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

rose.
    It was as he was starting to get up that they both saw and heard something else. The growling of a car in low gear. The twin eyes of headlights dimmed by the mist. McCourt said, “I’d better stop them before they come too far.”
    He walked forward. It was a big black car with the stamp of officialdom on it. As he came up to it the lights flicked on inside and he saw the occupants.
    The driver was a young man with a young and solemn face. The passenger, who had opened the door and was climbing out, was a small thick person with white hair and a nose which had been broken and badly set.
    McCourt recognised him at once.

 
FIVE
    “My name’s Knott,” said the newcomer. “Chief Superintendent, C. One. And who are you?”
    “McCourt, sir. Sergeant. Hannington C.I.D.”
    “Give me that torch, Bob.” He returned his attention to Ian. “I understand you’ve got a body for me.”
    “It’s behind those screens.”
    “Someone’s had that much sense.” He seemed to be in no hurry to examine the body but shifted the torch, not so that it shone into Ian’s eyes but far enough for the side glow to light up his face. He said, “Haven’t I seen you before?”
    “I was two years at West End Central, under Watts.”
    “Thought so. Never forget a face. What took you out into the sticks? Looking for quicker promotion, or less work?”
    “Neither, sir. My mother had folk in these parts. She wanted to get out of London and wanted me by her.”
    Knott grunted. He had, as McCourt remembered from the previous occasion on which he had met him, an orchestration of grunts which could mean anything. It was not clear whether this one implied disapproval of a mother who could stand in the way of a promising young man’s career in the metropolis or contempt for a young man who could fall in with her wishes.
    “When was she found?”
    “I’m afraid I don’t know, sir. I was in bed and asleep.”
    “Early to bed and early to rise, eh?”
    McCourt said, with a smile, “I hardly got to bed at all last night.”
    “Then why the hell aren’t you in bed now?” The torch shifted slightly. “You’re not going to be much use to anyone if you’re half asleep, are you? Push off. I’ll see you at the station at nine o’clock. Not a minute before.” As McCourt turned to go, he added, “And not a minute after.”
    As soon as he had gone, Knott moved across to the screen and peered over. He shone the torch down for a moment, then switched it off and turned to Constable Keep, who was standing impassively. Having discovered the constable’s name, he perched himself on the rail which fenced the side of the boathouse slipway and sat there swinging his short legs. Then he said, “Tell me about yourselves, Keep.”
    “About ourselves, sir?”
    “The Hannington Force.”
    “Oh. I see. Well, sir, it’s not a big station. There’s Chief Inspector Dandridge. He’s in charge. On the uniformed side we’ve got Sergeant Bakewell. He’s the Station Sergeant. And there’s two other constables besides me – Coble and Mustoe. Then on the C.I.D. side we’ve got Inspector Ray, only he’s not there just now, being in hospital at Reading.”
    “Serious?”
    “Stomach ulcers. He’s been there a month or more. Under observation.”
    Knott’s grunt implied that he knew better than the doctors exactly what this could signify.
    “And then there’s Sergeant Esdaile and Sergeant McCourt. Him you were talking to. And Detective Arnold. He’s away with a broken ankle.”
    Knott sat in silence for some minutes. He seemed to be counting up the numbers and estimating the calibre of the forces at his disposal. He said, “Has the doctor seen her?”
    “Oh yes, sir. Dr. Farmiloe was here very qui”Farmiloe. Jack Farmiloe?”
    “I believe that’s his name, sir. He was up in London, doing police work, I understand, before he came down here. You may have met him.”
    “If he’s the Jack Farmiloe I knew,” said Knott, “we’re in luck.