A Well Kept Secret (52 page)

He backed slowly towards the front door, still holding the terrified woman tightly in his grasp. It gave Martin a tiny glimmer of hope. To open that door he would either have to use the hand the held the knife, or the one that held June. It would be just about sufficient for him to launch himself across the intervening space. He tensed every muscle ready for the split second that was all the time he would get. Collins continued edging towards the door, his gaze still fixed on Martin. Martin in turn watched every move, and suddenly he saw the front door moving slightly behind his quarry. It wasn’t even closed; his one chance was slipping away! But Collins had claimed that he had entered the building from the rear? Before he could think or do anything there was a sudden loud crack, and a flash from the edge of the door.

For a brief moment that seemed to last for many seconds yet was much less, the three of them remained in a frozen tableau. Collins stood transfixed for maybe a second, and then slowly crumpled to the floor. As the restraining arm fell away from her, June staggered to one side, and Martin scrambled on to his feet in an automatic effort to get to her. At exactly the same time the door opened wider, and another man walked calmly over the threshold.

“Good morning,” said the second intruder calmly, stepping casually into the hallway. “It would seem that my arrival was quite timely.”

He glanced over his shoulder, “Come in my dear,” he called, “it’s all quite safe now.”

Martin stared in disbelief as he recognised the bearded figure of Peter Buxted, and then a wave of unutterable relief flooded over him as Beverley appeared from behind him, and rushed over to fall sobbing in his arms.

“Oh Dad,” she sobbed. “I’ve been so frightened!”

“It’s all right, your safe with me now,” Martin said mechanically as Buxted calmly stepped over the inert figure of Collins without as much as a glance.

June suddenly recovered the power of volition and sprang back to join Martin and the terrified teenager.

Buxted stopped a few paces away and looked at the small shocked group facing him.

“I’m a bit early for our appointment,” he remarked conversationally as if nothing out of the way had happened. “Still, as I was in the area, and as it is only just past midnight I thought I would drop by on the off-chance you were still up an about. It seems it is as well I did. I came across this young lady being detained by a most unsavoury ruffian who will not be troubling anybody else for a good while now. When I released her she mentioned this other fellow here. It seems he intended coming into the house to relieve you of your housekeeper. Not much liking the sound of the situation I naturally escorted her back to the house to check on matters. I neglected to tell you when I was last here that I have a key to the door, and upon opening it carefully I was in time to witness a rather uncivilised scene. In the circumstances it seemed a bit risky speaking to our late friend if I wished to prevent him carrying out his rather uncivilised intentions. I do apologise if my intervention startled you; still, at least he will not be giving anyone any more trouble I’m pleased to say, so all is well.”

Although shocked by the suddenness of everything that was happening, Martin listened to the man with increasing incredulity.

“You’ve just killed a man in cold blood!” he exclaimed, “and you talk about it as if it was nothing more important than passing the time of day!”

“From the expression I observed on your face as I looked in through the open door, you would have liked to have done much the same thing,” Buxted observed. “I think you will agree that the situation was extreme, and in my book that calls for extreme measures. As I saw it, it was his life or hers, and as I happen to carry a gun the sensible thing to do was use it. Anyway, I happen to know that the man is a common criminal of the poorest quality, so why get so worked up about such a useless piece of rubbish like him? I’ve done you a favour, and now that I come to think of it, I’ve also done Mrs Collins a favour as well!”

“It was still deliberate murder,
Mr Burton
!”

The killer looked at him with an expressionless face for a moment. If he was at all surprised that Martin now knew his true identity for certain, it didn’t appear to surprise him in the slightest.

“I wondered how long it would take you to work that out,” he remarked at last. “Oh well, small matter, I suppose there was always the chance it would come out sooner or later. Perhaps it is for the best; it saves me a certain amount of tedious explanation.”

“I wouldn’t have thought explaining two, if not more, murders could be considered ‘tedious’!”

“Not for you perhaps,” he said without the slightest degree of surprise or concern, but rather as if it was of little consequence that Martin was referring to a twenty-five year old crime of utter ruthlessness and brutality, “but this whole business has become increasingly ‘tedious’ for me. I’m afraid your own stubbornness has done you no favours. If you had agreed to sell the house to Carl Bremner, we would both have been saved a lot of unnecessary grief, and nothing much else would have become necessary.”

“I trust I’m not expected to feel sorry about that?” Martin asked sarcastically.

“It is of little consequence to me how you feel, although possibly you may feel that way before our business is completed.”

“If you are contemplating yet more murders you will be wasting your time,” Martin snapped, “I’ve acquainted too many people with the facts of the case. Your only chance of escaping justice is to flee the country!”

“I note that you have found the access to the cellar as well,” Burton remarked blandly, ignoring Martin’s comments as being of no consequence, “What a busy little bee you have been. Such a pity you could not have been as co-operative as your late uncle was for most of his life, but there it is, no good me wailing over spilt milk.”

“You killed him too, didn’t you?”

The gun was still in the man’s hand, and although he didn’t wave it about threateningly, there was no doubt in Martin’s mind that if it became necessary, it would be used without compunction. As he put protective arms round his daughter and June, the shock was wearing out of his system. He had hoped to flush the killer out, unfortunately the man had moved much quicker than he had imagined, and for the moment he was at a total disadvantage. He felt no panic; he knew that he was facing the worst danger he had ever encountered in his life, yet he remained calm and watchful. It was pure bluff on Martin’s part to gain time by claiming everything he had discovered so far was already known to others. Burton hadn’t seemed to be in the least concerned by this, but then he wasn’t a man who showed much reaction to anything.

“It was necessary,” Burton said at last. “When your aunt died I knew that he was becoming a risk, so I decided to eliminate that risk whilst there was still time. He knew nothing about it, and he was dying anyway. You could almost say I did him a favour. However, it was an unforgivable oversight on my part to have forgotten your very existence. Your uncle hadn’t mentioned you for so many years it was something that totally slipped my mind. I admit to being rather annoyed when I discovered that matters were not going to proceed as I had hoped. Still, that is what happens at times if you take your eye of the ball, so-to-speak. However it was very stupid of him to involve you, because it isn’t going to help you at all. By superseding the will I had encouraged him to sign some years ago with a later one, I’m afraid he may have signed your death warrant. Too late now for regrets, we will all have to make the best of the situation.”

For all the emotion he displayed he might have been discussing the Stock Market instead of cold-blooded murder!

“So, what do you intend to do; shoot us down in cold blood?” Martin asked coolly. “Even though others know of your involvement?”

“Now, why would I go to all the bother of restoring your charming daughter to you if I meant to do something as crude as that?” he remarked facetiously, as if such an idea had never for once crossed his mind. “Contrary to what you may think, I am a very humane person. All I’ve done so far is to save a child from someone who’s intentions were, shall we say, slightly less than honourable, and saved your housekeeper’s life whilst freeing the world of a piece of human trash. What do you take me for, a common assassin?”

“I wouldn’t have used the word common.”

“Look,” he sighed, as if getting bored, “if it is all the same to you, I don’t intend to spend the rest of the night in the hallway of your home engaged in futile conversation. As you have so obligingly opened the access to the cellar I suggest that we adjourn there. One of you ladies can pick up the lamp that I note you have already been lit in anticipation of a bit of exploration.”

In spite of the light and easy manner in which he spoke, the deadly threat of the gun in his hand could not be ignored. Martin looked at June and Beverley, gave them a brief hug.

“Better do as the man says,” he said.

Looking at Beverley he suddenly wondered what had happened to Georgie. Was it possible she had been overlooked? Collins hadn’t mentioned her, and in the trauma of learning that his daughter had been taken by a pervert he hadn’t even given the poor girl a thought. By his own account, Burton had rescued Beverley from someone, but again there was no mention of the second girl, nor had Collins. Was it possible that Georgie had seen what had happened and had sufficient wit to remain in concealment? His hopes suddenly went up a notch; if she had, she may well have then gone off to raise the alarm somewhere! It was only a faint hope, and if only Beverley didn’t mention her, it was just possible that whatever plans Burton had for them might be thwarted if he could delay him long enough! The ex-police officer watched them as they moved towards the cellar doorway, the gun still ready in his hand, not pointing at anyone in particular, yet ready for instant use. June had now recovered a little of her composure, and she went and picked up the lamp as she had been directed, with Beverley clinging to her arm in a state of shock.

“Right, after you,” said Burton almost conversationally. “As you were obviously so keen to go exploring, let us go and do just that, shall we?”

Having no choice, June and Beverley led the way with the lamp held up high and throwing a surprisingly good light on things. Martin followed, with Burton bringing up the rear, carefully keeping just far enough back to avoid tempting Martin into taking any chances. About a yard inside the doorway there was an opening in the brickwork of the wall from which a stone stairway led downwards. It was quite wide, with a wooden rail down one side. Everything was dusty and hung with cobwebs; it was rather like entering an old tomb! At the bottom of a dozen stairs they reached the stone flagged floor of a wide square cellar. Along the walls were odd shelves with the discarded bric-a-brac of bygone ages sitting there gathering dust; old tins of paint, odd boxes of bric-a-brac, coils of rope, and miscellaneous bits and pieces that had lain in the darkness for many long years.

What caught Martin’s eye at once was seeing in the centre of the floor a round brick structure that stood about a yard tall and topped with a stout wooden cover. Without question it was the well that Martin and been seeking and knew instinctively would be found there. He caught the expression on June’s face and he knew that much the same thoughts were going through her mind as she also saw it standing there, bleak, cold and menacing. Unless they were very much mistaken the remains of her father lay at the bottom of the well shaft. It did not escape Martin’s mind that there might very well be a chance that Carpenter's remains would soon be joined by three more bodies, unless he could think of a way of turning the tables on the man with the gun! He hoped and prayed that neither June nor Beverley had guessed that that was the most likely purpose of herding all of them into the cellar.

“Right, that’s far enough for the moment I think,” said Burton casually as he seated himself halfway down the steps.

The three hostages of the man with the gun stopped and turned to look at him. Martin with a blank expression, June with an air of resignation, and Beverley with real fear.

“So, what happens now?” Martin asked.

“Nothing very much,” was the answer as the man on the stairs felt inside his coat with his free hand. Presently he extracted an envelope from his inside pocket, and held it up in his hand as he looked across at Martin.

“I have taken the liberty of drafting out a new will for you,” he explained. “I will ask you to sign it, and then your housekeeper can sign it as a witness; you will note that there is already the signature of a second witness at the bottom.”