But now, she found herself both admiring and respecting the other woman. So she passed on to the heads of each investigating team Stella's judgement that the men who attacked her were acting.
She found she quite enjoyed doing it, meeting with a mixture of incredulity and belief.
âYes, I know how you feel, I felt the same at first, but I trust Stella's professional eye. She didn't say they were good performers, just that they were performing. Putting on an act.'
âAre we allowed to talk to her?' Les Henderson enquined.
âNo, that's why I've been told. I'm the go between.' Phoebe added: âHer initial statement was made to Paul Masters ⦠with the Chief Commander in charge.'
âStella has to be protected.'
âOf course, only not as much as he thinks, she's a tough lady.'
âIf the killers - there do now seem to be two which we didn' t know - think that Stella can identify them, they will be very keen to get her.'
âIt's stranger than that though, she thinks they wanted to threaten her then let her go.'
Les thought about it. Phoebe always enjoyed it when he thought about things, she found him very attractive then. Dangerous but true.
âThat means,' said Les, âthat the disguise was for her only, and not used any other time. So that she would think of them like that but they don't look like that.'
âWhen doing the other murders.'
âThis is getting complicated.'
âIt's always been that,' said Phoebe.
Â
Phoebe and Les had a drink together; her invitation, his keen acceptance.
âHow d'you like working for his lordship?' he asked over his vodka and lemon.
âIt's fine,' said Phoebe, somewhat surprised at the directness of the question. âHe's a decent sort. Very decent. I've known him a long time.' She raised an eyebrow. âSince you are asking, what about you?'
âHe's bloody attractive,' said Les gloomily. âThat's always difficult for a man to take on board. Easier for a woman.'
Do you think so? said Phoebe to herself. Different, but not easier.
âHe's got Stella,' she said aloud.
âShe is a beauty and a lovely actress. And she never seems to change.'
Phoebe refrained from pointing out that Stella had access to, and used, the best possible professional help with her appearance. It was her job, after all.
âPerhaps we ought to get Stella to tour the streets to see if she recognises her attackers.'
âI expect she'd be game,' said Phoebe who knew how Stella reacted, âbut the Chief Commander would shoot the idea down in flames.'
âSo he would. Couldn't blame him.'
He finished the drink which Phoebe had given him and accepted another.
âOh well, may be luck will be on our side.'
Â
Luck was. If you could call it luck. It depended which side of the game you stood.
The murderer (not that he called himself that, the “publicist for crime” was a title he might have used, if he believed in labels) was the nameless one. And he thought the luck was his.
He was sure that he had left his victims voiceless so that they could neither describe him nor name him.
Except for Miss Pinero, a little joke there, but he didn't think she would have much of value to tell the Chief Commander.
As for the rest: voiceless. So he thought.
Â
Phoebe and Les were ending their meal in the new eating place near the police headquarters where the food was very tasty and the service both friendly and quick. âAnd you don't often get both,' Les had said.
The mobile rang in Phoebe's bag. She fished it out. âOh Winnie â¦' She looked at Les. âIt's Winnie Ardet.' She listened to Winnie talking rapidly. âRight, right, thanks for telling me. I think I'd like to see her.'
âIf it's anything good that I can have then I want to come too. ' He drained his wine. âI'm coming too then, love.' But he said it to himself.
Everyone had their secrets.
Â
âDearest Stella,' said Coffin. He said it hopefully and sadly. Experience had told him that Stella could be immovable when she had made up her mind. âYou ought to take things quietly.'
âNo, I'm better working.'
âIt was a bad thing that happened to you. I wish I could have protected you from it.' I think it happened because you are my wife. He didn't say this aloud.
âWell, you are protecting me now, don't think I haven't noticed ⦠there's always a figure not too far away from me. Man, sometimes a woman. Looked like a kid once, but I expect she was older than she looked.'
âYou're too clever by half, Stella.' I've got you protected, and you need it. I do not know why but all these deaths are connected to you. Again, he did not say this aloud, but it was what he was coming to believe. A detective of long experience comes to trust his own instincts, he breathes it in, through his nostrils and down his throat, a miasma that gets into his brain.
But why Stella? Perhaps it's me, after all ⦠But no, it was Stella. He knew it.
Just not why.
âYes, I want you looked after. Somehow it is aimed at you. I've known it ever since that painted up pretend woman was sent into our house. Our home.'
Did he say that aloud? He could hear Stella making noises of denial down the telephone line, so he must have said something.
âMarvellous publicity if we could go public with it,' said Stella hopefully. She felt she ought to be awarded something out of what had happened to her. In her mind, bums on seats and sympathetic applause for her latest show would just do
it. âWe can't,' Coffin replied in a stern voice. âI don't want the perp to think I can read him at all.' If indeed he was doing. A thought came to him. âNow don't go behind my back on this.'
âAs if I would.'
âI don't want to see your lovely face and your “own story” splashed all over the tabloids.'
Stella laughed. She would do it if she could get away with it. Had she been threatened, had she been frightened? Yes to both questions, but she wanted to be the one who fought back.
âThey're not going to get me.'
âI hope you're right.'
âI would like to think I could pick them out in a crowd, but I don't know. I am sure neither normally looked that way.' Would anyone if they could help it, she asked herself. In her profession you knew how to put yourself over.
âActors?' Coffin enquired once more.
âCould be. Certainly acting then. From a circus, maybe.' Stella laughed. âEspecially the tall thin one, a bit of a giraffe ⦠And don't think I don't know that you've let me go on talking so you can check where I am and what I am doing on one of those other machines you've got working for you. I hope that nice young woman has reported well on me ⦠unless she's gone off duty, of course.' Stella, who had her own spies, knew that she had not.
âShe says you are sitting with a pile of scripts in front of you and having your hair dressed.'
âYes,' agreed Stella. âThat fracas I was in didn't half upset my hair.' She turned to the girl who was moving a comb gently over her head. âKeep it smooth, dear, that's my style.'
The girl smiled. âI know, Miss Pinero, you've got lovely hair, it's a pleasure to do it.'
âThank you, Miranda, just a spray now, and it will do. Thank you.'
She smiled at the young policewoman who was drinking a cup of coffee opposite her. âYou still there, John? See you later,
let's eat together tonight. You can do the cooking ⦠Oh, I have the dog with me, just in case you wondered.'
As to the cat who knew?
âIt's as well to keep your husband wondering about you,' Stella advised the young detective after she hung up. âThe odd secret or two. Useful, bear it in mind.'
âDoes the husband have secrets too?' the young detective grinned. âNot the Chief Commander, of course, other husbands. Do they have secrets?'
âYou're the copper,' said Stella. âYou ought to know.'
Â
Stella may have had her secrets but Coffin had his too.
It was not by chance that he had kept Stella talking, he wanted to make sure that she was still safely occupied at the theatre in her office or at the hairdressers, when he went off to hear what Inspector Winnie Ardet had to say. Phoebe Astley had given him the outline, but he wanted to no must, talk to Inspector Ardet and her informant himself.
In the normal way, he would have summoned Inspector Ardet to his office and told her to bring her informant with her, but now he wanted to be the one in action. He felt the need to be on the move.
So Stella had the dog with her, but it might be wise to feed the cat in case he was detained long. He telephoned Phoebe Astley who had been waiting for his call.
âMeet me at St Luke's. Then drive with me to where Inspector Ardet is. I take it she's with the woman?'
âYes, she felt it was safer to stay with her.'
âHysterical, is she?'
âInclined to be, yes. Glad you are coming, sir, because we all feel it will be better if you get it straight from her.'
Coffin drove to St Luke's. He went straight to the tower but looked hard at the old church now subsumed into the theatre complex. Somewhere in there was Stella.
He let himself into the tower, realising with new force how
he would have felt if Stella had not escaped and come home. He could feel the imagined pain like a heavy stone inside him.
He fed the cat who was asleep in his basket in the kitchen, waking him up with a stroking hand and a dish of fish. âHave to give you a name soon.'
The cat yawned. A name? Was it eatable?
The young cat was aware of the presence of the old cat's ghost - some might call it the smell, so clear to him but as nothing to human noses. It told him a lot - that the cat had lived a happy life. It told him, more importantly, that he had found a good home. He would stay.
To underline this, he purred at Coffin, bending his head over the offered food. He wasn't that fond of fish, preferring rabbit or the captured mouse but he would oblige.
Chief Inspector Astley was waiting patiently in her car. She got out when she saw John Coffin advancing towards her. âI'm still fond of you, you bastard,' she said inside herself,âbut you're better off with Stella. It always was Stella, anyway, wasn' t it? And anyone with a mother like yours who kept on the move the way she did, lying all the time as far as I can see, was bound to make a tricky husband. Except, of course to someone like Stella, not perhaps intellectually his master but well in control aesthetically and emotionally. Somewhat like that cat of his, really.'
Aloud, she said: âI'll drive, sir, I know the way and you may not.'
John Coffin, unaware that he was being summed up and found, to a degree, wanting, nodded. âAccepted gratefully.'
âI told Winnie to expect us both.' Didn't want her to panic when she saw the Chief Commander walking in.
Phoebe drove competently through the back streets of the Second City. She was not a native born Second Citizen and returned regularly to Birmingham to see her married sister and her nephews and nieces. It seemed a city in which to be happy so she always left rapidly in case she found herself
joining the married tribe. You could be miserable in the Second City but at least you could be free.
Without knowing it, Phoebe and the cat also had something in common.
âYou gave that motorbike a near shave,' observed Coffin mildly.
âSorry ⦠I was thinking.'
âAlways dangerous. I was thinking myself. About Stella. I wonder if I ought to ask her to go to New York for a bit.'
âYou think she'd be safer there?'
Phoebe was turning left into Merrydrew Road where Inspector Ardet's car could already be seen parked outside a semi-detached house halfway down the road. Phoebe grunted. Winnie had not left her much room to park, but she managed it. There was Winnie at the door waiting for them and behind her was the owner of the house.
âShe looks nervous,' thought Phoebe as she walked up the garden path behind Coffin. Then she recognised the woman and realised she was right to be nervous.
Coffin held out his hand. âIt's Mrs Thistle, isn't it?' So you're out, he was thinking. Term of imprisonment over, shortened for good behaviour.
Mrs Thistle had run the neatest trio of brothels in the Second City, a city hardly in need of sexual outlets what with various clubs and nightspots catering for most tastes. But Mrs Thistle had targeted the crews of the ships that sidled up the river still and had done good business.
Coffin had been particularly active in seeing she was closed down.
âMrs
Owner,
Angie Owner,' said Angie, uneasily, âI've married again.'
âOh,' Coffin looked around him.
âHe's away, he travels a lot,' said Mrs Owner, still uneasy.
Probably would be myself, thought Coffin if I was married to you, Angie.
By this time they were in the house. It was neat, clean, and
very tidy. The furniture was good. Mrs Owner had obviously hung on to some of her ill-gotten money.
âSo you know something about these serial killings that you want to tell us,' said Coffin bluntly.
âMrs Owner has already told me. I thought she ought to tell you.' Inspector Ardet broke in. âCI Astley agreed with me. Mrs Owner found one of the victims. The first one, Amy Buckly. The corner of Battle Street. Amy was still alive, barely, but she was. And she spoke.”
Coffin felt cold inside. At the same time, hot with anger, which made it a nasty mixture. âWhy was this not reported at the time? I take it Mrs Owner did not speak out?'
Winnie looked at Mrs Owner who lowered her head as she said: âI didn't tell anyone then that I had found Amy, I just rang the police and said there was a dead woman at the corner of Battle Street ⦠I didn't say who I was.'
She looked defensively at the Chief Commander.
âWell, you know why.'
Winnie Ardet, still defensive, said: âYou can see why, sir. She'd had a bad time.'
Earned, Coffin thought, and enjoyed the earnings, the bad time came afterwards.
âI thought I'd just keep quiet and stay out of things ⦠I mean that sort of thing.'
âKillings, you mean? Bloody murder of innocent women?' Was that really his voice, uttering such self-righteous, sanctimonious sludge that had never yet brought a killer home? âSo what made you change your mind? You are here now and claiming to have something valuable to say.' He looked at Inspector Ardet.
âShe really has,' said Winnie.
âCome on then, spit it out. Don't waste my time.'
âI was frightened ⦠she spoke and I heard what she said. I thought the killer would come after me if he knew.'
The Chief Commander looked at Winnie Ardet.
âI said we'd protect her,' said Winnie simply.
Winnie was a good officer and no fool. She might have chummed up with Mrs Owner, they'd probably been at school together, but she'd want something positive and real out of her.
And so do I. The thought was like a command. For Stella. He knew without a word being said that both Winnie and Phoebe also thought that Stella was concerned.
âSo what happened?'
âShe couldn't speak properly, hardly at all, because of her throat ⦠I was surprised to hear anything, but I did. She said “He told me that I was only a stand-in.” ⦠then she said “No Star” ⦠. she stopped talking then ⦠I suppose that was when she died.'
Stand-in ⦠Star.
She said the words again, her voice still puzzled. âI don't know if it's any help to know this but Winnie said I should tell you.'
âYes,' said Coffin slowly âThank you.'
Â
They stood outside, Coffin, Phoebe and Winnie Ardet facing each other for a moment in silence. He looked backwards over his shoulder at the house where he could see Mrs Owner looking out of the window.
âWill she be all right?'
Winnie Ardet nodded. âI'll see she is, sir.'
âShe's a friend?'
âIn a way, sir. I've known her since I could walk ⦠earlier, really, our mothers knew each other. My mum asked me to keep looking after her ⦠I went on knowing her even when â¦' She hesitated.
âI know what you don't want to say. I helped put her away. It must have been difficult for you.'