The Killing of Katie Steelstock by Michael Gilbert Read Free Book Online Page A

shock. But McCourt, who was an observant young man, detected another note behind the simple anguish: a note of outrage, a note of anger with fate for dealing her a foul blow.
    Walter noted it too, and was relieved. He had braced himself for tears and hysteria. He had not expected anger and resolve.
    His mother threw a dressing gown over her shoulders, went across to a small davenport in the corner of her bedroom and took out an address book. She said, “I’m going to ring up Philip.”
    “Now?”
    “Of course. At once.” She was dialling as she spoke, picking out the numbers unhesitatingly.
     
    When McCourt got back to the boathouse he found that reinforcements had already arrived. Detective Superintendent Farr, the head of the Berkshire C.I.D., was talking to a tall thin civilian whom McCourt placed, after some thought, as Sam Pollock, the Deputy Chief Constable.
    “It’ll be for the Chief to decide,” said Pollock. “But I know what I’d do in his place. I’d get C. One in on the act from the start. No offence intended, Dennis, but this girl’s a public character. As soon as the news breaks, you’ll have the press round your neck.”
    “Don’t mind me,” said Farr. “I’ve got enough on my plate already. So far as I’m concerned, the glory boys can have it and good luck to them.”
    “There’s another thing. Agreed, this could turn out to be a local matter. But then again, it needn’t be. The girl lived half her life up in London. There are bound to be inquiries to make up there.”
    “All right,” said Farr. “Like you said, it isn’t our decision. I can tell you one thing. Whichever way it goes, our chaps will have to do most of the work.” He looked at his watch. “It’ll be light in three hours,” he said to Dandridge. “We want this section of the towpath blocked off at both ends. Put barricades at the end of Church Lane and River Park Avenue. Leave a man here to keep an eye on things. Right?”
    “Right,” said Dandridge. He seemed happy to be taking rather than giving orders. “You’d better stay here, Keep.” This was to Police Constable Keep, who had been on night duty at the station and looked as though he would have been glad to get back there.
    After sprinkling a few more suggestions and commands around, Farr walked back to his Humber and drove off. Dandridge said, “See you keep everyone off. Especially the newspaper boys.” He then made for his car. Esdaile picked up his bicycle, which he had propped against the farther wall of the boathouse, and said, “I’ll be seeing you.”
    McCourt thought, it was like the gradual emptying of the stage, the release of tension after the high point of the drama. He was perched on the rail of the landing stage which fronted the boathouse. He felt curiously wide awake.
    Constable Keep, who had taken one cautious look over the sacking screen and then turned quickly away again, came across and joined him. McCourt got out a packet of cigarettes and they both lit up.
    “Who could have done a thing like that?” said Keep.
    “I expect we shall find out soon enough,” said McCourt.
    They smoked in silence. It was past the dead hour of the night. The pendulum had swung across the midpoint and was climbing toward morning. Soon light would be coming back into the world. A thin curtain of mist was beginning to rise from the water. In the intense stillness, they could hear the small sounds of life moving in the long grass and the bushes which fringed the riverbank. A white shape showed through the mist as a single swan sailed toward them breasting the current with easy strokes.
    “Nasty brutes,” said Keep. “When I was a kid playing about on the river, I used to be terrified of them. They say they can break a man’s arm easy.”
    “Is that right?” said McCourt. He had no wish to talk. If he had any sense, he thought, he’d have gone back to bed when the top brass left. They were going to be busy enough, in all conscience, when the sun