“You found him dead in the alley, probably a little after eight o’clock,” I said.
“Yes. It was awful. We were supposed to come back here, pack up, and leave. Eddie said he was going to be paid a bonus for his work, enough money to give us a new start.”
“His work?”
“That’s what he called it. He worked for our Allies, the Russians.”
“Spying on our Allies, the Poles.”
“It was all for the war effort, don’t you see? To be sure nothing got in the way of victory, that’s what Eddie said.”
“What about your work?” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re an informant for Scotland Yard. You told them I beat Eddie senseless.”
“I’m no informer, and you better not say so again,” Sheila said, her lips compressed into a thin line of lipstick the color of blood. “Yes, I pass on the odd tidbit now and then, plenty of people do. They wouldn’t pay if it wasn’t important, now would they?”
“I can’t argue with that logic, Sheila. Did you see anybody or anything this morning, when you found Eddie?”
“No, I saw that big knife sticking out of him and I knew he was dead. I didn’t wait around for whoever did it to take notice of me.”
“So no one saw you there?”
“No one from the hotel, if that’s what you mean. But I couldn’t take a chance, so I came back here, grabbed Eddie’s wages-I mean our money-and walked straight into you two. It is our money, you know. We were going away together, going to get married,” she said, her chin lifting her face into a profile of respectability.
“Where did Eddie get the money?”
“Some from the Russians, but they didn’t pay very well. Eddie had been a Party member a few years back, and they expected him to do it for the cause.”
“The rest?”
“He was being paid to keep a secret.”
“He was blackmailing someone, you mean.”
“It was part of his war work, he said. He’d found something out, and he said it was important. Eddie was smart like that, he could suss things out that no one else could.”
“Did he tell you who?” I said, not pointing out the obvious fact that Eddie hadn’t been smart enough to suss out a bayonet to the chest.
“No,” she said hesitantly, shaking her head, as if to rid herself of a bad memory. “He didn’t.”
“Come on, Sheila,” Big Mike said, moving closer and looking down on her. “You two were partners in blackmail. Engaged to be married. Are you trying to tell us Eddie didn’t trust you?” He stood with his arms akimbo, the big bad cop.
“He did. Eddie was a good man, he looked out for me! Don’t you dare suggest otherwise!”
“I bet he did,” I said, mustering all the sincerity I could. “I’d guess he was protecting you, wasn’t he? If you didn’t know who it was, you couldn’t be hurt.”
“That’s exactly what Eddie said.” Sheila looked up to Big Mike, flicking her head toward me. “Your lieutenant understands. A gentleman wouldn’t place his intended in harm’s way. That’s what Eddie called it. Harm’s way, and he wanted me to stay out of it.”
“Did he say anything about what he’d discovered? Not who, but what?”
“He’d give me a hint now and then. The way I had it figured, it was drugs.”
“Somebody at the hotel was an addict? One of the Poles?”
“He never came out and said it, but I always felt it was more that the fellow was a supplier.”
“Why?”
“Well,” Sheila said, leaning in and speaking in a whisper, as if Eddie might be listening in the other room, “one afternoon Eddie was late. We used to meet at work, when we could, in one of the empty rooms. I was angry, since I had only a few minutes left before they noticed me gone. Right angry with him, actually. So he told me he’d had to run over to Horseferry Street, to pick up this fellow’s drugs. I could tell right away he wished he hadn’t said it, but he had. I said he must be a terrible dope fiend, and Eddie laughed and said it wasn’t for him. That was all, he wouldn’t speak another word about it.”
“Horseferry Street? You’re sure?”
“I’m positive. Now I’d like my money back, please, unless you two are thieves and intend to rob me.”
“You could always go to the police,” Big Mike said, “and tell them a couple of Yanks stole your blackmail money.”
“You could go to hell, how about that?”
“Listen,” I said. “This is evidence. I’m going to give it to Inspector Scutt at Scotland Yard. He’ll decide how much, if any, you’ll get back.”
“It’s gone then, all gone,” Sheila said, tears rolling down her cheeks as she mourned the packet of pound notes. “Have some pity, will you? My man’s dead, I’m alone, and a killer may be after me. What am I supposed to do?”
“Here,” I said, pulling four of the large white five-pound notes from the envelope. “Lie low for a while.”
“What? You think a few of them five jacks will get me far? You must be mad, both of you.”
“Listen, sister,” Big Mike said, squatting so he came face to face with her, “if it were up to me, I’d bring you and the money to Scotland Yard, and be glad to see you put in a cell. Lieutenant Boyle here is giving you your walking papers, and some ready cash besides. And you’re complaining?”
“We had such grand plans,” Sheila said, sniffling. “We were going to Shoeburyness together, today, as soon as he got home. It’s a lovely little town, right on the seashore. Eddie was going to bring me around to meet his mum.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Sheila,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. Eddie’s death saved her from being left behind, discarded at the last minute as he rode the train alone to Plymouth, almost two hundred miles in the opposite direction, far from London and Shoeburyness. She was just a chump, a girl Eddie used to fill his time while he accumulated his wages from blackmail and betrayal. I doubted she would’ve gotten even twenty pounds from him, so I figured she was ahead on the deal. A little cash, and a story that would undoubtedly turn into a tale of a secret agent killed in the line of duty, just as they were about to walk down the aisle. She had no idea how lucky she was.
We waited for Sheila to put some things into a bag. I walked around the apartment, looking for anything out of place, anything that could remotely be considered a clue. There was nothing except a few traces of female domesticity that Sheila had brought to the place. The plant with bright green leaves, a few of which lay in the sink, and the remnants of baking were left in the kitchen. Unwashed bowls and rotting apple peels stood in the sink. A cutting board with flour still dusted over it, next to gardening gloves left on the kitchen table. An empty container marked SUGAR lay on its side, a line of white granules sparkling on the counter. Two cake pans, large and small, sat soaking in the sink. With sugar rationed at three ounces a month, she must’ve been baking something special. Home life interrupted by murder.
Sheila came down the stairs and gave me the name and address of an aunt she was going to stay with, up in Birmingham, and I promised to give it to Inspector Scutt. I figured she was on the level, since she still hoped he’d see reason and hand over the wad of cash to her. I didn’t disagree, since it would keep her there in case I needed to talk to her again.
Big Mike told her we’d give her a ride to Victoria Station, and we walked her to the jeep. A small dark blue sedan idled next to it, hemming us in. It was a Morris Ten, an old-fashioned, boxy-style vehicle with big front fenders and the headlights mounted on a bar attached to the grillwork, almost as an afterthought. A guy stepped out of the passenger’s seat, his right hand in his coat pocket. Big Mike took Sheila by the arm and pushed her in back of him. I spotted the second guy, leaning against a car behind us, smoking a cigarette. He flicked it away and walked toward us, his hands showing.
“Just a moment, please,” he said, looking at Sheila. I caught Big Mike’s eye and turned to the guy who’d gotten out of the car. I pulled out my pistol, which was not exactly a quick draw as my overcoat was buttoned up. Big Mike had his. 38 Colt police revolver leveled at the second guy before I cleared my holster.