Chapter Six
Philips was at home when they came to arrest him. He was polishing his latest purchase, a percussion cap pistol from the mid nineteenth century. The sight of the weapon brought Inspector Martin up short; he had not thought to apply to bring a gun with him to arrest the writer. "Put that thing down very slowly on the table," he ordered.
"It's not loaded, Inspector," smiled Philips with a touch of malice as he obeyed. "You're quite safe."
"Never mind that. Richard Peter Philips, I have a warrant here for your arrest on the charge of first degree murder. I have to warn you that anything you say may be taken down in evidence and used at your trial. You are entitled to remain silent and to have a solicitor present at all interviews." Martin finished speaking while a constable stood by expectantly, in case I make a run for it thought Philips sardonically. He could hardly believe it was happening, everything had happened so fast, arrested only two days after the crime. He needed time to think.
"Where's Harper?" he stalled.
"He resigned from the case. He said you might be right about him trying to punish you?" Martin answered with scarcely veiled curiosity. So, Harper was bailing out was he? The thought struck a chill into his heart. He could see by the Inspector's attitude that he at least was convinced of his guilt, and the damaging evidence and testimony flashed through his mind. He'd been seen at the crime scene at the right time, he'd left fingerprints in her bedroom, by his own admission the girl had been dead when he left and he had lied to the police. Not to mention he had a supposedly strong motive of frustrated passion.
Martin was watching him suspiciously, "Come on; let's go."
Philips flung off his restraining hand and stalked out of the flat ahead of them. He didn't wait as the constable shut and locked the door of his flat but pressed the button for the lift. The floor numbers flashed green above his head, and then suddenly the doors opened in front of him. He looked around impatiently as if waiting for the constable who was still at his door. The lift started to close while the policeman was more than ten feet away and Philips jabbed his elbow violently into Martin's stomach and squeezed himself between the closing doors of the lift. The Inspector doubled up in agony outside in the corridor. By the time the constable reached him, the lift had already started to descend.
"The stairs!" gasped Martin. The constable raced for the staircase but even taking the steps three at a time, there was no sign of Philips when he reached the ground floor.
Feeling almost relaxed now that the die was cast, Philips walked casually but briskly out of the building, crossed the street, turned the corner and found himself on a busy road where he knew there was a taxi stand. "The airport, please," he stated clearly, but as soon as he was inside the taxi he apologised. "Sorry I don't know what I was thinking, I meant Central Station." The taxi driver shook his head at the stupidity of passengers and did a U turn.
Meanwhile Inspector Martin had joined the constable in front of Philips' apartment building. He sent him off to scout around on the off chance their quarry was still in the vicinity, while he rang headquarters and to request an APB on Philips. "The man is Richard Peter Philips, age twenty-eight, height six feet, hair brown, eyes blue, wearing grey trousers and a white shirt, clean shaven. He is wanted for the murder of Antonetta Gordon and escaped while resisting arrest. Apprehend with caution."
Philips paid off the taxi driver in front of the railway station, and then darted over the road to a clothes store. There he bought a dark blue jumper which he put on immediately and a pair of jeans which he carried under one arm. Next he went into the Men's toilets in the station and changed his trousers, combed his hair forwards, giving himself an untidy fringe, then strolled out with his grey trousers in the parcel under his arm. As he was buying his ticket, he bought a day pass so it wouldn't reveal his destination if checked, he saw a couple of policemen coming down the ramp to his left. Were they looking for him already? He glanced around hurriedly and saw a young woman with a large pram heading towards his gate. He stepped up to her with a polite smile.
"Would you like some help to get that pram onto the train? My sister has twins and she says it's always a bit of a problem for her." She stared uncertainly at him for a moment, the word 'twins" for some peculiar reason making him seem safe, then said, "Thanks very much, my train's leaving in a minute."
They went through the gate together, the woman leading the way and the police didn't give him a second look. Philips helped her lift the pram into the carriage, then turned around and stepped onto the train on the other side of the platform. He sank down into a seat, so far so good. The next thing he needed to organise was money, and he'd better be pretty quick before the banks were alerted. Luckily branches of the Bank of New South Wales were pretty common throughout Sydney. As if he had conjured one up, he spotted one from the train after about ten minutes, got off at the next stop and walked back to it. He withdrew several hundred dollars without being arrested, and then caught a bus going to the outer suburbs. Now he had to hole up until the pressure died down a bit, or they found another suspect. Were they even still looking for the second man?
XXX
After a month of false alarms, the police had scaled down their efforts to find Philips. The roads had been blocked, airports, shipping agencies and railway stations staked out but still the general opinion was that he had managed to escape interstate, despite all these precautions. There was still an active bug in his apartment but it was the division who now kept an eye on it and cruised around the building from time to time. Since Philip's escape from custody, Harper had withdrawn into himself and went around with deep lines of tension marring his unsmiling face. Martin had tried unobtrusively to find out what hold the writer had seemed to have over him but without success. Sometimes he even suspected that Harper knew where Philips was, but he kept that thought to himself.
In a quiet suburb, Philips' parents tried to forget they'd ever had a son called Richard. During his only contact with them, his father had advised him to give himself up and confess. Perhaps then the Lord might forgive him. His parents had warned him that wasting his time in frivolous pursuits like writing novels would lead him to a bad end and look what had happened. Why hadn't he settled down with a proper job and married a nice girl instead of ...? He'd thought that had shocked Mother the most, she couldn't get over it ... At that point Philips had hung up, unable to stop shaking. Munro had told him bluntly to surrender. Did he want to be on the run for the rest of his life? No one would convict him if he was innocent and in any case a bright lawyer might get him off with manslaughter as the girl had been pretty willing from what he had heard.
Another who believed him guilty, thought Philips bitterly as he hung up with a dry, "Thanks a lot!" What sort of person had he been that his friends, his family, would think him capable of such a terrible crime without even asking him? What sort of people were they?
He decided to get the items he valued from his flat and clear out, and if he was caught then it would be too bad, it would be fate, he didn't care anymore.
XXX
"There's this new film starting at West's this Saturday, and I've got a couple of tickets for us. It should be-"
"No Frank, I can't this Saturday," interrupted the girl.
"Why not Anne?" Anne was so happy that she didn't notice the quiet menace in his voice.
"Oh Frank, it's alright again! Everything's alright!" she burst out.
"What do you mean?"
"Tim and me, we're back together again," Anne told him happily, inviting him to share in her joyful excitement. "He came around to see me the other day and we talked things over. He apologised for deserting me and I said I was sorry for being bossy. He said he likes me a lot but he thinks he's not ready to go steady and wants to see other girls, but as friends. He said I can see other boys too, as long as we know each other is first. I think I see what he means and we're going to give it a try at any rate. We're going out this Saturday to celebrate," she paused, breathlessly. "You were right! Us going out together did show him. Tim said it made him understand why I'd been upset when he went off with Julie. But now we've got things straight and we trust each other. Oh Frank, I'm so happy!"
Frank was stone faced. "You said you were my girl Anne. You promised. You can't go back to him now, that's cheating. I'll come and pick you up on Saturday."
Anne stared at him in confusion, "But I just told you I'm already going out with Tim."
"No. You can't. You must tell him it's over, you're my girl now. It's wicked to break a promise."
"Look Frank, I never said you were the only person I'd go out with. We can go to the film another day," Anne was starting to feel uneasy and a little frightened.
"No Anne, I'm coming on Saturday."
"You can't Frank, I've told you. Look, if you're going to be this possessive I don't think I'd better go out with you anymore. Let's say good bye now. I'm sorry if I made you think you were the only one, but I thought you knew." She held out her hand.
Frank ignored it and looked at her dispassionately. "I'll see you later Anne." He got in his car and drove off. She was just the same as Toni, she'd have to be taught a lesson too.