Killer in the Shade (3 page)

‘What is it?' she asked, again surprising him.

He said, ‘You never wear those awful rollers some women use for their hair. Yet your head's always neat and your hair never all over the place. What's the secret?'

‘Enough money to tip well before I
leave the hairdresser's.'

‘Doesn't it depend on how many times you arrive there?'

Judy Cadman had a mouthful of excellent teeth. She displayed most of them before offering a piece of feminine advice.

‘Don't think like a male, darling.'

Her husband put the last piece of bacon in his mouth as the front-door bell rang.

‘Damn!' he grunted. ‘Don't say that Superintendent Drury is chasing me.'

His wife put down her coffee cup and rose. ‘I'll go and see,' she volunteered. ‘But don't drain the coffeepot — in case you're right, John.'

The caller proved to be, not Drury, but Rollo Hackley, the son of Judy's elder sister Gwen, who was married to a man devoted to a pets-food cannery in Hartlepool. Stephen Hackley was making a great deal of money these days, but secretly Judy wondered if that could possibly compensate her sister for having to live in Hartlepool. Rollo had escaped to London after leaving Durham
University and, much to the scorn of his prosperous father, preferred curious hours in Fleet Street as a junior reporter on the struggling
Morning Gazette
to more steady ones with burnished prospects in an office attached to the processing factory of Hackley's Pet Foods, Ltd., with the brand name ‘Pet Diets' on every tin.

When Steve Hackley's independent-minded son followed his aunt into the breakfast-room, John Cadman thought how much the young man took after his mother and aunt. There was little of his father in his appearance. He felt a twinge of regret at the failure of himself and Judy to produce any children.

His nephew's glance went to the transistor radio on a worktop beside a cupboard.

‘Not interested in the eight o'clock news, John?' Rollo asked, showing a set of teeth that matched his aunt's.

‘I had a late night.'

‘That should have been the reason for listening.'

Judy was the first to get his meaning.
‘You mean the Croft Avenue murder is on it.'

‘It should be. It was on the seven o'clock,' Rollo said, sitting on a chair by the door leading into the garden. ‘Which is why you see me on a filthy misty morning.'

His aunt switched on the small transistor set to hear the announcer reading the end of the news summary. She switched it off again.

‘Too late,' she said, sounding disappointed.

Her husband was watching Rollo, the one-sided grin back on his face.

‘You've come for a cup of coffee, of course.'

‘No one makes coffee like Aunt Judy.'

‘Flatterer,' she said, pleased at the tribute, and reaching for a fresh cup and saucer. ‘You've come for information straight from the horse's mouth.'

‘If the stable door hasn't been bolted after the horse has gone.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?' asked his uncle.

‘The seven o'clock news mentioned
Superintendent Drury. He has Bill Hazard with him. They're a close team, John. It just could be you were told not to talk to the Press.'

John Cadman grinned widely at his nephew's reference to himself as Press. He wondered how it would sound if he referred to himself as the medical profession. It might be enough to get him certified.

‘No, I wasn't told to keep a still tongue in my head, Rollo,' he said.

‘Fine. Then you can give me what you know before I turn up at the
Gazette
. That should earn a grudging word of thanks from old Simpson, our news editor.'

By the time Rollo had finished the cup of coffee poured for him by his aunt, he knew as much as John Cadman could tell him. The recital had not brought a look of excitement to the nephew's face.

‘Put like that, John, it doesn't sound much,' he said.

‘You mean it was hardly worth struggling through the mist to collect. Well, never
mind. The coffee, I'm sure, made the trip worthwhile.'

Rollo Hackley grinned.

‘Now, you two,' said Judy Cadman. ‘Stop sparring. You haven't told us what the announcer said about your uncle.'

‘He said the man who discovered the body was Dr John Cadman, and that Superintendent Drury had taken over the case. The victim wasn't named. Oh, yes, he added that Dr Cadman had been returning from a late-night call.'

‘Nothing about the streets being dark due to the power strike?' the doctor inquired.

His nephew shook his head. ‘Why do you ask? Was that relevant in any way?'

John Cadman's face remained bland. He didn't want to lead Rollo into a blind alley.

‘I was only thinking that darkness can help a man who wants to vanish after committing murder.'

‘Why a man necessarily?' the younger man probed.

‘Just my impression. The victim was stabbed in the back and the knife reached
the heart. It didn't suggest a woman's work to me, but then I've been spared much experience with modern Butch types.'

‘John!' exclaimed Judy Cadman, feigning shock at his choice of words.

Rollo stood up. ‘Well, thanks for the coffee, Aunt Judy.'

‘Another cup? I think I can squeeze out another.'

‘No, thanks. John.' The young man turned to his uncle. ‘It's all right if I quote you?'

‘If you mean correctly — of course. But don't put words into my mouth. I don't want to rub this Superintendent Drury the wrong way. What's his reputation?'

‘Competent. He'll get the killer.'

‘You sound very assured.'

‘That's the sort of detective Drury is. Well, I'll be battling my way back through the misty rush hour, folks. I'll ring you later, John, if that's okay.'

‘Any time that isn't surgery hours, Rollo, though I can't see how I'll be much use to you. I've got to make a statement to the police and then I'll
imagine they'll be pleased to forget me. I came on the body within minutes — '

John Cadman stopped short, seeming a little confused.

‘You've been holding out,' his nephew accused, smiling but looking keenly at the other.

‘I just mean that, being a doctor, I could tell that the dead man had not been dead long. That's all.'

‘How long?'

‘I think you'd better let the police surgeon give his opinion first, Rollo.'

‘Very well. But strictly off the record?'

John Cadman hesitated. ‘A few minutes.'

‘You said that before, John. How many? Five — fifteen — thirty?'

‘You're pushing, Rollo.'

‘Sorry, John, but this could be important — and it is off the record.'

‘Possibly five minutes after the murderer left the house.'

Rollo whistled. ‘My God! You could have passed him in the street.'

His uncle nodded. ‘Very possibly, and before you ask any more questions,' he added dryly, ‘that did occur to
Superintendent Drury. Now let me ask a question. How's Carol?'

The keen look faded from the nephew's face. To the watching John Cadman it seemed to evaporate, like steam in a warm atmosphere. What it left behind was a mask. The doctor wondered what the mask concealed.

‘I could wish you hadn't asked, John.'

Judy Cadman turned from fiddling with the objects on the worktop where she had replaced the radio.

‘Why, Rollo! Whatever is that supposed to mean?'

‘Carol sent me back my ring just over a week ago.' Her nephew tried to smile, but it was far too grim. She knew he had been hurt and felt a little sick with apprehension, wondering what the hurt would do to him. ‘Ten days or so,' he added, ‘can be a long time, Aunt Judy.'

‘But why, Rollo? She must have said why.'

John Cadman remained silent, content to allow his wife to ask questions he wanted to have answered.

‘She didn't say. I was a bit shocked. I forgot to ask for a reason. After all, Carol had returned my ring, so she had a reason. What it was couldn't matter — and it certainly wouldn't take back the ring.'

‘You poor boy!'

It was the wrong thing to say. Rollo fidgeted and looked hot, and to change the tempo his uncle said, ‘You still in love with her?'

He received a straight wide-eyed stare.

‘I'll always love Carol. She knows that. I believe something's happened,' the young man said earnestly, looking less prepared to escape. ‘I'm not married to her, so she's free to turn me down if she wants to, but anything that makes her want to must be' — he hesitated for a word and finally chose — ‘bad.'

Judy Cadman tried to retrieve her mistake by sounding practical.

‘Is she still in her secretarial job?'

‘As far as I know. I believe she was going up North.'

John Cadman came to a decision reluctantly. He said, ‘Rollo, there's
something I should tell you.'

His voice had changed. There was a gravity to the words that instantly focused the attention of his listeners. His wife sensed that this was a moment to remain silent.

‘About Carol?'

The doctor nodded. ‘I saw her last night, Rollo.'

The young man's chin jerked up. ‘Sure it was her, John?' he asked quietly.

‘I wasn't mistaken,' John Cadman said gravely. ‘She was in the front garden of that house in Croft Avenue, and she was damned afraid.'

Judy Cadman gave a little choking sound and crammed a hand against her mouth. She sat down abruptly. The hand remained pushed against her lips as though to prevent her saying words she could later regret.

‘Did you try to find her when you left?' Rollo asked.

‘It was too dark in the garden to look, and in any case I didn't want to draw the attention of the police to her.'

‘Thanks for that. But this could turn
sticky for you later.'

John Cadman smiled slightly. ‘It could have been a trick of the light on the bushes. But there's something else, still not for publication.'

Judy Cadman sat rigid, looking at this surprising husband of hers in muted wonder.

‘I told Drury I hadn't set eyes on the dead man before, and at the time I believed that. In a sense it was true, but not entirely. The light moustache fooled me. On the way home I got to imagining him without that moustache and that told me something I'd forgotten. I had seen him before — but without his moustache.'

‘Then ring up Frank Drury and tell him. He'll understand.'

‘It isn't quite that simple, Rollo. I didn't see him alone on that previous occasion. He was with a woman.'

‘Who was she, John? Don't be tedious, darling,' said Judy, finding her voice. ‘We aren't the police, and this could be complicated. We ought to know.'

‘Cecil Weddon's wife.'

‘Weddon the bank manager?' Rollo asked.

His uncle nodded as his aunt snapped, ‘Beryl Weddon. Flashy. Bottle red hair. Hot pants. And too damned good-looking for any bank manager with a career to concentrate on.'

‘Why, Aunt Judy!' Rollo's grin returned. ‘You sound as though you dislike the woman.'

‘Not dislike — distrust,' retorted his aunt, a mite waspishly. There was a touch of challenge in the stare she shared between her husband and her nephew. Neither chose to take it up and she asked, ‘Where did you see them, John?'

‘A short while ago in the snuggery at the Prince Regent. I met Harry Fitch there for a drink before the Rotary lunch upstairs. She was with this man at a window table. They got up and left before we'd finished our gins.'

‘So you're thinking of the bank manager.'

‘Cecil Weddon's a friend, Rollo.'

‘You've got to think of yourself, John.'

The doctor looked at his wife. ‘I don't
want to stir up unnecessary trouble,' he said defensively.

‘A knife in the back isn't rated as trouble. It's termed murder, darling,' his wife reminded him.

‘Aunt Judy's right, John,' said the younger man, and turned to look closely at the troubled face of the doctor. ‘Maybe I'll get a chance to lead a hint or two into my report if old Simpson's agreeable, John. Would that help?'

‘It would. But I can't see the chance arising because I'm the only one who knows. If you hint this Drury will soon reach from you to me, Rollo. You might be doing yourself some no-good.'

‘Let me judge that. After all, it might be my big chance to put a noose round the neck of the girl who jilted me.' Rollo's brief laugh was a mocking sound that made both his hearers flinch. ‘Think what a hell of a story that would be.'

‘Rollo — don't,' pleaded Judy Cadman.

‘Why not?' the young man snapped. ‘I'm still in love with her. And don't anyone tell me I made a mistake. I didn't and I'd stake my life on Carol.
But you just might have given me a way to help her, John.'

‘I fail to see how.'

‘She's in trouble. Can't you see that?' the nephew urged earnestly. ‘Somehow she's got into a mess and opts out so as not to involve me.'

‘You're merely guessing, Rollo,' his aunt said sadly.

‘No, Aunt Judy.' He shook his head slowly, giving her a smile that managed to reflect the sadness in her voice. ‘I'm feeling — if you can understand.'

She looked at him until a moisture gathered in her eyes.

‘I really think I can,' she said. ‘Carol Wilson is a very lucky girl even without an engagement ring.'