The Killing of Katie Steelstock (35 page)

“It was the photograph he was looking for, though I don’t doubt he’d have been glad to destroy the note, too. He’d had to word it to make it seem as though it came from Limbery. He knew Katie was still hot for him and would come running. On the other hand, he’d no wish to get Limbery into trouble.”

Knott said, “He must have known it might be found. That’s why he typed it on Mariner’s machine.”

“That’s what all his later manoeuvres were about. Shifting the blame onto Mariner. If anyone had to be scapegoat for his crime, he’d rather it was someone he loathed than someone he liked.”

Knott was still thinking back. He said, “There was an earlier attempted burglary at Katie’s house. I suppose that was him too.”

“I imagine so. He simply
had
to destroy that photograph. Once it was gone he’d be safe, or so he thought. He reckoned that Ruoff wouldn’t dare open his mouth. He didn’t realise my daughter knew about it. Another thing he didn’t know was that Ruoff had kept the negative. Forster found it when he was going through his effects. It’s not a pleasant picture.”

There was a long silence.

“I’d guess,” said Knott at last, “that if she’d just used that photograph to tease him he wouldn’t have killed her. It was when she forced him to lie and cheat about that running-down case that she signed her own death warrant. He suggested, you remember, that Ray had taken him off it at Mariner’s instigation. But he didn’t make the suggestion until he knew that Ray was dead.”

“A ruthless, single-minded young man,” said the Assistant Commissioner.

“Well placed to do what he had to do. Out and about at all hours on that moped and no questions asked. Put Windle’s car out of action on the Thursday night and the other two as well, no doubt. Called on Mariner, who was sure to keep him waiting, and used his typewriter. Dropped the note in Katie’s car. He’ll have done that when he called at the Manor that evening.”

“Right. And walked down the towpath, in the dark, from his conveniently placed lodgings in Eveleigh Road and waited for Kate. If she didn’t turn up, no harm done. But she did.”

“So did Lewson,” said Knott. “That’s clear now. Maybe he recognised McCourt, maybe he didn’t. McCourt was taking no chances. So he killed him, too. And went home to bed.”

“A cool customer.”

“But not so cool right now.”

“How is he?”

“The doctors say he’ll live.”

When Jonathan was released he had gone back to the remand wing for bail formalities. There he had been given back his belongings, and the letter from Peter. He had read it, gone straight back to his house, dug up the revolver he had buried in his back garden, met Sergeant McCourt in the road and shot him three times through the body. He had then given himself up.

“A pity he didn’t shoot a bit straighter,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “Now we shall have it all to do over again. If he’d worn a thicker pair of gloves when he broke down the door of Kate’s desk I don’t believe there’d be even a prima facie case against him.”

Knott said, “I remember telling him that he ought to keep up to date on the techniques of his profession.”

“It’ll be the devil of a case to run,” said the Assistant Commissioner. “A lot of assumptions but no proof.” He thought about it for a bit. “I think I’ll give it to Jim Haliburton.”

The grunt which Knott gave might have meant anything, or nothing at all.

Published by House of Stratus

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