The Toff and the Fallen Angels by John Creasey

Some would say she flaunted it, but she didn’t, she was just proud. She thought it was glorious to be a woman. She—she’s dead, isn’t she?’
    â€˜It seems a possibility,’ said Rollison. ‘But what makes you think so?’
    â€˜The man who telephoned tonight said she was,’ answered Anne Miller, her voice dead, stripped of emotion. ‘And soon, soon, all the sluts and whores who lived here would be dead too.’
    She tried to sip her brandy but her hand began to shake, and soon her slender body, until, inevitably, the tears began to fall.
    And as she cried the door opened, and Naomi Smith came in.

Chapter 9
THE HAMMER

    Naomi seemed to draw back when she heard the girl crying, then moved quickly towards her. She glanced at Rollison, and he expected to see scorn or reproach; instead she gave him a flashing smile, of thanks or congratulation. She put an arm round the girl and led her towards a chair. Rollison had not realised how tiny Anne was. He felt for the girl; he could understand her bitterness and her fear, but he feared for Angela with a kind of desperate self-blame.
    As he stepped into the hall, Grice appeared from the front door, and they stopped, a few yards separating them.
    â€˜So you know nothing about this affair,’ Grice said, accusingly. ‘When are you going to stop trying to fool us?’
    â€˜The real question is the old question - when are you going to start believing the truth?’ asked Rollison.
    â€˜Why did you come here?’
    â€˜You know why. And if I hadn’t come, Naomi Smith . . .’. He told Grice all there was to tell, and before he was through, knew that Grice had not seriously believed he had arrived with foreknowledge. ‘Have you heard from Jolly?’ he asked.
    He hardly knew what answer to hope for.
    â€˜Yes,’ said Grice.
    â€˜So - Angela wasn’t at the Corner House,’ Rollison said heavily.
    â€˜He gave her fifteen minutes, then called the Yard,’ said Grice. ‘We had four men there within five minutes and a thorough search was made, but she wasn’t in the place. Jolly went back to Gresham Terrace.’
    â€˜Have you put Angela on the missing list?’ asked Rollison.
    â€˜Her description is with every division and every Home Counties force,’ Grice replied. ‘Her picture will be sent round tomorrow.’ He paused, and then asked in a wary way: ‘Do you want it to go to television and newspapers?’
    â€˜Of course. Why not?’ asked Rollison.
    â€˜You must be very tired to ask that,’ remarked Grice.
    â€˜Why should I—oh. The press will know that she was a resident here, and do I want her picture to appear before the public gaze.’ Rollison felt almost angry. ‘Bill, can you seriously think I care a damn about gossip?’
    â€˜Your family might,’ Grice said.
    â€˜Damn my family,’ growled Rollison.
    â€˜Including Lady Gloria?’
    â€˜She is the one person who won’t care a hoot.’
    â€˜Although if one of the family was in the—ah—was in trouble, surely the Marigold Club would be the first place for her to go,’ said Grice. ‘This could look as if Lady Gloria will extend the hand of charity to strangers but not to her own family.’ Grice spoke with unusual feeling, and Rollison realised that he was trying to be helpful, trying to make sure that Rollison, so deeply involved, was seeing this situation objectively.
    â€˜Bill,’ he said, ‘arrange for the photograph in the newspapers and on television, will you. And—thanks.’
    â€˜Right,’ said Grice. ‘I’ve a man waiting.’ He strode to the front door and spoke clearly to a man whom Rollison could not see. ‘Put all three pictures out to the press and television, Soames.’
    â€˜Very good, sir.’
    Grice turned back again, his manner easier, more matter-of-fact. He took a large wallet