Maurice Procter - Two men in twenty

Presently the man did look at her window, but he gave no sign of having seen her. Apparently he had other measures in mind. He turned his head and said something to his companions, and started to get out of the car. Dorrie stepped down quickly, but carefully as if afraid that any noise she made would be heard by him. There was the sound of a car door closing, and then the soft thump of a rubber-heeled tread in the lobby. By that time Dorrie was under the table, making herself as small as possible on the side furthest from the door.

She saw the door open. It opened wide, and she saw a shiny black boot and part of a blue trouser leg as the policeman leaned into the room to look right round the door. The door closed. Another door was opened and closed, and then there was the voice of the man with opinions. 'No,' he said definitely. 'There hasn't been a woman in here since we opened.'

Again a door opened and closed, and the soft tread passed through the lobby. Dorrie did not move. The clear, carrying voice said thoughtfully: 'I wonder if there's anybody in the old women's department.' She moved then, like a flash, because she guessed that her feet would be seen from the hatch. By the time the man came and looked casually through the opening she was standing on the seat again, pressed back into the corner. He went away, and resumed his conversation with a remark about Yorkshire, and of that county's cricket he seemed to be a very reluctant admirer.

As she turned after stepping up on to the seat for the second time, Dorrie had seen the police car moving away. She remained standing up there, and saw the car come back on the other side of the road. It stopped, and its driver waited until he could turn and go back along the avenue. When the car was out of sight, Dorrie waited for about a minute. Then she stepped down and let herself out of the room and out of the inn.

From the inn doorway she looked around carefully. The traffic rolled by. In the distance there was a bus. She stepped out of the doorway and moved to the corner, to look carefully along the avenue. It was again deserted.

She crossed the street and walked along to a bus stop. The bus arrived and its destination was 'City Centre'. She climbed to the upper deck, to be above eye level. Only three more passengers were up there. She sat down with a grateful sigh.

The conductor came. She was waiting with her purse in her hand. 'How much to go right into town?' she asked.

The conductor, a young man, said: 'Sevenpence to you, love,' and she realized that she was still a long way from Somerset Square. She paid for a ticket. When the young man had gone whistling down the stairs she lit a cigarette with fingers which trembled slightly. She needed that cigarette.

Ten minutes later she saw a row of shops which seemed familiar to her, and then to her great relief the bus actually passed the end of Grange Gardens. She alighted at the next stop. Nobody else alighted. No car seemed to be following the bus. She walked back to Grange Gardens, and home.

* * * * *

At home, Coggan, Jolly, and Husker were watching a horse race on television. Cain and France were in the kitchen with Flo. The three of them listened intently to Dorrie's account of her adventure. 'You did right well,' Cain said when all had been told. He turned and grinned at France. 'I told you she was good. She earned her money today, all right. Saved us from walking into a trap. They must be watching all the Co-ops on early closing days.'

'What about me walking into a trap?' Dorrie flared. 'You don't care about me. I was in a state, I can tell you. And I had to walk miles.'

'The exercise 'ud do you good,' said her husband kindly. 'You're a clever girl. Worth your weight in pound notes, you are.'

'We'd better get out of this town,' Dorrie said.

'And why, may I ask? The bogies still don't know a thing about us. All they've seen is a young woman who might have been acting suspicious. And you've got no form. You're not in the books and they've got no picture of you. Everything's fine. While they're watching Co-ops, we can go in for another sort of business. They can't watch every place there is in a town like this.'

'I think we ought to go back to the Smoke,' said Dorrie stubbornly.

Cain was soothing. 'All in good time, my dear, all in good time. The lights of London for me, too, when we're ready. Just a few more good jobs and then we can retire, maybe for good.'

'I think we should go now,' Dorrie said.

'There, there. There, there. You're all upset.'

France said nothing. He looked at Dorrie and reflected that he also would like to leave Granchester. He didn't feel right there. Somehow, it had an alien atmosphere and this, together with his purpose in being there, led to recurring periods of vague uneasiness. But if he quietly packed his bags and left, he would also be leaving Dorrie, and he did not want to do that.

Flo also was silent, leaning handsome and slimly statuesque with one elbow on the dresser. Her expression was at its most unfathomable as she drew at her cigarette and watched her sister's face. God only knew what was in her mind.

After Dorrie climbed into the taxicab at Sedgeworth, police action was on the lines she had predicted. The tall blonde, Policewoman Dale, noted the number of the cab and ran to the nearest telephone. She gave the cab's number to the sergeant at her local station, and followed it up with a description of Dorrie. 'I'm sure she was casing the Sedgeworth Co-op,' she concluded. 'I was lucky to spot her before she spotted me. She's real sharp.'

'She sounds like one of them,' the sergeant said.

'Yes. I wasn't sure of her at first. I was in doubt, wondering if I ought to turn her up. When she hopped into that taxi I wished I had.'

'Stick around there,' came the order. 'I want to know where you are in case I have to send a car for you.'

Then the sergeant made contact with the Information Room at Headquarters, and the story was relayed to all police cars moving about the city. The order was for the taxi to be observed, its position and direction to be reported, and for no further action than that to be taken without instructions. The sergeant's next move was to send two detective officers to guard the Sedgeworth Co-op, in case Dorrie had been nothing more than a decoy to draw police away from the place. After that, he phoned A Division C.I.D. and asked to speak to Chief Inspector Martineau.

While he was waiting for Martineau to answer, his second telephone whirred. It was P.W. Dale again, in great excitement. 'The taxi just got back here,' she gabbled. 'That woman didn't ride more than half a mile. She got off in Sedgeworth Road near the Elwood estate. She could have caught the bus. It was ready to pull out when-'

'Hold on just one moment,' said the sergeant sharply. Martineau had picked up his telephone.

'What is it, Sergeant?' the chief inspector wanted to know.

'Would you be kind enough to hold the line a second, sir? I'm just now getting some more information.'

'Carry on. I'll wait.'

'Right, proceed,' the sergeant said to the policewoman.

'Well, I suppose that's all. She got out of the taxi, and there was a bus following, going to town. She might have thought it was a good idea to get on it.'

'She might, or she might not. The bus would be the twelve-thirty or twelve-thirty-five from Sedgeworth, wouldn't it? Right, I'll attend to it. And I'll send a car to pick you up, and you can cruise around Elwood Avenue and the estate.'

So the crew of a patrol car were directed to pick up P.W. Dale, and the story of the bus was given to Information Room. Then the sergeant spoke to Martineau again, with a clear conscience. He was a man who liked to be able to answer in the affirmative when senior officers asked him if he had done this and done that.