Paget was on the point of going to bed when he received the call. Not many details, but two stood out clearly. A young woman was the victim, and Raddington Arm was where she had been attacked.
He was on his way within minutes, silently berating himself for not having followed up the information he’d been given that afternoon instead of postponing it until morning. There had to be a connection. How many people lived on a narrow boat on Raddington Arm?
He cut across country and arrived at the Invisible Man in twenty minutes flat. Police cars blocked the road, and people were milling about in the car-park. Paget abandoned his car and identified himself to the nearest PC.
“There aren’t any lights on the path, yet, sir,” the man warned him. “You’ll need a torch.” Paget returned to his car and took out the big square-battery job and locked the car again. Other vehicles were arriving, including a couple of SOCO’s white vans.
The PC directed him to the path behind the pub. The distance to the canal was less than a hundred yards, and he was challenged by another uniformed constable as he emerged from the trees. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping to one side, sir,” he said deferentially when he saw Paget’s card, “we’re trying to avoid contamination of the crime scene, and the ground’s a bit churned up hereabouts.”
Paget was impressed. It seemed that one man, at least, had taken the lectures to heart.
“It’s a bit cramped,” the constable went on, “but I’ve asked all concerned to stay on the boat. There’s the two men who dragged the girl out of the canal, and the woman who owns the boat, as well as WPC Jackson. She’s been taking preliminary statements from each of them.”
“You said ‘dragged the girl,’ not ‘the body.’ Are you telling me she’s not dead?”
“She would have been if it hadn’t been for one of the blokes inside,” the PC said, indicating the boat. “He got her breathing again, and the ambulance men reckon she’s got a fifty-fifty chance. But it was a near thing from the look of her. Bastard!” He spat the word.
“And the man responsible?”
“Took off down the tow-path.” The man pointed into the darkness with his torch.
“Very good, Constable. SOCO should be here any minute, so if you’ll stay here and help them get started, I’ll go aboard.”
As the constable had said, it was cramped inside. Two men wrapped in blankets sat on the edge of a bunk, while a woman sat at a small table across from the young policewoman. WPC Jackson greeted Paget smartly, and gave him the names of the three people there. Todd Elman, Justin Banks, and Joanna Freeborn.
“You’ve probably told Constable Jackson what happened,” said Paget, “but I’m going to have to ask you to go over it again. Who was first on the scene, and what brought you here?”
It was Todd Elman who spoke up first. “We were down at the pub,” he said, “waiting for Bunny, but she didn’t come and time
was getting on. We had a gig in town, see, and we needed to be there by ten to set up. We were cutting it fine as it was, so I said to Justin that I was going to see what the hold-up was, and he said he’d come with me.”
“Hold on a second,” Paget told him. “Who is Bunny?”
“The girl we pulled out of the canal,” said Todd. “That’s the only name she has as far as we know, and Joanna gave her that.”
Paget turned to face Joanna Freeborn. Her face was deathly pale and her dark eyes looked haunted. “But you know who she is, don’t you?” he said, “because you spent a night in the cells with her in Broadminster.”
Joanna stared at him. “That wasn’t Bunny,” she said. “That was Vikki. And I think it was Vikki he was after. He must have mistaken Bunny for Vikki in the dark.”
“So where is Vikki now?”
Joanna shook her head. “That’s just it,” she said. “I don’t know. She’s disappeared, and I’m worried sick about her.”
Paget groaned and shook his head in disbelief. Would they never find this girl?
“All right,” he said resignedly, “now that we know who’s who, let’s begin again.” He looked at Todd. “Carry on from where you left off.”
“Right. Well, as I said, we came to see what was holding Bunny up, and we heard these sounds like somebody was thrashing about, and when we got closer, we could see this man trying to drown Bunny. I shouted, and we both went for him, but it’s muddy, see, and I slipped and fell. By the time we got to Bunny, the bastard had gone and all we could see of Bunny was her feet sticking out of the water. I jumped in and tried to get her head above water while Justin grabbed her legs and pulled her out.”
Justin took up the story. “I thought she was dead, but Todd started mouth-to-mouth, and suddenly she choked and spewed up. That’s when this other girl came out. I didn’t know who she was; I’d never seen her before, but she ran back in here and got some blankets
and helped us get Bunny wrapped up. I told her to get down to the pub, tell Joanna what had happened, and ring for an ambulance. That’s the last I saw of her.”
“Vikki came down to the pub,” Joanna explained. “She was in a terrible state. I could hardly make out what she was saying. She looked awful. Once I got her to calm down and she told me what had happened, I asked George to ring for an ambulance and call the police. Then I came back to the boat as fast as I could. Vikki had disappeared, and I assumed she had come back here, but when I got here there was no sign of her.
“The police and the ambulance arrived, and one of the policemen went with Bunny to the hospital. They wouldn’t let me go with her because they said someone would want to talk to all of us. Anyway, Todd and Justin were soaking wet and filthy with mud, so I brought them in here and had them strip down and get cleaned off.”
Paget turned to the two men. “I don’t suppose you got a look at the person who did this?” he said.
They both shook their heads. “Too dark,” Todd said. “All we had was a torch between us and we lost that when I jumped into the canal.” He grimaced. “God, it was cold! But at least we got Bunny out in time, poor kid. I hope she’s going to be all right.”
Paget turned back to Joanna. “Have you any idea where Vikki might have gone?” he asked. He looked round. “Did she take anything with her, do you know?”
“I’m sure she didn’t,” Joanna said, “and I haven’t got a clue where she might be. She came here in the first place because she had nowhere else to go, and all she had with her are the clothes she has on. I’m sure she has no money.”
“In that case, tell me what she was wearing and we’ll get a description out and start scouring the countryside for her. I’m going to leave you my card, and I want you to let me know if Vikki gets in touch with you, because it’s imperative that we talk to her.” He saw the look of doubt on her face. “It’s all right,” he assured her, “she is not in any serious trouble, but we must find her for her own sake
before this man gets to her. What happened here tonight gives you some idea of how desperate he is, so please let me know at once.”
“She won’t be charged with killing that man, Bolen?” Joanna said.
Paget shook his head. “She was set up,” he told her. “But we do need to talk to her.”
Joanna gnawed at her lip, then abruptly stood up. She reached into the upper bunk and pulled out a sheaf of papers. “Then this might help,” she said, handing Paget a single sheet. “Vikki’s a bit of an artist, and this is a self-portrait. That’s how she looks today.”
“There’s not much we can do till morning,” Charlie said. “We found the victim’s guitar, and we’ll check the case for prints in case your man touched it during the struggle. What about this other girl, Rutledge? Is it worthwhile going through the boat to see if she left anything behind that might give us a clue to where she might have gone?”
“From what Ms. Freeborn tells us, I doubt if you’ll find much,” said Paget. “The girl arrived with nothing of her own.”
“I’ll have Grace give it the once-over, anyway,” said Charlie. “If there’s anything to be found, she’ll find it.” He began to walk away, then stopped. “And speaking of Grace, when I asked her how the roads were when she came back from Worcester in that storm last week, she told me you came back with her. She said she might not have made it through without your help in pulling a tree off the road.”
“It’s Grace who deserves the credit,” said Paget tersely, very much aware that Tregalles had pricked up his ears. “She drove most of the way. I was just a passenger.”
“All the same, it was a bit of luck, her being down there when your car broke down,” Charlie observed, casting a sidelong glance at Tregalles. “Sort of like fate, you might say.”
“Fate,” Tregalles agreed solemnly.
“What did happen to the car?” asked Charlie. “Grace said there
was oil all over the ground, and you thought it might be a broken gasket.”
“Cracked engine block,” said Paget tightly. “Now, are we going to stand round here all night, or can we get on? We still have a lot to do, so what are you waiting for, Tregalles?”
“Nothing, sir,” said Tregalles. “I’m on my way.”
Later, as he was on his way home, Tregalles thought about what he had heard. So Paget had come back from Worcester in Grace’s car. They’d come back through the storm on Saturday, and yet he had seen Paget getting out of Grace’s car on Sunday morning. And since Paget lived in Ashton Prior, which was closer to Worcester, it would make more sense for them to have stopped there rather than come on to Broadminster.
The storm hadn’t abated until well into Saturday evening, so it wouldn’t have made much sense for Grace to drive into Broadminster on her own in the dark with trees all over the road.
Which meant she must have stayed out there in Paget’s house all night!
“The crafty old bugger!” Tregalles said beneath his breath. So he’d finally noticed Grace, though God knew it had taken him long enough. She’d certainly tried hard enough to get Paget to notice her in the past, but even Tregalles couldn’t see her going so far as to crack his engine. Perhaps it had been fate, as Charlie said, even if he had said it with his tongue firmly in his cheek. On the other hand, maybe it was Paget who had engineered the whole thing. Now, there was an interesting thought.
“Got a lift back with someone,” he’d said. Never mentioned that it just happened to be Grace Lovett. Or that she’d stayed the night. Tregalles rubbed his hands. He’d have that fiver off Ormside yet.
It was one o’clock by the time Paget reached the hospital and spoke to the constable who had accompanied the girl in the ambulance.
“She’s just been taken up to ICU,” he told the chief inspector.
“Dr. Marshall is the one you want. He’s the one who worked on her when she first came in.”
Dr. Marshall was a slight, sandy-haired man of about thirty. “All I can tell you at the moment is that the young woman is relatively stable, but in cases such as these where someone has been immersed in stagnant water and was not breathing when taken out, the next twenty-four hours are critical. A massive influx of water like that can affect the heart, lungs, kidneys, blood—you name it. All sorts of complications can arise, which is why she will be monitored closely. People have been known to die many hours after they were thought to be stable, so we don’t take chances.”
“Was she injured in any other way?” Paget asked.
Marshall nodded. “Severe bruising around the throat, and she had received a blow to the side of the head. That doesn’t seem to have caused any serious damage, but only time will tell. She was conscious throughout most of the examination.”
“Did she say anything? Anything that might help us find who did this to her?”
“No. She was still somewhat disoriented, and it was hard for her to talk at all after being half strangled, as she was, so I’m afraid I can’t help you there. However, perhaps you can help me. All I have on my record is the name ‘Bunny.’ She gave me that herself, but I couldn’t get a surname from her. Do you know her full name?”
“No. I’m afraid I don’t know any more than you do.”
Marshall sighed. “In that case we’ll have to give her one or the computer won’t accept it,” he said. “Let’s see, now, is it going to be Smith, Jones, or Brown? Ah, yes,” he said, answering his own question, “it has to be Brown, doesn’t it? Bunny Brown—Brown Bunny. Do you think she’ll like that?”