Free Death in Albert Park by Leo Bruce

He lives with his parents.”
    â€œI don’t care. I’m going to him.”
    â€œThat
would be the end of any chance you might have.”
    â€œHow
dare
you talk like that?”
    â€œBut wouldn’t it, Viola? To arrive on the doorstep. It’s ridiculous.”
    â€œI’m going. I’m going,” cried Viola and rushed from the room. A few minutes later Stella heard the front door slammed.
    Viola with a small handbag, went to the gate and looked out. For the first time she remembered the murders in Crabtree Avenue.
    It was a gusty night, but not too cold and there was no rain. She looked down the street and saw no one in sight, no police patrol, no Vigilantes, but on the other hand no single mysterious figure. The trees near St. Olave’s Ladies’ College waved their arms wildly and shadows seemed to be dancing everywhere. Should she return to the safety of her aunt’s home? Her uncle would welcome her, at least, when he came in. But how couldshe face her aunt? She had shown the resolution to walk out, now she must go on.
    After all it was not far. Down the avenue, just visible before it reached the better lighted Inverness Road, was number 52 where Stanley would be sitting with his parents. Stanley who had said that very afternoon that he wished he could have the chance to look after her. Just down there on the left. She would be there in five minutes.
    She decided to walk in the middle of the road, neither on the pavement near the gardens of Crabtree Avenue, nor near the railings along the side of the park. Hadn’t she heard that the… the Stabber was believed to have hidden in one of those gardens and stepped out behind his victim? Or, some said, come over the park railings. She would walk right in the centre.
    Still no one was in sight. She saw several cars parked along the curb, but that was as usual. If only a police-man could have been walking up the street. Just one policeman. Or Stanley himself. How wonderful that would be. Stanley coming to meet her.
    She was approaching the first of the parked cars, which was alone, a good many yards from the others. Suddenly she stopped, breathing heavily. For she saw, not very plainly but still beyond any hope of mistake, that in the driving seat was a man.
    It seemed to Viola that she stood there a long time. She and the man must be glaring at one another though she could not see his eyes. Then she started to take paces backwards, not daring to turn. As she did so a terrifying thing happened. The door of the car began to open and a being emerged. She could not see the face but she was aware of glasses, a cloth cap and a raincoat.
    She tried to scream, but no sound would come. Sheopened her mouth wide, but all that emerged was a squeak from the back of her throat. Then as the man shut the door of his car and stepped towards her the scream came, long and piercing. She caught a blurred glimpse of the man getting back in his driving seat then the car was disappearing fast towards the lights of Inverness Road. She screamed again, then collapsed painfully on the pavement.
    Half an hour later on the settee ofher aunt’s drawing-room to which she had been carried by scared neighbours, she was able to tell her story to one of Dyke’s assistants. It was not without embellishments, none of which were conscious lies but had been added by hysterical double vision.
    She had
seen,
for example, his red glaring eyes. Wasn’t he wearing glasses? Yes, but she had seen them, under the peak of his cap, like a wild animal’s eyes. And somewhere, she was not sure where or at what point, she was
sure
she had seen a blade. A long blade, like that of a butcher’s knife. Was the man carrying it? She couldn’t be certain. She had seen it, that was all she could say.
    Had the man spoken to her? No. That was the awful part. That silence. It had gone on and on as he came crouching towards her. Crouching? That’s what it seemed