A Prayer for the Dying - Jack Higgins [27]
'Billy's taking him up to Jenny Fox's place,' Meehan said. 'I want you to go over to the car wash and get hold of Varley. I want him outside Jenny's place within half an hour. If Fallon leaves, he follows and phones in whenever he can.'
'I don't follow, Mr Meehan.' Donner was obviously mystified.
'Just till we sort things out, Frank,' Meehan told him. 'Then we drop both of them. Him and the priest.'
Donner grinned as a great light dawned. 'That's more like it.'
'I thought you'd approve,' Meehan smiled, opened the door and went inside.
* * *
Jenny Fox was a small, rather hippy girl of nineteen with good breasts, high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes. Her straight black hair hung shoulder-length in a dark curtain and the only flaw in the general picture was the fact that she had too much make-up on.
When she came downstairs she was wearing a simple, white blouse, black pleated mini skirt and high-heeled shoes and she walked with a sort of general and total movement of the whole body that most men found more than a little disturbing.
Billy Meehan waited for her at the bottom of the stairs and when she was close enough, he slipped a hand up her skirt. She stiffened slightly and he shook his head, a sly, nasty smile on his face.
'Tights again, Jenny. I told you I wanted you to wear stockings.'
'I'm sorry, Billy.' There was fear in her eyes. 'I didn't know you'd be coming today.'
'You'd better watch it, hadn't you, or you'll be getting one of my specials.' She shivered slightly and he withdrew his hand. 'What about Fallon? Did he say anything?'
'Asked me if I had a razor he could borrow. Who is he?'
'None of your business. He shouldn't go out, but if he does, give Jack a ring straight away. And try to find out where he's going.'
'All right, Billy.' She opened the front door for him.
He moved in close behind her, his arms about her waist. She could feel his hardness pressed against her buttocks and the hatred, the loathing rose like bile in her throat, threatening to choke her. He said softly, 'Another thing. Get him into bed. I want to see what makes him tick.'
'And what if he won't play? she said.
'Stocking tops and suspenders. That's what blokes of his age go for. You'll manage.' He slapped her bottom and went out. She closed the door, leaning against it for a moment, struggling for breath. Strange how he always left her with that feeling of suffocation.
She went upstairs, moved along the corridor and knocked softly on Fallon's door. When she went in, he was standing in front of the washbasin in the corner by the window, drying his hands.
'I'll see if I can find you that razor now,' she said.
He hung the towel neatly over the rail and shook his head. 'It'll do later. I'm going out for a while.'
She was gripped by a sudden feeling of panic. 'Is that wise?' she said. 'I mean, where are you going?'
Fallon smiled as he pulled on his trench-coat. He ran a finger down her nose in a strangely intimate gesture that brought a lump to her throat.
'Girl dear, do what you have to, which I presume means ringing Jack Meehan to say I'm taking a walk, but I'm damned if I'll say where to.'
'Will you be in for supper?'
'I wouldn't miss it for all the tea in China.' He smiled and was gone.
It was an old-fashioned phrase. One her grandmother had used frequently. She hadn't heard it in years. Strange how it made her want to cry.
When Miller went into the Forensic Department at police headquarters, he found Fitzgerald in the side laboratory with Johnson, the ballistics specialist. Fitzgerald looked excited and Johnson seemed reasonably complacent.
Miller said, 'I hear you've got something for me.'
Johnson was a slow, cautious Scot. 'That just could be, Superintendent.' He picked up a reasonably misshapen piece of lead with a pair of tweezers. 'This is what did all the damage. They found it in the gravel about three yards from the body.'
'Half an hour after you left, sir,' Fitzgerald put in.
'Any hope of making a weapon identification?' Miller demanded.
'Oh, I've pretty well decided that now.'