Free A Choice of Victims by J F Straker Page B

didn’t you see him?’
    ‘Polite but distant. He obviously disapproved of our booze-up. Does he usually go to bed before you?’
    ‘Ed’s a creature of habit.’ Cheryl poured boiling water into the mug and sat opposite her sister. ‘What time do you want to leave?’
    ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m spending the night with Phyllis. Going back to Aberdeen tomorrow.’
    ‘A pity you live so far away,’ Cheryl said. ‘How long since we last met? Four years? Five?’
    ‘Something like that.’ Blanche lit a cigarette. ‘How is it between you and Ed these days. Still bad?’
    Cheryl shrugged. ‘Well, we don’t bicker any more. Or not often. We’re past that. There’s the occasional flare-up, but mostly we just don’t bother. Or I don’t; he still gets the odd fit of jealousy. Otherwise—well, he goes his way and I go mine.’
    ‘Not much of a marriage,’ Blanche said.
    ‘Not much of anything. He’s selfish and boring and bloody mean.’
    ‘He bought you that car.’
    ‘He didn’t. I paid for it myself, out of mother’s money.’ Cheryl frowned. ‘Didn’t we go through all of this last night?’
    ‘Did we? I don’t remember. Yes, I suppose we did. Oh! There’s a letter for you. There— behind you. Ed said it was on the mat when he came down this morning.’
    Cheryl reached back to the dresser. The envelope was flimsy, almost transparent. Her name was on it, printed in capitals, but there was no address and no stamp. She put it down and picked up the mug and sipped.
    ‘Must have been shoved through the letter box,’ she said. ‘I bet Ed thinks it’s from a man.’
    ‘Isn’t it?’
    ‘Probably.’
    ‘Your boyfriend?’
    Cheryl shook her head, and winced. ‘He wouldn’t risk a note. He’d be scared Ed might open it and spread the news to his father-in-law. That could cost him the garage. His father-in-law owns it. He’s just the manager.’
    ‘Who, then?’
    ‘I’ve no idea.’
    ‘Why don’t you open it, then?’
    Cheryl slit open the envelope. It contained a single sheet of thin lined paper. For a full minute she stared at the few words printed on it. Then she put it down and looked at her sister.
    ‘What is it?’ Blanche said. ‘Something wrong?’
    Cheryl slid the paper across the table. Blanche picked it up and read it.
    ‘Oh my God!’ she exclaimed.

 
    Chapter Four
     
    Driver’s optimism was justified. The men were picked up on the Tuesday. After a midday drinking session they had settled in a shelter on the sea front, where they had been spotted by an off-duty police constable who happened to have chosen the same shelter. Because he too had had a few beers he was not particularly alert, and it was not until one of the men produced a gold propelling pencil to make notes in the margin of his newspaper that his curiosity was aroused and he realized that their appearances tallied with the descriptions of the two wanted men. Half an hour later they were in the local nick. Another two hours and they were at divisional headquarters, waiting to be interrogated.
    They gave their names as Joe Bright and Ron Willis. On Driver’s instructions they had not been charged, but had been told they were wanted for questioning in connection with the taking of a motor vehicle without the owner’s consent. Neither youth had protested, orally or physically, at being picked up. Nor had they shown any great concern; their attitude suggested that they found the whole affair something of a lark.
    ‘That could be bravado, I suppose,’ Hasted said. ‘In which case you’ve got to hand it to them. I mean, they don’t have to be masterminds to realize that they’re not here just for nicking a car.’
    Driver made no comment. ‘You take Willis,’ he said. They had already discussed guidelines for the interrogations. ‘I’ll take Bright. And don’t rush it, George. Let it build up, eh?’
    Joe Bright was the articulate one. Driver was surprised at the accuracy of Mrs Shawby’s description. He