‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’ Bron put on his injured expression, to which I was only too well accustomed.
‘Where did you get that money I’ve seen you flashing about recently? Dimitri gave it to you, didn’t he? Portia told me you set the whole thing up. He raped her several times at gunpoint and kept her prisoner in his house. She had to let some other thug make love to her in order to get away. That man you got the coat from is one of Dimitri’s gang. You absolute bastard, Bron!’ I was shouting now. All the anxiety I had been feeling on Portia’s behalf poured out as uncontrolled anger and Bron, for once, looked abashed.
‘Is it true? You’re not having me on?’ Seeing my face he went on, ‘All right! No need to scream at me! Naturally, I had no idea he was going to do that. I just thought there’d be something in it for Portia. You must admit she’s never been exactly fussy about who she takes into her bed. Dimitri said he’d seen Portia several times in The Green Dragon and was crazy to meet her. It seemed harmless enough. Of course I’m sorry if he hurt her. But I didn’t take a penny from him, I swear.’
‘Where did you get that money then? I don’t believe you. I know what a liar you are!’
‘I don’t see why I should keep you informed of my pecuniary dealings.’
‘I’m going to the police. I ought to have done it days ago.’ I was halfway to the door when he called me back.
‘All right, Goody Two-shoes. But you won’t like it. I got the money from Derek’s last owner. He was mad keen to find him a good home. He said if I’d take the dog he’d give me a hundred pounds. Apparently his wife was kicking up hell because Derek barked all night and stopped the baby sleeping and she told him not to come home until he’d got rid of him. The poor bloke was desperate. He said he couldn’t reconcile it with his conscience to abandon Derek in the streets because he’d grown fond of him. But the missus was threatening divorce. Well, it seemed to me we’d all benefit. He’d be restored to domestic bliss, you’d have the dog you’ve always wanted and I’d have a hundred pounds. What are you doing? Don’t mess up my hair! I’ve just combed it the way I want it to dry. Look, Harriet, remember men don’t like girls who throw themselves at their heads.’
‘I’m just so thankful!’ I was halfway between laughing and crying. ‘I couldn’t bear the thought of you being a – procurer.’
‘Pimp is the mot juste, I fancy.’ Bron waggled a finger at me. ‘Let that be a lesson to you, Harriet, not to jump to conclusions. You’ve got a nasty censorious nature. Were you really going to tell Plod all my evil doings?’
I shook my head. ‘Not really. I wanted you to tell me the truth. Dear Bron, let’s make it up. I’m sick of quarrelling. I’ll forgive you if you’ll forgive me?’
‘What are you forgiving me for, exactly –’ Bron broke off as something dark and voluminous dropped past the window. He pushed up the sash and put out his head. ‘There goes my wonderful coat. Straight into a dustbin.’
We heard Cordelia’s voice from the upstairs window, yelling, ‘It’s yours. Take it and go away! If you wouldn’t mind!’ she added as an afterthought.
‘What a shame. I’m so sorry. But if you bought it from Dex, it was probably stolen.’
‘So? I didn’t steal it. Damn it, look at those reporters!’
The press were jostling each other to get down the area steps. There was an ugly scene as they fought for possession of the coat. Instead of joining the scrum Dex was back at the lamppost, rolling another cigarette.
‘I don’t get it. Why isn’t Dex interested?’
‘Presumably, though you girls were so eager to fling my raiment to the wolves, it is not the clobber referred to in the note.’
‘But what …?’ Light dawned. ‘It must be Chico’s clothes he’s after.’
‘Where are they?’
‘I gave them to Maria-Alba to give to Loveday to burn in his incinerator.’
‘You muff!’ Portia was standing in the doorway, her expression alarmed. ‘You absolute fathead!’
‘I’m sorry. I just hated having the nasty smelly things around reminding – me.’
‘Let it be a lesson to you to stop bloody tidying up! Now we’re going to be made sorry we were born and I can tell you, in my case, it won’t take much.’ Portia put her head in her hands.
‘That does it! I’m ringing Inspector Foy.’ I went into the hall and picked up the receiver. It seemed like weeks until I was finally put through.
‘Hello, Harriet. How are you getting along?’ I felt comforted at once by the jolly uncle manner. I launched immediately into the tale. ‘What was there about the garments in question to justify a threat like that?’ he asked when I had told him everything I knew. All the avuncular cheer had gone out of his voice.
‘I don’t know. Nothing as far as I could see. The jacket was leather but it was worn and the collar was filthy. And the jeans were just ordinary.’
The inspector made his characteristic pom-pomming noise. Then he said, ‘Stay indoors and don’t let anyone in. I’ll be an hour at the most.’
He was as good as his word. I happened to be standing at the window as his car drew up. Though it was his usual plain black, unmarked saloon, Dex took one look at it and melted into the ether.
‘Now, Miss Byng.’ The inspector looked at Portia. ‘You’d have done yourself and us a favour if you’d come along straight away and told us all about it. We’d have had some evidence then.’
‘If you mean presenting myself knickerless on a table to be groped by a sadistic doctor in full view of a bevy of sniggering female police officers so that you can earn another pip, thank you, but no.’ Portia gave him a glare of defiance. ‘Nothing would persuade me.’
‘Well, I can understand that.’ Inspector Foy sat down, got out his pipe and lifted an eyebrow at me. I nodded. ‘I’ve always thought the victim of a rape gets a thoroughly raw deal. Not just the physical examination, though that’s bad enough, but all the questioning afterwards. Her past life raked up, counter-accusations from the defence, public humiliation – no, things are stacked against the victim from the start. And, naturally, when you’ve been through an ordeal like that, the last thing you want to do is talk about it with a lot of strangers who are bent on trying to prove you wrong. I agree, you’ve suffered enough already.’ Portia’s stern gaze softened fractionally. ‘If you’ll co-operate with me I’ll see your privacy’s protected. But I’d like you to help me put the culprit away.’ Portia looked noncommittal. ‘Do you recognise any of these men?’
He handed her a portfolio of photographs. She began to go through them. ‘No, no, no,’ sigh ‘no, no – wait a minute. My God! I think it’s him! I can’t be sure. I never saw him without sunglasses.’ Inspector Foy took out a pen and scribbled black circles over the eyes, then handed the photograph back. ‘It’s him. That’s Dimitri.’ Her eyes filled with tears and her mouth trembled but she continued to fix the inspector with a mutinous look that made me feel tremendously protective of her.
‘Well done, Portia – if I may call you that?’ There was a breezy kindness in his voice as he waved the stem of his pipe at her. Portia shrugged and quickly wiped the corner of one eye. ‘This fellow’s been on our books a long time. He’s done time for fraud, embezzlement and robbery. A couple of his chums are still inside for GBH. It’s likely he’s involved with drugs. The vice boys are very interested in him. Anyone else you recognise?’
‘Chico.’ She threw the photograph of a man with cheeks like cushions on to the floor. ‘And that’s the man who was lurking outside, ready to make us regret