Free Cry For the Baron by John Creasey Page B

makes you think you could?” demanded Mannering.
    â€œI can’t! I don’t know anything, she—she’s been a good friend to me, that’s all I know.” The thin nose and pinched cheeks were ashy pale. “She found me this job, she knows I’ve been inside and doesn’t hold that against me.”
    â€œNor will I,” said Mannering. “Take it easy, Lizzie. Or have you got a name?”
    â€œMy name’s Ethel, Ethel Grayson. I’ve never done anything wrong since I came out.”
    â€œKeep up the good work and you’ll be all right. How long has Miss Goulden been as edgy as this?”
    â€œShe—she’s been jumpy ever since I came.”
    â€œBut not so jumpy as today?”
    â€œNo, she—she’s worse this morning.”
    â€œWhere were you last night? Did you help her dress?”
    â€œYes. She went out to dinner. Mr. Kenneth took her, she was very happy last night, but this morning—”
    â€œKenneth who?”
    â€œI don’t know. She always calls him Kenneth, he’s been here several times.”
    â€œIs he young, or old?”
    â€œOh, young. Ever such a nice boy. They’re in love, head over heels, they are. I went to bed at midnight, like I always do. I didn’t hear her come in, but when I went in with her tea at nine o’clock she was in an awful state.”
    â€œWhat did she say?”
    â€œShe didn’t say anything about what happened or why she was upset! She said she’d had too much champagne last night, but I knew there was something else. Then—then a man came to see her this morning, but he didn’t stay long. He told me to send for Mrs. Fiori if you came.”
    â€œHow did you know me?”
    â€œYour picture’s in the paper.”
    Mannering believed that she told the truth, even when she said that she didn’t know the name of the morning caller. He had just said that Mrs. Fiori had sent him, and the name Fiori was open sesame in this flat. She didn’t know whether anything had changed hands, she hadn’t heard anything that the visitor had said to Fay. When Mannering had called the first time she, had gone to the door, peered through the letter-box, then told the man who was there.
    â€œWhat was he like?” Mannering asked.
    She burst out: “I’m no good at describing people, but he had a red face and a big moustache!”
    That fitted the man who had set Mannering off on his morning trail.
    â€œI’ll take your word for it,” Mannering said. “But if I catch you out in a lie you’ll probably know what the inside of a prison cell is like again. You’re mixed up in a nasty business.”
    She jumped up from her chair, dropping the sewing, stretching out her hands towards him. “You won’t tell anyone I’ve talked, will you? I might lose my job. Then I’d have to go back to the old life again. You don’t have to tell them, do you?”
    â€œNo. What were you in for?”
    She passed her tongue over her lips. “I did a bit of shoplifting.”
    He took her chin in his hand and forced her head back.
    â€œI may want more from you before this is over Ethel. If you help me, I won’t let you down.”
    He released her, turned, and went out of the flat. He stood by the closed front door, listening; she didn’t come into the hall after him. No one appeared to be watching, so he went softly down the carpeted stairs to the next floor; no one was about. He came back, and went to Mrs. Fiori’s flat. He rang the bell, but there was no answer. He rang again, keeping his finger on the bell-push for a long time, but no one came. He drew back, hand in pocket, feeling for his knife. One blade was broad and not made of steel but of mica. He opened it, and began to work on the lock. Here in the broad daylight streaming through a landing window, and in full sight of anyone who came up the stairs or from