Hopkirk nodded again.
‘No mention of such a shot in the evidence given by the passenger?’
‘No. She was too hysterical to be able to distinguish one calibre from another. In fact, I couldn’t be certain she understood what I meant by “calibre”. Pistol, revolver, Gatling, Big Bertha — all just guns to her. Nasty, noisy things. And she was sensibly cowering down in the back of the cab with her hands over her ears while all this was going on. Poor girl — if she hadn’t rolled herself into a ball like a hedgehog, she could have been a third victim. In every respect her statement echoes all that we now know to have happened. The cab driver’s actions; the shooting of the police patrolman; the bashing on the head of the cabby when the killers ran out of ammunition. We’ve now accounted for all the bullets. They each started with a full magazine, it seems, and would indeed have run out by the time they thought of silencing the cabby. Bit of luck for him.’ He fell silent for a moment, then added, ‘ Her every statement adds up.’
His tone was a shade too firm.
Bacchus picked up on it at once. ‘Tell us more about this passenger, Hopkirk. Unusual, don’t you think to come across an unaccompanied young woman out and about at that time? Did you discover what she was doing there?’
‘She said she was visiting a friend.’
‘A friend who, we presume, backed up her assertion?’
‘Um … no. We knocked on all doors in the vicinity, in the pursuit of our inquiries. No one claimed to know her. Including the local Lothario at number thirty-nine. His man denied all knowledge.’
‘But you have established her bona fides? I’m assuming she has been re-interviewed?’ Bacchus said.
Hopkirk hesitated for a moment. ‘We sent men to the address in Park Lane next morning … the one she gave us for the record and the one to which we returned her after interview at Gerard Street police station. No trace of her. She’s disappeared. Done a runner.’