Inspector West Takes Charge (12 page)

Then the matron told him that he would have to leave, as the patients were being prepared for the night. As it was a comparatively mild injury, perhaps it was not worth transferring Mrs West to a private ward.

‘It certainly isn’t,’ said Janet.

‘No,’ agreed Roger.

‘Accident,’ he murmured as he entered the narrow thoroughfare in which the hospital was situated. ‘I wonder.’ He drove to the Divisional Headquarters, and was soon sitting opposite the large slow-moving Superintendent Simmonds. Simmonds had three chins and a pendulous nose.

‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘one of my men was nearby when it happened, and took the number of the car, which didn’t stop. It was an old Buick. He says that the car was parked at the corner, and the driver jumped in quickly when he saw Mrs West coming. That’s in his own words.’

‘I was all kinds of a damned fool for ever letting Janet go with me last night,’ Roger said.

He talked freely to Simmonds, a wily old policeman who had often advised him and, because they were not together at the Yard, was less affected by rank superiority. Simmonds listened attentively, occasionally rubbing the bridge of his long, wriggly nose and, when Roger had finished, said: ‘Potter’s in this up to his Adam’s apple. He’s been as deep a dozen times before, and he’s always fooled us, but he’ll miss his step one day and there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be at hand to pick him up Chatworth would be tickled to death. Another wily old bird, our Chatworth! He knows you and Lessing are as thick as thieves, and he also knows that if Potter’s to be tripped up it will have to be unprofessionally. He thinks Lessing will take a chance. He wants Potter or he wouldn’t have given you the go-ahead. But Potter knows it as well as you do, and if you ask me, he’s playing for big stakes. Don’t ask me how I know, ask yourself.’

‘Could be,’ said Roger.

‘Talkative, aren’t you?’ remarked Simmonds sarcastically. ‘You see what I mean?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

‘Don’t thank me,’ Simmonds implored. ‘I’m just shooting my mouth off. I’ll tell a man or two to keep a special eye on Bell Road. You could just pass the hint to Janet that she should watch her step. Don’t want to scare her too much, but with Potter –’

Roger left, reassured on one point, worried on another. This was Potter’s work. Potter used Clay, Potter had probably arranged Fenton’s murder, Potter might be working Maisie Claude-Harrington. Certainly Potter was pulling a lot of strings and making the puppets dance.

Roger remembered the impact of the car on Fenton’s body and could picture Janet being run down. He clenched his teeth.

The kitten
miaowed
plaintively, but spurned a saucer of milk. Instead, it followed him into the lounge, where there was no fire, and jumped on to his knee. It curled itself and purred contentedly, while Roger developed a headache.

It was half-past ten before he reminded himself that he had not eaten since lunch time, and he was brewing a cup of tea after a snack supper, commiserating with himself while thinking that Janet must find it much lonelier than he had realized, when the front door bell rang.

Mark came in.

His entry was remarkable for its silence; there was no hint of high spirits.

‘Well, what?’ asked Roger.

‘Not nice, Roger,’ he said. ‘Nothing’s nice.’

‘Is Transom –’

‘Transom’s all right,’ said Mark, I was there when McFallen called to see him tonight. McFallen lives at Epsom, and they attend to
Dreem
business at their respective homes, over dinner and cigars, McFallen didn’t stay long, but left a message that put Transom’s wind right up. He didn’t say so, but it showed. Then McFallen drove away. There’s a nasty bend just past Transom’s place, and if you go off the road you go over an edge into a sand quarry about seventy yards down. A sheer drop. We heard the crash from Transom’s window. I got there first. Not at all nice,’ repeated Mark. ‘His pieces are being looked after by Lampard, who is also examining the car. McFallen drove himself, a Rolls-Royce. What’s, the betting that there won’t be another
death by misadventure
verdict?’

‘You’d better have a drink,’ Roger said. He felt cold when he thought of Janet.

He poured two whiskies and soda.

‘Thanks,’ Mark said. ‘Well, I thought I’d be clever, and visit McFallen’s wife. A nice, dumpy little Scots woman. I don’t like thinking about her face when I told her that her husband was dead. Have you ever seen anyone’s heart break in front of you? My God, we’ve got to stop this.’

‘Yes,’ said Roger, dry-mouthed. ‘What about Transom?’ he asked. ‘Apart from closing up after McFallen had called, did he give you anything to bite on?’

‘He told me politely that he knew of no surviving relative of the Prendergasts, and that he was quite satisfied with the way the police had handled the necessary inquiries.’ Mark’s voice remained his own, but his manner grew faintly pompous, his words took on a rotundity which Roger was sure was an excellent mimicry of Arthur Transom. The whisky was doing him good. ‘He was, of course, quite prepared and happy to meet my claimant in person, and would be delighted to offer any assistance once he had met him.’ Mark smiled unexpectedly. ‘In other words he called me a liar, but he was worried. He had that look in the eyes. He also gave me the impression that my visit wasn’t the thing which started the worry; Mr Transom has something on his mind. McFallen shared it, and I think McFallen had taken news which was not good to Transom. The effect was instantaneous, but all I got out of it was that Transom “would be there”. Time and date of the presumed meeting wasn’t specified, and McFallen went off, as I’ve said.’

‘You didn’t think it worth while watching Transom and leaving Mrs McFallen?’

Mark glowered.

‘What is this, a lesson in ABC? I had phoned Pep Morgan earlier in the day, and he was watching Transom for me. I couldn’t have done much anyhow, without more petrol. The McFallen house was on my way home.’ He sat down in an easy chair, stretched his legs and scratched the kitten under the chin. It purred like an aero-engine. ‘Where’s Janet?’

Roger explained.

‘My God,’ Mark said. ‘That’s terrifying.’

His eyes showed consternation. He was silent when Roger finished.

‘Yes, Terrifying. It looks as if Potter sent me a reminder that Janet’s vulnerable, too. Always assuming that it is Potter. Someone is certainly very anxious to get me off the hunt. And you, too.’

‘He doesn’t give a damn about me.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t blame him,’ admitted Roger. ‘But where’s the evidence?’

‘In front of you. To a past master in the arranging of accidents, I was an easy victim last night. Think of the hills in that part of Surrey. I could have “fallen” down a dozen and broken my neck, and no one would have been any the wiser. I didn’t because our Potter -
I
say it’s Potter reckoned that I was no serious liability. In fact Potter probably decided that it was wiser to let me play around, because –’

He stopped.

‘Go on,’ said Roger.

‘Just an idea,’ said Mark. ‘Vague and improbable, anyhow. I mean, Potter knows I’m looking for something, and thought I had it at the flat, or he wouldn’t have sent Charlie. He probably thinks I’m still looking for it. He also wants it badly.’

‘A bit involved, but I follow you. I wonder if he could have suspected that this thing he wants badly - if it’s he - and if he wants something badly - was at Delaware House. There might have been no reason for the call on you except to get us thinking along the wrong lines. That’s a possibility as great as yours. We’ll keep ‘em both in mind. Now what about a concentrated effort. I’ll keep at Harrington, you keep at the Transoms, and we’ll compare notes tomorrow. All right?’

‘Yes,’ said Mark. At that moment the telephone bell rang. Mark lifted the receiver ‘Oh it’s you, Pep,’ he said. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’ve been trying to get you all the evening,’ said Morgan. ‘I thought you’d like to know that there are others at Transom’s house. Widdison and Hauteby, as a matter of fact. And I’m getting cold.’

‘How long have they been there?’ Mark demanded.

‘Hauteby’s only just arrived. Are you coming out here?’

‘If I can,’ said Mark, and put a hand over the mouthpiece as he turned to Roger. ‘Petrol,’ he said imploringly. ‘Petrol. A matter of life or death. Can you spare a couple of gallons?’

‘There’s a can in the garage.’

‘Bless your heart!’ Mark uncovered the receiver. ‘All right, Pep, I’ll be there in about an hour.’

He rang off, and held out a hand for the garage key.

‘One can, I said, and one can you’ll get,’ said Roger. ‘I’ll come and superintend. I think I’ll come with you all the way, too,’ he added as he reached the kitchen door.

The telephone rang again. Roger handed Mark the key, and went back into the lounge. Detective Sergeant Sloane thought that Mr West ought to know that Chief Inspector Lampard of Guildford had telephoned for him, and obtained his private number. Roger replaced the receiver, and contemplated the kitten.

He was still tempted to go with Mark, but it might be wise to allow Mark and Morgan to work by themselves; they would be freer without him. He held no illusions; knew quite well that Mark would use the law as he thought it should be used, and ignore its finer points whenever he considered it necessary.

Mark was outside for ten minutes, and the telephone kept silent. Mark returned with his hands oily and a smear of dirt on his right cheek.

‘Thanks for your help,’ he said sarcastically. ‘I hope you have to empty a can of petrol in the blackout tomorrow night. Are you coming?’

‘Lampard’s coming through in a few minutes. I expect he wants to tell me about McFallen. Good hunting, Mark.’

Very slowly and appreciatively, Mark Lessing smiled.

‘Thanks,’ he said, and went away.

When he had gone, Roger felt heavy-hearted and deeply anxious. The injury to Janet, the excess of violence, the darkening mystery, crowded into his mind. There were a dozen things he wanted to do, but as a policeman he could do few of them. In Mark’s place he could tackle Harrington, for instance, and even Potter again, but what made him think he could do better than Mark?

Mark was running into danger.

It was a strange, half-way position for Roger. If the police took all the official action they could, it might lead nowhere and could scare off the criminals for a time, but only for a time. By going into this almost alone, with some help from Pep Morgan, Mark was sticking his neck right out. True, Mark wanted to; equally true, Chatworth saw the value to the police. But he, Roger West, saw the acute danger to his friend, and ached to be in his place, or at least sharing it with him.

It was close on midnight when Lampard called, to talk of the McFallen ‘accident’. Lampard felt that Roger should know that there were suspicions that the steering-column of McFallen’s Rolls-Royce had been tampered with, but nothing more than suspicions, Lampard wondered whether West considered it wise to watch Transom’s house.

At least he could help Mark this way.

‘At the moment, I don’t see why,’ said Roger thoughtfully. ‘Lessing has been telling me about it. I gather that McFallen’s car wasn’t at Yew House long enough to be tampered with, so the damage was done before McFallen started his journey.’ He did not ask why Lampard had taken the extraordinary step of asking his advice, but suspected there was a catch in the Guildford man’s question.

‘Lessing’s there, is he?’ said Lampard dryly. ‘Is he better?’

‘Much.’

‘All right.’ Lampard was suddenly brisk again. ‘I’ll do nothing for tonight.’

Roger replaced the receiver and regarded the kitten with his head on one side.

‘Quisling,’ he said, ‘Lampard’s a deep ‘un. Was Mark at Transom’s, that was his question. Does he also think that Mark might learn something we can’t, or is he going to surround the blasted house so that if Mark does what he didn’t ought to, there’ll be trouble. Lampard wouldn’t do that on us, would he?’

The kitten cleaned the inside of a hind leg earnestly.

‘There are times when I wish I could take Mark’s advice and get out of the Force,’ went on Roger. ‘I would be able to move more freely, But on the other hand . . .’

He went to bed and was asleep by one o’clock, and awoke soon after seven-thirty. He lay for some time in the pleasant and drowsy stage between sleeping and waking, then realized that he was alone, and wondered whether Janet was up yet, He must ring through to find what time she would be home; it would be much better if he could be here. Or better still, if he went to fetch her. There was no news from Mark, then. He rang Mark’s flat to find the number engaged; Mark would probably ring through soon.

He washed, shaved, got breakfast, allowed himself Janet’s share of bacon as well as his own, and found himself wondering where Mark was, and what Mark had done in the past nine hours. At nine o’clock there was no message. He began to feel annoyed. He telephoned the hospital, to learn that Janet was not leaving until three o’clock in the afternoon, but she had had a sound night’s sleep and was much better. He tried Mark’s number and was told there was no reply. He waited for about twenty minutes, and then decided that he could stay away from the Yard no longer.

When he reached his office only Eddie Day was there, engrossed in some bank notes which few people could have distinguished from the genuine article; he explained at great length how cleverly he had traced the flaw in them. Other D Is came in and out. Roger was on edge since there was still no news from Mark, but he displayed a polite interest; Eddie took a childish pleasure in his triumphs.

At half-past twelve a uniformed policeman came in, to tell Roger that a Miss Garielle Transom had called, and could she see him?

Mark Lessing, meanwhile, disliked his night drive to Yew House.

No one but a fool would think that there was any real chance of getting to Yew House in time to find the three
Dreem
directors together. No one but a greater fool would have imagined that he could do anything even if he found them. No one but a fool –