Free A Coffin for Charley by Gwendoline Butler Page B

the lie is. But he was half indulgent: he knew well that secrets are a private detective’s stock in trade.
    â€˜With or without Job Titus, MP,’ Tom went on. ‘I was interested, it establishes character, doesn’t it? The sort they are. I wanted to know.’
    â€˜And what sort is young Creeley?’
    â€˜You don’t know him?’
    Coffin shook his head.
    â€˜I’ve got a photograph.’ From an inner pocket, Tom took a coloured photograph which he handed over.
    He waited quietly while Coffin studied it. A tall, plumpish, fair-haired young man was leaning forward over a bar-room table talking to Job Titus. He had a pleasant boyish face without a lot of expression. Titus seemed to be doing the talking.
    â€˜I don’t think he’s a killer,’ said Ashworth, ‘but I’m not sure.’
    â€˜You’re doing our job for us.’ Coffin handed over the photograph. ‘Let me have a copy, will you?’
    â€˜Sure.’ He reached inside his pocket. ‘Here’s another.’
    â€˜You’re worrying me,’ said Coffin, as he reached across to take it. ‘What else is on offer?’
    He didn’t wait for an answer.
    This time the photograph was of the same young man still wearing the expression of empty good humour as if he couldn’t take it off. He was seated at another table inanother bar with a young woman. He had his arm round her shoulders.
    â€˜Who’s the girl?’
    â€˜Didi, she’s the sister.’
    Coffin raised an eyebrow.
    â€˜Annie Briggs’s sister. Years younger.’
    â€˜She’s a beauty. Creeley’s seeing her?’
    â€˜I think she’s in love with him. Could be. If she’s not in love with someone called Charley.’ He sounded thoughtful. ‘I can’t get clear on that.’
    â€˜Who’s Charley?’
    â€˜It’s a name that crops up.’
    â€˜Where?’
    â€˜You could ask that and get different answers. Here and there. Movable man, is Charley. The Karnival for a start. Odd bars. You know the picture.’
    â€˜Was Charley the reason you went to the Karnival?’
    â€˜Let’s say I was interested.’
    Was he into blackmail? ‘Does Titus know Charley?’
    â€˜I haven’t been able to establish that,’ said Tom with obvious regret.
    â€˜Why were you interested?’
    â€˜I am interested. It’s my job. You never know what will be useful. Like the kid, Didi, with the Creeley boy. What’s the relationship there? Boy and girl? Or something else? Anyway, they meet a lot. My client is the kid’s sister, I don’t think my client knows too much about it. Should I tell her? Well, maybe I will and maybe I won’t.’ He held out his hand for the picture but Coffin was still studying it. ‘Meanwhile I’m keeping an eye on him which is what I’m paid for.’ Not that Annie had paid him yet. Not a penny. But she would do. Tom knew how to get his bills settled.
    â€˜A copy of that picture too, please.’
    â€˜Right.’ He put the photograph back in his pocket and as he did so, another fell out. Coffin picked it up. This time the picture was of a middle-aged man holding open the iron gate to a tall house up whose side ran an iron fire staircase, an escape route from the top floor.
    â€˜And who’s that?’
    â€˜I had to do a bit of research there. He’s a social worker, helped in Annie’s case as a youngster. I think he’s in love with her. That’s her house. He calls on her.’
    â€˜You are doing our work for us,’ said Coffin.
    A day begun without joy does not always improve. This day did not.
    In the late afternoon of the misty day, Stella, parking her car in the underground car park near the theatre complex, became aware of the figure in the gloom.
    The basement was badly lit and she had long meant to complain to Letty who she believed owned the place. Letty had