Hell Is Too Crowded - Jack Higgins [1]
The fog pressed in on them, pushed by a finger of wind, and they crossed the road and walked along the echoing pavement. Rain dripped steadily from the branches of the trees and a car swept past, invisible in the fog, as they turned into a side street.
He noticed the name high on the wall of the corner house on an old blue-and-white enamel plate--Edgbaston Gardens--and in front of them, the fog seemed to be tinged with a weird orange glow. A nightwatchman's hut loomed out of the darkness and at the side of it, a coke fire flared in an iron brazier.
Brady caught a brief glimpse of a dim figure sitting in the hut, face faintly illuminated by the fire. "Be careful!" the woman warned. "There's a guard rail somewhere about here. They're doing something to the gas main."
He followed close behind her as she skirted iron railings and then mounted some steps to a door and fumbled for a key in her handbag. The house was the end one in the terrace and at the side of it stretched a graveyard, a church tower shadowy in the night.
It all seemed transitory and unsubstantial as if it might fly away into the fog at any moment and Brady followed her hurriedly into the hall and waited for her to switch on the light.
An old Victorian wardrobe stood against the wall at the bottom of the stairs and in its mirror, he saw a door open behind him and caught a brief glimpse of a face, old and wrinkled, long jet ear-rings hanging on either side. As he started to turn, the door closed quietly.
"Who's your neighbour?" he said.
She frowned. "Neighbour? The downstairs flat is empty so you don't need to worry about noise. I'm on the first floor."
Brady followed her upstairs, clinging to the banisters and feeling curiously light-headed. No one could expect to shrug off a two-day jag just like that, but there was a strange dream-like quality to everything and his limbs seemed to move in slow motion.
The door to her flat was at the head of the stairs and she unlocked it and led the way in. It was surprisingly well furnished. Thick pile carpet covered the floor and concealed lights gently illuminated rose-tinted walls.
He stood in the centre of the room and waited. She took off her coat and scarf and ran her hands over close-cropped dark hair as she moved forward. He swayed slightly and she placed her hands on his shoulders, bracing herself to support him.
"What's wrong?" she demanded anxiously. "Aren't you well?"
"Nothing that a jug of coffee and a good night's sleep won't cure."
She was warm and desirable and very close. Suddenly, all the anger and frustration of the past two days seemed to drop from his shoulders like an old cloak. There was, when all was said and done, only one real cure for his condition. He pulled her close and kissed her gently on the lips.
For a moment she responded, and then she pushed him firmly away, down into a large padded chair.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be silly." She went to a cocktail cabinet which stood against the far wall, mixed a drink, and brought it back to him. "A hair of the dog. Drink up! It'll do you good. I'm going to make coffee. Afterwards, I'll get some blankets. You can have the divan."
Before he could protest, she had crossed the room to the kitchen and he sighed and leaned back, allowing each tired muscle to relax.
Whatever she'd put in the drink, it was good--very good. He took it down in two easy swallows and reached for a cigarette. The pack was empty, but there was a silver box on a coffee-table on the other side of the room.
He got to his feet and suddenly, the room seemed to stretch into infinity and the coffee-table was at the wrong end of a telescope. He took one hesitant step forward and then the glass slipped from his nerveless fingers.
He was on his back and the woman was bending over him. She looked completely calm and unperturbed and behind her, the door opened and then closed again.
The face of the man who appeared at her shoulder, was wedge-shaped with deep-set, staring eyes, a face from a waking nightmare that Brady had last seen looming out of the fog above him on the