No Business of Mine

“I have a confused recollection of getting into my clothes, being half carried down the stairs. Ju Cole was on the landing. French spoke to him, but I was too doped to hear what was said. French pushed me out of the house. The night air pulled me together, and I started to struggle.” She closed her eyes. “He hit me, and the next thing I remember was being in his car. I struggled up, and he hit me again. I came to later in a room. There was a woman watching me: Mrs. Brambee. French came in after a while. He warned me he’d kill me if I didn’t stay there and do what I was told.”

“Ever hear of Mrs. Brambee before?”

She nodded. “Anne had a cottage at Lakeham. French bought it for her. He used to go down weekends or whenever he had the time. Mrs. Brambee looked after the place.”

“Why did they keep you a prisoner?” I asked, giving her another cigarette.

“French wanted the police to think I and not Anne died in my flat.”

“But why, for God’s sake?”

“He knew they couldn’t trace him through me, but he and Anne had been around a lot together, and he was scared they’d connect him with her death. There was something going on at the cottage he didn’t want the police to find out, and he thought the police would find the cottage if they began to make inquiries about Anne.”

“What was going on at the cottage?”

“I don’t know.”

“How did you find this out?”

“Mrs. Brambee told me. She was scared of French and liked Anne.”

“When I turned up, he realized his scheme wouldn’t work, is that it?”

“Yes. But Cole telephoned him, told him you had been up and that you would most likely want to see the — the body. French got into a panic, and with a couple of his men took Anne from the mortuary. They rushed her down to the cottage, fixed it to look as if Anne had committed suicide there instead of at my flat.”

“Well, I’ll be double damned,” I exclaimed. “You mean to tell me the girl who died in your flat and the girl found in the cottage were one and the same?”

“It was Anne.”

“But one of them was a redhead and the other a blonde.”

Netta shuddered. “French stopped at nothing. My hair’s not really red. I had a bottle of henna dye and he dyed Anne’s hair while she was drugged. Then when he brought her to the cottage he used a peroxide wash, brought her hair back to its natural colour.”

I grimaced. This guy was certainly a cold-blooded rat if ever there was one.

“Well, go on, what happened then?”

“I was in the way. The police were looking for my body. French planned to kill me and plant my body where the police could find it. Ju Cole wouldn’t let him. Ju and I had always got on together. As long as Ju was with me, I was safe. He told me French had planted one of Allenby’s rings in my flat and the police were looking for me. I got scared. I thought the police were after me, and I knew French was waiting his chance to kill me. I made Ju help me escape. I got away, came to London. There was only one place I could think of to hide in... here. Selma and I were friends. I used to come here in the old days, before she married Jacobi. I knew Selma had gone to America with Peter, after George had been killed. Peter smuggled her over.”

“Peter? Peter who?”

She frowned, passed her hand across her eyes. “I was forgetting you didn’t know him. Peter Utterly. He was an American, over here in the Army. He was nice, and when Selina was in trouble, he offered to take her back to his home and to look after her.”

“Was he the guy who gave you the Luger pistol?”

“Luger pistol?” she repeated blankly, then nodded. “I’d forgotten that. I promised to keep it for him, but when he went we both forgot I had it. How do you know about it?”

“Corridan has it,” I said. “We both thought it was the gun that had killed Jacobi.”

She went white. “But they know now it isn’t?”

“Sure, they know,” I said, patting her knee. “I’m nearly through. Why did you go to Bradley?”

“I had to. I hadn’t any money. Bradley has always been decent to me after our first fight. I had no one to turn to. I was scared to come to you. Ju told me you were always going around with the police. I wanted to come to you, but Ju said it was too dangerous. So I went to Bradley. I told him the whole story. He was decent and gave me two hundred pounds. Then you arrived; I got in a panic and ran.”

I stroked my nose. “Go on,” I said.

“I came back here,” she went on, suddenly gripping my wrist. “I let myself in, came upstairs. I heard someone moving about in the sitting-room. I thought it was French. I swear I thought it was French.” She broke off to stare into my face. “Steve! You must believe me.”

“Go on,” I said.

“I thought he had come to kill me. I was crazy with fear. I didn’t know what I was doing. I grabbed the poker, waited in the dark. Something moved, came at me. I... I lost my head... hit out.” She hid her face in her hands. “Steve, you must help me. I’m so frightened. Say you believe me. Say you’ll help me. Please...”