Here Comes the Toff by John Creasey Page B

McNab decided she was worth interrogating. The quicker the better.
    Certainly, Sidey had done well.
    He had lived in a flat at Lambeth, of a type that probably cost him ten pounds a week, high for that side of the river. Minnie, who had been reading a passionate love story, was annoyed at the interruption, and even more by the sight of McNab. She made this clear before McNab had entered the living-room, for which he made, leaving her standing by the open front door.
    McNab was a large, chunky man, not particularly tall, who created the impression that he was an outsize in all things – except, as the Toff would say when incensed, brain power. He had a corporation of considerable proportions, and yet it did not seem overlarge. His habit of walking slowly and planting each foot down deliberately was typical of him. In all things he was deliberate, and if he never jumped to conclusions, it rarely happened that his conclusions were reached on insufficient evidence.
    It occurred to him that Minnie did not want to see him, and yet she did not seem too frightened. In short, she suspected that her husband had been unlawfully busy, but had little or no knowledge of how. That was the inference, although McNab did not take it for granted.
    He sat, uninvited, on the arm of the chair, and turned his sandy face towards her. His hair, and eyebrows, were also sandy, beetling over light blue eyes which could be disconcerting. He had never been known to hurry in the normal course of business.
    Minnie snarled: “Get out’ve my house, you ruddy nark, an’ …”
    â€œThat’s quite enough of that,” said McNab heavily. “Come in and close the door, I want to talk to you.”
    â€œWhat—alone in my house with you? Whatjer take me for! I’ll complain about it, I will. I’ll tell them you had a go at me.”
    â€œThat’s all right,” said McNab comfortably. “I’m not worried, my girl, and I’m not likely to be. Be sensible, now.”
    Minnie closed the door.
    She had been in front of an electric fire, and her face was shiny and flushed with the heat. She had not painted nor powdered that evening, and her flaming red hair was tousled where her fingers had played with it. Her green eyes were glittering, and her lips, very thin and pale, were drawn tightly together. A slight woman, she seemed to have little or no figure as she planted herself in front of McNab, and she was not a sight to bewitch any man’s eyes. Yet when she was dressed and ready for social occasions, Minnie Sidey was pretty, and she had an attraction for men which had frequently made her husband jealous – generally without cause.
    â€œWell, what is it, you b—?”
    â€œTry and ease off that language,” said McNab. He spoke slowly, as if picking his words with great care. In actual fact the care was expended on the accent which was apt, on hasty occasions, to become very broad Scots.
    â€œI’ll do what I want in my own house!” retorted Minnie, and it was obvious that she was reassuring herself because she was on her own ground. “What lies are you comin’ to tell me?”
    McNab eyed her evenly.
    â€œI’m not telling you lies, Mrs. Sidey. I’ve got some news for you that you won’t like.”
    She stared, uncomprehending.
    It was hardly likely that she would understand, and yet McNab had introduced the subject with far less callousness than might have been expected. There was another thing. Normally a policeman only visited a woman when he had company, for accusations of assault would otherwise be common and difficult to disprove. He had come alone, a strange thing for that most cautious of officers. She was suspicious of a trick, and her temper grew even more uncertain.
    â€œLissen, if you don’t clear out …”
    â€œNow stop it,” ordered McNab, and his own temper stirred. “It’s doin’ ye no good, and it’s