Free Hell Is Always Today by Jack Higgins

moment for the new Sampson building. The Spirit of Night. This is just a rough draft, so to speak—plaster on wire. I thought a fifth figure might give more balance. I brought Grace back with me to stand up there with the others so I could see.”
    “And for that you paid her five pounds?”
    “Ten, as a matter of fact. I wanted to know and I wanted to know right then. She happened to be available.”
    “And what did you decide, sir?” Mallory asked.
    “I’m still thinking about it. Well, what happens now?”
    “Oh, we’ll have to make further enquiries, sir,” Mallory said. “We’ll probably have to see you again, of course, you realise that.”
    They walked to the door and Faulkner opened it for them. “What about her boy friend, Superintendent? Harold, I think she called him.”
    “I don’t follow you, sir.”
    Faulkner laughed boyishly. “I suppose I’d better come clean. He arrived just as we were leaving The King’s Arms. There was something of a scene. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but he was pretty angry—at the girl more than me.”
    “That’s very interesting, sir,” Mallory said. “I’ll bear it in mind.”
    He went out. As Miller moved to follow him, Faulkner tapped him on the shoulder. “A private word, Sergeant,” he said softly and the smile had left his face. “Stay away from my fiancée in future. One likes to know when a friend is a friend. The trouble with all you bloody coppers is that you’re on duty twenty-four hours a day.”
    There was a sudden viciousness in his voice, but Miller refused to be drawn. “Good night, Mr. Faulkner,” he said formally and went out.
    Faulkner slammed the door and turned with a frown. For a while he stood there looking thoughtful, then moved back to the drawing board. He removed the clean sheet of cartridge paper, disclosing a sketch of the four statues. After a while he picked up his pencil and started to add an additional figure with bold, sure strokes.
     
    Outside in the street, it was still raining heavily as Miller and Mallory got into the Chief Superintendent’s car where Jack Brady waited with the driver.
    “What did you think?” Mallory demanded.
    Miller shrugged. “It’s hard to say. He’s not the sort you meet every day of the week. Did you buy his story about taking the girl back to the studio to pose for him?”
    “It’s crazy enough to be true, we just can’t tell at this stage. He’s certainly right about one thing—the girl’s boy friend wants checking out.” He turned to Brady. “You can handle that one. The fiancé’s name is Harold, that’s all we know. The girl’s father should be able to give you the rest. When you get the address, go straight round and bring him down to Central for questioning.”
    “What about me, sir?” Miller asked.
    “You can go back to that damned party. See Joanna Hartmann and check Faulkner’s story. I still don’t understand why he left so early. I’ll see you at Central as well when you’ve finished. Get cracking then—I’ll drop Brady off.”
    His car moved away into the rain. Miller watched it go and sighed heavily as he got into the Mini-Cooper. His second visit to Joanna Hartmann’s that night was something he didn’t fancy one little bit.

8
    The party had just about folded and all the guests had departed except for Jack Morgan and Frank Marlowe who sat at the bar with Joanna and her aunt, having a final drink before leaving.
    The door bell chimed and Joanna looked up in surprise. “Now, who on earth can that be?”
    “Probably Bruno,” her aunt remarked acidly. “Returning to tell you that all is forgiven.”
    “Well, it won’t work—not this time.” Joanna was annoyed. “He can stew for a while.”
    There was another ring and Frank Marlowe started to rise. “I’d better go…”
    “No, I’ll handle it. I’ll see him myself.”
    She opened the door, braced for her encounter and found Nick Miller standing there. “Why, Nick,” she said in