1950 - Mallory (17 page)

A
s Corridon walked quickly down the corridor of the train, a big, heavily built man stepped out of a first class compartment and stood squarely in his path. It was Detective-Sergeant Rawlins.

‘Don’t make a fuss, old chap,’ he said with a genial smile.

‘Hudson’s just behind you. It’s a fair cop, so don’t let’s have any bother.’

Corridon’s heart gave a lurch and he stopped in his tracks. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed the burly figure of Detective-constable Hudson blocking his way of escape.

Turning to face Rawlins, he said with elaborate casualness, ‘Why, hello, Rawlins. Didn’t expect to see you here. Did you get my telegram?’

By the merest fluke he had come to a standstill by one of the coach doors, but the train was travelling too fast to risk a jump.

It would be suicide to escape that way.

‘I got it,’ Rawlins said breezily. He was a breezy kind of man; big, red-faced and hearty. He always looked as if he had just come from a fortnight’s holiday at the seaside, exuding energy and good health, Corridon knew him to be a courageous, hard-working, conscientious policeman. To have stepped in front of him the way Rawlins had done had needed nerve, and Corridon admired him for it. ‘You needn’t worry about Crew,’ Rawlins went on amiably. ‘We knew all about him before your wire. Still, I appreciate your tip just the same. Suppose you let Hudson pat you over? You’re carrying a gun, aren’t you?’

‘That’s right,’ Corridon returned with his jeering smile. ‘Go ahead, Hudson. It’s in my right-hand pocket.’

Hudson, stony faced and hard eyed, dipped into Corridon’s pocket and fished out the .25 automatic.

‘Going in for toys now?’ Rawlins asked and rubbed his hands. ‘Thought you’d’ve had something better than that. Got a permit for it, old chap?’

‘Certainly,’ Corridon said. ‘It’s in my wallet. Want to see it?’

‘Not just now. You don’t give us much chance to lock you up, do you?’

‘You don’t imagine you’re going to lock me up this time, do you?’ Corridon said, raising his eyebrows. ‘You have nothing on me, Rawlins.’

‘That’s what they all say,’ Rawlins beamed. ‘I’m surprised at you, Corridon. You’re reverting to type. Just step in here, old chap. You ought to be proud,’ he went on as he shepherded Corridon into the first-class compartment from which he had appeared. There was another police officer sitting in the far corner who scowled at Corridon as he sat down opposite him.

‘We turned a number of passengers out of here for your benefit and we have a car waiting at Dunbar to take you back to London. That ought to make you feel important.’

‘It does,’ Corridon returned. ‘But I’m not returning to London.’

‘Sorry old chap, but they want a little chat with you in London,’ Rawlins said, taking out a packet of cigarettes. ‘Just one of those things, you know. Have a coffin nail?’

Corridon took the offered cigarette and allowed Rawlins to light it for him.

‘If it’s like that,’ he said and laughed, ‘I suppose I haven’t much choice.’ He wondered if Rawlins knew Ann was on the train. ‘By the way where did you spring from?’

Rawlins sat by the door.

‘Got on at Berwick. We saw you poking your handsome head out of the window so we slipped into the guard’s van. We didn’t want to disturb you until we had to. Did we, Hudson?’

Hudson, who was sitting beside Corridon, grunted.

‘Our boys spotted you at King’s Cross but just missed you,’

Rawlins went on. ‘They phoned the Peterborough police and Detective-Constable Stewart got on board when the train stopped at Peterborough. As luck would have it I was in Carlisle on a little job that doesn’t concern you and they telephoned me to meet the train at Berwick. Stewart wasn’t sure of you, and the Chief thought I’d better bring you in. I hopped in a car and here I am. And a very reckless bit of driving it was, too.’

No mention of Ann, Corridon thought with relief.

He said, ‘You are making a charge, of course?’

‘Not unless you force me to,’ Rawlins returned with a beaming smile. ‘I wouldn’t if I were you. Might complicate things. I’d prefer your cooperation if I could get it. Of course if you’re going to be difficult I could arrest you, but that’s up to you.’

‘And what would the charge be?’

Rawlins winked.

‘Don’t call my bluff, old chap. I could make it stick if I wanted to. The fact is we want you primarily to help us find this Pole. When we’ve got him we might have to talk to you a bit more seriously. I’m not saying we would, but we might.’

‘That means you haven’t enough evidence to make a charge,’

Corridon said. ‘I promise you, Rawlins, you never will.’

Rawlins sucked at his cigarette. He was a wet smoker and after a pull or two the cigarette was a soggy ruin.

‘We’ll see; we’ll see,’ he said airily. ‘I don’t mind admitting it’d please me no end to put you away for a long stretch, old chap. Maybe if I was lucky I might even fix you up with a noose. That little business before the war when you knocked off that secretary chap has always worried me. I feel I’ve left an untidy end hanging loose, and untidy ends, if you’ll pardon the vulgarity, give me a pain in my gut.’

‘What secretary chap is that?’ Corridon asked blankly.

‘Never mind. We won’t go into past history now.’ He shot out suddenly. ‘What was that little blonde like in bed? Any good?’

‘You’re talking in riddles,’ Corridon said. ‘Secretary chap; now blondes. What are you talking about?’

Rawlins beamed at the other two detectives who were staring at Corridon with cold dislike on their faces.

‘He has plenty of nerve, hasn’t he? Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, would it?’ He went on to Corridon, ‘The blonde tart you went home with on the night of May 17: Rita Allen. You know, the one who fell downstairs and broke her pretty neck.’

‘Never heard of her,’ Corridon returned promptly. ‘I know bags of blondes, but not Rita - who did you say?’

A shadow fell across the floor of the compartment and Rawlins looked up sharply as a girl slid back the door. Corridon glanced up. He felt a tingle run up his spine. It was Ann. She stood in the doorway, not looking at him, but smiling at Rawlins.

‘Would you excuse me?’ she said and glanced at Rawlins’s thick legs that blocked the doorway. ‘I want to come in.’

Rawlins hurriedly climbed to his feet. The whole of his massive bulk blocked the entrance.

‘I’m sorry, madam,’ he said politely. ‘But this carriage is reserved. No doubt you will find room farther up the train. I’m sorry to inconvenience you.’

Ann said steadily, ‘I don’t think there is any room. I’ve looked everywhere. And there’s nothing to say this compartment is reserved, is there?’

‘That’s quite correct, madam,’ Rawlins returned patiently. ‘But we are police officers. I’m afraid I must ask you to try elsewhere.’

‘Oh!’ Ann returned, and smiled. ‘I didn’t know. I’m awfully sorry. If you’re a police officer—’ She looked past him at Corridon who stared blankly at her. ‘Well, I suppose I must try elsewhere, mustn’t I?’

‘I’m afraid so, madam,’ Rawlins said with his expansive smile.

‘Might I ask you a question?’ Ann said, looking up at him and returning his smile.

‘Certainly,’ Rawlins said, a little puzzled. ‘What is it?’

‘My brother swears they wouldn’t fine you five pounds if you pulled the communication cord. He says it’s bluff. But they do don’t they?’

‘Yes, madam, they do,’ Rawlins said. ‘Is that all?’

‘Yes; I hope you don’t mind.’

Corridon’s heart began to pound. This nonsense she was talking could only mean one thing. She was going to stop the train. It would be up to him to make whatever use he could of the opportunity.

‘No, madam, that’s quite all right,’ Rawlins said gravely.

‘Thank you so much,’ Ann said and went away down the corridor.

Rawlins pulled down the blinds as he shut the door leading to the corridor.

‘Now, that’s what I call a nice-looking girl,’ he said, rubbing his hands. ‘As a connoisseur of women, old chap, wouldn’t you say that was a very pretty girl?’

‘Certainly,’ Corridon said, and waited, dry mouthed, for the train to stop.

‘
S
top that woman!’ a man cried excitedly, but Ann had already opened the coach door and jumped on to the grass verge. She ran towards the viaduct, spanning the narrow river in the valley below. As she neared the viaduct, Corridon launched himself from the parapet. Rawlins’s vain clutch missed him by inches.

Ann saw two more detectives, one holding a blood-stained handkerchief to his nose, come tumbling out of the first-class compartment and join Rawlins.

The three detectives watched Corridon as he shot towards the river. He seemed to take an incredibly long time before he entered the water. For all his courage, Rawlins was not embarking on a dive like that.

So engrossed were the three men in waiting for Corridon to break surface that none of them noticed Ann climb up on the parapet a few yards from them.

Several of the hundreds of passengers who were hanging out of the train windows watching this scene, and scarcely believing what they saw was actually happening, shouted a warning.

Rawlins spun round and made a futile grab, but Ann was already in her dive, and went shooting down to the river.

Corridon broke surface in time to see her poised on the parapet, and watched her small figure coming down like a bullet towards him. He saw her enter the water with scarcely a splash, and when her head appeared above the surface, he swam quickly towards her.

‘You little fool!’ He exclaimed as he reached her. ‘You might have broken your neck.’

‘So might you,’ she returned, shaking the water from her eyes. ‘But we didn’t, did we?’

‘Sure you’re all right?’

‘Of course.’ She trod water at his side. ‘You must admit I stopped the train absolutely at the right moment. I had to join you. That detective would have guessed I was the culprit, and I didn’t fancy being taken to the local lockup.’

‘It was a very nice bit of staff work.’ Corridon said, ‘but why on earth did you do it? I warned you to keep clear of me. Now look at the mess you’re in.’

She laughed.

‘I’d rather be here than up there.’

They both looked up at the distant bridge. Most of the passengers had left the train and had lined the bridge, staring down at them. Corridon recognized Rawlins in the crowd and waved to him. Rawlins, accepting the inevitable, waved back.

‘Poor old Rawlins,’ Corridon said, grinning. ‘I bet he’s cursing. Well, come on. We’ll swim downstream for a bit and then land. I doubt if there’s a way down here, but there’s no point in wasting time. Let’s go.’

They began to swim strongly downstream. The river was running fast, and they made good speed. After several minutes the faint blast of the train whistle made them look back. In the far distance, the train, now looking like a toy, was on the move once more.

‘I wonder if Rawlins has stayed behind or whether he’s going on to the next town to raise the alarm,’ Corridon said.

‘My bet is he’ll get to a telephone and let someone else do the work. How are you managing? Getting tired?’

‘A bit,’ Ann admitted. ‘My clothes are hampering me. Do you think we could land?’

He examined the thickly wooded banks of the river.

‘Right-ho. Over to your left.’

They let the current take them to the side of the river, and with difficulty scrambled up the steep bank. Ann flopped on the grass, panting.

‘Phew!’ she gasped, squeezing water out of her hair. ‘I’m horribly out of training. Will we ever get dry?’

Corridon stood over her, oblivious to the water that dripped from him. A hurried glance to right and left showed him they were facing a lonely stretch of wooded country with steep grassy hills and flat stretches of gorse.

‘We’ll get dry all right,’ he said cheerfully. ‘The sun’s coming out. When you’ve got your breath back we must get on.’

‘Do you know where we’re going?’

He pointed to the distant hills.

‘That’s our way. Northeast. The shortest route to Dunbar. It’ll be a pretty rugged walk over those hills, but we’ll have to put up with it. There doesn’t seem to be a house in sight for miles.’

‘There may be on the other side of the hills,’ She scrambled to her feet. ‘I feel awful. Have I got to walk to Dunbar in these sopping clothes?’

He grinned at her.

‘Take ‘em off if you like. I shan’t mind. We haven’t time to dry them.’

‘I won’t do that,’ she said, trying to wring water from her frock. ‘But seriously, we’ll have to get a change of clothes from somewhere and we’ll want food too. You realize we must be twenty miles from Dunbar, don’t you?’

‘That shouldn’t worry you. Don’t tell me one of Massingham’s young ladies is dismayed by a trifle like that. I thought you were tough.’

‘I’ve told you already: I’m out of training. What are we going to do? Do you think we could steal a car?’

He laughed at her.

‘That’s the surest way of getting the cops on our trail,’ he said. ‘We might hire one. Anyway, let’s get moving.’

‘I just can’t walk like this. I’m going behind a tree to wring out my clothes,’ she said firmly. ‘My shoes are full of water and I’m sure I have a fish down my back.’

‘Go ahead,’ he said, shrugging. ‘But hurry.’

She went behind a big shrub, and while waiting for her, he wrung out his own sodden coat and trousers.

‘Ann,’ he called as he fastened his belt. ‘Why did you stop the train? I thought we had agreed to part. Then all of a sudden you reappear and obstruct the police so I can escape. Why did you do it?’

She put her head round the shrub to look at him.

‘You looked awfully sad and pathetic sitting with all those policemen,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t leave you like that.’

‘Cut the fooling,’ Corridon said curtly. ‘For all you know I’m a murderer. You do know I’m after your brother. It would have been a fine let out for you if I had been locked up. What’s the idea?’

‘You were kind to me when those three descended on me at my studio. I felt I owed you something,’ she said. ‘And besides, I’m quite sure you didn’t have anything to do with Rita Allen’s death. At first I was a little scared, but when you had gone I thought about it, and I decided you weren’t the type.’

‘Well, you’re a little fool,’ Corridon said irritably. ‘You should have minded your own business.’

‘Which I suppose, is just your way of saying thank you,’ Ann said, laughing.

It was towards six o’clock in the evening when Corridon caught sight of their pursuers. Up to that time he had believed he had covered their tracks well enough to avoid a concentrated hunt, but now, seeing the line of distant figures suddenly appearing from the wooded hillside, he knew that Rawlins had outsmarted him.

‘Here they come,’ he said, catching Ann’s wrist and pointing. ‘Look; up there, moving this way.’

Ann and he were standing against a dense background of trees, and he was sure that to the men coming towards them they were invisible, but he knew the danger of moving suddenly, especially if there were shepherds among them. With their phenomenal eyesight, they would be quick to spot any movement.

‘Do you think they’re after us?’ Ann asked, watching the approaching men.

‘You bet they are. Let’s move back under cover. Take your time. They may see us.’

Slowly they stepped back into the shelter of the wood, and Corridon dropped to the ground, pulling Ann with him.

Up to now they had been extraordinarily lucky. A few miles from where they had dived into the river, they had come upon a lonely farmhouse. Corridon had decided it would be worth the risk to get their clothes dried there, and perhaps, some food for their journey.

The farmer’s wife had accepted his tale of a motoring accident and had dried their clothes, giving them a great dish of ham and eggs while they waited, wrapped in blankets before a blazing log fire she had lit for them.

There was a carrier’s van coming to the farm in the early afternoon, she had told them, and she was sure the carrier would give them a lift to Borthwick where, she thought, there was a garage that could help them.

This had suited Corridon. Their clothes were dry by the time the carrier arrived, and he was willing to take them to Borthwick. From Borthwick they picked up the bus to Giffard, but this had been a false move, although a necessary one as Corridon had been unable to hire a car. Someone, Corridon decided, must have recognized them in the bus and raised the alarm.

They were now five miles from Giffard; on foot and heading for Dunbar. They had a parcel of food with them and were well rested, so the distant line of approaching men did not disturb him. He felt confident they would be able to give them the slip.

‘If we had been ten minutes sooner we wouldn’t have spotted them coming out of the wood, and we’d have walked right into them,’ he said, watching the line of men swing slowly away from them. ‘The puzzle is: where to go? If we keep to our original route they’ll guess at once we’re heading for Dunbar.’

‘Let’s walk due north,’ Ann suggested. ‘That’ll bring us to Haddington. From there, if we’ve shaken them off, we can swing east to Dunbar.’

He stared at her, surprised.

‘How do you know that?’

‘You men,’ she said and laughed. ‘You think you know everything. I’ve toured Scotland often enough and I’ve been to Haddington. That’s how I know.’

‘Good for you,’ he returned and grinned. ‘But for all that I wish I had a map. This blind walking is a waste of time and dangerous. Do you think you can find your way from here to Haddington?’

‘I hope so,’ she said a little doubtfully. ‘We kept to the main roads last time I was here. What shall we do? Wait until it’s dark or take a chance now?’

‘We can’t afford to waste any time.’ The line of men had disappeared now behind the slope of the land. ‘They’re heading west. We’ll go north. If we’re careful we should be able to keep out of their way. I think we should go.’

They moved off together; rapidly over the open dale, slowing to a steady walk when they reached the hills, careful not to show themselves above the horizon.

‘I’m worried about you,’ Corridon said suddenly as they swung along. ‘I wish you had kept clear of me.’

‘Don’t fuss,’ she said, smiling. ‘I can look after myself.’

‘That’s what you think,’ he said shortly, ‘but if they pin Rita Allen’s death on me you’ll be in trouble. Ever heard of an accessory after the fact?’

‘I do wish you wouldn’t cross your bridges before you come to them,’ she said. ‘I’m not worrying. Why should you?’

He grunted, and after walking in silence for some time, he said abruptly, ‘You know I’m getting to like you.’

‘Are you?’ She looked quickly at him. ‘You don’t look very happy about it.’

‘I’m not. I’m not your type. I’ll have to watch my step with you.’

‘You do seem to make mountains out of molehills, don’t you?’

‘At one time I looked on women as two-a-penny. I was a love-em-and-leave-em Joe. I got out of the habit during the war, and women haven’t interested me for months.’ He looked down at her. ‘You’re interesting me, and I don’t like it.’ This time she hadn’t anything to say, and after a pause he asked, ‘Are you engaged or something?’

‘Something,’ she said, and smiled. ‘He’s in the Navy. I see him about once in six months.’

Again he grunted.

‘That’s all right then,’ he said.

‘Is it? We just like each other,’ she said rather defensively. ‘That’s all.’

‘Go on liking him,’ Corridon said sourly. ‘It’ll save you a lot of grief. You know this complicates things.’

‘What things?’

He stopped abruptly and stared at her.

‘I like you,’ he said in a flat, controlled voice. ‘And when I like a person I try not to hurt them. I’m sentimental that way. You wouldn’t believe it to look at me, but I am. It’s a vice with me.’

‘Why should you hurt me?’ she asked, bewildered.

‘I’m after your brother, aren’t I?’ he said impatiently. ‘I intend to hand him over to the police. Well, now I’m not sure.’

‘You won’t have to hand him over to the police,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re getting worked up for nothing.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I keep telling you, Brian didn’t kill Rita Allen nor did he betray Gourville. I know Brian. He was rather like you in a way. He just wouldn’t do things like that. So don’t worry.’

‘Now look,’ Corridon said. ‘Someone betrayed Gourville. Someone killed Rita and Lubish and Harris. If your brother didn’t, who did?’

‘I don’t pretend to know, but I do know Brian didn’t.’

‘That gets me nowhere. I’m sorry, but it won’t do.’

‘And I don’t believe he’s alive. I want to believe it. I nearly believed it when you first told me, but I’ve been thinking about it. He meant a lot to me. I knew when he died. I woke up one night, knowing he was dead. I didn’t hear from the Air Ministry until four months later, but it came as no shock. I had known for so long.’

He patted her arm.

‘Forget it, will you.’ There was a note of exasperation in his voice. ‘Think about your nice sailor boy
. Come on, we’re wasting time.’