Inspector West Takes Charge (6 page)

‘We can use the car,’ Roger agreed.

As he got the car out, feeling sure that Mark would not have summoned him without reason, he wondered how far he would have got in this investigation without Mark. There was a lot to be said for an investigator not attached to the Yard, but there was the danger that Mark would be much more vulnerable than he.

Anxious and eager, knowing that Janet was happy to sit and watch the passing traffic in this rare luxury of a drive in days of petrol famine, he drove fast out of London towards the countryside, Guildford and Delaware House.

Do you think we’ll make Delaware House before dark?’ Janet asked.

‘Not by half-an-hour,’ said Roger.

He was optimistic by twenty minutes, for on the approaches to Guildford it grew dark. He had to go slowly through the Surrey town, then turn by the bridge and find the road to Chesham, a small town not far from Guildford. Beyond it was Delaware Village, and Delaware House, the mansion on the pine-clad hills, which the Prendergasts had bought years ago out of the proceeds of
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cigarettes and tobacco. The road was in poor condition, one of those not selected for repair in war time, and every hundred yards led to a corner. Faint objects flitted past them, telegraph poles, a cyclist without lights, and a creature which swooped across the headlights.

‘Ugh, a bat,’ said Janet.

‘An owl, more likely. Creepy place, in the dark.’ He went on cautiously, knowing that he was looking for a turning to the left, anxious not to overshoot it. The overhanging branches of trees growing close to the road dragged noisily across the roof of the small car. The going grew steep, high banks on either side showed a ghostly yellow. The trees made shadows which seemed to move towards them and then sag away. Beyond them were stretches of silent common-land, he knew, wooded in many places, with only an occasional farm or hamlet.

As he began to turn at a T junction with a ghostly white sign, he saw the beams of another car coming from the side turning. He kept well in, realizing that the other car was coming at a suicidal speed for such a road.

Janet drew in a sharp breath.

Roger squeezed as close to the hedge as he could. As the car leapt at them, he was dazzled by the glare of the masked headlight. He uttered a silent prayer as his engine stalled.

The car scraped past them, brakes squealing, and swung right towards Guildford.

Roger re-started the engine.

‘I’d like that driver in dock,’ he said. ‘I wonder where he came from? There can’t be many places up here.’

‘Mark’s pretty crazy at the wheel.’

‘Not that crazy.’ Roger drove even more cautiously.

There were two entrances to Delaware; the one he was taking being inside the large estate which joined up with the major driveway near the AA box he had mentioned to Lampard.

Janet was peering out on her side.

‘There’s the gate,’ she announced.

The white gate was wide open. Roger drove through. The road twisted and turned amongst shrubberies and copses, and the shadows increased.

Then Janet exclaimed: ‘Look! Look over there!’

Roger put on the brakes. Janet was peering to the right, and he followed her example. He saw nothing but the grotesque shapes of small trees and wild shrubs.

‘I thought I saw a man,’ said Janet defensively. ‘In fact I’m sure I did. Look! There’s a cigarette glowing red!’

‘I think we’ll stop here,’ said Roger. He opened his door, while Janet scrambled out on the other side, joining him before he moved towards the main gate. The figure of the man remained clear in the headlights.

‘I’m Chief Inspector West,’ Roger said. ‘Are you from Inspector Lampard?’

‘That’s right, sir.’ The big man’s face was in the shadow; the light revealed him clearly only as high as his waist.

‘Are there any others watching?’

‘I’m the only one on duty at the moment, sir. Another man is coming to join me later. He would have been here but he had a puncture.’

‘Have you seen anything unusual?’

‘No, sir. Had there been, I should have seen it. I can see both roads from here.’

‘So the mad driver didn’t come from here,’ Roger remarked to Janet as they, drove on.

The house soon loomed out of the darkness, but not until they had drawn up outside did they see its square shape against the starlit sky. A faint wind rustled about the tall trees growing near it. An owl gave a strident hoot which made Janet start. From the house there was no glimmer of light.

‘The black-out’s pretty good,’ said Roger. He left the rear and sidelights of the car on, and shone his torch on the steps.

A bell clanged in the distance when he pulled the brass handle. After a short silence footsteps sounded.

A glow of light appeared, and Roger said: ‘Mr and Mrs West, to see Mr Prendergast.’

‘You are expected, sir,’ a man informed him. ‘Will you please come in? Can I fetch anything from your car, sir? Your case?’

‘No thanks.’ Roger held Janet’s elbow as they stepped into the large, square hall. The rooms at Delaware House had one thing in common; all were square, all high-ceilinged.

Beyond the black-out trap the light was bright. The servant, an elderly man, led the way to a room on the right.

He tapped, opened the door, and announced ‘Mr and Mrs West.’

Janet and Roger went through, to find Mark sitting in a comfortable chair, Claude Prendergast not so much at ease on a settee, and a tall, well-built man standing by the fire, which glowed red. There was no other light in the room until the servant switched it on. Then a dozen lamps in an ornate chandelier gave a garish yet dullish effect, a queer combination.

The tall man eyed them both curiously; while Roger had a shock. For Harrington, if this was Harrington, was not a day more than thirty. He had clear-cut features, was almost swarthy, and had the look of a man in fine physical condition. He had clear, wide-set grey eyes.

Mark introduced everybody, and suggested drinks. He mixed gin and tonic, whisky and soda, and gin and Dubonnets. Claude appeared willing to surrender his position as host. He had made no more than a pretence at getting up, and now peered at Janet with lack lustre eyes; he looked very warm.

Harrington was eyeing her with the overt admiration of a man who expected to be a success with a woman.

‘I’m glad you’ve arrived,’ he said briskly. His voice increased the good impression. ‘Now perhaps we’ll get the official police view.’ His voice and smile were pleasant enough; but his manner suggested that he was irritated, though doing his best to conceal it. ‘Mr Lessing has been very mysterious, and implied that you were the cause.’

‘Mark makes a mystery out of trifles,’ Roger said lightly. ‘I’m glad to have the chance of meeting you, Mr Harrington.’

Harrington accepted a cigarette. He was bigger than he had at first appeared; powerful, striking-looking. His dark hair was short and wiry.

‘Why?’ he asked.

Roger looked at Mark. ‘What
have
you been doing?’

‘Looking around,’ said Mark, airily. ‘There’s a cabinet of Old Dresden that’s a delight, Roger, it rather took my mind off things.’

Harrington said dryly: ‘Mr Lessing has been entertaining me with a discourse on rare china. My cousin has hardly said a word. I hope you’ll be more informative.’

Mark had been stalling while Claude had been unable to hide his suspicions of his cousin. But
was
Harrington a cousin? He was a tough, hard man, very unlike Claude, unlike the other Prendergasts. An idea sneaked up on him: that Potter might have put Harrington up to impersonate a cousin.

Janet said abruptly: ‘Mark, did you know the house is surrounded by men?’ She meant the police but Claude misunderstood. He moved quickly for the first time, jumping to his feet, and backing towards a wall. He held a hand in front of him, as if to fend off an attack.

‘I knew it, I knew that would happen!’ He swung round on Harrington, and his voice rose. ‘You brought them. You brought them!’

Harrington eyed him contemptuously.

‘I’m getting out of this madhouse while I’m still sane,’ he said.,’ I was never interested in the Prendergast side of the family. It was a mistake to try to get to know it.’ He moved very fast, and reached the door before Roger said: ‘It’s an unusual situation, Harrington, and I’m surprised you haven’t been told about it. Mr Prendergast is nervous because he expects an attack on his life. Mr Lessing promised not to tell you, until I arrived. But don’t let me detain you.’

Harrington looked round.

‘How much of that is bally-hoo?’

‘No one here suggested that you should come. But if you want to know why he’s nervous –’

Harrington came back into the middle of the room. Roger gave a résumé of the half-suspicions and Claude’s fears.

‘Well, well,’ said Harrington, when it was done. ‘So he thinks I’m here to murder him for his money. In point of fact, Cousin Claude ‘he sneered the name ‘I am not interested in
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profits. I make plenty of money as it is. I came here because I’d grown curious. The family’s been in the headlines a lot lately. I received a letter suggesting that I might be mentioned in one will or another, and that tickled my curiosity but not my greed. Prendergast money is dirty money by now, I should think. Didn’t you know that?’

Roger ignored the comment.

“Who sent you the letter?’

‘A solicitor named Gabriel Potter.’

He must have seen that he had created something close to a sensation. Roger frowned. Mark said
‘Well, well!’
Janet sat down heavily on the arm of the settee. Claude exclaimed after a short pause: ‘
Potter
said you would be interested? Potter? That devil, he’s behind this. That’s why she took me to him!’

Something ought to be done about Claude. Roger wanted a rational talk with Harrington, but was not likely to get it with Claude present. He saw the grey pallor spread over Claude’s cheeks, and believed that he was suffering from the strain that had affected him at Fulham. There was something unnatural about Claude. There was a beading of sweat on his forehead, and on his upper lip.

‘I can’t stand any more of this,’ he muttered. He passed a hand across his brow. The perspiration there surprised him; he stared at his wet hand in bewilderment, and then drew a deep breath. He was shivering. ‘I just can’t stand it. I feel ill. I don’t think I’m well.’ He leaned back in the corner of the settee and closed his eyes. Harrington glanced at Roger, puzzled, doubting.

Roger said softly; ‘He
is
ill.’

Mark reached the little man’s side.

‘You’d better go to bed. I’ll come up to your room with you.’ He eased the man up. Claude made no attempt to resist or to help himself, but staggered and grabbed a table for added support. His face was now a fiery red, and he kept licking his lips.

‘Gi-give me a drink, will you?’

Roger was halfway towards the cabinet when Claude gave another exclamation. His knees bent and his legs doubled up. He fell so unexpectedly that Mark could only break his fall. He lay still, breathing torturously.

‘He’s passed out,’ Mark said.

‘He needs a doctor,’ declared Janet.

Harrington neither moved nor spoke.

The Old manservant was able to tell them the doctor’s name and telephone number. The name was Tenby. Roger knew of him as the local police surgeon.

Claude was carried by Harrington and Mark to his room. The servants fussed and scurried, taken by surprise like the three visitors.

Roger went to the telephone.

Dr Tenby promised to come at once when he heard that the call was from Delaware. Into his mind, Roger imagined, had sprung the same thought as to his, Mark’s, Janet’s and, judging from their demeanour, the servants’; that the last of the Prendergasts was going the way of the others.

The servants were all old or middle-aged, and had been with the family for years. He wondered how much they could tell of the history of the family and if it would be interesting. He would find out later. This was Lampard’s district.

Roger telephoned the Guildford Police Station.

Lampard was not there, but Roger was given the Guildford Inspector’s private number.

He answered, curtly.

Roger explained.

‘I’ll come over,’ Lampard said. ‘Thanks for ringing.’

Janet came down with Harrington as Roger finished telephoning. The man was a head taller than Janet, and quite composed.

Mark was staying with Claude, Janet said.

‘I’m beginning to think my cousin’s genuinely frightened, whether there’s any need or not,’ said Harrington. ‘That collapse wasn’t natural there was something odd about it.’

‘Yes,’ said Roger dryly, ‘There are a lot of peculiar things in this affair. Three accidental deaths in a row. A solicitor who doesn’t keep a client fully informed. A wife Claude’s who told her husband that he would be wiser to leave the
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tobacco business to a business man, presumably you. Have you been approached to take any active part in the company’s affairs?’

‘No.’ Harrington was vehement. ‘I should have turned it down if I had been, anyhow. I’m not interested in
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The company stinks.’ That was his second denunciatory reference to Prendergast, Blight & Company. Harrington lit a cigarette, flicked the match into the fire, and said: ‘I came here because I was puzzled by several, things. I had no idea that the Prendergasts even knew I existed, but they dug me out somehow. I had a letter from this woman Claude’s married, and one from Potter. The implication of their conversation when I saw them was that I could expect to play a large part in Prendergast, Blight & Company.’

‘Did you talk as bluntly to them as to me?’

‘No,’ Harrington admitted. ‘I stone-walled. It was no business of theirs, anyhow, but I was intrigued. Why should a solicitor and a woman just married into the family approach me, but not Claude? I decided to see Claude.’

‘Natural enough,’ said Roger. ‘Did you see Potter and Mrs Prendergast together?’

‘Yes. At the solicitor’s office. The woman was like a tart with an expensive clientele.’