Page 82 of Return Ticket

“She does.” James wasn’t going to elaborate. “He’s a friend of hers.”

“Looks like a rough sleeper.”

Teddy Roe used to be a rough sleeper, but James studied him carefully now. His clothes were a little worn, for sure, but he was clean, and he looked like he got enough to eat. Since he’d moved into Ruby Everett’s shed, his life had taken a massive turn for the better.

Still, to a person like Johnson, he probably looked destitute.

“He fought in the first War,” James said. “And he was night crew in the second.”

“Ah.” Johnson’s voice changed, and he cleared his throat. “Known a few like him. Hard to get some of the bad times out of your head.”

Teddy Roe groaned and tried to turn on his side, then screamed in agony as whatever was broken made itself known again.

“Shh, shh, Teddy. Help’s coming.” James grabbed his hand like Gabriella had, and Teddy Roe’s eyes flickered open again.

“I was following,” he whispered.

“Following?” James wondered if he’d gone into a fever state.

“Holland Park,” Teddy Roe’s voice cracked. “Remember? I told you about Holland Park.”

James went still, alarm bells ringing in his head. “The body,” he said. “The body in a bombed out garden near Holland Park.” Just what he’d been thinking about before they heard Teddy Roe scream.

“Yes.” Teddy Roe reached up with his free hand and gripped James’s shoulder. “The body in the shed. Thought I’d have a look when the fog came in, thought I’d have a wander over and check it out, and there he was . . . acting all nervous and shifty.”

“Who, Teddy? Who was doing that?” James asked.

“Dunno.” Teddy Roe’s hands went slack, and he dropped back to the road. “Maybe not him, but maybe it was.”

James looked up. Johnson was staring at them both, his face a picture of confusion.

“Is Harborne Close near here?” he asked Johnson.

Johnson pointed to the right. “There,” he said, and James lifted his torch, and sure enough, there was the street sign for Harborne Close.

“Where did the man go, Teddy?” James crouched back down beside him.

But Teddy was out again, moaning softly.

“Stay with him,” James said to Johnson, rising to his feet. “I just need to check something.”

He didn’t give Johnson a chance to reply, he jogged across the road, and then slowed, keeping his footsteps as quiet as he could as he followed the street sign.

Harborne Close was quiet, and there weren’t very many lights on here.

James counted the houses, came to a stop at an old stone mansion. It had been missed by the bomb, Teddy had said. Only the back garden had been hit.

It stood utterly dark, and from what he could make out of the front garden from the street lights, it was neglected and overgrown.

Teddy Roe hadn’t said where the man he’d been following had gone, and to be fair, he may have followed a completely innocent stranger who was just trying to get home, and who had not liked Teddy Roe trailing after him.

James checked his watch with his torch. It was only eight thirty. Even in the current smog conditions, surely the killer would wait until the early hours of the morning to move a body?

But if, as he suspected, their killer was going to strike again, this would not be the worst place to wait and try to catch him.

The only problem with that was his victim would most likely already be dead, and James wanted to catch him before he killed again.

Still, given he had no idea where the man was and where he would strike, at least narrowing down where he might leave the body was far better than nothing.

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