Mad About the Boy? (32 page)

‘Good God.' Haldean sat on the stairs and grinned at the butler. ‘I suppose that means I've missed breakfast. Judging by those sherry glasses, they'll all be back for a bunfight soon. Why on earth did no one wake me up? I should have gone to the inquest. I've missed it now.'

Egerton returned Haldean's smile. ‘Lady Rivers left strict instructions, Master Jack, that you were not to be disturbed. She said –' Egerton gave an apologetic little cough – ‘that
if that silly boy
– I am quoting her ladyship, sir –
has no more sense than to go running round the countryside and getting into fights, then someone has to look after him
. If I may be permitted the observation, Master Jack, you look a great deal better than you did last night.'

‘I could still do with Chapman to give me a hand getting dressed, though.' He ran a hand round his chin. ‘I wouldn't mind a shave, either. It's a pity about the inquest.'

‘I'll send Chapman to your room, sir. The Superintendent left a note for you.' Egerton put down the tray of glasses and brought Haldean the envelope from the hall table.

Haldean ripped it open.
Dear Haldean, Good work in bringing back Captain Stanton. He's fine. Things are hotting up here. Don't worry about missing the inquest because we're going to move for an adjournment. Yours, etc., E. Ashley.
Mollified, Haldean looked at Egerton. ‘He says they're going to tie a can to it. The inquest, I mean. Egerton, I know everyone's busy, but there wouldn't be any coffee, would there? To say nothing of breakfast?'

‘Her ladyship left instructions with the cook that you should have breakfast when you woke up, sir.'

‘Tell the cook she's a wonderful woman,' said Haldean with a smile, walking up the stairs. ‘I'm starving.'

Dressed and shaved and full of eggs, bacon, sausages, kidneys, mushrooms, fried bread and coffee, Haldean amused himself by reading the lurid account of Stanton's arrest and his encounter with the Russian gang in the
Daily Messenger
when the family arrived home. He finished the article, smiling broadly Stanhope had done him proud. Although carefully admitting the possibility of Arthur's innocence, he had given the impression that all England could breathe easily now that the deranged killer of Lord Lyvenden was safely behind bars. The Russians were being vigorously hunted down and, as for Haldean, it would be a miracle if he saw the day through. According to the
Messenger, The Secret of the Second Shroud
was likely to be published posthumously. He winced a bit as he read the heart-rending description of Isabelle, bravely keeping her lonely vigil, waiting for news of her fiancé. She wouldn't thank him for that at all.

She didn't. ‘Have you seen the paper?' she hissed at him in an undertone when he joined the rest of the family in the hall. ‘I can't believe what that man wrote about me and Malcolm. I've a good mind to tell everyone about Arthur.'

‘Don't do that,' said Haldean, alarmed. ‘For one thing, you could wreck everything and for another, you'd cause a fearful stink. Arthur's hardly the blue-eyed boy at the moment.'

‘All right,' she said mutinously. ‘But I don't like it, Jack. By the way, Mr Ashley came back with us. He wants to see you. I think he's in the gun room.'

Haldean went along to the gun room where Ashley was sitting with a tray of coffee.

‘You look much more yourself,' said Ashley approvingly. ‘I thought you were going to keel over at one point last night.'

‘So did I,' said Haldean, lighting a cigarette. ‘Still, at least I've got Arthur safely under lock and key. Did you manage to arrest any of the Russian gang?'

Ashley shook his head. ‘I'm sorry to say we didn't. I got on to the police at Upper Ranworth as soon as you'd called, and they were on the spot fairly quickly.' He grinned. ‘By jingo, you made a mess of that car, didn't you? Incidentally, we found a number plate that had been blown clear of the wreckage.'

Haldean looked up. ‘Did you?'

‘Yes, but don't get too excited. The number was false, as we might have predicted. It's never been issued. Anyway, what we did find were two dead men.'

‘What?' Haldean stared at Ashley. ‘But, damn it, Ashley, we didn't kill anyone. Arthur walloped this bloke, Mick, with a branch and the red-headed chap fell into the cave.'

Ashley held his hand up. ‘I didn't suggest that either you or Captain Stanton were responsible, although I couldn't really have blamed you after what you've told me. No, I think both men were murdered by the two remaining gang members before they escaped. They had both been shot, right through the forehead. It was a real executioner's job. This Mick, whose real name is Michael Wilson and who has a long record of violent crime, was laid out on the path and the red-headed man, whose name is Walter Tanswell, was in the cave, as you described. He was involved in that march in London the other day and he was wanted for assaulting two policemen. He's got a record of robbery with violence. It didn't take long to identify either of them.'

‘But . . .' Haldean smoked for a few moments in appalled silence. ‘Neither of them can have been that badly hurt, surely. I'd expected the red-headed chap to have broken his leg, but that's all. As for the other bloke, he'd have come round eventually. Why on earth were they murdered?'

‘Because they would have held up this Boris and the other man, I suppose.' Ashley shrugged. ‘That's all I can think of.'

Haldean felt sick. It was so utterly ruthless. He finished his cigarette without speaking. At least Arthur was safe. He held on to that thought. Arthur was safe. With a shudder he crushed out his cigarette and looked at Ashley. ‘Is that what you meant in your note about things hotting up?'

‘Not exactly' Ashley got up and checked the door was shut. ‘This may seem like small beer after your adventures, but I've got a line on Alfred Charnock,' he said, sitting down once more. ‘We've been keeping an eye on him and we think it's all going to come off tonight. With any luck we should catch him in the act.'

‘And the act is?'

Ashley smiled. ‘Just at the moment I'd rather not say.'

‘Hold on.' Haldean leaned back in his chair. ‘Now I know he's really up to something dodgy, let's see if I can guess. I've devoted some thought to Uncle Alfred, after all.'

‘Well, go on then,' said Ashley sceptically. ‘Let's hear the Sherlock stuff. Amaze me.'

Haldean grinned. ‘Listen to me, Watson, and be amazed.' He leaned back in his chair, ticking the points off on his fingers. ‘One, Alfred Charnock needs some money Two, it's connected with Lyvenden. Three, whatever it is he's doing, he's been doing it for months, so it's not a one-off affair. Four, we're near the coast and when you add his wartime service, the man who came on Saturday night and the fact that Our Alfred sneaked home at four in the morning, soaking wet, it all points one way.'

Ashley laughed. ‘Well done. That's very neat reasoning but it's not evidence. Now I have got some evidence. Burrows, the landlord of the Pig and Whistle, had two new garages erected at the back of the pub round about Christmas. They're big, expensive structures, both of them, and very securely locked. The really interesting thing is that although Burrows owns a horse and wagon, he doesn't keep the wagon in the new garages.'

‘Have you managed to have a look inside?'

Ashley shook his head. ‘We didn't want to ring any alarm bells. That's not to say I don't have a very good idea of what's in there, mind.'

He looked up as the door opened and Isabelle came in.

‘I'm sorry to disturb you,' she said with a smile. ‘Jack, Dr Speldhurst's here. He wants to have a look at your arm.'

‘Right-ho,' said Haldean, standing up. ‘Ashley, while I've gone, take a look at this.' From his pocket he produced Lord Lyvenden's cigarette case and put it on the table. ‘Not a word about this, Belle,' he warned.

‘I'll add it to my list of secrets,' she said. ‘Is that Lord Lyvenden's cigarette case?'

‘Yes. Arthur ran off with it. Now, inside that horrible object was this piece of paper.' He took out his pocketbook and produced the note, laying it on the table beside the cigarette case.

Ashley picked it up with a frown. ‘What's it all mean?'

‘I bet it's in Russian.'

‘Have you any idea what it says?'

Haldean gave a very slight warning glance at Isabelle. ‘I'd rather not say just now. I can guess. Mind you, that's all it is, a guess, but it makes sense. However, there's no point guessing when we can get the thing translated easily enough. Can Scotland Yard do it for us, d'you think?'

‘I imagine so,' said Ashley.

‘Well, why don't you give Bill Rackham a ring? You can use the phone in the library. I'll go and see Dr Speldhurst and then we can run up to London, if you don't mind driving my car.'

‘Drive your car?' said Ashley doubtfully. ‘I can drive, but I've never handled a car like yours.'

‘It's simple enough.'

Ashley came to a decision. ‘Very well then. I have to be back for this evening, though.'

‘Jack,' said Isabelle as they left the gun room, ‘what's my mother going to say when she finds out you've gone up to London?'

He grinned. ‘Break it to her gently, old thing. I'll be back tonight.'

Superintendent Ashley buttoned up his coat and climbed into Haldean's Spyker. ‘I've been on to the Yard and it's all right with them.' He grasped the steering wheel with a certain amount of apprehension, looking down the rakish length of the blue-and-silver bonnet. ‘I've never tackled anything like this before.'

‘You'll be fine,' said Haldean. ‘Be careful with the gears. It's a four-speed box, but quite simple when you get used to it. She's a bit sticky on the clutch. Off you go. I've turned the engine over so she's quite warm.'

Ashley gingerly put the car into gear, released the brake and depressed the accelerator. ‘God strewth!' Despite his caution, the car leapt forward with alarming speed. ‘How on earth you can drive round in this without breaking your neck, I don't know. Didn't you tell me you won her in a bet?' he added, carefully bringing the car out of the stable yard. ‘I never had you pegged as the sort who went in for high stakes.'

Haldean grinned. ‘Not unless you count getting licked to a splinter by Uncle Phil at billiards. Careful, old thing. There's a bit of oversteer until you're used to it. I won her fair and square. The editor and most of the staff of
On the Town
went down with flu and I agreed to write an entire issue from Society Snippets to Answers to Correspondents – plus From the Editor's Office, a twenty-thousand-word thriller and a story of Young Love. I had the thriller tucked away in a drawer, but the rest was real sweat-of-my-brow stuff. The proprietor, who stood to lose a goodish bit if the issue didn't come out, bet me this car I couldn't do it in three days. I did it in just over two and a half and he paid up like a gent.'

‘Blimey, it takes me that long to write a letter.' Ashley hunkered down further in the seat. ‘Now, tell me what you think is on that piece of paper . . .'

Inspector Rackham stood up as they were shown into his room. ‘By crikey, Jack,' he said, his Lancastrian voice rich with relief, ‘I thought you'd had it when I read this morning's paper. It sounded as if you were on the way out. I could hardly credit it when Mr Ashley said you were on your way up to London.'

Haldean grinned. ‘Almost everyone I know expects to cough up for a funeral wreath in the very near future. However, reports of my early demise are, I'm glad to say, very much exaggerated. Can you get the translation done for us?'

‘There'll be no problem about that. Hand it over.'

Rackham put the paper in a cardboard file and took it out of the room. He was back within minutes. ‘It won't take long. I'd warned our Russian expert we had some business for him. Is there anything else we can do for you?'

Haldean sucked his cheeks in. ‘As you know, I'm interested in the Paradise Club. Somebody from Stanmore Parry telephoned the Paradise Club the day Smith-Fennimore was kidnapped. I'm wondering if the Paradise Club could be connected with the Russians who attacked us at Hesperus and chased Stanton and me round the grounds of The Priory yesterday.'

‘A sort of gang headquarters, you mean?' Bill Rackham tapped his fingers on the desk. ‘Not that those two who were killed yesterday were Russian, of course. It's interesting about the Paradise Club, Jack. I'm told it's all right. Keeping an eye on undesirables isn't my department, but they usually know what they're doing. It gets rather boisterous from time to time, that's all. It's a bit of a dive, but it's fashionable. Goodness knows why. Have you been there?'

‘I've been a couple of times. You're quite right, it is a dive. But fashionable.'

Rackham smiled. ‘I don't know why you waste your time or money. Now, having said that about the place, I think there might be more to it than we've realized.' He opened his desk and took out an envelope. ‘I was going to get in touch with you anyway this morning, Mr Ashley. Here's a picture of a real beauty.' He took a photograph out of the envelope and laid it on the desk. ‘It's another dead man and he is a Russian. He was fished out of the Thames yesterday morning with a bullet through his chest. It didn't attract much attention, because the papers have been full of the Lyvenden case, but I wondered if you knew anything about him, as you seem to have had quite a lot of Russians on your hands recently.' He looked at Haldean. ‘Do you recognize him?'

Haldean's eyebrows rose. ‘I'll say I do. It's the man who was at Hesperus on Sunday. You didn't see him, Ashley, but it's him all right. He looks a bit the worse for wear.' Haldean handed back the photograph. ‘Who is he, Bill? Do you know?'