‘You been beating up your aunt, Eddie?’
‘No.’
‘Or hanging around street corners and outside windows watching?’
‘No, no, and no … Annie thought someone was watching her, and Didi told her it was me. Well, maybe it was someone else. You’d better start looking.’
‘Do you know anyone called Charley?’
‘No, I bloody don’t.’
A few minutes later Young ended the interview and let Eddie Creeley go home. But Eddie knew he was on the end of a piece of rope that Young would pull whenever it suited him.
‘What do you think?’ asked Young. ‘Didn’t get much out of him.’
‘He’s frightened.’
‘So he should be.’
‘He’s in it somewhere,’ said Coffin. ‘And he knows it.’
Eddie walked back to his home, although it hardly felt homely. As he left the police headquarters, he walked firmly while he thought they were watching. As he turned the corner he let himself limp.
As soon as he was inside the house, he pushed Lizzie aside; she was slightly tipsy, having found the gin, and was easy to push.
The police had gone, leaving disorder and signs of their passage everywhere.
He went up to his bedroom and sat down on the bed. He could see where the police had been and could see the blood he had left behind on the carpet and on the bedcover. They had stopped short of taking the carpet and cover with them but bits had been cut out. There must be some in the bathroom too, but perhaps they hadn’t looked there.
He went to the bathroom to see, locking the door. Yes, they had been in there and had removed several of his possessions, like a razor and some clothes from the linen basket.
He rolled up his trouser leg. A thick plaster covered where he had dug into the artery. The blood had begun to ooze again.
But he wasn’t going to die. He hadn’t been brave enough to do the job properly.
Lizzie was calling through the keyhole. ‘Eddie, the police have been here.’ A pause. ‘Like bloody flies.’
As if he didn’t know.
He didn’t answer and the shuffling noises outside suggested that Lizzie was still there.
‘Eddie, Eddie?’
He kept quiet.
‘Eddie, are you on the lav?’
‘No.’ His voice was thick.
‘The lav can be a comfort when you’re frightened,’ said Lizzie reminiscently. Prison had taught her strange consolations.
‘Are you crying?’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘Don’t be huffy … I saw Stella Pinero’s picture in your room. She’s been going a long time. I remember her.’
No answer. ‘Oh, shut up, piss off.’
Lizzie was not offended. She knew imprecations worse than that. ‘Mr Titus telephoned while you were out. He wants you to meet him.’
Oh God. Eddie heaved a sigh. ‘What does he want. Where?’
‘I wrote it down. He said to.’
She pushed a piece of paper under the door.
The Karnival Club.
Coffin was at home with Stella when the telephone rang. He listened while he drank a glass of wine.
‘That’s interesting. The two of them.’ He listened. ‘And him as well? He’ll be working. Annie Briggs will be behind that … Yes, I see your point. Thanks, Archie.’
He turned to Stella.
‘Feel like going out?’
She looked at him cautiously. ‘Doing what?’
‘There might be some dancing. A show, that sort of thing.’
She stood up. ‘I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt.’
‘Good. Go and change.’
‘Into what?’
‘Well, the sort of thing you’d wear if you were watching the show at the Karnival. Say you were casting a show. That sort of thing. I want you as camouflage.’
As he caught the expression in Stella’s eyes, he reckoned it was one of the bravest things he had ever said.
She rose quietly, without a word.
CHAPTER 10
Charley down the river
‘No one will believe it for a moment,’ said Stella.
‘You look lovely,’ said Coffin.
‘These are my working clothes. I do rehearsals in these.’ Stella looked down at her jeans, expensive and clean, but well worn, bearing the scars of many sessions in church halls and cold back rooms. With it went a silk shirt and a soft tweed jacket. She knew how to put it together.
‘You look lovely in your working clothes,’ said Coffin patiently.
‘I’m dead tired.’
‘Come on, I don’t often ask you to help out.’
‘I’m here aren’t I?’ Stella swung the car to the right, provoking an angry hoot from a car behind. She was driving because Coffin had been drinking wine and the last thing he wanted at this point in his life was to be breathalysed by his own Force, if there was an accident. They wouldn’t want to do it, but they would feel obliged. It would be the Politically Correct action. He suppressed the notion that a certain amount of amusement would accompany it.
Stella drove on unmoved by any hoots from behind. I’ll drive my car and you drive yours, was her philosophy. ‘It won’t work, no one will believe I am casting a play on transvestites or picking up colour. They won’t believe it because they will recognize you.’
They both kept silent while she found her route through the streets, still busy in the late evening. Coffin noted that she knew the way. How many times had Stella been there, and with whom? Better not ask.
There was just room in the forecourt of the Karnival for one more car and Stella managed to squeeze into this slice of parking. ‘And remember,’ she said as she got out of the car, ‘if I do see anyone there that I know, they will be my friends and no trouble, please.’
‘I’m not going there to arrest anyone.’
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘Just look. Watch.’ And listen if he could.
A strong light shone above the door of the Karnival and when they pushed through to the inner door, this was locked. A deep violet light shone above this door, casting strange shadows on their faces. Stella was tired, Coffin thought, or was it the light?
Stella looked at him. ‘You ought to have shaved.’
So he looked different too? ‘It’s the light.’
There seemed to be a draught coming from somewhere. It was even colder inside than in the courtyard.
Stella said: ‘You have to ring.’
‘I know that.’
‘But you haven’t touched the bell.’
‘There’s someone coming.’
The door opened and before them stood a tall, elegant figure in a purple caftan. In another light it was probably blue.
‘I saw you through my little peephole.’
‘Hello, Alice, I thought you probably had.’ Coffin knew to use that name tonight.
Coffin turned to his wife. ‘Can I introduce you: Adam Adamson.’
‘I’m Alice tonight,’ said Adamson, extending a hand to Stella, ‘but you can call me Adam.’ He turned back to Coffin, obviously he was a man’s man even when he was a woman. ‘Didn’t expect to see you.’
‘Stella’s looking for background colour.’
‘Of course I know you by sight, Miss Pinero,’ said the polite Alice. ‘Come along in, and I’ll get you a table. I’m on the door tonight. We take turns. Keeps it more friendly.’
He led the way down a short corridor. Stella hung back and gripped her husband’s arm. ‘Some day I’m going to ask you how you two know each other.’
‘Oh, he was one of us,’ said Coffin. ‘Couldn’t you tell?’
‘Do you mean what I think you mean?’
‘Yes, one of the best young detective-sergeants I ever had.’
Alice-Adam turned round. ‘I can hear every word you two are saying.’
The Karnival was essentially one long, narrow room. An orchestra was playing on a platform at one end unde
r a curtained window. The walls were painted a soft pink, which looked comfortable, even cosy, in the light from the lamps on the walls. There was no central light.
Small tables lined the walls and crowded into a crescent around the orchestra. A bar was at the other end of the room. The centre of the room was for dancing, it was already full of slowly moving couples, some anchored to each other and others tenderly apart. One or two circled round alone.
It was a quiet, happy, scene.
Alice-Adam put them at a table and advised them to be careful what they drank. Coffin said he would get them a drink.
Alice sat down opposite Stella. ‘Can’t offer you a cigarette. It’s a no smoking club.’ He grinned. ‘We allow everything else, but not that.’
‘Quite right.’
‘I miss it, though.’
‘What do you do now?’
‘I loved what I did,’ he said wistfully. ‘You might find that difficult to believe. But once I’d let myself out, I realized that was it. We’re a more liberal bunch than you might think, and the boss said it was up to me, but I made the decision myself.’
‘So what do you do?’ Stella persevered. She could see her husband weaving his way through the crowd with the drinks. She was getting a new light on him. He was an amazing man.
Alice-Adam smiled. ‘I work for the government … Can’t say more.’
Coffin returned with their drinks. ‘Didn’t spill anything. The décor hasn’t changed since I was last here.’
‘We can’t afford much. What were you doing here?’
‘Someone invited me.’
‘And perhaps more to the point, what are you doing here today?’
‘Accompanying my wife.’
‘And what are you really doing?’
‘Just looking around.’
Alice gave what might have been a pout, or it could have been a scowl. ‘We don’t want any trouble.’
‘I don’t expect to give any.’
‘It’s not what you give, it’s what you bring.’
Stella had been looking with interest from one to the other as this dialogue went on. Like a rally in a tennis match, she decided. Deuce so far.
So much for camouflage. She was irritated that she had been written off so easily as the real reason for anything and thought it unwomanly of Alice. Scratch Alice, she thought, and there was Adam underneath.
But it was going on too long. She put a hand on each. ‘It’s a draw. I declare you both winners.’
To her annoyance, they took no notice, although her husband reached out for her hand and held it in his. Recognition of a sort, she thought. Maybe the right sort, as she felt the comfort of his warm, dry hand. Hands ought to feel that way. She studied Alice’s hand: hard and horny, she thought, in spite of the pale pink nail varnish.
A faint shading of beard was beginning to show on Alice’s chin. Stella was diverted at once by the technical problem of what make-up would hide it most successfully. A darker foundation with a lighter powder on top? And of course, a good shave.
Alice finished his drink and stood up; he had seen Stella studying him and didn’t mind at all; rather the reverse. He gave her a tender smile and threw a sentence at Coffin. ‘The man you’re looking for is over there.’ He nodded to a table tucked away in a recess.
‘I’ve already seen him,’ said Coffin.
Stella watched the tall, blue-draped figure stroll away. ‘Handsome lad,’ she said. ‘I hope he gets the sex thing sorted out, it seems to worry him.’
‘I know it does, but only sometimes. Seeing you with me brought it on. He likes you, I could tell.’ At that moment Coffin was not pleased at Alice-Adam’s attraction to Stella. Nor at her last words.
‘And why did you really bring me?’
‘Perhaps I wanted you to look around and see if there was anyone here you recognized as Charley.’
Stella licked her lips which suddenly felt dry. She was beginning to get the drift of this Charley business. ‘Is the man who watches me called Charley?’
‘Maybe.’
‘And he’s here?’
‘Just an idea I had.’
‘Well, I have an idea. Did you bring me here in the hopes that I would identify Alice-Adam?’ She leaned forward and stared in his face. ‘Well?’
‘Of course not.’
He wouldn’t say if it had been so. Irritably she said: ‘I don’t know where you got this Charley idea.’
‘The name has appeared.’
‘And that’s all you are going to say?’
‘Just look around.’
Stella let her eyes wander round the room. The band was playing a piece of soft music, the lights had gone down to very dim, and the floor was filled with the dancers. Not everyone was cross-dressed, and even if they had been nothing could have altered the-strange respectability of the occasion. It was like a dance in an old folks’ home and about as sexy. She didn’t mean to, but suddenly she felt touched and sympathetic.
She smiled. I could give them a better party. Aloud, she said: ‘I don’t see anyone I know. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. Wearing what?’
‘Just see if you get any ideas.’
She turned back. ‘I don’t. I’m tired, let’s go home.’ She added quietly, ‘And that’s Job Titus over there. Is he the one you came to watch.’
‘Not on his own. He’s got Eddie Creeley with him. I just wanted a look. I wish I could lip read.’ His eye moved round the room. And a table away was Tom Ashworth: Tash, the detective. Also watching Titus and Eddie Creeley.
‘I wish I knew when to believe you or not.’
‘You can always believe me.’
‘I do. In a way. I think Titus has seen us.’
Coffin nodded. ‘He has.’
‘You meant him to?’
‘I was just interested to see what happened when he did. He’s coming over.’
Titus, dressed in the jeans and sweater he wore when visiting his constituency, smiled. ‘Chief Commander? I didn’t expect to see you here.’
Coffin stood up, he didn’t like being loomed over. Upright, he was eye to eye with Titus. ‘Do you come here often?’
‘I’ve been here before. As I expect you remember. A number of the men and women here voted for me, and all of them are my constituents. I like to show solidarity with them.’
‘You’ve got Eddie Creeley there.’
‘I wanted to talk to him. This seemed a good chance, after my weekly surgery. I don’t have a lot of time when the House is sitting. Eddie and I have something in common. We’ve both lost someone we liked—and I did like Marianna, and we’re both under suspicion. We both know it, too.’
He smiled at Stella, who smiled back. Definitely more charming than he had to be, he was turning it on. He won votes, didn’t he? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a faint scowl on her husband’s face.
‘And you’ve got Tom Ashworth there,’ said Coffin. ‘Know who he is?’
‘I know. He’s watching us too.’
While they were talking, Tash had moved across to talk to Eddie Creeley.
It was interesting, Stella thought, that he and Eddie looked completely out of place here, while Titus, and possibly she herself and Coffin did not. It said something about them. All three adept at dissembling, perhaps?
‘Come and join us,’ said Titus.
The lights turned pink but the two faces turned towards them were pale. Eddie looked tired, Tash looked ill.
‘I don’t have to introduce you, do I?’ said Titus. ‘You both know the Chief Commander. And Miss Pinero.’
‘I’m working,’ said Tash. ‘Not here on a visit. Working for a client.’
Eddie managed a weak smile and took a deep breath. ‘Didi liked you a lot, Miss Pinero.’
‘I know. I am sorry. But they’ll find out who killed her.’
‘It’s to be hoped,’ said Tash in a deep voice.
As they walked down the hall, moving through the dancers, Stella said: ‘I’ll te
ll you something for free. None of those three is Charley.’
‘No? Never thought one of them was.’
‘So what did we come for?’
‘I wanted to watch them. Titus and Creeley have some guilt to share between them. And Ashworth is working on them.’
Stella was slowing down. She pushed through the door and leaned against the wall. Her face had gone pale so that her lipstick stood out, blue-red and cold. The lighting out here was harsh above the urn.
‘He’s been here.’
Coffin put his arm round her. ‘What’s that?’
‘He’s been here. May not be here now. But I could smell him.’
But all Coffin could smell was the passage of many sweaty bodies, some wearing scent.
Outside, Stella got into the car with speed. ‘You drive. You didn’t drink much.’ She had watched him hardly touch his drink, careful as ever, she thought, because he knows that sometimes he can be madly rash. She leaned back in her seat. Without a word, Coffin backed the car into the street. A police patrol car saw them and slowed down, silently watching.
Then the patrol man recognized the car and its driver and drove away. ‘What’s he up to?’ he said to his mate. A bawdy joke passed between them.
Preoccupied with his wife, Coffin barely noticed them. Her colour was coming back. ‘I feel better now. Sorry, I was probably imagining it.’
It looked real enough to me, thought Coffin as he drove through the night streets.
Think about it. When did she get close enough to smell Charley? Look at her file and check. Don’t ask her. In the mood she’s in, she’ll come up with wrong answers.
He set himself to amuse and relax his wife.
If she had been another sort of woman he would have tucked her up in bed with a drink of hot milk, but that would not do for his Stella. So he drove to Max’s Deli which was still open.
Here he would feed her a cup of coffee and one of Max’s rich, imported Belgian cakes. Max claimed that these cream-filled delicacies were flown in from Brussels daily but Coffin thought they came from Slough in a specially chilled van. He fancied he had seen it arrive in the small hours. Challenged, Max said: And wasn’t Slough near to Heathrow?
One of the Feather Street ladies was giving a birthday party in a corner of the small inner room. She hailed Stella with delight and offered her a drink and a slice of special chocolate cake.
A Coffin for Charley Page 11
