by K. J. Frost
“Where do you live?” I ask Ellis once we’re gathered outside.
“Just down the road,” he mutters under his breath.
“Give me your address,” I bark, losing my patience with him, and Amelie jumps, taking a step backwards.
“Twenty-six Beauchamp Road,” Ellis replies automatically.
I’m stunned into silence. He lives in the same road as the Templetons, and he failed to mention it? What was the man thinking of?
“But you don’t need to worry about me, sir,” he adds. “I’ll find my own way home.”
I wonder for a moment about arguing with him, but I’m too angry – not only about his conduct, and about the fact that he’s kept his address a secret, considering it’s so close to the murder scene, but also because he’s interrupted my evening with Amelie.
“Very well,” I reply. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I do apologise about that.” I turn back to Amelie the moment he’s moved away. “Do you want to go back in?”
“No, thank you,” she replies and I feel overwhelmed by disappointment. That is, until she smiles up at me. “I think we’ve had more than enough excitement for one evening, don’t you? And anyway, it was really smokey in there, didn’t you think?”
Personally, I’m pretty sure I could take quite a lot more excitement yet, but I don’t comment on that. Instead, I smile down at her. “Yes. It’s odd. I’m a smoker myself…”
“You are? I’ve never seen you smoking.” She’s surprised.
“Well, I don’t smoke in public,” I explain. “Just at home, or in my office. But I’ve been so wrapped up in this case, I haven’t had time to buy any cigarettes since Tuesday… and I haven’t missed them one bit.”
“Then maybe you should give it up?” she suggests, her lips twitching up at the corners.
“I think I already have done. The smell in there was quite unpleasant, and besides, it was always a bit of a waste of money for me anyway.”
“It was?”
“Yes. I was very good at lighting a cigarette, and then forgetting all about it. By the time I remembered, it would be a line of ash, and I’d have to start again.”
“So you weren’t really a smoker then,” she says, with a teasing note in her voice, which is really very appealing. “Just a lighter of cigarettes.”
“Hmm, something like that.”
She smiles and shakes her head and I really want to kiss her. I take a small step closer just as the pub door opens and a man comes out. Amelie jumps back at the intrusion and I turn, immediately recognising the man as Mr Johnson.
“Good evening,” I say to him, because I think it would be strange for me to ignore the man.
He startles and looks up at me. “Oh… I thought you’d have gone by now. I––” He stops talking abruptly. I don’t suppose for one moment that he meant those words to escape his lips. “I mean… good evening to you too.”
“Just off home?” I enquire.
He nods his head and touches his hand to the brim of his homberg hat, before scurrying off.
“Who was that?” Amelie asks, once he’s out of earshot.
“That was Mr Johnson. The man Beth was going to work for.”
She turns and looks down the road at his diminishing figure.
“Oh. I’ve never actually seen him before. He’s younger than I imagined.”
I suddenly don’t want to talk about Johnson anymore. “I’m sorry about this evening. And I’m very sorry I shouted. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t. You just made me jump, that’s all.” She pauses. “I don’t think I could feel scared when I’m with you.”
I feel the breath catch in my throat. That’s the second time she’s complimented me like that and, while I’m determined not to read too much into it, I can’t help feeling a little puffed up with male pride.
“Good,” I reply eventually, once my voice has started to work again. “And you’re sure you’re alright?”
“Yes. I’m positive.” She looks up at me. “Is he always like that? Your sergeant, I mean?” I take her hand in mine and we start walking home.
“I have no idea. I don’t really know the man. I’ve only been working with him since Tuesday.”
“I see,” she says. “What were they fighting over? Him and the other man?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t bother to ask, and I doubt they’ll remember either.”
“Well, they gave us an unusual ending to the evening.”
“Yes. Not exactly what I had in mind. I do apologise… again.”
She leans a little closer. “Oh, don’t. I’ve had a lovely time.”
“Despite me upsetting you, and bringing our evening to an abrupt ending, and then shouting, and scaring you…?”
“Yes. And, as I’ve already said, you didn’t scare me. You you didn’t upset me either,” she replies. “I upset myself. You were nothing but kind and considerate, as always…” Her voice fades and I wonder if she’s blushing, as she focuses on the dark pavement. “That’s the first time I’ve really seen you being a policeman,” she mumbles.
“No it isn’t. I was a policeman the first time I met you. And I’ve done almost nothing but question you ever since.”
She looks up again, and I’m relieved to see the smile back on her face. “I know, but when you’re with me, you’re not like you were back there. You’re different…”
“I try to be.” I lower my voice a little.
We’re almost back at her house now. I can see the outline of it looming against the moonlit sky. If I’m going to say anything, I need to say it now.
“Would… would it be…” Oh Christ… I’m back to behaving like a stammering teenager again. I cough and take a deep breath. “Can I see you again? When I’m not being a policeman, I mean?”
We turn into the driveway and start walking up it.
“Yes,” she replies immediately. “Yes, I’d like that.”
I see her right to the front door, then wish her goodnight and take my leave, waiting until she’s safely inside before walking slowly back down the drive. I’ll admit, for a brief moment just then, I was tempted to kiss her, but I didn’t. Her decision to see me again has set me thinking that maybe – just maybe – she’s wondering about romance too, and I don’t want to spoil it by being too hasty. I’m constantly reminded of how young she is, and that I mustn’t rush things, but just the thought that she wants to spend some more time with me is enough for now. Only for now, mind you.
Chapter Eleven
On reflection, I’ve been forced to admit that sitting around is all well and good, but it’s not really getting me anywhere. During the course of the day, I’d been becoming more and more frustrated, and by this evening, I’d decided that my only course of action was to go out. The thought of another few hours spent with my mother was just too much, but I really didn’t see the harm in a visit to my local – dressed in my own clothes, of course.
So much for plans… I thought I’d just sit in the pub and mind my own business, have a couple of pints and enjoy a quiet evening. The very last person I expected to see standing right in front of me, was Detective Inspector Stone. For a moment, I contemplated leaving, but then I realised how odd that might look, so I decided to stay put, just for a short while and then leave when he wasn’t looking. And then the fight started. Talk about bad luck. I mean, what does a man have to do to get a break?
I’m back at home now, and I’m so bloody angry, I don’t know what to do with myself. Is everyone conspiring against me? Can’t I even have an evening out to myself now?
“To hell with it,” I murmur under my breath as I climb the stairs. I don’t care that I promised myself I’d wait a bit longer. I can’t. I need to do something… tonight.
I change quickly into George’s uniform and make my way to The Rose and Crown in Bridge Road, hoping that a different scene might bring me better fortune. It’s further away from home, but with
any luck, it should be worth the walk. And let’s face it, after tonight, I’m owed some luck. When I arrive, there’s only thirty minutes until closing time, so I order half a pint. I won’t have time to drink much more, and besides, I’ve already had a couple of drinks and I don’t want to end up too drunk to perform. That would never do.
I spot her coming out of the Ladies’ and smile to myself at the irony. It’s the blonde. The one I saw down by the river, only now she’s wearing an ATS uniform. Does life get any better? I almost laugh out loud, but manage to restrain myself and watch as she goes over to the coat stand and fumbles around, then she drops a jacket on the floor and bends to pick it up, giving me a perfect view of her behind. Very nice… very nice indeed. I need to act quickly though, or she’ll be gone.
“Can I help?” I offer, going to her aid and picking up the coat from the floor. “Is this yours?”
She looks up at me and smiles. “No. I dropped that. Mine’s the longer blue one.”
“Here… let me.” I hang up the brown jacket I’ve just rescued and pick out her blue one, holding it up for her. She’s clearly a little the worse for wear – which is all the better for me.
“My friends have already gone,” she murmurs, as she turns and starts buttoning up her coat.
“Then I think I should maybe see you home.” I give her one of my very best smiles.
“Oh… I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” she says.
I take her arm. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. And I’d feel just awful leaving you to walk by yourself in the blackout.”
“Well… if you don’t mind…” She smiles up at me again, and right at that moment, I know I’ve got her…
*****
I wake early, only remembering that it’s Saturday once I’ve got up and opened the curtains to reveal another sunny, yet damp, autumn morning. Even so, I know I’ve got to work. I’ll put in a few hours, and maybe get home in time to help Dotty with the garden. Doing something manual will give me the chance to think about the case. I turn around and smile. Who am I kidding? It’ll give me a chance to think about Amelie. I had a wonderful evening with her, despite the interruptions from Ellis. Which reminds me, I’m going to need to speak with him today… his conduct was inexcusable. And as for not telling me he lives so close to Beth Templeton… words fail me.
I go into the bathroom and run a shallow bath, washing my hair afterwards, and then returning to the bedroom to dress. I’m just doing up my tie when there’s a knock on the door, and when I open it, Ethel is standing on the other side.
“There’s a telephone call, sir,” she says. “They said it was urgent.”
I feel a shiver run down my spine. It’s not yet seven-thirty. A telephone call at this time of day is never a good sign. “Very well.”
I go downstairs, shrugging on my jacket as I’m walking, and pick up the receiver that’s been left on its side on the hall table.
“Stone,” I say into it.
“Styles here.” He sounds tired. “Sorry to disturb you so early on a Saturday…”
“That’s alright,” I interrupt.”What’s happened?”
“You need to go to Hampton Court Bridge.”
“I do?”
“Yes. There’s been another murder.” I swear under my breath. “From what I’ve been told, it’s sounding very similar to the Beth Templeton and Ursula Franklin cases,” he admits. “And while I know you were only brought in to investigate the Templeton matter, I think you’ll agree…”
“Yes. If there’s a link, I need to include this murder in my case.” I roll my shoulders to relieve the tension that’s already starting to build. “Where exactly do I need to go?”
“It’s on the river bank by the bridge. There are men already over there. You won’t be able to miss it. The police surgeon should be there by now, and the fingerprint chap is on his way.”
“Okay.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” he adds, and we end the call.
“Is everything alright?” Aunt Dotty appears from the dining room.
“No. I’ve got to go.”
“But you haven’t had breakfast.”
“I don’t have time.”
“Take this.” She hands me a Thermos flask and a slice of buttered toast. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
“How did you know?” I ask, walking towards the door. She follows, a concerned look on her face.
“I guessed something had happened when your colleague phoned, and I had Ethel bring up the Thermos and quickly buttered you some toast. As I say, it’s not much…”
“Thank you, Aunty.” I kiss the top of her head as I open the door.
“Take care, won’t you?” she whispers.
“I will.”
Styles was quite right, the murder scene is impossible to miss. There must be a dozen or so uniformed men here, and a few other unidentified personnel as well.
I park as close as I can to the scene and make my way over, showing my warrant card to the young constable who tries to prevent my access. As usual, he’s apologetic, but I wave him aside, spotting Ellis, who’s crouched by the body, alongside a man in a suit, who I don’t recognise.
“Ellis?” I call as I approach, making my way down onto the muddy riverbank.
“Sir?” He stands.
“What have we got?”
“Young lady, sir,” he says, pointing out the obvious.
“I gathered that much. Do we have a name?”
“According to her identity card, her name is Gloria Middlemas. She’s in the ATS. Well, she was…” I can see that from her dishevelled uniform, but I don’t say anything.
“Who’s this?” I nod towards the man who’s still crouched beside the body.
“I’m Doctor Wyatt,” the man replies, speaking for himself.
“Inspector Stone.” I don’t offer my hand. He’s in the middle of examining the corpse, so I’m not sure I want to shake hands.
“The know-all from Scotland Yard… I’ve heard about you,” he says, in a bored, sarcastic fashion.
“When you’ve finished being facetious, can you tell me what you’ve managed to ascertain about the victim… or do you need a little longer?” I give as good I as I get. That’s a policy with me. It’s a firm one. I never waver.
He glances up. He’s probably fifty years old, with salt and pepper hair, an untidy moustache and equally unkempt clothes. He looks me up and down, undoubtedly taking in my handmade suit, neat tie and spotless white shirt. He stands to his full height of perhaps five foot ten and looks up at me.
“No offence,” he says, wisely.
I nod my head in reply. “The body?” I ask him, reminding him of his business here, and being every inch a know-all from Scotland Yard.
“She’s been dead about ten hours, give or take an hour or two,” he says.
“So the time of death is somewhere between ten and two last night?”
“Approximately.”
God forbid a doctor should actually nail his colours to the mast. “Cause of death?”
He crouches again and pulls a few strands of her long blonde hair to one side, revealing bruise marks around her neck. “Strangulation.”
“With what?”
“He used his hands.” He moves further down the body. “The condition of the body is the same as the previous two,” he adds. “Torn clothes, open blouse, breasts exposed, obvious evidence of sexual intercourse—”
“Alright.” I raise my voice. “You don’t need to go on. I’m not blind.” He looks at me and smirks. “Are you finished here?” I ask him.
“Yes,” he replies.
“Good. I’ll release the body as soon as I can. In the meantime, can you get out of the way?” His mouth drops open and he goes to speak, but I glare at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is a crime scene and I wish to examine it… which means I need you to move.”
He glances at Ellis and rolls his eyes, huffs out a breath and move
s away to stand up on the pavement by the road. “Ellis?” I turn to the sergeant, who’s looking a bit confused by the proceedings. “Who else has been trampling on this ground?”
“No-one, sir.”
I nod and inidcate for him to move so I can crouch down and examine the muddy earth by the victim’s feet. It’s been churned up and there are several sets of footprints, all on top of each other. We won’t be able to get anything from them, but coupled with the caked mud on the victim’s shoes, it makes it clear the assault took place here. I glance up. We’re in a road called Riverbank, one side of which is taken up by the Thames itself. On the other are some houses.
“Get the house-to-house started and then come back here,” I instruct Ellis, nodding towards the Victorian villas that line the opposite side of the road.
“Yes, sir.” I think he’s gathered that, thanks to the doctor’s attitude, I’m not in the best of moods, and steps away, motioning to a couple of uniformed constables who are standing nearby.
Moving up the body, I take a closer look at her. There’s further evidence that the assault was carried out here. Her blonde hair is encrusted with mud. I’m not going to do it, but I imagine that, if I rolled her body over, I’d discover that her back was filthy from the dirt beneath. I examine her face. Her eyes are protruding now, and her lips are swollen and blue, but I can see that she’d have been attractive in life. She’s young too.
I’ve just about finished when a familiar figure appears on the riverbank above me.
“Prentice?” I stare up at him.
“Why, if it isn’t Inspector Stone. I heard a rumour you were down here.”
“I didn’t know you were though.”
He nods his head, making his way gingerly towards me down the muddy slope. Prentice is the only person I know who’s taller than me, and he’s as lanky as they come – all arms and legs, and nothing in between. “They opened the new department at Kingston about eight months ago,” he says once he gets to me. “I decided to transfer for a quieter life.”
