girl. Wears nice clothes, makes a lot of them herself, has a Veronica Lake hairstyle.'
'Who doesn't?' said Cornelius.
It was true, there were plenty of Veronica Lake lookalikes walking around in 1943. 'She's been in the Nag's Head a couple of times,' I added.
'I suppose I might have seen her, then,' said Cornelius. 'Why?'
'She was raped and beaten last night in Brimley Park.'
Now, for the first time, Cornelius really looked me in the eye. 'And you think I did it?' he asked.
I shook my head. 'I'm only asking if you saw anything. It was around the time you left. And,' I dropped the tiger softly on the table, 'I found this near the scene.'
Cornelius looked at the charm, then turned up his sleeve and saw the missing spot on his bracelet. Clawson and the colonel both stared at him gravely, as if they knew they'd got him now and it was just a matter of time. I wasn't so sure. I thought I knew Cornelius, and the man I knew would no sooner rape and beat Evelyn Fowler than he would sully the memory of his own mother.
Finally, he shrugged. 'Well,' he said, 'I did tell you I walked through the park. It must have dropped off.'
'But you saw and heard nothing?'
'That's right.'
'Bit of a coincidence, though, isn't it? The timing and all.'
'Coincidences happen.'
'Where did you get that scratch on your cheek?' I asked him.
He put his hand up to it. 'Don't know,' he said. 'Maybe cut myself shaving.'
'You didn't have it last night when you left my house.'
He shrugged again. 'Must have happened later, then.'
'When you were attacking Evelyn Fowler?'
He looked at me with disappointment in his eyes and shook his head. 'You don't believe that.'
He was right; I didn't. 'Well, what did happen?' I asked.
'I think that's about enough for now,' said Lieutenant Clawson, getting to his feet and pacing the tiny room. 'We'll take it from here.'
That was what I had been afraid of. At least with me Cornelius would get a fair deal, but I wasn't sure how well his countrymen would treat him. I was the one who had brought the trouble, the one who couldn't overlook something like the little tiger charm found at the crime scene, even though I never suspected Cornelius of rape. But these men . . . how well would he fare with them?
'This girl who was attacked,' Clawson went on, 'is she still alive?'
'Evelyn Fowler? Yes,' I said. 'She's unconscious in hospital, but she's expected to pull through.'
'Then maybe she'll be able to identify her attacker.'
I looked at Cornelius and saw the despair in his face.
I thought I knew why. 'Yes,' I said. 'Perhaps she will.'
Within two days, Evelyn Fowler was sitting up and talking in her hospital bed. Before the Americans arrived, I managed to persuade Dr Harris, an old friend, to give me a few minutes alone with her.
Not surprisingly, she looked dreadful. The Veronica Lake hair lay limp and greasy around her heart-shaped face. She was still partially bandaged, mostly around the nose, but the dark bruises stood out in stark contrast to skin as pale as the linen on which she lay. Her eyes had lost that light, cynical, playful look and were filled instead with a new darkness. When she tried to smile at me, I could see that two of her lower front teeth were missing. It must have been a terrible beating.
'Hello, Inspector Palmer,' she said, her voice oddly lisping and whistling, no doubt because of the missing teeth. 'I'm sorry, it's a right mess you see me in.'
I patted her hand. 'That's all right, Evelyn. How are you?'
'Not so bad, I suppose, apart from my face, that is. And a bit of soreness . . . you know.'
I did know.
'He must have been disturbed or something,' she went on. 'I suppose I was lucky he didn't kill me.' She tried another smile and some of her natural sweetness and playfulness came through.
'Did you see your attacker at all?' I asked, a lump in my throat.
'Oh, yes,' she said. 'I mean, you can't help it, can you, when a great hulking brute's on top of you thumping you in the face? I
'Who doesn't?' said Cornelius.
It was true, there were plenty of Veronica Lake lookalikes walking around in 1943. 'She's been in the Nag's Head a couple of times,' I added.
'I suppose I might have seen her, then,' said Cornelius. 'Why?'
'She was raped and beaten last night in Brimley Park.'
Now, for the first time, Cornelius really looked me in the eye. 'And you think I did it?' he asked.
I shook my head. 'I'm only asking if you saw anything. It was around the time you left. And,' I dropped the tiger softly on the table, 'I found this near the scene.'
Cornelius looked at the charm, then turned up his sleeve and saw the missing spot on his bracelet. Clawson and the colonel both stared at him gravely, as if they knew they'd got him now and it was just a matter of time. I wasn't so sure. I thought I knew Cornelius, and the man I knew would no sooner rape and beat Evelyn Fowler than he would sully the memory of his own mother.
Finally, he shrugged. 'Well,' he said, 'I did tell you I walked through the park. It must have dropped off.'
'But you saw and heard nothing?'
'That's right.'
'Bit of a coincidence, though, isn't it? The timing and all.'
'Coincidences happen.'
'Where did you get that scratch on your cheek?' I asked him.
He put his hand up to it. 'Don't know,' he said. 'Maybe cut myself shaving.'
'You didn't have it last night when you left my house.'
He shrugged again. 'Must have happened later, then.'
'When you were attacking Evelyn Fowler?'
He looked at me with disappointment in his eyes and shook his head. 'You don't believe that.'
He was right; I didn't. 'Well, what did happen?' I asked.
'I think that's about enough for now,' said Lieutenant Clawson, getting to his feet and pacing the tiny room. 'We'll take it from here.'
That was what I had been afraid of. At least with me Cornelius would get a fair deal, but I wasn't sure how well his countrymen would treat him. I was the one who had brought the trouble, the one who couldn't overlook something like the little tiger charm found at the crime scene, even though I never suspected Cornelius of rape. But these men . . . how well would he fare with them?
'This girl who was attacked,' Clawson went on, 'is she still alive?'
'Evelyn Fowler? Yes,' I said. 'She's unconscious in hospital, but she's expected to pull through.'
'Then maybe she'll be able to identify her attacker.'
I looked at Cornelius and saw the despair in his face.
I thought I knew why. 'Yes,' I said. 'Perhaps she will.'
Within two days, Evelyn Fowler was sitting up and talking in her hospital bed. Before the Americans arrived, I managed to persuade Dr Harris, an old friend, to give me a few minutes alone with her.
Not surprisingly, she looked dreadful. The Veronica Lake hair lay limp and greasy around her heart-shaped face. She was still partially bandaged, mostly around the nose, but the dark bruises stood out in stark contrast to skin as pale as the linen on which she lay. Her eyes had lost that light, cynical, playful look and were filled instead with a new darkness. When she tried to smile at me, I could see that two of her lower front teeth were missing. It must have been a terrible beating.
'Hello, Inspector Palmer,' she said, her voice oddly lisping and whistling, no doubt because of the missing teeth. 'I'm sorry, it's a right mess you see me in.'
I patted her hand. 'That's all right, Evelyn. How are you?'
'Not so bad, I suppose, apart from my face, that is. And a bit of soreness . . . you know.'
I did know.
'He must have been disturbed or something,' she went on. 'I suppose I was lucky he didn't kill me.' She tried another smile and some of her natural sweetness and playfulness came through.
'Did you see your attacker at all?' I asked, a lump in my throat.
'Oh, yes,' she said. 'I mean, you can't help it, can you, when a great hulking brute's on top of you thumping you in the face? I
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