Nigel had talked to
Daphne on the phone and she was going to be at HQ by eleven, when the new
receptionist had started her shift at the Gazette. Daphne had recovered from
her ‘audition’ week. The mystery was just how she had managed to get out
unscathed. Fish and his acolytes must have had more pressing worries, or they
had deliberately made it possible for her to leave.
Daphne declared that she had put it all behind
her.
Gary flipped through
his snail-mail and chatted with Nigel about his weekend as show-master,
speculated with him on the results of Chris’s forensic work and drank bitter-sweet
coffee brewed in the communal machine on the third floor.
There was no sign of
Greg since he was occupied with sorting out his private life. Nigel was
wide-eyed at Greg’s sudden decision to get hitched. He was sure the guy was
going to regret it even if Ellie (what a silly name) was preferable to the
greedy Josie.
Just before she should
have arrived, Daphne phoned to say she might be a little late (and she was for
reasons best known to herself) and did not mention the dramatic end of Ronnie
Fish, so Gary had time to discuss an interview strategy with Nigel, who was sceptical.
Was Daphne acting on
intructions? If so, whose? Was she being allowed to come to HQ so that she
could find out more about Fish’s death for Bernie Browne to print in Thursday’s
Gazette? Nigel thought the Gazette editor must be involved in some way. Gary
thought it was possible, but up to now Bertie had been able to stay clear of the
town’s underworld and was discrete. Traitors were disposed of fast, so
presumably Bertie was towing the line. That did not explain why Fish had been
murdered, of course.
“I expect Browne had
put the Monday edition to bed before the Fish murder became common knowledge,”
said Nigel. “I expect he’s angry because it didn’t happen in front of the
Gazette office.”
“That’s just as well,”
said Gary. “The war memorial was a more fitting location, don’t you think?”
“If gang warfare has
to be remembered,” Nigel scoffed.
“So you are thinking
what I think,” said Gary.
“Can you get those
Norton brothers to confirm that they were elsewhere?”
“Pointless. They will
have rock-solid alibies for Sunday, Nigel. They won’t have dirtied their hands
with murder. They pay professional killers to do those jobs.”
***
Daphne was dressed to
kill; a gangster moll if ever there was one.
“Aren’t you cold with
that free midriff?” Nigel asked as he removed a plush jacket that had
definitely seen better days.
“No,” said Daphne.
“Does it bother you?”
“I’ve stopped
looking,” said Nigel.
“I must admit that you
are dressed rather flamboyantly,” said Gary. “But take no notice of Nigel. He’s
just here to help me talk to you this morning.”
“What do you want to
talk about?” said Daphne. The escape from Fish’s house had been a mixed
blessing. Far from being scared, she was brazen and a lot more confident. Could
that be because Fish was dead?
Gary could not recall
the young woman being so blatantly cheeky when he last talked to her. What had
really happened at Fish’s house? Was Daphne as innocent as she had made out?
***
“I expect it’s about
Ronnie,” Daphne started, taking the initiative.
“Did you know him
before you went off with him at the disco, Daphne?” Gary said.
“I knew he was
connected to film studios,” she replied. “Maureen and Reenie told me, but
Maureen knew more about it. She helped him to find the right talent.”
“What kind of talent,
Daphne?” said Nigel.
“Not what you think,”
Daphne retorted.
“What else do you know
about Maureen?”, Gary asked.
“I told you. She
arranged auditions,” said Daphne, “and she’s dead.”
No grief in her voice,
thought Gary. Why was Daphne so cock-a-hoop? Was it Fish’s murder, or had
something else happened since she got out of that villa? It was unlikely that
she would have escaped, as she had explained, so had she been allowed to get
out with a mission? But what mission would you entrust to a half-baked receptionist?
Her explanation of how she got out was unbelievable anyway, and her appearance
at HQ now confirmed that.
Nigel was trying not
to look at the jewel in her navel and the tattooed name just above it. She had
presumably loved someone called Pete enough to disfigure her belly. Nigel
wondered what Pete’s successors thought about the tattoo.
“Did Maureen organize
your audition?” Gary asked.
“I was not interested
until that evening at the disco.”
“But you knew who
Ronnie Fish was, did you?”
“He had smiled at me a
few times at the office, but that’s all. Maureen usually served him. She told
me I wasn’t the type. Ronnie always came around lunch-time, when we were both
working, but I usually went into the holy of holies to make coffee. Mr Browne
always went home for his dinner. I used to think Mr Fish was the kind of man
who had eyes that could see through your underwear. He embarrassed me a bit.”
“Did your friend Jet
take you to the disco to meet up with him?”
“I’ve never thought
about that. I didn’t know Jet was in the
movie business.”
“Think now, Daphne!”
Dahne thought.
“We didn’t usually go
to the disco on a Wednesday,” she said finally.
“So you had been there
with Jet before, had you?”
“I told you. We met
there.”
“But Jet did not tell
you about meeting Fish there, did he?”
“I wondered why he did
not stop me going off with him,” said Daphne.
“Maybe he wanted you
to go off with Mr Fish, Daphne,” said Nigel, who thought it was time Gary got
to the point, whatever that was. “Maybe it was an arrangement.”
“We’d better get Jet
up here,” said Gary.
“Not while I’m here,”
she said, squirming a bit.
If seeing Jet was not to
Daphne’s liking, Gary would like to know why.
***
Five minutes later,
Jet was staring at Daphne. She was the last person he wanted to see. Gary just
let him stand around and continued his interview with the woman.
***
“To change the
subject, how many keys do you have to your flat, Daphne?”
“Several.”
“Name them.”
“The one on the
keyring, the emergency one next door, one in the secret pocket in my handbag,
the one this guy pinched and the one I gave to Pete,” she counted on her
fingers.
“So Pete is another
boyfriend, is he?”
“Sort of.”
“I’m her boyfriend
now,” Jet chipped in to Gary’s wonderment. There did not seem to be any love
lost between them.
“Is that why Jet has a
key?” said Gary, still ostensibly ignoring him.
“I told you. It’s the
one he pinched and there was one I gave him because he was going to move in
after his band tour, wasn’t he?”
“So Jet had two,
didn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s Pete then?” Nigel
asked.
“Which one?” said
Daphne.
“Were there two?” Jet
wanted to know.
Gary was certain that
the guy had no idea what Daphne was up to.
“The one carved on
your belly,” said Nigel. He found Daphne increasingly distasteful.
“Oh him,” said Daphne.
“That’s the tattooist from up the road. Nice, isn’t it?”
“So a friendly tattooist
carved his name on your body, did he?” said Nigel.
“Don’t sneer. He’s a
good tattooist.”
With those words,
Daphne raised her scanty top and pushed her mini-skirt down so that the tattoo
and her jewelled navel could be admired.
Nigel looked away.
Gary was certain that
Jet and this young woman had never had intimate relations. Jet was seeing the
tattoo for the first time. It’s possible that Daphne was displaying it to him for
the first time, of course. A strangely coincidental demonstration of rejection.
Whatever was going on, the romance between these two characters was over before
it had begun.
***
It occurred to Gary
that Jet might no longer have both keys in his possession. It was a long shot,
but Gary went out into the corridor and phoned Chris to ask him if Fish had
keys on him. Chris told him about a bunch of keys, presumably from the house
and several safes. Could one fit Daphne’s flat? Chris would send a patrol team
to try the keys. He would call back. Could he ask why it was so important? Gary
told him it was just a hunch. He returned to the office to find wordless
disagreement.
***
“Why don’t we just
talk our way through this business of the keys?” he suggested.
“I don’t want to see
Pete again,” Daphne said. “He was a brute.”
“Which Pete?” Nigel
asked.
“Not the tattooist,” she
said. “The other one.”
“I think we should definitely
talk to him in that case, Daphne,” said Gary, deciding that one or other of the
Petes, presumably not the belly scratcher, must also be counted as a suspect if
he had access to the flat.
“What’s his full
name?” Nigel asked.
“Crowe,” said Daphne,
“like the bird but with an ‘e’.”
“Address?”
“He works at the
slot-machine palace. I never went home with him except once, when he knocked me
about.”
“Are you sure?”
Daphne bit her lip.
“Get him here please,
Nigel, but don’t tell him why,” said Gary.
“Will do.”
Nigel found the phone
number of the slot machine dive and phoned. He was lucky that a person calling
himself Pete answered the phone. Pete
was not happy about calling in at HQ. Nigel's proposal to send a patrol car if
Pete did not want to come of his own accord was met with protest, but it was a
sign of freedom in Pete's eye, and a police team would not be welcome at his
workplace. He could get there in an hour, after his mate took over.
***
Daphne turned suddenly
to Jet.
“Why did you pinch my
flat key?” she said.
“Just for fun,” said
Jet.
“Where’s the one I
gave you?”
“I lost it,” said Jet.
Daphne did not believe
him. Neither did Gary or Nigel.
“Did you give it to
someone?” Daphne said.
That was the question
Gary had meant to ask.
Jet shrugged his
shoulders and Gary wondered who else had used that key.
“It had a label on
it,” said Daphne.
“With your address?”
said Nigel.
“Yes. Then I could get
it back.”
“And the finder could
get into your flat and kill someone,” said Gary.
Daphne looked
horrified.
“Did you give Ronnie
Fish that key, Jet?” said Gary.
“He asked me if I knew
where he could meet someone without his friends knowing. I was going on tour
and I had not moved in. I had another key so why not help a friend?”
“So you were going to
let him get into my flat without my knowledge, were you, Jet?” Daphne said. Her
view of Fish was changing. Hadn’t he
said how attractive she was and couldn’t she be as nice to his movie friends as
she was to him if it meant a role in a film?
“I didn’t know you
were friendly with Mr Fish,” said Gary, wondering if Daphne was really something
of a prude pretending to be as a vamp.
“I knew you wouldn’t
need it straightaway and you have neighbours if you had to get in,” Jet explained,
as if handing keys of people’s flats to strangers was normal practice.
“I didn’t know you
were friendly with Mr Fish, Jet,” said Daphne.
“Only on a
professional level,” said Jet.
“What profession would
that be?”
“Talent-spotting,”
said Jet.
“So you had actually
spotted Daphne, had you?”
“Put like that, I
suppose you could say I had.”
Daphne’s surprise at
hearing that was not faked.
“So moving in with her
was part of the big plan was it?” said Gary
“What big plan are you
talking about?” said Jet.
“Yes. What big plan?”
Daphne called. “You’ve got a bloody cheek!”
“I did fall for you,”
said Jet.
“Fell for my flat, you
mean,” said Daphne. “I’ll have my key back.”
“Which one?” said Jet.
“Both,” said Daphne.
“Lost,” said Jet. “I
told you that.”
“I don’t believe you,”
said Daphne.
Gary sighed deeply. If
he wasn’t mistaken, Fish had met Irene Smith at Daphne’s flat and subsequently killed
her. Why would Fish need to kill the woman? She must have trusted him to go to
the flat with him. Was she still hoping for a film role? There was also the
question of that nerve drug that had gained in popularity as a form of
execution.
“Did you know he was
going to take Irene Smith there, Jet?”
“No. I did not even
know she was back. She left me in Italy.”
“Do you know why?”
“She might have been homesick.”
“But she was in
danger, wasn’t she, Jet? She had got mixed up in Ronnie Fish’s organization.
That’s why you took her to Italy, isn’t it?”
“Sort of. I thought it
was a good idea at the time and the band was taking a break.”
“Do you think she was
returning to be with Fish?”
“She was returning to
face him with her pregnancy, if you really want to know,” said Jet. “I’d told
her not to hang a bastard on me.”
Chris had not
mentioned a pregnancy. Had Irene been faking so that she could leave Jet?”
***
“So why did you come
back, Mr Black?” Nigel asked.
“I didn’t like it
there. Too foreign.”
“And then you went to
work for Ronnie Fish, didn’t you?”
“You did what?” said
Daphne.
“He offered me a job.
Have you ever been out of work?” said Jet, addressing Gary.
“You could have gone
back to Romano’s,” said Gary.
“Fish offered me more
money.”
“What did you do for
the money, Mr Black?” Nigel asked.
“Scouted round for
candidates,” said Black.
“So Fish paid you to
do that, did he?” said Gary, noting the euphemism.
“He wanted to phase
out the deals with the Gazette girls.”
“By wiping them out,
Jet?” said Gary.
Jet looked away frm
Daphne. On reflection he decided he had been unfair, but he would never admit it.
“Am I next?” squeaked
Daphne.
“I hope not,” said
Gary. “Fish is dead.”
“So someone else could
finish the job,” said Nigel.
“That’s true. You’ll
have to stay here, Daphne,” said Gary.
“I want to go back to
work and then home.”
“I’m arresting you for
prostitution without a license, Daphne,” said Gary. “I want you out of harm’s
way.”
“But I’m not a
prostitute,” said Daphne.
“Can you prove it?”
Daphne said no more.
Gary pointed out that Jet was also on the death list. They would both stay in
custody until further notice.
***
Gary did not know think
that Jet had had to do with Irene Smith’s murder, except that he had given Fish
somewhere to carry out his evil plan. What had Irene Smith known that made her
a danger to Fish’s organization? Could she have been privy to other deals he
made? Had she abandoned the girlfriend image and tried to blackmail him?
***
A phone-call from
Chris confirmed that the key to Daphne’s flat had been on Fish’s keyring. So
Gary’s theory about that killing was taking shape. He went out into the
corridor to carry on his phone-call with Chris.
“What about that nerve
drug?” he said. “Fish must have used it, but he was also killed by it.”
“It doesn’t sound like
something the Norton brothers would do, Gary. But it does sound as if Fish’s
acolytes wanted him out of the way. And the bullet I extracted from Fish’s body
was not on record. It was a small calibre; the kind you find a woman’s pistol.”
”So we need to find a
trigger-happy woman who hated Fish enough to kill him,” said Gary as a new
thought occurred to him. “What about the nerve drug? You can’t poke a syringe
into someone and shoot him at the same time.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll phone you back,
Chris. I’m going to try something out.”
***
“Has Daphne been
searched, Nigel?”
“I suppose so, but he
won’t have touched her.”
“I should hope not,”
said Gary. “Let’s do it again.”
“We’ll have to get a
woman to do that, Gary.”
“Not her. The cell.”
“But the security
guard will have done that, too.”
Gary drew Nigel to
where the two suspects could not hear what he was saying.
“Daphne talked about a
hidden pocket in her handbag,” Gary whispered. “Where is that handbag?”
“In her cell, I expect,”
said Nigel.
“Go down and get it,
please.”
Nigel departed.
***
“We’ll wait for my
assistant to get back,” said Gary to his two suspects. “Would you like a
coffee?”
***
Daphne was perturbed
to see Nigel returning with her handbag. Sure enough, deep in the folds of the
secret compartment of an otherwise unnecessarily large handbag was the little
gun Gary suspected was there.
***
“Were you planning to
shoot yourself out of your cell?” Gary asked, dangling the weapon for all to
see after removing the munition.
“A girl has to protect
herself.”
“Well, you won’t need
it here, so I’ll hang onto it, shall I?” said Gary. “If you’ve all finished
your coffee, we’ll wander down to the pathology lab, shall we? If I’m not
mistaken, this is the weapon used on Fish.”
A second security
guard was called so that the two suspects could be marched down to the lab to
witness what happened next.
***
Chris attached a
silencer and fired a shot into a thick wad of foam. On screen, the enlargements
of the bullets showed tell-tale markings. A bullet from Daphne’s little pistol
had shot Ronnie Fish.
“Now all we need to do
is prove that Daphne used it,” said Gary. “Want to confess, Daphne?”
Daphne was silent.
“It wasn’t Jet; he was
in an arrest cell,” said Gary.
“And Daphne carried
the gun around with her,” said Nigel.
“Unless she lent it to
someone,” said Gary.
“Her friend Olaf,”
said Nigel. “She fancied that Fish assistant. Or Ivan, the barman.”
“Do you want to tell
us now, Daphne?” said Gary.
Daphne still said nothing.
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