A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [169]
He looked at her long and hard. ‘I promise,’ he said, then leaned forward in his chair, his expression boyishly eager.
‘His legitimate businesses are mainly in Soho,’ she said. ‘John Bolton used to manage one of his clubs. I saw him go into the Muckles’ several times, including that last card party.’
He gasped. ‘And you kept this to yourself, even when a child was killed?’
Nora reeled at the contempt in his voice. ‘Angela’s death didn’t appear to have anything to do with the card players. We all thought they’d gone home the night before Alfie killed her. It was only when I heard John was dead that I thought about this man again, and I’ve got good reason to be afraid of him myself, so I couldn’t speak out. But now Fifi and Yvette –’ She broke off as she began to cry.
‘Okay,’ Dan said. ‘Just tell me his name.’
‘Jack Trueman,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Please don’t tell the police you got it from me.’
Dan let out a long low whistling breath and rubbed his hands on his thighs. She hardly dared look at him for fear he would attack her verbally. ‘I’m sorry I’m such a coward,’ she whispered.
Dan got up from his chair and put one hand on her shoulder. ‘At least you finally told me. Thank you.’
Nora got up, afraid for Dan now because she could see steely determination in his eyes. ‘He’s a very dangerous man,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘Be careful who you trust.’
She stood watching him as he went back upstairs, the muscles rippling in his bare young back. She was even more afraid then because she knew if Fifi was dead, Dan’s revenge would be terrible.
As Dan was putting a shirt and shoes on, he heard Nora go down the stairs and leave the house. He guessed she’d rushed off because she was afraid he would come back down and press her for more information. Frank was frying bacon on the ground floor, and the smell wafted up, making Dan feel just a little queasy. He opened the bedroom window wide, and sat on the bed for a minute to compose himself.
There was no guarantee Nora was right in thinking that this man Jack Trueman had killed Bolton, or snatched Fifi and Yvette. And without telling the police where he got the name, and with nothing to back it up with, they were likely to dismiss it as poppycock. So how could he take this information to them and make them act on it?
Johnny Milkins’ remark on Saturday night when he took Harry and Clara into the Rifleman came back to him then.
‘I reckon one of the men that played cards with Alfie was a copper. It stands to reason. Alfie never got nicked for nothin’. He found out stuff that could only have come from the nick. And they ain’t really pushing to find your Fifi, are they?’
Harry had dismissed Milkins’ claim as utter rubbish, to him all policemen were above reproach. Dan knew that wasn’t so, he was only too well aware that many of them took bribes from villains to look the other way, or at least give advance warning of raids. But he didn’t believe any policemen, bent or not, would mix socially with Alfie.
Yet if this man Trueman owned nightclubs, it was quite likely he’d have a copper or two in his pocket.
So if there was a bent copper at the nick, and he got to hear what Dan had to say, would he tip Trueman off?
One side of his brain said he was being paranoid, but the other said he couldn’t take any chances. A nervous villain with police on his tail might do anything. He’d certainly get rid of any evidence.
Dan got up from the bed and reached for his jacket. The first thing to do was to find out more about Jack Trueman.
Fifi woke to the sound of rain. She was warmer than usual and was about to close her eyes again when she realized the blanket over her felt thicker. She touched it, and found it was doubled over her, Yvette’s coat on top.
She moved her head to look round, but couldn’t see Yvette, and it was alarm that made her wake properly.
It was dusk. Another twenty minutes or so and it would be really dark, and she realized she must have been asleep for several hours. Yvette had been acting very strangely in the morning, sitting well away