Mask of the Verdoy Read Online Free PDF Page B

flickered and spluttered a little, but didn’t improve on its sickly illumination.
    ‘Hmm,’ he said, removing his gabardine and brushing it down before handing it to DC Pearson.
    ‘And so— Mister George Harley .’
    ‘Detective Inspector.’
    ‘We meet again.’
    ‘So it seems.’
    ‘And how exactly do you fit into this sordid little scene?’
    ‘Sordid?’
    ‘Indeed—the deceased here was known to us. Only two weeks ago I arrested him for soliciting in Piccadilly. He was a sodomite, Harley—and I’d be interested to know how he ended up sleeping in your bed.’
    ‘ Sleeping in my bed— you’re priceless, Quigg. And there’s me thinking you’d be interested in finding out how the poor kid died. For the record, my bedroom is on the first floor—this is a spare room. I discovered Aubrey—that was the sodomite’s name, Pearson, make sure you take that down, won’t you? I discovered Aubrey last Friday, being assaulted in an alleyway off the Dilly. These two characters were giving him a serious going over—real professional job. You can still see the bruising round his ribs. I managed to get him into a cab and brought him back here to recuperate. He refused to see a doctor or let me report the assault.’
    ‘And I suppose you did all this out of the kindness of your heart, did you?’
    ‘What other motive would you suggest, Detective Inspector?’ asked Harley, sitting up and squaring his shoulders.
    ‘Ooh, I don’t know, times are tough—maybe you’ve turned your hand to a little part-time poncing?’
    Harley began to rise from his seat, but was promptly pushed back down by Burns’ hand on his shoulder.
    ‘With respect, sir,’ interjected the bobby. ‘I’ve known Mr. Harley to give shelter to others in need in the past—old soldiers and the like.’
    ‘Thank you, Constable—most enlightening … I’ll warrant these aren’t religious sentiments, Harley. So what are you—one of these bleeding-heart liberals? Or are you a socialist?’
    Harley gave a glance at Burns standing behind him. He thought for a moment then relaxed his shoulders, choosing to ignore the taunt. He scratched at his stubble and inspected the sole of his shoe.
    ‘Well?’
    ‘Our Prime Minister is a socialist, Detective Inspector—at least, he used to be. As for my own personal politics—I’m not so sure I’ve reached any conclusions yet; but when I do, I’ll make sure you’re the first to know. Either way, it’s got nothing to do with the investigation of this boy’s death.’
    ‘I’ll be the judge of that, Harley.’
    Quigg walked over to Pearson and retrieved a pair of kid leather gloves from the pocket of his folded overcoat, taking great care in pulling them on and smoothing out the wrinkles. He then proceeded to walk around to the far side of the bed, where he lifted the dishevelled sheets and peered at the dead boy’s crotch.
    After a derisive snort Quigg dropped the sheet and returned to the other side of the bed, lifting his glasses to peer closely at the cutthroat razor and the stripe of wound on the pale wrist. Then he squatted to scrutinize the pool of congealed blood at the side of the bed. He straightened again, removed the gloves and retrieved his overcoat from Pearson.
    ‘Tell me, Constable,’ he said, putting the coat back on, ‘apart from the hysterical Miss Perkins, did anyone else see this mysterious masked stranger?’
    ‘Well, sir—’
    ‘No one else saw him,’ interjected Harley. ‘But I think I may have found a fresh footprint up on the roof. And there’s some dislodged brickwork above the sign to the market, in the Tallow Street entrance. Granted, not the easiest of escape routes, but with a certain nerve and—’
    ‘ Dislodged brickwork , no less. Did you get that, Pearson? Dislodged brickwork . How fascinating! Pray, enlighten us some more. How did this masked monkey-demon make his way to the murder scene in the first place, eh? Down the chimney, perhaps? On a flying