LITMIR.BIZ

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tone was tentative, questioning humbly.

      ‘No, I think it’s meant to smell like that.’

      ‘Ah.’ He certainly hoped so, but it seemed doubtful. Was carbon an ingredient in the best meals? But they could always go round to Max’s Delicatessen and eat there. He had what he called his Bar, just a few chairs and tables, usually full of performers from St Luke’s Theatre grabbing something to eat. The comfort level was low but the food was excellent.

      Coffin had eaten there a lot as a bachelor, as had Stella Pinero, but just lately she had decided it was her duty to be the Perfect Wife. A part for which she was not naturally gifted.

      He knew he would have to live with the idea until she got tired of it, but he had preferred the former, unreconstructed Stella.

      ‘That is, I think so,’ she said. She too could smell something dark and burnt. ‘I wonder if I ought to go and look.’

      ‘Forget it,’ said Letty. ‘Past praying for, I expect.’

      ‘Someone will murder you one day, Letty.’

      ‘One or two have tried,’ admitted Letty. ‘But I was too strong for them.’

      ‘Don’t joke,’ said Stella. Her tone was sharp. She went to the window. Nothing there. Well, even lurkers, Stage Door Johnnies, go home.

      Coffin looked at his wife. ‘What is it? You’re worried.’ He drew her away from the window. ‘Come on, sit down and tell me.’

      Nervously, she said: ‘There’s this man … hanging around. Sometimes he’s outside the theatre. I have seen him near the old church hall where we rehearse. This last week he’s even got as far as the TV studio.’ Stella was filming a new series in which she had a plum part as a female detective. ‘He was further away there because of the security patrol GTV have there, but I know it was him.’

      ‘Is it always the same man? Have you seen his face?’ I’ll kill anyone who touches Stella.

      ‘Only a glimpse, he wears dark spectacles and hat. A wig too, I think, not a good one, something cheap.’ As an actress, Stella knew a wig when she saw one. ‘And yes, I’m sure it’s the same chap, same clothes, same posture.’

      Coffin frowned. ‘Go on talking. Give me all the detail you can. How long has it been going on?’ He wanted to observe Stella. Many successful actresses (and some unsuccessful ones too) had people who stalked them: men and women who were ardent fans and wanted to get to know them. Or to watch them come and go from the theatre. Stella had had her share of those, and she knew how to deal with them. They did not make her nervous.

      Now she was nervous. I’ll kill him.

      Dutifully, Stella went on, providing what meagre details she could. She had first observed the man almost a year ago, but his appearances had been sporadic at first and she had not taken them seriously. Now he was very regular. Of course, he couldn’t get into the St Luke’s complex of buildings easily, but he sited himself under the clump of trees across the road from where he could see her windows. Kitchen and bedroom. Bathroom too for that matter, but she had clouded glass on that so it wouldn’t do him much good.

      ‘He can see your windows too. But it’s not you he’s looking for. I’m surprised you haven’t seen him yourself.’

      ‘Keeps out of my way, I expect.’ But from now on, he would be looking. ‘I wish you had told me before.’

      Stella was silent. ‘I thought I was being foolish to worry. It might have been kind of flattering …’ Her voice died away. ‘But it’s not. Doesn’t feel right.’

      ‘Why does he frighten you?’

      Stella said slowly: ‘I feel his concentration. It’s obsessive. Not admiration … something else. Hungry.’

      His sister Letty said: ‘I think he’s watching me too.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t believe that’s likely.’

      ‘Well, thanks, brother. You do know how to make a girl feel attractive.’

      ‘What I meant was, men like that are usually, invariably, obsessed with one person at a time.’

      ‘I’ve seen him there, too. I wish I’d said something sooner. He’s just as Stella said: dark glasses, soft hat pulled over the face.’

      ‘You’re welcome to him,’ said Stella. ‘He’s all yours and good luck to you.’

      ‘There’s another thing: I think he uses binoculars.’

      ‘If you saw that you certainly should have told me, Letty.’ Coffin was angry.

      Letty shrugged. ‘London’s full of weirdos. New York is full of weirdos, so is Paris. The world is full of weirdos.’

      I have a weirdo all my own. Charley, Stella thought without pleasure. Who would like to take on my Charley? Letty can have him.

      Coffin stood up and went to the telephone. ‘Stella, I should look at that casserole. There’s burning and there’s burning and there’s incineration.’

      ‘What are you going to do?’

      ‘I can order a patrol car to call regularly, and the constable on the beat to look in as well. That ought to frighten the man away. If he hangs around, then we’ll take him in.’

      Stella nodded. ‘It was a wig, you know … and the face, there was something not quite right there, I swear it.’

      ‘You serve the meal.’ If it could be served, and not put out with water. ‘And after I have made this call, then I will walk around and see if he’s there now.’

      Stella looked relieved. ‘So silly to mind, makes me feel a fool, but he has worried me.’

      ‘Me too,’ said Letty, anxious not to be left out.

      Coffin called the dog, ‘Come on, Bob,’ attached a lead to his collar and went out. Bob was, as ever, eager and dragged ahead, breathing heavily in expectation.

      It was dusky outside with a light rain falling, the street lights were on, but the pavements were empty. The theatre was dark tonight, with no performance, but that didn’t mean it was empty. A read through, a rehearsal, or just a meeting of the Friends of St Luke’s Theatre might be going on. There was never a really dead night. Letty and Stella encouraged activity.

      He walked slowly, his thoughts anxious. He knew what the women did not: that there was a killer in the district.

      He looked up and saw Stella profiled against the kitchen window. He could see her turn her head as if speaking to someone, she appeared to be opening the window and in the circumstances of the chicken casserole, he could see why; then she moved away out of his vision. He must remind her to keep the blind down. He felt very protective of her and yet awkward at the same time.

      He was surprised how powerfully and vigorously that sight of Stella had affected him. Strong feelings came and went with him at the moment. He was floundering with Stella just now. It was odd, this marriage thing.

      Although they each kept their separate apartments, and although they had, let’s face it, been lovers on and off for years, marriage had subtly and definitely altered their relationship. He was less sure of himself with Stella than ever. She was trying to be everything she could to him, he could see that, but he didn’t want her to try, he wanted her to be, just to be. Spontaneous. Happy.

      He walked on. No dark-spectacled figure to be seen under the trees or on the corner or in a doorway tonight. He could go back and tell the two women that it was all clear. Although that did not mean the man had not been there or might be there again.

      No need to alarm Stella and Letty by telling them that a girl called Marianna Manners had been strangled and then stifled. But he had to think about it.

      It was possible that she might have been killed by Job Titus whom they both knew.

      Or

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