Blood Storm (33 page)

'Was it Nelson, Benton or Noel?'

'I've really no idea. Don't even know it was a man. I just
couldn't see the driver. May I take off my coat? It's warm in
here.'

'Go ahead.'

At that moment Howard, Tweed's Director, opened the
door. In his early fifties, Howard was as always wearing an
expensive Chester Barrie suit, grey with thin stripes,
pristine white shirt, and elegant Valentino tie. His shirt
cuffs were shot from beyond the sleeves, decorated with
gold cufflinks.

His large clean-shaven face had a pink complexion. His voice, like Marler's, was upper-crust. He exuded authority.
When he saw Tweed's guest he paused, looked at Tweed,
then at the Parrot.

'Sorry if I've interrupted something. At this hour I'd have
expected to find no one here except Monica.'

'Howard, Director of the SIS,' Tweed introduced. 'This
is Miss Partridge, who came to tell me of a development.'

The P
arrot was still gazing at Howard. Tweed had
the odd sense of reading her thoughts: Would
this be a
good catch? Probably loaded with money. Wonder if he's married?

Stop it, he told himself. Your imagination is running riot.
She continued gazing at Howard with a ravishing smile. He
nodded to her, then turned to Monica as he made his
request.

'Could you let me have the first twenty pages of the
report? I need to double-check something.'

Quick-witted, Monica collected twenty pages and handed it to him. He thanked her, then left. Howard
already had the draft of the whole report in his office. He
had used that as an excuse to get out of the office while
Tweed dealt with his visitor.

'I think your Director is a most impressive man,' the
Parrot remarked.

During this interlude the Parrot had taken off her coat.
She was wearing a blue dress. It was supported by thin blue
straps slung from her shoulders, leaving her arms com
pletely bare. She lifted one hand to push back a lock of her
thick brown hair from her face.

'Now I'm scared stiff about driving home. Would it be
asking you too much to escort me to my place in
Hammersmith? I know it's rather a distance but at this hour
of the night - in view of my recent experience.'

'Of course not.' Tweed stood up, relieved at the prospect
of getting rid of her. 'You drive your own car and I'll follow
close behind in mind.'

'I cannot tell you how grateful I am . . .'

Her bare arms stretched out as though she was
determined to hug him. He ignored them, went across to
Monica after asking the Parrot for her address. She gave
him a plain white card. No red or gold rims. With it in his
hands he nipped across behind her back to Monica,
dropped the card on her desk. She picked it up, took only seconds to scrutinize the details, handed it back to Tweed.

When the Parrot stood up he had her coat in his hands.
He helped her on with it, avoiding touching her bare arms.

'Your coat too,' said Monica, jumping up and taking it
off the hanger she had placed it on when he arrived.

'Back within less than an hour,' Tweed said, holding
open the door for his guest.

The streets were deserted as the two cars drove through the
middle of the night. Reaching Hammersmith the Parrot
overtook Tweed's car to lead him down a narrow side street
with a wall of terraced houses on either side. Tweed had
already seen a familiar car in his rear-view mirror.

The Parrot parked. Tweed parked behind her and got out
to see her safely into her home. The security on the front
door was poor. An ordinary lock and nothing else. The
Parrot spoke as she inserted her key.

'You'll come inside so I can thank you with a drink. I will
not take no for an answer.'

At that moment a third car jerked to a stop behind
Tweed's. Paula jumped out, followed by Marler. She called
out in a cheerful voice.

'Hello there, Miss Partridge. You're out late. But so are
we. There's a restaurant not far away we like. We were
driving off when we spotted Tweed's car.'

'She's just invited us in for a drink,' Tweed said, smiling.

'I'll have coffee, I'm driving,' Marler drawled.

'A glass of Chardonnay would be super,' bubbled Paula.

The Parrot's expression was a picture. She made a great
effort to convert annoyance and rage into a feeble smile as
she opened the door.

'You're most welcome,' she said through gritted teeth.

Inside there was a narrow hall, doors leading off at the
sides. The Parrot headed at a brisk trot up the stairs at
the end, the treads carpeted with a red material. At the top
she continued her trot along a landing to another door.
Beyond it was a surprisingly large living room.

Paula glanced round. The furniture was not antique but
was restful and modern with a collection of sofas and chairs
and cupboards. Paula grabbed Tweed's arm, guided him to a sofa. They both sat. Even here Marler chose to stand in a
corner against a wall.

The Parrot disappeared into the kitchen and Paula
followed her. Money had gone into equipping her kitchen.
Everything was brand new and expensive. The Parrot was taking out bottles and glasses from a cupboard when she noticed Paula.

'Thought I'd give you a hand,' Paula said with a smile.

'Not necessary.' Her tone was abrupt. 'Go back and do make yourself comfortable. I can cope with this little lot.'

Paula returned to her seat on the sofa, soon followed by
the Parrot with a silver tray of drinks. She distributed them,
sat down with a sigh and relaxed. She reached for her glass,
looked round at her guests.

'What shall we drink to?'

'A swift solution to the appalling murder of Viola,'
Tweed suggested, raising his glass.

'That's a macabre toast,' the Parrot commented, 'but if
you want that I'll go along with it.'

Paula noticed her glass trembled briefly as she raised it to
her full lips. She was drinking neat Scotch. Tweed spoke again as he placed his glass on a glass-topped table.

'Miss Partridge, what is it like working with the three Macombers? They strike me as men with very different
characters - even if they are brothers.'

'Oh.' The Parrot waved a hand airily. 'I get by. With any
job at my level there is bound to be the odd problem.'

'What sort of problems would they be?'

'Present company excluded -' she glanced at Marler
₃
who seemed to bother her standing on his own - 'but men
are subject to wildly varying moods.'

'I agree,' Tweed pressed on, 'but so are women. There is a myth that men and women differ enormously from each
other. I don't think they do. They often have similar worries
and uncertainties.'

Tweed went on talking as Paula jumped up and swiftly
headed for the kitchen. She called out over her shoulder.

'Excuse me, but I've lost one of my earrings. I heard it
drop on the floor when I was in the kitchen.'

Earlier, arriving in the hall, she had detached one earring,
slipping it into the pocket of her windcheater. She listened,
could hear Tweed talking, then the Parrot answering.

She set to work quickly, looking for a meat cleaver. All the drawers slid open silently. Then she came to one which
was locked. Why? She'd ignored the cupboards, an unlikely
place to put a cleaver. Taking the earring out of her pocket,
she quickly attached it to her ear.

Paula had the Parrot as one of her prime suspects. When
she had her long meal with Coral Flenton her companion had told her she'd once caught the Parrot in a passionate
embrace with one of the Macombers. Paula had asked her
which one but Coral had shaken her head, said it was more
than her job was worth.

Paula was re-entering the living room when she
encountered the Parrot coming to see what she was up to. She gazed at Paula and then half-smiled.

'I see you have both on now. So you found it?'

'Yes, thank Heaven, it was difficult to see. It had slid
close to one of the cupboard bases.'

As they returned to the living room Tweed stood up. Marler headed for the door to the landing.

'I have enjoyed our chat,' Tweed said.

'I want to thank you so much for escorting me safely home.' The Parrot was rushing towards Tweed when she
knocked over a heavy revolving table crammed with books in shelves. She bent down, lifted it effortlessly, carried it
across the room, trotting swiftly before she dumped it. She
then rushed back to Tweed, hugged him, kissed him on
both cheeks.

'I want you to know how much I appreciate what you
did,' she told him.

Marler led the way downstairs, followed by Tweed and Paula, with the Parrot bringing up the rear. As they walked
down the hall their hostess tapped a closed door.

'My bedroom. The window overlooks the street, so early
in the morning I can sit up in bed and watch people going
to work early.'

'It has a lock, I presume,' said Tweed, pausing. 'A really good lock.'

'Oh, I sleep with it partly open. I must have fresh air.'

They left the flat, walking into dark stillness without a
sound. Tweed caught Paula's arm, took her to the
passenger seat of his own car. Marler nipped along to the car in which he'd driven Paula.

They were moving through still deserted streets towards
Paula's flat when she told Tweed about the reason for her
supposed missing earring.

'Why would she have one drawer locked?' she asked.

'For a dozen reasons - sharp knives out of reach of a
visiting child, who might wander in there exploring,
anything. How come you turned up with Marler? You
wouldn't know her address.'

'Yes, we did. Marler phoned Monica about something
and she told him where you had gone with the Parrot, gave
him the address.'

'So you came running to my rescue? Was that it?'

'No. It wasn't. We didn't like the idea of your driving
back on your own. Simple.'

Tweed dropped Paula outside her flat as Marler pulled
up behind him. He drove off, ignoring Marler who came to
his open window suggesting he spent the night in Paula's spare bedroom.