Питер Ловси - On the Edge

She was bitterly insulted. ‘That’s a filthy suggestion! I demand an immediate apology.’

‘Do you now? What are you wearing under that coat, then? It looks pretty tarty to me.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Her anger galvanized her. She was damned if she’d give in to personal abuse. She’d grown up in awe of policemen. They were fatherly figures who helped you across the road and told you the time if you asked, but she would cut this bastard down to size because she didn’t see a decent London bobby standing in front of her; she saw a reincarnation of Barry, a sneering, sarcastic bully, who despised and resented women. She wasn’t putting up with any more of it.

‘Fetch your superior, please.’

The grin vanished. ‘Hold on, Mrs Bell. There’s no need for that.’

‘I want to make an official complaint.’

‘All right. I spoke out of turn. I withdraw everything I just said.’

She glared at him. ‘You were asking about my shoes. I lost them on the train.’ The lie came readily to her lips. She would lie and lie to this sadist.

He asked which train.

‘The tube.’

‘So you took the tube?’

‘Yes.’

‘You bought a ticket, I hope.’

‘Of course I did.’

‘Where would that have been? Victoria?’ She nodded.

‘Right, then.’ He folded his arms aggressively. He was looking for an opening and when he found it he would be ruthless. ‘Just tell me how you were able to pay for the ticket without possessing a handbag or even a purse?’

‘I lost my bag on the train.’

‘Along with the shoes, I suppose. London Transport Lost Property Office is having a busy night. I presume you had your Identity Card in the handbag?’

‘Yes — and it might be a damned sight more useful if instead of persecuting me you got on with the job you’re paid to do and found my things for me.’ With that, she put her hands over her face and sobbed loudly. See how he coped with that, the swine.

He tried without much success to sound like an uncle. ‘Well, my dear, I’ve got to get the facts to know the rights and wrongs of it, haven’t I? Where were you going on the tube?’

She sniffed. ‘Nowhere in particular.’ She had a good thought. ‘I was on the Circle Line. I was depressed. I couldn’t stand it at home when I thought of what had happened to...’

‘Your husband?’

‘Yes.’ Another sob. ‘So I went down the tube, meaning to — oh, I don’t know what I meant to do, I was in such a state.’ The lies were coming fluently. She’d needed that stinging reminder of her late husband. Barry had got no more than he deserved. But the police wouldn’t see it that way. She was fighting to get out of this place.

‘And you got off at Paddington?’ His probing was more conciliatory.

‘Great Portland Street.’ Her brain was working better. From the state of her feet it was obvious that she’d done some walking. ‘I got off at Great Portland Street and walked to Paddington.’

‘Did you have any reason to make for Paddington?’

‘No particular reason. I just kept walking in the fog.’ Rose gave a little-girl-lost look. She decided to consolidate. ‘Could I have some tea, please?’ She put her hand to her head. ‘And some aspirin?’

He ignored the plea. ‘You didn’t get those scratches on your neck by walking.’

She’d been aware of some discomfort, but then her entire body was aching. She found the scratches and traced them with her fingers.

‘They’re fresh. And what happened to your cheek? It’s bright red.’

The place where the chloroform had made contact. ‘I must have walked into something.’

‘A right-hander, by the look of it. There’s no two ways about it — you were in a fight, and you didn’t come off best. Look at your coat.’

‘I was attacked in the tube. They stole my bag.’

‘And your shoes?’

‘To stop me giving chase.’

‘This is more like it. Description?’

She shook her head. ‘I fainted. I don’t remember.’

‘Then how do you know you were in a fight?’

‘You just told me.’

The sides of his mouth turned down and he marched out and slammed the door.

Presently a constable came in with a tray. When Rose saw the aspirin and the two biscuits, elation flooded into her weary body. She knew she was winning.

In about twenty minutes the sergeant returned. ‘Your husband was Wing Commander Bell who was killed on Knightsbridge Underground Station on October 10th?’

‘Yes.’

‘I want you to give the constable a description of the things you lost, the bag and the shoes. Then we’re sending you home. I suggest you see your doctor next time you feel depressed. It’s better than travelling the Circle Line.’

She was led out to a police car and seated in the rear next to a young officer with a Welsh accent who offered her a cigarette and struck a match for her.

‘Pimlico, is it, Mrs Bell?’

‘Oldfield Gardens. Have they finished with me, then?’

‘You can relax now.’

Relax? she thought. Jesus Christ, the chance would be a fine thing! She drew on the cigarette and saw it shake in her fingers.

I was almost murdered last night. There’s no question that Antonia tried to kill me. That was no pillow fight.

And it was no spur-of-the-moment attack. Antonia lured me up there, into a trap. She had the chloroform ready in the bathroom. Where could she have got hold of chloroform?

Vic! He works in a science lab. She and Vic are in this together.

Two’s company, three’s a crowd.

When I met Antonia, she didn’t tell me about Vic. I stupidly believed the desperate things we agreed to do were a secret between two women. A pact. Now I know Antonia has a stronger loyalty.

Antonia and Vic have decided to eliminate me. They think I doublecrossed them because I failed to poison Hector.

If they killed me, how would they hope to get away with it? It’s ghastly to think about, but how would they dispose of my body? They need the blank death certificate for Hector. Presumably they’d bury me in some deserted place.

‘Oldfield Gardens, is it, Mrs Bell?’

‘What?’

‘Where you live.’

‘Oh, yes.’

‘Feeling shaken up, are you?’

‘Just a little. I lost my key. How am I going to get in?’

‘We’ll force the lock, unless you keep a spare under the mat.’ ‘No.’

‘Pity. Sensible, though.’

They turned into her street.

‘It’s the last one on the left.’

She stepped out of the car forgetting that she was still without shoes and gasped as her feet touched the pavement. The driver supported her arm and helped her through the gate.

‘Don’t worry, Mrs Bell. We’ll have you indoors in no time. PC Owen has a rare knack of getting through locked doors, haven’t you, Taff?’

Constable Owen rounded the front of the car. ‘We won’t need to. There’s someone inside.’

Rose had started to say that such a thing was impossible when the front door swung open and Antonia looked out.

The devil.

‘Rose, darling, what on earth has happened to you? Was there an accident?’

Rose went rigid.

The constable responded by bringing his hand more firmly around her arm. ‘Right, Mrs Bell. Got to get you inside.’

Antonia, her features creased in concern, stepped forward and came along the path. ‘She’s been missing all night. She doesn’t know what she’s doing or saying half the time. It’s the shock. Has she told you? The poor little soul lost her husband last month. Come on, my flower, you’ll freeze out here. I’ve got a lovely fire going in the front room.’ She reached out to take Rose’s other arm.

‘No!’