The Figure in the Dusk by John Creasey Page A

before?”
    â€œNo, no.”
    It wasn’t worth showing the pictures of the women.
    â€œI am good man, yes?” asked Salvatore hopefully.
    â€œVery good,” said Roger. “If that man comes again, give him coffee and food, and tell your wife to telephone Scotland Yard. Or to go and get a policeman. Do you understand?”
    â€œI go myself, personal,” said Salvatore proudly.
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    They walked along the dark street, without speaking. All they had learned was that the murderer had changed one of the notes. There was no certainty that he had been at the café; he could have changed it through a third party. The likeness to Latimer was a long way from conclusive; the line had fizzled out, although the district would be combed for the man.
    Peel said: “I hope nothing’s happened tonight.”
    â€œSo you have that feeling, too.”
    â€œCouldn’t help it,” said Peel. “At dusk I was as jumpy as a cat. At least you’d warned all the relatives—Sloan told me about that. Given us a new slant, hasn’t it?”
    â€œRejecting the long arm of coincidence,” said Roger, and stopped by his car. “Yes. What have you made of that list of Latimer’s known friends?”
    â€œIt’s fizzled out,” said Peel. “Several of them were the girls whose photographs were in that album. There were only three men, and they don’t amount to anything. I’ve seen several of them; Sloan’s seen the rest, except for two. All of them can account for their movements, all swear they haven’t seen Latimer for a couple of days. The two have changed their addresses, and when I last heard we hadn’t found the new ones. Sloan may have them by now. Oh—Georgina Sharp made up a list; none of the names appear on both.”
    Roger switched on the engine.
    â€œAre you going to tackle the relatives?” Peel asked.
    â€œMy job for tomorrow,” said Roger. He turned on the police radio set. “Chief Inspector West calling, West calling and standing by.”
    He lit a cigarette as the response came through in a clear, unhurried voice.
    â€œStand by, please; there is a message for you. Stand by, please.”
    Peel said: “Hal-lo!”
    The wait seemed a long one. Was it news of a third attack? Had the killer sprung out of the dusk to strike again?
    â€œCalling Chief Inspector West; can you hear me?”
    â€œI can hear.”
    â€œRalph Latimer believed to be at 8 Milbury Road, Fulham, repeat, Ralph Latimer believed to be at 8 Milbury Road, Fulham.”
    â€œMessage received!” cried Roger.
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Chapter Eleven
8 Milbury Road
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    Milbury Road was in the residential part of Fulham near Hurlingham. The street was well-lighted, there were patches of garden surrounded by low walls in front of every house. Two cars were drawn up at one corner, two others in a side street. Sloan was standing round the corner as Roger pulled up, and he moved forward.
    â€œYou haven’t lost much time,” he said. “I’ve only just arrived myself.”
    â€œWhat’s the story?”
    â€œWe found the address of one of the two girls who’d moved—Number 8. She has rooms here. We alerted the district, and received another report from a man on the beat—that someone roughly answering Latimer’s description was known to have come here this evening, just after dusk. The constable kept an eye on the place, and no one’s come out.”
    â€œWhat’s the girl’s name?”
    â€œRose Morton—does a bit of dancing, a bit of singing, gets an occasional leg-show job and some night-club work, but she hasn’t been working much lately. The rumour is that she has a man who now looks after her, and it could be Latimer. She’s known Latimer for several years.”
    â€œLet’s go,” said Roger.
    He climbed out of the car, and Peel got out the other side.
    Sloan led the