Jack Higgins - Brought in Dead

“What happened?”

“Max took a fancy to her. I don’t know what it was — maybe it was just her innocence. She was certainly different from every other girl there.”

“Did she respond?”

“Anything but and he tried everything, believe me. Then she passed out. I thought that maybe she’d had one gin too many or something. Max took charge. He said she could sleep it off there.”

“And you left her?”

“There was nothing I could do.” She got to her feet and crossed to the window. “She ’phoned me here next day and asked me to meet her in town. Poor kid, she was in a hell of a state.”

“I’m not surprised.”

She swung round to face him. “Oh, no, it was worse than that. Much worse. You see someone had given her a fix while she was unconscious.”

The bile rose in Miller’s throat, threatening to choke him. He got to his feet and walked towards the door, fists clenched and when he turned, she recoiled from the terrible anger on his face.

“Max Vernon?”

“I don’t know — I haven’t any proof.”

Miller crossed the room in three quick strides and grabbed her savagely by the shoulders. “Was it Max Vernon?”

“Well who the hell else could it have been?” she cried.

For a long moment he held her and when he turned away, she dropped down on to the bed. “She didn’t know what had happened to her. All she knew was that her body needed something.”

“And only one person was able to supply it,” Miller said bitterly. “She wasn’t only hooked on heroin and cocaine. She was hooked on Max Vernon.”

When Monica Grey continued, her voice was dry and lifeless. “She had a lot of trouble at home and then they asked her to leave at the college. Her whole personality changed. That’s how it affects them. I’ve seen it before.”

“So she came to live here with you?”

“Max thought it was a good idea. It’s a funny thing, but for a while there I thought he was really gone on her. He had her at the club all the time and if any other man even went near her…” She shuddered. “He keeps a couple of heavies around called Carver and Stratton. One night at a party some bloke made a pass at Joanna and they took him out into the alley and half killed him. I heard he lost his right eye. That’s the kind they are.”

“When did the rot set in?”

She looked up at him quickly. “You don’t miss much do you?”

“In my job I can’t afford to.”

“I don’t know what happened, but Max changed towards her just like that about two or three weeks ago.”

“She was pregnant, did you know that?”

She shook her head quickly. “No — no I didn’t. Maybe that would explain it.”

“Did he drop her completely?”

She nodded. “Told her to stay away from the club. She did, too, until last night.”

“What happened then?”

“Max was throwing a private party — just a small affair. Mainly personal friends.”

“You were there?”

“I’m always there,” she said. “All part of the job. Something else he didn’t tell me at the interview. Anyway, it must have been about nine o’clock. Things had just started to swing when the door opened and Joanna walked in.”

“Just like that?”

“Apparently she still had a key to the private door in the alley. Max was furious. He dragged her into a corner and started telling her where to get off. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but you’d only to see her face to know that she was pleading with him.”

“What happened?”

“As I say, I couldn’t hear what she said, but he laughed right in her face and said, ‘There’s always the river, isn’t there?’ I wasn’t the only one who heard that.”

There was a long silence and then Miller said calmly, “It would seem she took him at his word.” Monica Grey didn’t reply and he got to his feet. “Does he know she’s dead?”

“Not as far as I’m aware.”

“You haven’t been in touch with him since I was last here?”

She shook her head and he nodded, moved to the door and opened it. “You do and I’ll crucify you.”

As he went downstairs, Brady opened the front door. He paused, waiting for Miller to join him. “Any luck?”

“You could say that. How about Harriet Craig?”

“She’ll be fine once she gets over the initial shock. She’s got a lot about her that one. Where to now?”

“The Flamingo Club,” Miller said, “to have a few words with Mr. Maxwell Vernon. I’ll explain on the way.”

He went down the steps quickly and when he slipped behind the wheel of the Cooper, his hands were shaking.

Max Vernon’s office was a showpiece in cream and gold and furnished in perfect taste, the walls lined with expensive military prints, a fire flickering brightly in the Adam grate. He made a handsome figure sitting there at his desk, the last rays of the afternoon sun lighting up the fair hair, picking out the colours of the green velvet smoking jacket, the Guards Brigade scarf at his throat.

There was a knock on the door, it opened and Stratton came in. “I’ve got those figures you wanted.”

Vernon put down his pen and sat back. “Good show, Billy. Just leave ’em on the desk. Anything else?”

“Yes, this copper you were asking about.”

“Miller?”

“That’s right. You’re on a bum steer there. He’s anything but bent. It seems his brother owns a chain of television shops. Miller’s a sleeping partner, that’s where all his gelt comes from.”

“But that’s illegal,” Vernon said. “Coppers aren’t encouraged to have business interests on the side.”

Stratton nodded. “Apparently they all know about it on the force, but they simply look the other way. It seems Miller’s a blue-eyed boy. He’s been to University, got a law degree and that sort of thing.”

“Has he now?” Vernon said. “Now that is interesting.”

There was a sudden disturbance in the corridor outside and then the door was thrown open and Miller walked in. Behind him, Jack Brady and Carver glowered at each other, chest to chest. Stratton took one quick, fluid step forward like a ballet dancer, his right hand sliding into his pocket, and Miller raised a finger warningly.

“You do and I’ll break your arm.”

Vernon sat there, apparently unmoved, a slight smile hooked firmly into place. “Do come in,” he said ironically.

“I intend to,” Miller told him. “Get rid of these two. We’ve got business.”

“Now look here, you bastard,” Carver began and Vernon’s voice rang across the room like cold steel.

“I’ll call if I need you.”

Carver and Stratton obeyed without another murmur and as the door closed behind them, Vernon grinned. “Good discipline — that’s what I like to see.”

“Once a Guardsman, always a Guardsman, is that it?” Miller said.

“The most exclusive private club in the world.” Vernon fitted a cigarette into a green jade holder and gave a mock sigh. “You’ve been checking up on me, sergeant.”

“And how,” Miller said. “The Yard was more than interested to hear you’d turned up again.”

“Let’s get one thing clear,” Vernon said. “I run a perfectly legitimate business here and that applies to everything else I own. If you’ve anything else to say, I suggest you discuss it with my lawyers.”

He reached for the telephone and Miller said calmly, “We pulled Joanna Craig out of the river this morning, Vernon.”

For a brief moment only Vernon’s hand tightened on the ’phone and then an expression of shock appeared on his face.

“Joanna — in the river? But this doesn’t make sense. You’re quite sure it is her?”

“Why shouldn’t we be?”

“The fact is, I understood she’d been living under an assumed name. Nothing sinister — just to stop her family from running her down. She’d had trouble at home.” He shook his head. “This is terrible — terrible.”