Dying to Know (14 page)

I was awash with embarrassment and therefore on the point of arguing when Max started coming down the stairs. When she came in, dressed only in one of my shirts, Masson asked dryly, ‘How's the concussion?'

‘Not too bad.'

‘I'm glad to hear it. Anything coming back to you about why you were there?'

She held her hands open, shrugged her shoulders. ‘Sorry.'

He turned to me. ‘I think I've told you before how irritating I find amateur detectives, doctor. Invariably they place themselves – and not infrequently others – in extreme danger and, almost always, they hamper the professionals. I can't afford the manpower to have a permanent guard on the house, but I am going to make sure that regular foot and motor patrols are keeping an eye it, so please don't try any more stupid stunts.'

Max burst out, ‘Hamper you? How could I have done that? You're not doing anything!'

Masson contented himself with a tired smile and made himself at home by going into the front room and sitting on the edge of one of the armchairs. I pointed out to him: ‘Whatever you may think about the wisdom of what Max seems to have done, at least you have to admit that it proves that Dad isn't Doris Lightoller's murderer.'

‘Oh, dear,' he said with mock sadness. ‘Is that what you think?'

‘It stands to reason. Clearly the real murderer has been looking for something all along. He must have gone to the house, been interrupted before he got going by Mrs Lightoller, they struggled and he killed her; Dad comes along and the murderer has to scarper. He came back to finish his search but this time he was interrupted by Max.'

Masson said slowly, ‘There are signs that the house has been searched . . .'

‘There you are, then.'

‘But . . .' he continued, ‘he seems to have been a lot kinder to Miss Christy than he was to Mrs Lightoller, don't you think? He contented himself with a single, non-fatal blow to the head, as opposed to trying to smash her skull to bits.'

Max said, ‘He heard me on the phone and knew that he didn't have long.'

Again Masson considered this and I could see that he knew things that we did not. I asked, ‘Are you going to tell us what you think, then?'

He did one of his nasty smiles. ‘I think you have no need to worry your little head about it any more, doctor. We've caught him.'

We were both impressed, and surprised, by this demonstration of constabulary efficiency. ‘Who is it?' we asked together.

‘Victor Robbins.'

It left us both none the wiser and so Masson elucidated. ‘He's thirty-five years old and well known to me. He's a petty thief and swindler, nothing more; he's been in and out of the magistrates' court more often than the magistrates' clerk. Certainly not a murderer.'

I thought I was being clever when I quoted his own words back to him. ‘“Anyone can be a murderer.” Isn't that what you said?'

Of course, he took that badly. The fridge lights came on and I battened down the hatches for a wintry blast. In a voice that was as frosty as Frosty the snowman he said, ‘He's got a pretty unbreakable alibi for Oliver Lightoller's killing in that he was in police custody that afternoon, having been found drunk and disorderly near the Pond that morning.'

Max demanded, ‘What was he doing in the house?'

‘Stealing, of course. It's what he does. He saw the house, realized it would be empty, and thought it would be worth a crack. The last thing he expected was an amateur private eye barging in.'

Max lowered her eyes so that he did not see the flush on her face. I asked, ‘How did you catch him?'

‘We got a partial description from an old woman who lives opposite. It wasn't much, but Smith thought he recognized who it was. He did some checking through records and put a name to the face; Smith picked him up a while ago on suspicion of dealing in forged MOT certificates.'

Once again, I saw a new facet to Constable Smith's persona. ‘That sounds like fairly smart work.'

Masson nodded. ‘He might come across as a bit of a hesitant dimwit, but in the few weeks I've known him, I've found that he's got a little more going for him than you might think at first sight. He's actually quite bright, and he's not afraid to have a go when the occasion demands.' He then added, I know not quite why, ‘He actually asked to be transferred across to Croydon. Seems he wanted to work with me.'

I honestly tried to squeeze all the astonishment out of my voice as I said, ‘Really?' I'm not sure that I succeeded, though; certainly his look was suspicious as he carried on, ‘We picked Victor Robbins up an hour ago. At the moment, he's denying it, but Smith tells me that he's found some old book at his house, and he reckons it's a first edition, though God only knows how he would recognize one. Anyway, if he's right, it's odds on that it came from Lightoller's house. With any luck we'll be able to identify it from Lightoller's records and pin him to the break-in.'

‘He assaulted Max,' I said. ‘He should be charged with that as well.'

‘That's going to be a bit difficult unless her memory returns,' Masson replied sarcastically.

Max muttered, ‘Yes, well, I expect it will . . .'

Partly to take the attention away from her, I asked, ‘Has he got an alibi for the time that Doris Lightoller was attacked?'

Masson said unconcernedly, ‘Not much of one, I'll admit; he says he was in the pub and, of course, he's got a list of cronies as long as your arm who will back him up.'

‘So maybe . . .'

‘Forget it, Dr Elliot. Whoever skewered Oliver Lightoller also did for his wife, and I know that Robbins didn't do the first murder. Which means, I'm afraid, that your father's still got some explaining to do. I understand that there's no change in his condition as yet.'

‘No.'

He nodded and stood up. ‘I'm going back to have another chat with Mr Robbins, although Alexander Holversum is doing his best, as usual, to make my life difficult.'

‘Holversum's representing him?'

He scowled. ‘Holversum's sole purpose for existence is to make the lives of honest policemen impossible. He spends every waking hour defending the indefensible and, more often than he should, he succeeds. If I were you I'd find another solicitor to defend your father; having Holversum on your side won't make you any friends.'

Having showed him out, Max and I sat in the kitchen and talked. The one positive that I had hoped would come out of Max's escapade was that it would show Masson that my father was probably innocent, but that hope was now destroyed. I felt very low and Max had her work cut out to cheer me up.

‘I'm sure your father will be all right, Lance. They seemed quite optimistic at the hospital, didn't they?'

‘I hope they're right to be so, Max. You can never be sure, not at this stage; possibly not for days.'

‘They're the experts, though. If they're hopeful . . .'

But I had met enough medical ‘experts' to know that infallibility was not a prerequisite for the office. I didn't say this though, contenting myself with a vague, ‘Of course, of course . . .'

‘And in the background are the Lightoller killings, with your father as number one suspect and I have a horrible feeling that there isn't a number two.'

‘We don't know that for certain; we don't know precisely what the police are doing. Maybe Masson will find something to clear Dad.'

‘Will he, Lance? Are you really so sure? As far as Inspector Masson is concerned, your father's got means, motive and opportunity. He strikes me as the kind of man who doesn't waste his time looking for unnecessary work. And what happens, God forbid, if your father doesn't wake up? Do you think that the inspector will have a change of heart, because I don't. I think that the case will be closed there and then.'

It was the most passionate speech I'd ever heard her make and it made me feel ashamed of myself. She was right. No one else was going to do anything to clear Dad. If we didn't do it, the chances were that he would be found guilty, whether or not he ever got to court. I knew that I was in for trouble – I just didn't know in what form it would come or how painful it would prove – as I said, ‘You're almost certainly right, of course.'

She was at once impassioned, ready to fight the cause. ‘Then it's up to us to discover the truth, Lance.'

Whilst I agreed with her, I wasn't sure that I wanted her involved. ‘Max, it could be dangerous. You nearly got killed earlier today.'

‘I'll be more careful next time.'

‘No. There won't be a next time.' I like to think that I was firm. ‘He's my father and it's up to me to help him. I can't put you in harm's way.'

Her face showed surprised hurt. ‘You can't mean that, Lance. You need me to help. We make a great team, don't we?'

‘Well, yes,' I began to agree and was about go on to say something about this not necessarily implying that we were going to prove to be the world's greatest detective duo, but she did what Max does, which was to jump in at once. ‘There you are, then. With my brains and your brawn, we're unbeatable.'

NINETEEN

W
hich was easier said than done. I admit that I was at a loss to know how to start, but Max wasn't. Far from it.

‘There are two things we must do. First, we've got to keep an eye on the house,' she announced.

‘Why?'

‘Because someone's looking for something and they haven't found it yet; your father interrupted them. I think that they'll be back.'

‘Maybe,' I said doubtfully.

‘Definitely,' she assured me. ‘So, if we keep an eye on the Lightollers' house, we might spot who it is.'

‘How will we do that?'

‘From your father's house, silly. It's perfectly positioned. Come on, get dressed.'

‘But Masson's arranging for a watch to be kept on it.'

‘But not a permanent one, remember. That's where we come in.'

‘Max, I'm not sure that this is a good idea.'

‘It won't be dangerous. Have you got a camera? We can take pictures of anyone suspicious, like they do in the films.'

I had the distinct impression that to Max this was a game, nothing more; her brush with violence seemed to have had no dampening effect whatsoever. But, on the other hand, I reasoned that she was probably right: what was wrong with staying in my father's house while he was in hospital, keeping an eye open for anything odd going on next door? Something that she had said sounded a warning bell in my head, though.

‘If that's the first thing, what's the second?'

‘Really, Lance. I thought you were good at this kind of thing. We ask questions.'

‘We ask what questions of whom?'

‘Witnesses.'

‘But there aren't any.'

She clearly thought I was a complete loss. ‘I bet there are; we just don't know about them yet.'

‘You've lost me.' Which was true, and I meant lost as in ‘completely and perhaps irrevocably mislaid'.

‘It's very simple. The Lightollers must have done something to get them murdered, mustn't they? Now maybe the people around them saw something or heard something that will tell us what it was.'

‘What do you mean by “the people around them”?' I asked, panic slowly but inexorably rising in what I believe is referred to as my ‘craw'.

‘Well, the people in the shops on either side for a start . . .'

That seemed reasonable.

‘And, I suppose, their son.'

Which didn't.

In the end, I dropped Max off at Dad's house, made her promise faithfully not to attempt another amateur burglary on the Lightollers' now padlocked house, and went on to AMH. Not that there was a lot that I could do there, but I felt that it was my duty to spend a few hours by his side, hoping against hope that he would show some sign of returning consciousness.

Percy Bailey had been relieved of desk duty and was sitting with him. When I came in, he gave me a sad smile and said, ‘Smith's supposed to be here, but took sick. I asked if I could do a turn with your dad. He was a good old stick.'

I wasn't too keen on his choice of tense, but I appreciated the thought.

‘I understand from the inspector that Smith's a bit of a star on the quiet.'

Percy sucked his teeth; since they were heavily encrusted with nicotine, I suspect he got a bit of high from the act. ‘Yes, I suppose he is. The inspector thinks the world of him and, I'll admit, he's pulled a few strokes since he arrived.'

‘But?'

More nicotine was extracted from his dental enamel. ‘I don't know. He's a little too eager to please.'

‘A man has to get on, Percy.'

He nodded in sage agreement. ‘Mebbe . . . mebbe,' and left it at that.

‘He's young and ambitious.'

He snorted. ‘Enthusiastic, I'll give you. A little overenthusiastic, I reckon.'

‘What do you mean?'

He made a face. ‘I had to have a quiet word not long after he arrived. He wasn't being nice to someone as he brought them into custody.'

‘I'm sure he'll learn, Percy.'

He made a face. ‘I suppose.'

‘Masson said that he'd asked specifically to come and work in the area.'

Percy chortled; there is no other word to describe it. ‘Can you believe it? To come and work around here? He turned down a job in the Met. He must be mad.'

With which the conversation died for a while.