. Hardly had the doors closed behind me than I found myself the centre of an excited crowd of girls all yelling questions. I answered them as best I could. It was understandable really. Had it been any of the others, I should have formed a part of that eager group wanting to hear all about it.

  Sandra, our typist, swung her long elegant legs and waved a paper at me. “I couldn’t believe my eyes,” she reiterated for about the tenth time. “There it was as plain as your hat. “The body was found by Miss Rosemary Lennox”. Rosemary Lennox? I said to Mum. Why, I work with her! I don’t know how I stopped myself from coming right round to you.”

  I thanked my lucky stars that she hadn’t come, and made some suitable reply. Conversation was at its height. Work was at a standstill, when the buzzer ringing impatiently from Stephen’s room galvanized us into action. Reaching for my notebook and pencil I practically ran in.

  Stephen was pacing the floor with long agitated steps. At the sight of me he stopped, and pulling me towards him said: “Oh, my poor darling. What a terrible shock you must have had. I read it all in the papers.” My resistance broke at this and I put my head on his shoulder, and sobbed, forgetting my desire to look attractive. He wiped my eyes tenderly with his big handkerchief, and patted me soothingly. “I’ve been nearly demented thinking of you Rosemary. If only I hadn’t let you go home on your own none of this would have happened.”

  “No,” I answered shakily. “It was nothing to do with you, darling. Someone would have found Mary anyway. It was all there like a book, waiting for us to open it.”

  “I see they’ve questioned the husband, and let him go. Can’t think why, everything points to his guilt.”

  “John? He never killed Mary. He worshipped her, Stephen. If you’d seen him that night when they broke the news, you’d know he was innocent.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you’re closer to it than I am of course, and that may be prejudicing you in his favour. We can none of us see our friends as murderers.”

  “He’s not a murderer — ” I broke in indignantly.

  “No, no, of course he isn’t.” Stephen soothed and patted me again.

  He moved round to his desk and began sorting through some papers, while I dried my eyes. When I looked up he smiled and said, “Better? Good. Now, Rosemary, I’ve been thinking. I don’t feel it would be very wise for you to stay at this office. You’ll have people talking about this affair all the time, and it will only upset you. Why not take a few days rest?”

  “Oh Stephen, do you really think I could? Will you be able to manage?”

  He laughed. “We’ll probably stagger along somehow. Off you go.” I kissed his cheek gratefully, a little spark of mischief running through me as he hurriedly wiped the lipstick off and glanced apprehensively at the door. “I’ll phone you tonight, Rosemary. Get some fresh air, you look so pale. Goodbye darling.”

  “Goodbye, Mr. Lane,” I said demurely and blowing him a kiss, I left the room.

  The girls were very sympathetic.

  Sandra’s sharp eyes detected the traces of tears on my face and she nodded significantly as I told them I wouldn’t be in for a few days. “Best thing you could do, ducky. Buy yourself a new hat or something. It’ll cheer you up and take your mind off things.”

  I put my coat on and bade them all goodbye. “Don’t forget to let us know if anyone else gets bumped off,” she yelled as I closed the door, and I couldn’t help laughing.

  The prospect of all this freedom was very pleasing and I felt quite light-hearted, as I walked along to the bus stop, bound for Oxford Street. I took Sandra’s advice and bought a new hat. My intentions had not been to do so, but I was cornered by a persuasive salesgirl, who wouldn’t hear of my leaving the shop without one.

  The sun was shining brightly and as it was really quite a warm day for November. I determined to lunch in the park. In about half an hour’s time I was sitting on an empty bench by the Serpentine, clutching two packets of sandwiches and an apple tart.

  Everywhere was bright and cheerful. A group of schoolboys, playing truant, fished patiently for tiddlers. Further up a young couple stood watching the water, engrossed in each other. I settled back feeling at peace with the world, and began to eat my sandwiches. They were very nice and tasted so much better in the open air, but I couldn’t help feeling a little conspicuous. I glanced up to see if anyone was watching, half wishing I’d brought a book or something, and in the distance I saw a familiar figure coming towards me. It was John Francis.

  As he came nearer I saw how pale and set his face was. He seemed suddenly aged and lonely. My heart melted, and jumping up, heedless of my parcels, I ran across to him and touched his arm. He started and gave me a blank stare, then he smiled vaguely and said, “Hullo, Rosemary, no work today?”

  “No work,” I gulped. “I’m having my lunch in the park for a change, come over and join me.”

  John made no protest and let me lead him, as if he were a child, back to my seat. I handed him the other packet of sandwiches and watched so that he ate something. He finished them obediently, and sat gazing dully into space. I sought vainly for the right words, frantically I racked my brains for some means of comforting him, but nothing came. I offered a cigarette, but he never noticed.

  “I’ve been trying to think who could have killed her,” he began abruptly, in a harsh, surprisingly loud, voice. “I’ve thought and thought, but there’s no one, no one.” He turned round suddenly and gripped my wrist. “Who’d do it Rosemary? Who did this wicked thing to her? They killed me too you know. Oh, I eat and sleep, go through the motions of living, but I’m dead. Dead, do you hear?”

  His voice rose and I cast an apprehensive look round saying as calmly as I could. “You mustn’t dwell on it so John. You’ll make yourself ill. The police will find the murderer.”

  He relaxed the grip on my wrist and said awkwardly. “Forgive me, Rosemary, I don’t know what I’m saying any more.”

  He got up. “I’m going back to the flat. No, don’t try to stop me, my dear. I’ll be alright. It’ll help me to go back. There’s a lot of stuff to be cleared up, Mary’s things — ” Giving me a smile he walked slowly away.

  I watched him pityingly, a lump rising in my throat. To what a home he was going, that poor lonely man.

  The sun had disappeared, and the air was no longer warm. I shivered and gathered my parcels together The park had lost its cheerfulness, and I wandered off rather dispiritedly thinking that perhaps I should have stayed at the office. Freedom was all very well, but it gave one too much time to think.

  On an impulse I entered a little theatre booking office, and bought a couple of seats for one of the current shows. It was ages since I had taken
Elly out and it would cheer her enormously, after all the trouble. I phoned the flats, and at Elly’s cheerful “Miss Moreland here who do you wish to speak to?” eagerly proposed my plans for the evening. She was delighted. “What time shall I meet you dear?”

  “Better make it about seven,” I said. “I’m going have my hair set this afternoon, if I can fix an appointment. Oh, I saw John in the park. He’s terribly upset, said he was going to clear up Mary’s things.”

  Elly clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Poor dear, I don’t suppose I shall see him though. I promised to get some shopping in for Mrs. Samuels, and I’m just off. Lucky you phoned when you did, or I’d have missed you. I should have been sorry. I’ll meet you at Piccadilly then. Yes I remember dear, by that little place where we had tea before.”

  She rang off and I fed in more coins and rang my hairdresser’s number. Yes they could fit me in if I came at once. I picked up that wretched hat bag, sincerely wishing I had never bought the thing and set off for Madame Gray’s. I always have my hair done there, when I can afford it, and the girl who did my hair there was an old friend.

  Today however, I never set eyes on her. Madame Gray herself received me, gushing and gracious, her snow-white hair dressed magnificently in an elegant pompadour, her hands waving expressively. I was overwhelmed at such an honour. Madame generally reserved her personal service for her wealthier clientele, not an insignificant shampoo and set like myself. She ushered me into a softly lit cubicle and summoned one of the staff to take my outdoor things. Marvelling, I settled comfortably into the padded chair, but Madame’s opening remark speedily dealt a shattering blow at any ideas, I might have been getting on my own importance. “I see by the newspapers that you are the young lady who found the dead nightclub singer Miss Lennox.”

  I reflected ironically that I was becoming quite famous in a small way, and resigned myself to more curiosity

  The nauseating questions finally came to an end. Madame fixed the dryer in position and left me to merciful solitude. I was glad when it was over and I could pay up and go.