Read The Killing of Katie Steelstock for Free Online Page A

and drank directly out of it.
    Gradually the tremors ceased. Sleep came down like a grey blanket.
     
    The dancers were thinning out now. The bandleader, looking quickly at his watch, saw that it was five past twelve. With luck, and a bit of stage management, he might bring the thing to an end soon. Then he and the boys could get to bed, which would be a blessing as they had an engagement for the following night, which was a Saturday; and Saturday engagements were always heavy ones. Like his fellow musicians, he worked by day and was beginning to feel the effects of trying to squeeze two jobs into twenty-four hours.
    Tony Windle was dancing with a plain girl, a serious performer, whose name he had forgotten. His mind was not on her. He was wondering why Katie had been in such a hurry to get away. And he was wondering where Sally Nurse was. When Katie was not available, he found Sally an agreeable substitute. A self-created substitute. He had often laughed at her for her artless impersonation of Katie. But Sally was a very sweet girl. And where the hell had she got to? He was thinking so hard about this that he missed some comment his partner had made.
    He said, “Sorry, I didn’t get that.”
    “I said that this band had no real sense of rhythm.”
    “Perhaps they’re getting tired.”
    Noel Vigors said the same thing to Georgie. “You look quite done up.”
    “Actually,” said Georgie, “I’m feeling a bit sick.”
    “Sick?”
    “Don’t panic. I’m not going to be sick. I’m just feeling sick. Let’s get up to that corner and sit down.”
    Noel steered her to the chair which had recently been occupied by Mr. Beaumorris. He said, “Do you think it might be . .?”
    “I think it might. I missed at the weekend.”
    Noel sat down beside her, slipped an arm through hers and said, “Well. What do you know?”
    “Which would you like it to be?”
    “A boy, of course. He’ll be articled in the firm. Third generation.”
    “Sometime next century.”
    “You realise we shall have to shift Dad out. The house is crowded enough now. Which reminds me. He’s taken the car. How are we going to get home?”
    “Walk, of course.”
    “Are you sure you can?”
    “Fussing already,” said Georgie. “A month or two and everything will be back to normal, I expect: ‘Do you mind filling the coal scuttle and bringing some logs in. I’ve simply got to finish reading these papers.’”
     
    Mr. Cavey came in and looked around the hall. About a dozen pairs of youngsters were still dancing. He walked over and said something to the bandleader, who nodded and brought the music to a firm conclusion.
    Some of the dancers shouted out, “Encore.”
    Mr. Cavey was looking for someone in authority. The only person he could see whom he would have classified as belonging to the officer class was Tony Windle. He walked across and said, “I think we ought to finish now, sir. If you don’t mind.”
    Tony said in some surprise, “You’re packing us up very sharp tonight, Joe. It’s only a quarter past twelve. You usually give us half an hour’s grace.”
    “I know, sir. But I think the band want to get home.”
    They were already packing up their instruments. The dancers started to drift slowly toward the door. Tony said, “You haven’t seen Billy anywhere, have you?”
    “Mr. Gonville? No, sir. I did happen to notice, when I was coming past the parking place, his car wasn’t there.”
    “It’s not the sort of car you could miss,” agreed Tony. It was a blood-red Austin-Healey frog-eyed Sprite, ten years old and lovingly maintained.
    The band had filed out of the back entrance and the last of the dancers could be heard claiming their belongings from the cloakroom.
    “’After the ball was over’,” said Tony. “’After the break of day. After the dancers leaving. After the skies are grey. Many’s the heart is breaking—’ What’s up, Joe?”
    “Well, sir—”
    “You’ve been looking like the ghost of