Blood Storm (30 page)

'The Parrot. I don't know where the devil I am with her.
For weeks she's been on my back, now she's so friendly.
She takes me out for a posh meal - I may have mentioned that before - she even suggested that we stand shoulder to
shoulder to outwit the three bullies in the next room. I'm
treading warily. She has a terrible temper. And I'm due for
promotion into another department. I don't want the
Parrot to turn nasty again, to find some excuse for throwing
me out. I need the money.'

'Anything else on your mind? Although what you've told
me is enough.'

'I keep thinking of poor Viola. I told you we knew each
other at school. I read the description of what happened to her and keep thinking of it. Bad dreams. I wonder how Marina, her twin sister, is feeling.'

'Marina?' Paula repeated. 'I didn't know about her. A
twin sister. Did they get on well together?'

'They did not.' Coral paused, refilled her glass. 'You see,
they both behaved in the same way.' She hesitated.

'You mean with men?' suggested Paula.

'Yes, I do. It sounds awful but they were competitive.'

'In what way?'

'In price. What they charged for their services, if you see
what I mean.' She had another drink. 'At
least, Marina
was. Viola wasn't. What they charge a man for you know
what.'

'I see.' Paula took another small sip. This was a new
development no one had mentioned before. 'Where does
Marina live, then?'

'She has a luxurious pad in a street off Mayfair. Do you
want the address?'

'If you don't mind . . .'

She studied Coral while she was scribbling on a pad. Her
movements were jerky. Nerves? It could be the brandy but
Paula doubted it. Coral was informally dressed in denims and a white blouse buttoned to the neck. Coral handed her
the sheet she had torn off the pad. Paula noticed the writing
was neat but jerky. She folded the note, put it inside her
hold-all in a zip-up pocket.

'Thank you.'

'It has her address, her phone number, her mobile number.'

'I suppose Viola gave you this information,' she said
gently.

'That's right. I was having a drink with her one evening
in her Fox Street flat. She asked whether I'd consider going
to see Marina. To try and patch up the relationship. I didn't
go, didn't like the idea.'

'Probably very wise. Are you hungry? I think I am.'

Paula had decided it was time to go to the restaurant
before Coral used the brandy bottle again. They had
reached the front door when Paula noticed the simple lock.

'Covent Garden is getting all sorts of people floating
round it these days. I'd feel happier if you installed better
locks. Maybe a Banham and a Chubb.'

'How nice of you to think of my safety . . .'

'Do any of those three men come on to you?' Paula asked
before they went outside.

'No trouble from Nelson. Sometimes I don't like the way
Benton looks at me when he's wearing those rimless specs.
The one I have to fend off is Noel, but I can handle him. I'm afraid I'm not really dressed for dinner.'

Paula looked at her. Coral had her glorious crown of red hair piled up on top. She gave Coral a quick squeeze as she
spoke.

'You look gorgeous. And I'm not exactly dressed for the
Ritz. Neither will some of the other women be fit for a
fashion parade!'

Once outside, she was immediately aware of the chill, but
Coral had slipped on a jacket. Paula glanced around
casually. No sign of her 'protectors' but she knew they
would be there.

'Marina? A twin sister?' The surprise was evident in
Tweed's voice.

Paula had just returned very late from her visit to Coral.
The only other occupants in the office were Marler and
Monica.

'And where are the three I sent to watch over you?'
Tweed demanded fiercely.

'Not to worry,' replied Paula, perched on the edge of his
desk. 'Newman escorted me here, saw me safely inside,
then said he was going back to his car. I think he's gone
back to join Pete and Harry. I suspect they're staying for some time, watching the entrance to Coral's flat, now I've
gone. Which I
think is smart. Maybe someone else watched
me leave.'

'In that case they are smart. They're acting on the advice
I've hammered into everybody. Think for yourselves. Now
tell me about your evening.'

'Before I start, here are Marina's details. Address and so
on.'

Tweed handed the folded sheet to Monica, asked her to
record it. She opened the sheet, looked at it, returned it to
Tweed.

'I've memorized it. I'll transfer it to the key address
book.'

Paula had a lot to say. She recalled every word of her
conversation with Coral, adding her own thoughts as she
continued. She was aware that, behind her, Monica was
using her hundred-and-thirty-words-a-minute shorthand to
take down every detail.

As she'd expected, Tweed became a Buddha, sitting
motionless, his eyes never leaving hers. His powers of
concentration were legendary. She waved a hand as she concluded.

'Now you have the lot. Interesting?'

'And I've got the lot,' Monica called out. 'I'll type you a report. How many copies?'

'Five, please,' Tweed told her. 'A copy for each member
of the team. It's so important everyone has the data in this
situation. Paula, interesting? I think it was vital you decided
to go and see Coral. Significant is the word.'

'Why?' Paula asked.

'Because the Parrot is playing a devious game. Also
because now we know of the existence of Marina. I shall
have to go and see her.'

'Want me to come with you?' Paula suggested ironically.
'To protect you?'

'So far I've been pretty good at protecting myself against
alluring and predatory women. And
thank you, Paula, for
doing such a professional job. Now I'm going to do
something I should have done earlier, but we've been
chock-a-block.'

'What's that?'

'I intend,' he said after checking his watch again, 'to visit
the scene of the crime in Fox Street. If I go now I should arrive at roughly the time Saafeld said the hideous crime
was committed.'

'I'm coming with you, of course,' said Marler.

'I agree,' Tweed said reluctantly.

He could hardly have refused. Not when he was
hammering on about everyone's safety. He stood up and
Paula slipped off the edge of his desk. He took hold of her
shoulders and again his voice was fierce.

'You are not allowed to leave this building until someone
- Newman, Pete or Harry - has got back. They will escort
you home, will check out every corner in your flat before
you enter it, then they will sleep on that sofa in the living
room, or in the spare bedroom . . .'

'Oh, for Heaven's sake,' Monica burst out. 'They'd do
that anyway. Are you suffering from paranoia?'

Tweed made no reply, but grabbed his coat, and put it on
as he went down the stairs followed by Marler. Outside the
night was fresh and colder. Tweed opened the car, slipped in behind the wheel
as Marler dived into the rear.

The passenger door next to Tweed was opened, and
Paula was on the seat next to him as he switched on the
engine. She slammed her door shut. Tweed opened his mouth but she beat him to it.

'No argument. You've said before I take over if you're
out of action. On top of that I'm well guarded with the two
of you. And, on top of that, we're visiting the flat of a poor
woman - woman - who was foully murdered. I'm a woman.
I could spot something a man could miss.'

Tweed, driving away from Park Crescent, had opened
and closed his mouth twice. Like a fish, Marler thought,
watching him in the rear-view mirror. Tweed's mind was
revolving as he drove on, heading towards Covent
Garden.

Paranoia, Monica had said. Could she be right? Was he
in danger of overdoing his warnings? Paula had done a good
job, extracting information from Coral, and some of it
might eventually lead them to the psychopathic murderer.

'You've got a point,' he ultimately admitted.

Paula showed no elation, no hint of triumph. She was
gazing out as they neared their destination. Fox Street, a
name which would go down in the history of criminology.

No one was about at this depressing hour. The car
wobbled over cobbles. They had entered Fox Street. Tweed
slowed the car to a crawl. It was a narrow street, with poor illumination from ancient lamps protruding from walls on
metal arms.

'Nearly there,' Paula said. 'Within yards . . .'

She had been checking the house numbers, which were
lit up by lights behind them. Tweed parked on the pave
ment. They could now see the notorious house, police tape
still strung across it. As they got out the door opened,
Marler had his gun in his hand.

'It's Chief Inspector Hammer,' Tweed warned.

The burly policeman, huddled up in an overcoat, stood
hands in his pockets. Mistake, in this area,
Tweed thought.
If Hammer was attacked he'd never get his automatic out in
time. He went up to Hammer, who was staring at the three
of them without pleasure.

'Bit late on the case, aren't you? Place has been given a
real search. Nothing.'

'I'm getting a sense of what the atmosphere was like when
it happened. Not exactly bustling with people. And, in case
it has slipped your memory, I am the chief investigator.'

'What's the girl messing about at?' Hammer asked
rudely.

'The girl is a woman. She appears to be checking the
street in case something was dropped by the murderer. Did
you people do that?'

'Waste of time. Front door was closed when we arrived.
Which suggests she knew the killer. Doesn't it?'

'Possibly. On the other hand if she was expecting him -
or her - she could have come down to let him in. You
hadn't thought of that - or had you?'