The Red Herring Read Online Free Page B

way from saying that she could walk across a room without the gaze of every man there following her. And like Rutter,
she
had smart eyes, too.
    â€˜What’s the address on the drivin’ licence?’ the chief inspector asked.
    â€˜Ruskin Road, Woolwich,’ Rutter answered.
    â€˜But she’s not lived there for a while,’ Paniatowski said.
    Rutter glared at her. ‘How do you be so cocksure sure about that, Sergeant?’
    â€˜That skirt she’s wearing was in Fred Ball’s summer sale at the end of August. I nearly bought it myself.’
    â€˜And you’re saying that Fred Ball’s was the only place in the whole country she could have bought it?’ Rutter asked sceptically.
    â€˜The blouse and jacket were on sale as part of the same ensemble,’ Paniatowski told him matter-of-factly. ‘I didn’t think they quite went together – that’s why I didn’t buy them in the end. The chances of any other retailer offering exactly the same combination must be about a million to one. If you don’t believe me, why don’t you ask your wi––’
    She stopped suddenly, as if she would willingly have bitten off her own tongue. People forgot that Maria Rutter wasn’t like most women, Woodend thought – forgot that though she had a baby now, and was coping exceptionally well with all the difficulties that had brought her, she’d still been totally blind for over two years.
    â€˜I’m . . . I’m sorry, Inspector,’ Paniatowski mumbled.
    â€˜Forget it,’ Rutter said brusquely. ‘Maria doesn’t want your pity.’ Then
he
began to look a little ashamed, too. ‘It’s an easy mistake to make,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve been guilty of it myself a few times.’
    â€˜So we think the victim was livin’ locally, do we?’ Woodend asked, turning the conversation back on to the investigation.
    â€˜It’s what I’d put my money on,’ Paniatowski replied.
    â€˜Then it shouldn’t be too hard to trace her, should it?’
    A young constable who’d been searching one of the outbuildings made his way uncertainly towards them. He came to a halt when he drew level, and looked from Rutter’s face to Woodend’s – then back again – as if he were uncertain which of them he should speak to.
    â€˜What is it, Dobson?’ Rutter asked.
    â€˜One of the lads was sayin’ that you’ve found the victim’s driving licence, sir.’
    â€˜That’s right.’
    â€˜So you know who she is?’
    â€˜Why the interest?’
    â€˜It’s just possible I might know her.’
    â€˜Assuming that the licence belong to her,’ Rutter said, giving Paniatowski a quick glance, ‘then we believe her name was Verity Beale.’
    The colour drained from the constable’s face. ‘Oh, my God, it’s true,’ he moaned.
    â€˜So you do know her?’
    The constable nodded. ‘When I saw she had the same hair as Miss Beale, I thought there might be a chance, but I never really believed . . .’
    â€˜Tell us about her,’ Woodend said gently. ‘Did you know her well?’
    â€˜More know
of
her,’ the constable said. ‘I’ve got a nephew at King Edward’s Grammar, you see – my sister Linda’s lad. I’ve been up to the school a few Saturday mornin’s to watch him play football, an’ she was usually there. She’s . . . she
was
one of the teachers, an’ I rather . . . an’ I rather . . .’
    â€˜An’ you rather fancied her?’ Woodend suggested.
    The constable nodded. ‘Yes, sir. I know it sounds a bit sick now, but I’d no idea she was goin’ to end up . . .’
    â€˜Tell me about her left knee,’ Woodend said.
    â€˜I . . . I beg your pardon, sir.’
    â€˜Her left knee, lad. I noticed somethin’ distinctive about it, an’ if you