The Lady Vanished by Gretta Mulrooney Read Free Book Online Page A

that were often hard to follow. It was hard to imagine that he ever slept and when he did he kept the TV in his bedroom flickering all night with the sound muted. He loathed being on his own and if not working, which he often did until late in the evening, he sought the company of others. His nickname at work was twitcher . Swift, who could be seen as solitary and taciturn, watched his friend jittering around the room. He found Mark’s volubility oddly restful; his friend never noticed if his companion was unforthcoming. He had often wondered what Mark’s childhood had been like, to cause such inability to be peaceful, but it wasn’t the kind of friendship that allowed such questions. And ultimately, Swift believed that everyone was a survivor in some way and to some degree of childhood experiences.
    They met now and again and always discussed their joint interest, detective magazines and particularly pulp fiction. On wet days when he wasn’t busy Swift sometimes called in to a shop in Soho that stocked an extensive selection of the magazines, and which for some reason played sixties music. He would spend an entertaining hour or two in the musty atmosphere, listening to The Troggs and Dusty Springfield; and he occasionally bought a couple of magazines if they particularly interested him. Mark was a dedicated collector and after phoning the food order and pouring beers for them both, he brought a box file to the S-shaped glass coffee table.
    ‘Here,’ he said gleefully, ‘look at my latest acquisitions. I picked up an early 1930s Casebook of Cardigan on eBay.’
    Swift looked through a copy of Dime Detective which featured the usual garish cover with private eye Jack Cardigan in The Dead Don’t Die . After it there was a story with Patricia Seaward, the female detective who gave Cardigan a run for his money. Mark also had a True Detective from 1952 featuring Jail for the Jezebel and Swift was taken with a magazine he had not come across before called Uncensored Detective with a cover of a horrified woman and the title, Murder Stalks the Bobby-Sox Bride.
    ‘Terrific,’ he said. ‘ Jezebel is not a word you hear much nowadays. Did Cardigan ever fail to solve a mystery?’
    ‘Not in any I’ve read.’
    ‘Unlike the Met, so far, with Carmen Langborne.’
    ‘True. I’ll tell you more about that in a minute. I’m trying to find some copies of Black Mask with Tough Dick Donahue; tip me the wink if you come across any.’
    The door buzzer rang and Mark leapt out of his chair to receive the takeaway. They sat at the table, helping themselves to various curries, rice and pakoras. Mark fetched more cold beer. He ate as quickly as he spoke, stabbing his food.
    ‘I had a look at the Langborne case. No fingerprints in the house other than hers, the GP’s and the housekeeper’s. No signs of a struggle. No blood. Nothing known about her movements after the doctor visited. She doesn’t own a car. No activity in her bank accounts or on credit cards. Passport in her bedroom. A load of nothing.’ He shrugged and took a swig of beer.
    ‘What about those neighbours she argued with over the basement?’
    ‘They were checked out; away on holiday in South Africa, where they always go in January.’
    ‘Family?’
    ‘There’s a stepson and stepdaughter, right? Both could account for where they were that day. It wasn’t one of the housekeeper’s days for cleaning and she was at another client in South Ken.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘The lady vanishes, all right.’
    ‘It’s the stepdaughter, Florence Davenport, who’s asked me to look into it. I haven’t spoken to Rupert, the stepson yet. Doesn’t look good, does it?’ Swift helped himself to more rice. The food was spicy but not too hot, and he was hungry after his time on the river.
    ‘You know the score as well as me; she should have turned up by now if she was okay.’
    ‘The housekeeper said she’d never leave the cats unfed or stay away for so