Comes the Dark Stranger (12 page)

15

I
T
was quiet in the vestry, and Shane stared out of the window into the darkness. Behind him Father Costello coughed and said softly, ‘Is that all?’

Shane nodded slowly and turned towards him. ‘That’s it, Father,’ he said. ‘Right up to the moment I awakened behind the dustbin in that alley.’

The priest frowned, his slender fingers tapping thoughtfully on the desk top. ‘It’s a strange story,’ he said. ‘A very strange story.’

‘But do you believe me, Father?’ Shane said desperately. ‘That’s the important thing.’

Father Costello looked up at him searchingly, and suddenly he smiled. ‘Yes, I think I do. Don’t ask me why, but I don’t think you killed her.’

Relief flooded through Shane and he sighed deeply. ‘Thank God you do. I was beginning to wonder if they weren’t right about me.’

Father Costello nodded and said soberly, ‘That’s all very well, but it doesn’t bring us any nearer to a solution. If you aren’t the guilty one, then who did kill Jenny Green?’

Shane shook his head and sighed. ‘I wish I knew, Father, I wish I knew.’ He started to turn away, and then suddenly a great light burst upon him and he slammed a fist into his hand. ‘There’s just one way I might break this,’ he said excitedly.

The priest leaned forward, interest leaping into his eyes. ‘Tell me!’ he said simply.

Shane lit a cigarette and his hand was trembling. ‘If I’m sane and balanced and normal, then the man with the club foot exists. He wasn’t simply a figment of my imagination. It was part of a deliberate attempt to make me think I was going out of my mind.’

‘But how does all this help?’ Father Costello demanded.

Shane frowned. ‘I’ve just thought of a very simple way of finding out who he was.’ He turned quickly and reached for a memo pad and pencil that were lying on the desk. ‘There’s more to it than that, but I haven’t got time to explain now. You’ll have to trust me, Father.’

He scribbled a name and address on the pad and pushed it across to the priest. ‘I want you to give me exactly one hour, Father. No more, no less. Then I want you to ring Inspector Lomax at the C.I.D. and tell him I’m at this address.’

Father Costello looked at the address in surprise, and when he raised his head there was puzzlement in his eyes. ‘Do you know what you’re doing?’

Shane nodded. ‘Will you do as I ask?’

The priest frowned down at the address, and then he sighed. ‘On one condition.’ He looked Shane directly in the eye. ‘No killing. I must have your promise.’

Shane hesitated, a frown on his face, and then he shrugged. ‘All right, Father. We’ll play it your way.’

He opened the door and the priest said, ‘Just a moment.’ He took some keys from his pocket and threw them over. ‘You’ll find a car in the yard at the rear of the building. Not a very new model, I’m afraid, but you’ll stand a better chance than you will on foot.’

Shane tried to speak, but for some reason the words refused to come, and the priest smiled faintly and made a slight gesture with one hand. ‘Good luck!’ he said, and Shane closed the door quickly and turned away.

He drove rapidly through the quiet streets into the centre of the town, and within minutes of leaving the church he was parking the car outside his hotel. The foyer was empty, and there was no one behind the counter. He moved forward quietly, and gently raised the flap of the reception desk. Someone was humming softly in the tiny office, and he slipped through the half-open door and closed it behind him.

The girl was standing in front of the mirror, applying a pencil to her eyebrows, and she turned in alarm. An expression of dismay appeared on her face, and her mouth opened to scream.

Shane jumped forward and clamped one hand over her mouth. ‘Make a sound and it’ll be your last, I promise you,’ he said savagely. He released her, and she fell back against the desk, terror in her eyes.

She was wearing her new gaberdine suit, and Shane moved forward and fingered one of the lapels. ‘I should have smelt a rat when I saw you wearing this the other day,’ he said. ‘You’ve never earned more than five quid a week in your life, and neither have any of your boy friends.’

She moistened her lips. ‘It was a man I’ve only just met,’ she said desperately. ‘An older man. He’s got plenty of money.’

Shane slapped her back-handed across the face. ‘You’re lying, you bitch,’ he snarled. ‘No man with that kind of money would ever give a little tramp like you a second glance. I’ll tell you how you got that suit. Somebody paid you. Somebody who wanted to get into my room. They wanted a master key and you sold them one.’

Her face crumpled into pieces, and he knew that he was right. He caught hold of her hair and jerked back her head. ‘Who was it?’ he demanded.

She struggled to free herself, and there were tears in her eyes. ‘I don’t know the name,’ she said. ‘I was just handed the money in cash. I didn’t mean any harm.’

Shane threw her back against the desk. ‘Give me a description,’ he said.

Slowly and hesitatingly, stumbling over her words, she began to speak. When she had finished, he sighed deeply and reached for a cigarette. The girl was crying, great sobs racking her body, and he looked at her coldly. ‘Maybe this will teach you to keep your nose out of things that don’t concern you in future.’ He opened the door and said over his shoulder in a voice of deliberate venom, ‘If you get on to the police about this, I swear I’ll come back and cut your throat if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.’ She gave a little moan and sank down in the chair, and he closed the door and went outside to the car.

He drove boldly along the main street leading from the station, passing two policemen standing on a corner, and turned the car into St Michael’s Square. The Garland Club was in darkness, and when he got out of the car and approached the entrance he found a notice on the door which stated that the club was closed temporarily.

He walked along the alley at the side of the building and tried the staff door, but it was locked. He frowned, anxiety tugging at his heart, and moved into the yard at the rear of the building. As he looked up, a smile of relief appeared on his face as he saw the light showing through a chink in the curtains that covered the window of Steele’s office.

Shane climbed on to a dustbin and jumped for the edge of the flat roof of the kitchens and pulled himself over the edge. He walked forward until he was standing outside the lighted window. There was a slight gap at the bottom and he listened, his ear close to it, for a second. There was no sound. He quietly inserted his fingers into the crack, took a deep breath and flung the window up. In almost the same instant he ripped the curtains aside and tumbled head first into the room.

Steele was sitting at the desk, and he turned in alarm, his hand dipping into a half-open drawer. Shane launched himself forward and rammed the drawer shut, trapping Steele’s hand. Steele screamed and tried to rise, and Shane pulled open the drawer and slammed a fist into his face, knocking him to the floor.

His Luger was lying in the drawer, and he took it out and hefted it into his hand, his eyes on Steele. ‘You never thought you’d see me again, you bastard - did you?’

Steele staggered to his feet, nursing his bruised hand, and his face was curdled with fear. ‘I’ll give you anything,’ he said frantically. ‘Anything you like. I’ll help you get away. Out of the country even. I’ve got friends. Only don’t kill me! Don’t kill me!’

He babbled on for several moments while Shane regarded him contemptuously, and finally he was silent, no more spirit left in him. Shane pushed him roughly towards the door. ‘You and I are going for a little ride,’ he said. ‘I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. A good friend of mine. I think that between us we should manage to get the truth out of you.’

When they reached the car Shane told him to get behind the wheel and he sat in the passenger’s seat beside him, a cigarette between his lips, and watched him carefully.

Steele didn’t make the slightest attempt to resist as the car moved out through the suburbs and turned up the hill, leaving the lights of the city far behind in the rain. He followed Shane’s orders implicitly, and when he turned off the engine of the car outside their destination he sat mutely behind the wheel waiting for further orders.

Shane opened the door and pulled him out, and together they mounted the steps to the front door. Steele looked ghastly. His mouth was smashed and bleeding, and the front of his shirt was soaked in blood. There was a kind of hopelessness in his eyes, and he leaned against the wall, his breathing shallow and irregular and waited as Shane rang the bell.

The door opened, throwing a shaft of yellow light into the night, and Charles Graham peered out into the night. Shane pushed Steele forward and followed him in. An expression of alarm appeared in Graham’s eyes, and he quickly closed the door. ‘Shane!' he cried in amazement. ‘But what’s happened? I thought you were supposed to be on your way to London?’

Shane nodded grimly. ‘That’s what a lot of people thought, but I’d other ideas myself.’ He pushed Steele forward. ‘I want the answers to some questions, and this pig is going to give them to me.’ He turned to Graham and smiled tightly. ‘I don’t like involving you like this, Graham, but I need your help badly. Could we go upstairs?’

Graham nodded. ‘Of course, Shane. But I hope you know what you’re doing.’

He led the way upstairs to the conservatory, and Shane followed, pushing Steele in front of him. The scent of the orchids and the intense heat were almost overpowering, and as they entered the great glass room beads of sweat appeared on Shane’s brow and trickled down into his eyes.

Graham was wearing a thin nylon shirt and silk scarf. He looked relaxed and comfortable as he led the way along the path to the terrace end of the conservatory. He sat on the edge of the table and faced them. His scarred face showed no expression, but his eyes were worried. ‘Now then,’ he demanded. ‘I suppose you’re accusing Steele of having murdered that girl, but how exactly do you intend to prove it?’

Shane smiled faintly and reached for a cigarette. He lit it quickly and blew out a long column of smoke. He felt completely relaxed and assured, and his hand dipped into his pocket and came out holding the Luger.

‘But I don’t think it was Steele who murdered the girl,’ he said softly. ‘I think it was you, Graham.’

Somewhere in the distance thunder rumbled ominously, and the rain increased in a sudden rush that hammered against the glass roof of the conservatory. There was no change of expression on Charles Graham’s face. He lit a cigarette and said calmly, ‘Are you quite sure you know what you’re saying?’

Steele took a quick step forward and his voice was high-pitched and cracking with fear. ‘I warned you,’ he cried. ‘I said he was dangerous.’

Graham’s iron control snapped, and he slapped him savagely across the face. ‘Get a grip on yourself, you damned fool!’

Steele went completely to pieces. He whirled round and flung himself on Shane, eyes rolling horribly, saliva trickling from the corner of his mouth. Shane took a quick pace backwards and kicked him in the stomach.

As Steele writhed on the floor, Graham moved forward and looked down at him contemptuously. ‘I should have got rid of him a long time ago.’

Shane covered him with the Luger. ‘Sit down,’ he said deliberately. The bell which sounded from the front door was fixed to a wooden post near by, and he wrenched the connecting wires from the terminal box and grinned tightly. ‘Now we can talk without being interrupted.’

Graham sat on one of the basket-chairs, hands clasped in front of him. He looked completely calm and self-assured. ‘I’d be interested to know how you got on to me.’

Shane leaned back against one of the iron pillars which supported the roof. ‘In the beginning I suspected everybody. Crowther, Steele - even Laura Faulkner - but the pieces didn’t seem to fit. The truth only came to me an hour ago. I went back over everything, searching desperately for a clue - anything that would help me to make sense out of things. It was then that I remembered two significant points, both of which tied you in with Steele.’

Graham reached for another cigarette. ‘And what were they?’

‘It was really Steele who gave the game away,’ Shane said. ‘On that first night when I went to see him at the Garland Club he referred to the fact that I’d been in an institution. When I threatened him he told me I’d better watch my step or I might easily find myself back in the madhouse. I’d only told two people about that - you and Laura Faulkner.’

‘Very interesting,’ Graham said, ‘but hardly conclusive.’

‘Not on its own, but I remembered another curious fact. The night I broke into Steele’s office to look for the envelope which supposedly contained Laura Faulkner’s letters, he was waiting for me in the dark with a couple of his strong-arm boys. There was only one possible explanation for that. He was expecting me because someone had warned him I might be coming. You were the only person who knew.’

Graham shook his head and something like a smile touched his twisted mouth. ‘Highly interesting,’ he said, ‘But also highly circumstantial. None of it would stand up in court. After all, Laura Faulkner knew you were hoping to get hold of that envelope.’ He shook his head. ‘You’ll have to do better than that.’

‘But I can,’ Shane said softly. ‘I’ve still got my ace-in-the-hole. I had a private word with the receptionist at my hotel earlier this evening. She suddenly started spending money on clothes - a lot of money. I wondered if there was any connexion between that and the fact that someone had been able to obtain a key which let them into my room. Whoever it was, stole my Luger. I found it in Steele’s office.’

‘Then why blame me?’ Graham said.

‘Because after I slapped her around a bit, the girl described you perfectly,‘ Shane told him. ‘And let’s face it. That wouldn’t be a difficult thing to do.’

‘So I killed Jenny Green?’ Graham said.

‘You were the only person I’d told that I was staying at her flat.’ Shane said. ‘Steele’s strong-arm boys knew because you must have told Steele, but they were out of action. In the state in which I left Steele, he couldn’t possibly have reached town in time. I even considered Adam Crowther, but he knew nothing about my relationship with Jenny Green. It had to be you, Graham. Simple arithmetic. You were the only one left.’ Shane frowned as a tiny pain started to move behind his right eye. ‘The only thing I can’t understand is why?’