Jack Higgins - Brought in Dead

“That’s right.”

“I’ve been given to understand that she’d become addicted to the drug heroin.”

“Which explains what otherwise would have been her completely inexplicable change in character,” Miller told him. “You must understand that heroin produces a feeling of well-being and buoyancy, but in between fixes an addict is sick, unwell and has only one thought in mind — to get another fix. They become paranoid, irritable, subject to extremes of emotion.”

“And that’s what happened to Joanna?”

“The girl who gave you all that trouble wasn’t your daughter, colonel,” Miller said gently. “She only looked like her.”

For a long, long moment there was silence and then Colonel Craig said, “Thank you for that, sergeant. And now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to tell me everything — everything there is to know about this whole sorry affair.”

It didn’t take long, that was the strange thing, and when he had finished, Harriet Craig leaned against the rail crying quietly, her father’s arm about her shoulders.

“This man Vernon,” Craig said. “He’ll be called as a witness at the inquest?”

“That’s right.”

“Is there any possibility of a criminal charge being preferred against him?”

Miller sighed heavily and shook his head. “I might as well be honest with you. I don’t hold out much hope.”

“But he murdered Joanna,” Harriet Craig cried passionately. “Murdered her as surely as if he’d used a gun or a knife.”

“I know that,” Miller said. “Morally he’s as guilty as any man could be, but the facts are all that matters and this is how it will look in court. Your sister committed suicide. She was pregnant and she was also a drug addict. One witness, Monica Grey, has indicated that someone gave your daughter an injection of heroin at a party at Max Vernon’s after she’d passed out, but even she can’t swear definitely that it was Vernon. She wouldn’t last five minutes on the stand with the kind of counsel he’d bring in. Another thing, this isn’t a criminal matter at the moment. All she’s done is give me a general verbal statement that she might change completely once she’s on the stand.”

“But Vernon was responsible,” Harriet said. “He was responsible for everything. You believe that yourself.”

“Proving it is something else again.”

There was another long silence and then Craig said, “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. Joanna did everything she could to conceal her identity before she killed herself. Why would she do that?”

“Do you really want me to answer that, colonel?”

“More than anything else in the world.”

“All right. I’d say she did it for you.”

The expression on Craig’s face didn’t alter. “Please go on.”

“In those final moments, I think she must have been thinking more clearly than she had for a long time. She’d let you down enough. She didn’t want to shame you any more. I think she wanted the river to swallow her up as if she’d never been.”

When Craig replied, only the slightest of tremor disturbed the even tenor of his voice. “Thank you, sergeant. Somehow I thought it might be something like that.”

When Brady opened the door of the Coroner’s Court and peered inside, proceedings had already started. In spite of the fact that there were no more than half a dozen members of the public present, the court seemed overcrowded with the jury taking up almost one side of the room and the coroner high above them on the bench, the court officers below.

Miller was just leaving the stand. He noticed Brady at once and they went outside quietly and closed the door.

“Sorry I’m late,” Brady said. “I had a remand. How’s it going?”

“I’ve just done my little act. Craig’s down front with Harriet. Vernon’s got Henry Baxter with him.”

“That old shark?” Brady whistled. “He’ll charge him plenty.”

“Any word from Grant?”

Brady nodded. “Not good I’m afraid. He’s just heard from the office of the Director of Public Prosecutions. They’ve considered the matter and as far as they’re concerned, there isn’t even the beginnings of a case against Vernon.”

“Never mind. It was worth a try and there’s still the hearing. You can never be sure what’s going to happen at a coroner’s inquest.”

They went back inside and sat down in time to hear Monica Grey take the oath.

“You are Monica Alice Grey and you reside at 15, Argyle Road?”

“That’s right.”

“When did you first meet the deceased?”

“About two years ago. We were both students at the College of Art.”

“We have heard from Detective Sergeant Miller that she came to reside at the same address as yourself under the name of Joanna Martin. Why was that?”

“She was having trouble at home. She decided to leave, but she didn’t want her father to know where she was living.”

Miller leaned forward slightly, intent on the proceedings. In his own case he had been compelled to stick strictly to the facts and what Monica Grey said from now on was going to be of crucial importance.

“You were on close terms with the deceased?”

“We were good friends — yes.”

“She confided in you — discussed her troubles. For example, were you aware that she was a drug addict?”

“I was, but only found out by accident. I happened to go into her room one day and found her giving herself a fix.”

The coroner glanced over the top of his spectacles sharply. “I beg your pardon?”

“An injection of heroin.”

“And did she tell you what had started her on the habit?”

“Yes, she said she’d passed out after having too much to drink at some party or other. Someone had given her an injection while she was unconscious.”

“Why would anyone do that?”

“I don’t know. For a giggle, maybe.”

“Indeed.” The coroner examined the papers in front of him, his face impassive. “Did she ever suggest to you that the party in question was at a gaming club called the Flamingo owned by Mr. Maxwell Vernon?”

“Definitely not.”

The coroner looked at her steadily for a moment and then nodded. “You were aware that she was pregnant?”

“Yes, she told me a couple of weeks ago.”

“In what circumstances?”

“She was very upset. She asked me if I knew anyone who could help her.”

“To get rid of the child?”

“That’s right.”

The coroner made another note. “One final question. As regards the state of mind of the deceased. Would you say she was a balanced individual?”

Monica Grey shook her head. “Not during the time she lived with me. She sometimes had terrible bouts of depression, but I think that was the drugs.”

“Thank you, that will be all.”

The fat, well-dressed man who was sitting at the front beside Vernon half rose and the coroner stayed Monica Grey with his hand. “Yes, Mr. Baxter.”

“I appear on behalf of Mr. Maxwell Vernon, called as a witness in this matter. Certain rumours seem to be circulating which connect my client and the deceased. I think we might be able to clarify the situation if I could put a question or two to Miss Grey.”

“By all means.”

“I shan’t keep you long, Miss Grey,” Baxter said. “I’d like to return to this question of the deceased’s pregnancy. Did she ever tell you who the father was?”

“I asked her, but she wouldn’t disclose his name.”

“It has been alleged in certain quarters that my client was responsible.”

“He couldn’t have been.”

“You seem very positive. Might I ask why?”

Monica Grey hesitated, glanced across at Vernon and said with obvious reluctance, “To tell you the truth, I knew Joanna had been out with Mr. Vernon a few times and I thought it might be him. When I put it to her she said definitely not. That it was someone else entirely.”