Body of a Girl by Michael Gilbert

police officers. It’s enough to hold him. When he comes up tomorrow, we can oppose bail on the grounds that there are more serious charges pending. They’ll give us that, won’t they?”
    â€œTreat Murray Talbot right,” said Clark, “and he will give you all the help you want. Get that confession signed and we’ll charge him straight away.”
    â€œI’m not all that happy about the confession. Not as it stands right now.”
    â€œWhat does he say?”
    â€œHe’s told us at least six different stories. The one I’ve got down is the last one he told us. That Sweetie came home pretty high herself one evening. They had a real set-to, she fell and hit her head. He found she was dead, and pushed her into the river. When I said, then how did she end up three foot down in a grave on Westhaugh Island, he said he supposed he must have buried her.”
    â€œDo you believe a word of that?”
    â€œFrankly,” said Mercer, “no. Whatever happened to her, it wasn’t that. It was something a lot more cold-blooded. And anyway, she wasn’t killed by a blow on the head. She was strangled. But he was involved in her death. I’m sure of it. She’s on his conscience. She’s at the back of his mind. She’s walking in his sleep.”
    â€œYou’ll be walking in your sleep if you don’t get to bed soon,” said Clark.
    Mercer started back to his lodgings in Cray Avenue, but halfway there, changed his mind and turned down to the river. He had an unpleasant taste in his mouth and he thought that a pint of beer might wash it out.
    Mercer took his beer into the back room at The Angler’s Rest and found Jack Bull and Rainey in front of the fire, drinking whisky.
    He said, “Where’s the supporting cast?”
    â€œJohnno’s just pushed off,” said Bull. “Vikki wouldn’t come out tonight. She’s sulking.”
    â€œThat young madam wants slapping down,” said Rainey.
    â€œI wouldn’t advise you to try it,” said Bull. “She packs a fast right hook, with a lot of weight behind it.”
    â€œSpeaking from experience?” said Mercer.
    â€œAm I not.” Bull rubbed the point of his jaw with a big finger.
    â€œYou ought never to have taken her on,” said Rainey. Whisky seemed to have loosened his tongue. “She’s playing hell with my figures.”
    â€œAs long as her own figure’s right, I don’t give a damn what she does.”
    â€œDon’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    â€œMy dear old Percival,” said Bull with sudden ferocious good humour, “you must know that I’m far too old and far too evil to be warned. I’m beyond redemption. And you’re tight. Go home to bed.”
    There was no doubting the mood of the last sentence. It was in the imperative affirmative. Rainey finished his drink and shambled to his feet.
    â€œMaybe you’re right,” he said. He made for a point to the right of the door, tacked at the last moment, and made contact with the door handle.
    â€œAnd whilst you’re passing the bar, see if you can remember to order a couple of whiskies. Doubles.”
    â€œIs his name really Percival?”
    â€œGospel truth. Perce the Purse, the boys call him. He’s a highly qualified accountant and a bloody marvellous mathematician. When he’s sober.”
    â€œIs he often?”
    Bull laughed, and said, “He’s mostly sober from ten till six. If he wasn’t, he’d be out on his ear.”
    â€œIt’s your business, but I should have thought there might be danger in having a man like that in charge of the cash.”
    â€œYes and no. He’d swindle me if he dared. But he knows I know that, and I’m watching for it, so he doesn’t do it. Also he knows, if I caught him fiddling, I wouldn’t only sack him, I’d break his bloody neck.”
    The drinks arrived. Bull