Mask of the Verdoy Read Online Free PDF

shouted over the banister. He returned to the room and mouthed the name of the CID officer to Harley.
    ‘ Quigg ?’ repeated Harley. ‘Bugger me! That’s all we need.’
    ‘Well then, and what do we have here?’ asked Detective Inspector Aloysius P. Quigg, as he appeared in the doorway. He entered and made a brief tour of the room, ignoring Harley as he passed him. ‘The light’s impossible in here, Constable! Is this all we have?’
    ‘Yes, sir—but I may be able to—’
    ‘Too late now, you should have thought of it before. Let’s get on with it, shall we? Well?’
    ‘Well, sir … I was called to the premises by Mrs. C—sorry, sir! Mrs. Violet Coleridge, the next-door neighbour.’
    Quigg turned to the young detective constable who had followed him in.
    ‘Are you taking all of this down, Pearson?’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘Good—go on, Constable.’
    ‘As I say, I was called to the premises by Mrs. Coleridge. On arriving I—’
    ‘Time?’
    ‘Sir?’
    ‘What time did you arrive, Constable?’
    PC Burns fumbled for the notebook in his breast pocket.
    ‘At approximately ten-past-nine, sir.’
    ‘Very well—carry on!’
    ‘On arriving, I came up here, where I discovered the deceased in the attitude that you find him now, sir.’
    ‘Nothing has been disturbed?’
    ‘Nothing, sir.’
    ‘Continue.’
    ‘Previous to my arrival there had been an incident with a Miss Perkins, a tenant of Mrs. Coleridge’s. Mrs. Coleridge—and Mr. Harley here, sir—had been summoned to Miss Perkins’ top floor room by the sound of her screams. On entering her room they discovered the said Miss Perkins in a state of some distress. She reported that she’d seen …’ Burns once again consulted his notebook, ‘… an unknown male on the fire escape outside her room. The individual was wearing a mask. He said something in a foreign tongue and then blew a powder into her face . I believe that was all the sense they could get out of Miss Perkins at the time—but Mr. Harley should be able to fill you in on that, sir.’
    ‘Have you interviewed this Miss Perkins, Constable?’
    ‘I attempted to take down her statement, sir, but was unable to extract anything coherent from the witness,’ said Burns, finally getting into his stride.
    ‘And where is she now?’
    ‘She’s next-door, with Dr. Jaggers and Mrs. Coleridge.’
    ‘Very good. Come, Pearson! Let’s see if we can fare any better with this hysterical female.’
    After the two detectives had left the room Burns relaxed his shoulders and removed his helmet again.
    ‘Christ, that bloke’s got too much starch in his collar,’ he said, retrieving the cigarette from behind his ear and lighting up.
    The young constable sat back down by the bed, smoking and silently contemplating the corpse. The room fell to silence again, apart from the occasional pop from the gas mantle.
    ‘Who’s the lackey Quigg’s got in tow?’ asked Harley, after a while.
    ‘DC Pearson—some new boy up from the country. Bit of a yokel by all accounts … I see the DI’s got a soft spot for you though, George. Blimey! The look he gave you—I take it you’ve got history with him?’
    ‘With Quigg? Who hasn’t? Plus, he knows I know.’
    ‘You know what?’
    ‘That he’s as bent as one of Sonny Gable’s watches.’
    ‘You can’t be telling me things like that, George—I ain’t listening.’
    ‘Yeah, well—Quigg’s gonna have to listen to what I’ve got to say.’
    ‘About what?’
    Harley nodded towards the bed.
    ‘About this—the kid didn’t top himself; he was murdered.’
    ‘Come on now—you must admit it looks like a classic suicide. And knowing Quigg’s form I wouldn’t bank on any special effort on his part, not for a lavender … Look sharp! Sounds like they’re coming back.’
    Burns sprung to his feet, hurriedly extinguishing his cigarette and donning his helmet.
    On his return, Quigg walked over to the gas fitting and fiddled with the valve; the light