Comes the Dark Stranger (8 page)

He grinned. ‘Seen anybody? I’ve seen them all.’

Her eyes widened and a look of incredulity appeared on her face. After a short pause she said slowly, ‘Are you going to tell me about it?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. Would you like another drink?’ She shook her head and he leaned back against the padded wall and started to speak.

He told her about Charles Graham, and then moved on through the events of the day, ending with an account of his second meeting with Crowther. The one thing he omitted was any reference to the footsteps.

When he had finished she sat quietly for some time gazing down into her drink, and then she said slowly, ‘I don’t see where it’s got you. You’ve spoken to all three suspects. It’s got to be one of them, and yet you’re no further forward. Can you honestly say you suspect one of them more than the others?’

He sighed and shook his head. ‘No, I can’t say that I do. At first I thought I could cross Crowther off my list, but now I’m far from sure. He’s too eager for me to stop the whole business. Wilby was definitely frightened, but for some reason I got the impression he was frightened of something else.’

‘And Steele?’ she said.

He shrugged. ‘Steele is the most likely one, and not only because he’s unscrupulous. He’s completely self-centred. The sort of man who will always do only those things which directly benefit himself.’

‘And what do you intend to do now?’ she asked. ‘You seem to be at a dead end.’

He frowned slightly. ‘I’m not so sure. I know it looks like it, but I’ve got a hunch about Joe Wilby. Somehow he’s the key to this whole business. If he isn’t the guilty man himself, I swear he knows who is. Coming right down to it, I think Reggie Steele’s my man.’

They sat there in silence, and then the band began to play an old pre-war number, with love and laughter and tender sadness in every line of it. ‘Would you care to dance?’ he said. She nodded, a slight smile on her lips, and they moved out on to the floor.

They danced well together, and she fitted perfectly into his arms, her dark head pressed against his shoulder. That faint, delicate perfume rose from her hair, and he was acutely aware of the soft contours of her body pressed against him.

When the band stopped playing she looked up at him, a strange expression on her face. ‘I’m sorry, Martin. I’ll have to go now.’ He nodded gently without speaking, and raised a hand to the waiter.

As she turned the car out of the car park into the main road, she said abruptly, ‘I’ve been thinking I’d like to do a portrait of you. Have you got time to come up to the house tomorrow afternoon? I’d like a pencil sketch to be going on with.’

‘What for - posterity?’ he said lightly. She didn’t reply, and they drove the rest of the way into town in silence.

When they stopped outside the hotel, she kept the engine running. ‘I’m afraid I’ll have to hurry,’ she said. ‘What about tomorrow? Can you make it?’

He nodded. ‘I’ll be there sometime after lunch.’

There was a moment of silence as they looked at each other, and then he turned to open the door. As his hand touched the handle she said in a sudden broken whisper, ‘Martin!’

He turned and pulled her into his arms, and her supple body melted into his and the warm mouth opened like a flower. For a moment they stayed there, and then she pushed him away, gasping for breath. When she spoke, her words were shaky and uneven. ‘I must go, Martin. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

He reached for her again, but she placed a hand firmly against his chest and slowly and reluctantly he opened the car door and got out.

She waved once, and then the car disappeared into the fog, and he turned and went in through the door of the hotel, the blood singing in his ears, his whole body vibrant and alive for the first time in years.

He took the stairs two at a time, and he was whistling as he unlocked his door. He moved across the room in the darkness and switched on the bedside lamp, and as the shadows reached out towards him from the four corners of the room his spirits suddenly dropped.

He pulled his canvas grip out of the wardrobe and took out the half-bottle of whisky and held it to his lips. As the liquor burned its way down his throat he sat on the edge of the bed and casually slid a hand under the pillow.

A sudden frown appeared on his face, and he jumped to his feet and pulled the pillow from the bed. But he was wasting his time. The Luger had gone.

9

H
E
made a quick check on the rest of his belongings, but they were all intact. There were no obvious signs of an intruder and the lock on the door had not been tampered with. A key had been used - that much was obvious.

For a moment he considered questioning the night porter, but he dismissed the idea. If the man had allowed someone access to the room he would certainly deny it, and no good would be served by a scene. Only two of the people he had talked to that day knew he had a gun. The first was Laura Faulkner, and the idea that she might have had anything to do with it was absurd.

That left Reggie Steele, and a sudden cold anger flared in Shane. He sat there for a moment or two longer, thinking about it, and then he got to his feet, switched off the light and left his room, locking the door behind him.

The night porter was snoring gently in an easy-chair in the corner of the foyer when he went downstairs, and he walked quietly past him and went out into the night.

It was raining hard as he walked through the deserted streets, and the fog still restricted visibility. It was shortly after one when he reached the Garland Club, and there were still cars parked in the square outside. He walked past the entrance slowly, and moved towards a narrow alley that appeared to give access to the side of the building, and then his eyes fell on something that halted him in his tracks. Laura Faulkner’s car was parked at the kerb a few feet away from him.

At first he thought he was mistaken, and he approached the car to examine it more closely. A low growl caused him to move back hastily as the Dobermann poked its head through the half-open window.

He stood looking at the car, a hundred thoughts racing through his brain, and then steps sounded behind him and a gay voice said, ‘Hallo, handsome! You wouldn’t be waiting for me by any chance?’

As he turned, Jenny Green emerged from the alley. In the sickly yellow light of the street lamp she looked pale and drawn, and there were dark smudges under her eyes.

As she came nearer a frown replaced her smile. ‘You don’t look too good,’ she said. ‘Is anything the matter?’

He forced a smile. ‘I could do with about a week in bed, that’s all. If it comes to that, you don’t look so marvellous yourself.’

She shrugged. ‘Three shows a night in this dump sends me home with energy for nothing but bed.’ She sighed heavily. ‘It can really interfere with a girl’s fun.’

He smiled tightly. ‘I don’t seem to have much time for fun these days.’

She moved closer and put a hand on his arm. There was concern in her eyes when she looked up into his face. ‘You’re all tightened up inside like a spring. You’d better start unwinding fast or you’ll find yourself in real trouble.’

He smiled down at her. ‘You’re a good kid, Jenny, but I’m short on time for what I have to do.’

She started to turn away and hesitated. ‘My place is only twenty minutes’ walk from here,’ she said diffidently. ‘I make good coffee.’

Before he could reply, the door in the alley at the side of the Garland Club opened and someone came out. Shane grabbed the girl by the arm and rushed her into the darkness of a near-by doorway. She started to protest, and he pulled her close, one arm around her shoulders.

She chuckled deep down in her throat and pressed her soft young body against him. ‘Now I call this a real improvement,’ she said, and Shane gently laid a finger across her lips as two people emerged from the alley.

His eyes burned out of the darkness as Laura Faulkner and Steele crossed the pavement to her car. She stood with one hand through the open window, fondling the dog’s muzzle, and Steele talked to her in a low voice. Once he laughed and laid a hand on her arm in a familiar manner, and then she got into her car and drove away.

Steele started along the pavement, passing the doorway in which Shane and the girl were standing. Shane pulled her close, hiding his face against her, and Steele gave them a casual glance and moved on.

Shane stepped out of the doorway and watched him turn the corner, and there was bitterness in his eyes. From behind him Jenny said, ‘Now what was all that supposed to be about? Are you interested in her, too?’

He turned quickly, a frown on his face. ‘You’ve seen her before?’

She nodded. ‘She’s been visiting him at the club ever since I’ve worked here, and that’s almost two years now.’

He started to walk along the street, hands thrust deep into his pockets. His face was like a mask, the skin drawn so tightly over the bones that in the pale light of the street lamps it resembled a skull, and there was a cold, killing rage in his heart.

Laura Faulkner had made a fool of him. She had visited him earlier in the evening for one reason only. To get him out of his room to give Steele, or one of his henchmen, a chance to look for the gun. The most damning thing of all was the fact that she herself had suggested that he leave the Luger behind. The whole thing had been cleverly planned from beginning to end. They’d banked on the fact that he’d ask her to go for a drink. If he hadn’t, she would have probably suggested it herself.

He paused on the corner, debating his next move, and then suddenly he felt tired. More tired than he had felt in a long time. Laura Faulkner could wait until their appointment. He sighed deeply. At least one good thing had come out of it. He now knew for certain that something was being concealed from him. What it was he didn’t know, but that could wait until the following afternoon.

He started to move forward, and Jenny Green said, ‘Hey, what about me?’

He turned, surprised to find she was still there, and then a slow smile came to his face. ‘Didn’t you say something about coffee?’ he said.

She grinned and slipped a hand inside his arm, and together they turned out of the square and walked towards the main road.

She lived in a street at the back of the university, lined with old, brownstone houses, each with a narrow strip of garden running down to the road. Her flat was on the top floor, and when she opened the door and switched on the light he found himself in a large, comfortable living-room.

She kicked off her shoes and smiled at him, an expression of relief on her face. ‘I must wash my face and change into something comfortable,’ she said. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll only be a minute.’

He wandered about the room, examining things. Through the half-open door of the bedroom he caught a glimpse of her standing in front of a mirror unfastening her stockings, and the contours of her supple body stood out boldly under her nylon slip.

He turned away quickly, his throat dry, and sat down in a chair by the fire-place. When he picked up a magazine his hands were shaking slightly, and his breathing was ragged and uneven. Somewhere he could hear water running as a tap was turned on. A few minutes later she walked into the room, pinning her hair up at the back of her head.

She was wearing an old quilted dressing-gown and fur-lined slippers. Her face was scrubbed clean, and without her make-up she looked startlingly young and innocent.

She went into the kitchen and filled the kettle. Shane lit a cigarette and went and leaned in the doorway, and there was puzzlement in his voice. ‘How the hell did you get mixed up in this sort of life?’ he said.

She turned, suddenly serious. ‘Don’t get any wrong ideas. I’m in show business - not the other thing. Anyone who gets invited up here gets asked because I like him and for no other reason.’

He smiled gently. ‘I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.’ She started to spoon coffee into a jug, and he went on. ‘How did you come to work for Steele?’

She carried the coffee into the living-room on a tray, and he followed her. ‘It was the old story. All my life I wanted to be an actress. I was raised, if you can call it that, in a Manchester slum. I went to London when I was seventeen, got a job in a shop during the day, and enrolled as a student at evening classes in a third-rate drama academy.’

‘It sounds like a bad plot,’ Shane told her.

She nodded. ‘Finally, I thought I knew enough to get a job in the theatre. I haunted the agencies for nearly three months and was handed just about every proposition under the sun - all of the same kind, naturally. Finally I managed to get a job as a dancer in a cheap touring revue.’

Shane grinned. ‘Red-nosed comedians and strip I suppose.’

She nodded. ‘It folded in Burnham, and Reggie Steele offered me a job.’

‘With no strings attached?’ he said.

She shrugged, and handed him his coffee. ‘He had a passing fancy for me at first, but it didn’t last. It never does with him.’

He gave her a cigarette, and they sat in silence for several minutes. She rested her head against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, and Shane stretched out his legs and tried to relax.

It was impossible. Her dressing-gown had fallen slightly open and revealed the long, breath-taking sweep of thigh, and his stomach churned as he remembered how she had looked through the half-open door of the bedroom.

It had been a long time since he’d had a woman. Too long. He got to his feet and walked restlessly over to the window. A policeman passed under the lamp outside, his cape streaming with rain, and Jenny Green said quietly, ‘You’re in some sort of trouble, aren’t you? Real trouble, I mean.’

He turned and faced her with a slight smile. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

She nodded slowly. ‘You look the kind of man who could handle most things.’

There was an expression that was almost amusement in her eyes and his throat went dry. He drew a deep breath and said, ‘I suppose I’d better be going. It’s getting late.’

She smiled faintly. ‘Must you? You can stay here. I’ve got plenty of room.’

He shook his head. ‘Thanks for the offer, but there might be an important message waiting for me back at my hotel.’

She moved very close to him and looked up into his face. ‘I saw you in the mirror watching me undress.’

He clenched his hands and tried to keep his voice steady. ‘I just happened to be passing the door.’

She chuckled deep down in her throat. ‘Why do you think I left the door open?’

His palms were moist, and in his stomach a knot slowly hardened. When he gripped her arms, his hands were trembling. ‘It’s been a long time, Jenny. A hell of a long time.’

She reached up on tiptoe and gently kissed him on the mouth. ‘Give me two minutes,’ she said and disappeared into the bedroom.

He stood gazing into space for a moment, and then he picked up his trench-coat and walked to the door. As he started to open it she called softly to him. He hesitated for a moment, and then, with a smothered curse, threw down his coat and crossed to the bedroom in three quick strides.

For a moment, as he stood in the doorway, he caught a breath-taking glimpse of her lying there waiting for him, and then she switched off the lamp and laughed softly at him from the darkness.