Chapter Three
The man opened the door quietly. Good, she had left it unlocked for him. He walked confidently along the narrow hallway and was just about to call "Hullo" when he heard voices: Toni's and the deeper tones of a male voice. They were coming from a room at the top of the stairs. The little bitch! If she was two-timing him ... Stealthily he mounted the staircase, careful to place his feet as near to the wall as possible to prevent the boards from creaking. The red floral carpet was worn but it muffled any sound. He could see the room now, the door was open and the light cast a pool of yellow into the passage, highlighting the cracks in the white plaster on the opposite wall. He crept up to the doorway and stood listening. The man was speaking now, his voice sounding annoyed.
"What's going on Toni? Did you get me over here for nothing?"
The man outside released his breath slowly. So that was her game was it? She teased men and dropped them. Well, he would have to teach her a lesson, but first he had to get rid of that man. Where exactly was he? He squatted down and peered carefully into the room. The stranger was standing with his back to him, facing Toni who would have been able to see him if her eyes hadn't been on the floor. She was obviously feeling guilty about something. Behind both of them stood a single bed with a pale blue bedspread. The walls were white like the rest of the house, but Toni had livened them up with some huge posters of pop stars. He could see the end of a small white dressing table but the wardrobe must be against the wall behind the door.
He stood up quietly. Speed and surprise! He braced himself then in two steps was into the room, his hands reaching for the man's throat, his thumbs pressing into the carotid nerve. Taken completely unaware, the other man had no chance to fight back but slumped unconscious to the floor. He looked up and saw Toni staring at him, wide-eyed, her hand against her mouth.
"No need to worry," he reassured her, "He'll come round in about half an hour or so. Now how about giving me some of what you promised?"
He came towards her and she backed against the wall, shaking her head in terrified disbelief. She opened her mouth and gave a faint scream; she couldn't get her muscles to work properly. In a flash he was in front of her his hand pressing hard over her mouth.
"Now that was a silly thing to do. Come on, you said I could sleep with you and I will."
With a powerful jerk of his shoulders, he flung her onto the bed. Toni tried to scream again but this time he was too quick for her and pushed a pillow over her face. He held it there until her struggles quietened then he pulled up her dress. By the time he had finished she was dead. He stared at her in horror, trying to convince himself that she had deserved it, but terrified no-one would believe him and he'd go to jail.
He backed slowly out of the room and kicked against the man on the floor. He'd forgotten about him! There must be some way he could shift the blame. He looked at him for inspiration and caught sight of a cufflink on his shirt sleeve. That should do it, if that was found under the body he'd have a hard time explaining it away. He knelt down and clumsily removed the cufflink, then thrust it under Toni's body. Fear overtook him again and he raced out of the room and down the stairs. The back door, he mustn't go out the front door into the street. His fingers slipped on the door handle and he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief to wipe the nervous sweat off of them. Fingerprints! He'd forgotten about that. Hastily he wrapped his hand in the piece of cotton and wiped the handle. Still with the handkerchief on his hand he shut the door softly behind him and strode off down the alley at the back of the shop, trying hard not to run.
The man on the floor blinked his eyes. Where was he? On the floor of some room obviously. He looked vaguely around and saw the dressing table, a bedroom apparently. Gradually he remembered where he was, Toni's room, but what was he doing on the floor? He glanced at his watch as he hauled himself to his feet. Five to nine! Where had the last twenty minutes gone? He shook his head to clear it. Then he saw the body and his heart stopped beating. She was obviously dead, sprawled on her back, eyes shut, and mouth screwed open, clothes awry. He was alone in a room with a murdered, probably raped girl, and twenty minutes he couldn't account for. He panicked and stumbled out of the room, he had to get out. Unthinkingly he went through the front door and was twenty yards down the street before he was able to pull himself together and walk casually.
Mrs. Jane Gordon opened her eyes briskly and looked at the alarm clock. Four minutes past eight o'clock. Good; still plenty of time. She pushed the bedclothes aside, wasting no time idly lying there enjoying the warmth and relaxation. Mrs Gordon liked to be busy. She pulled a rose covered housecoat over her flannelette night dress and made her way to the bathroom for her daily shower. When she came out she returned to her room and dressed in her good Sunday clothes, the dark blue two piece suit, and put a matching hat, handbag and white gloves on the bed in readiness. Then she brushed her iron grey hair thoroughly, looking into the dressing table mirror and went downstairs to the kitchen. As she descended she called out, "Hurry up Toni, are you up yet?" as she did every week. Going to church on Sunday morning was one of the things she insisted on and enforced rigorously. She put on the kettle and cracked four eggs into the frying pan.
"Where is that girl?" she asked herself aloud. She poured two cups of tea. "Toni!" Silence. "Toni? Girl's still asleep probably," she muttered under her breath. Sighing, she lifted the eggs onto a couple of plates, put them on the table and then started up the stairs. No doubt Toni would have to eat her breakfast in her pyjamas, she thought, frowning. Well, luckily, there was still a good hour before the service started at ten. She pushed open the door and screamed. She was still screaming when a neighbour broke down the back door and rushed in.
"Okay, that's it. As far as I'm concerned you can take the body away now." The police surgeon straightened up and looked towards Inspector Martin and the two ambulance men beyond him. Martin turned and nodded to them and they carried a stretcher up to the girl. "There's no doubt she was smothered, very likely with this pillow," the doctor pointed to it. "When I make a proper examination I'll be able to tell you officially whether she was raped or not but I'd take a guess that she was. Nasty."
Martin nodded his agreement. Rape and murder were always nasty. "Thanks doctor, I'd appreciate your report as soon as possible."
"Of course, Inspector." The other man picked up his bag and left, looking like every doctor Martin had ever seen, policeman or not.
"Have you chaps finished yet?" he addressed the two forensic men who were examining the bed.
"Not quite sir," one of them answered without looking up.
"Well, carry on. I'll be with the neighbours if you want me." Inspector Martin went quietly downstairs, past the room where the girl's aunt lay in a drugged sleep. The police were almost finished with the house itself now. The photographers had come and gone; the two forensic men upstairs had fingerprinted door handles and furniture and gathered any loose hairs from the bedroom. They would be out in about a quarter of an hour. It was a great pity, he thought, that the aunt had had to be sedated before he could talk with her. But perhaps the neighbours could tell him enough to go on with.
He walked out into the back yard, skirting the garbage bins and ducking under the clothes hoist as he went to join Arnold Sanderson, the neighbour who had broken into the house and called the police. Sanderson was about average height, the same as Martin, with curly grey hair surrounding a bald patch at the back of his head, grey eyes to match, and an overhanging stomach. At the moment he looked distressed and bewildered.
He was quite willing to answer questions and was able to tell Martin that Toni had been living there about a year and that although he hadn't seen or heard anything unusual the night before, he had been watching television which could have muted the sound. In fact he had to admit that he was also a trifle deaf. It had been his wife who had heard the screaming this morning and sent him over.
Martin learned Mrs Sanderson had not been home last night; she had been at Bingo with Mrs Gordon. Sanderson been watching television until she came home and then they both went to bed. His wife had come home at about ten thirty, the same time as Mrs Gordon as a matter of fact because they always shared a taxi home. As for friends, well he thought she was fairly friendly with young Carol a few houses down above the shoe shop, but as for boyfriends ... he couldn't really say.
Sometimes there was a flashy looking car out the front, which he rather thought belonged to a tallish chap. Dark haired he seemed to remember. Unfortunately he didn't know much about cars, but it was red though, or maybe orange. Of course it could just belong to a regular customer; there were plenty of those of both sexes. Mr Sanderson was glad he'd been of service and if anytime Inspector Martin wanted a nice bit of ham, perhaps he would remember his shop. Inspector Martin nodded and trudged around to the neighbour on the opposite side. He would send someone around to talk to the girl, Carol, before he'd report to Chief Inspector Harper, he decided.
Philips rang Harper early that Sunday afternoon.
"Hi Bill; how are things going?"
"Not too good at the moment I'm afraid. Got a nasty case over your way, as a matter of fact. Young girl raped and murdered. You might know her; she worked in the corner deli?"
"Toni!"
"Yes, that's the one. Know much about her?"
"Not really. Any idea who did it yet?"
"No we're just starting to question the neighbours. Her aunt found her this morning and is in hysterics ... Oh well, I won't bore you with my troubles. What did you want?"
"Just to tell you I can't make that appointment on Thursday."
"Yes, I know. You told me a few days ago."
"Did I?" asked Philips lightly, "Must be getting forgetful in my old age. 'Bye then."
"Bye." Harper rang off with a puzzled laugh; it was unlike Philips to be forgetful.
At that moment there was a respectful knock at the door and he called "Come in." A young fair haired constable entered bearing a message from Inspector Martin asking Harper to ring him back at a given number as soon as it was convenient. Harper thanked him and reached for the phone. Inspector Martin answered the phone himself.
"Hullo sir, looks like we've struck oil already. We've found the victim's best girl-friend, a Carol Austin, who says that Toni Gordon was expecting a boyfriend on Saturday night, and the witness saw him enter and leave. She also heard what she now thinks might have been a scream while that chap was in there. Do you want to talk to the girl yourself?"
"Yes, Jack. She'll have to sign a statement in any case, so ask her to go down with you to the local station will you? I'll be there myself in about twenty minutes; I want to have a firsthand look at the situation. This chap is obviously significant, even if he's not the perpetrator. Does Miss Austin know his name by any chance?"
There was an awkward pause on the end of the line, before the Inspector answered apologetically, "Yes, she does, but I'm afraid you're not going to like it."
"Well, who is it man?" Harper prodded impatiently.
"Richard Philips."