Twenty minutes later, the performance with the hall porter was repeated when Jackson took back the tray and, funded by Webb, settled the bill. It was confirmed that Mr Hardy had not phoned in.
On receipt of this information, Webb reached for his own phone and called the number Ledbetter had given him.
‘He’s not shown up yet, Chris. We’re parked outside the apartment building and he’s definitely not inside. The hall porter says he often dines out and goes on to a show, so God knows when he’ll get back. But since he can’t be contacted at the apartment, I’d say you’re safe enough to let the SOCOs get under way.’
Ledbetter swore softly. ‘Wouldn’t you know it? OK, Dave, thanks, I’ll do that. Hope you’re not kept waiting too long.’
‘You picked up the girlfriend?’
‘Yep.’ He did not elaborate, and Webb let it go.
‘I’ll ring back when we’ve got him,’ he said, and switched off the phone. Then, selecting a cassette, he slid it into the slot and, with Jackson beside him, settled down for a long wait.
*
When dinner was over, Helen was anxious not to be alone with Michael. He might well consider, after his rescue of her, that he was entitled to hear the real reason for her visit to the police. Throughout the meal she had been trying to think of an innocent explanation; the trouble was that if it had been innocent, she would not have hesitated to reveal it in the first place.
Something to do with Andrew, perhaps? That would account for not wanting to broadcast it, but she could think of nothing remotely convincing.
Seeing Terry Pike make for the television lounge, Helen thankfully followed him. She didn’t like the man, and he had caused the embarrassment in the first place, but he was unlikely to refer back to it.
He turned as she closed the door behind her. ‘Anything in particular you want to watch?’
‘Only the news, and it’s not quite time yet.’
He switched the set on and they both sat down. Helen’s ear was attuned for Michael’s arrival, but he did not come. Having appeared to be on her side, was he now conferring with the others about what might be the true reason for her contacting the police? Yet, she reminded herself, it was she who had tried to avoid him. Perhaps he’d noticed and was simply keeping out of her way.
She leant her head back and, ignoring the flickering screen, closed her eyes. There were suddenly so many questions in her life — Andrew and that woman, the tensions that had built up here over the week, her attitude to Michael and his to her. It had taken Pen to bring this last to her notice, but she admitted now that she found him attractive.
A familiar fanfare intruded on her musings, and at the same moment Terry said, ‘Wake up, Sleeping Beauty, the news is starting.’
They watched it in silence for some ten minutes, until raised voices in the hall attracted their attention.
Terry said, ‘What the hell’s going on?’ and went to open the door. Helen followed him in time to hear Stella demand shrilly, ‘But what are they doing here? Don’t they have to have a warrant or something?’
Helen felt herself go hot. The police?
‘What’s happening?’ Terry demanded, and Stella made an obvious attempt to calm down.
‘The high-handed arm of the law,’ she said. ‘They’re rigging up arc lights outside — God knows why.’
‘Outside where?’
‘At the front. Gordon and Nicholas are out there trying to find out what’s going on. Kate says they’re taking photographs.’
‘Of what, for Pete’s sake?’
‘How should I know?’ Her voice had started to rise again. ‘There’s only gravel and shrubs out there.’
Helen thought suddenly: It’s where I told them Dominic parked his car.
Almost as though reading her mind, Terry said softly, ‘Well, well, you’re having a surfeit of the police today, aren’t you, Helen? Perhaps they’re looking for your necklace.’
She said stiffly, ‘I hardly think it warrants arc lamps.’
The front door opened and Nicholas and Gordon came back inside, slapping their arms for warmth. Kate, who had been waiting at the door, said quickly, ‘Did you get any more out of them?’
‘No, we were told to keep back, if you please. Damn it, it’s our property, we’re entitled to an explanation.’
‘They were very polite,’ Nicholas put in. ‘Assured us they didn’t want to come into the house or disturb us in any way.’
‘They are disturbing us,’ Stella said.
Nicholas’s eyes had gone past her to Helen, standing rigidly by the door to the television room.
‘If they want to make mud pies, I can’t see there’s any objection,’ he said.
Kate stared at him. ‘Is that what they’re doing?’
‘That’s what it looked like to me. After all of which, I could do with a drink. Anyone care to join me?’
Uncertainly they moved towards the bar, but Helen had had enough of their company. There was no saying how long it would be before another barbed comment referred back to her visit to the police station. The stairs lay between her and the bar; unnoticed, she ran up them and turned into the corridor. To come face to face with Michael.
She could only guess at the expression on her face, because he put a hand out and said quickly, ‘Hey, it’s me! I’m not going to bite you!’
She laughed shakily. ‘Sorry.’
‘You’re a bundle of nerves, aren’t you? Ever since we met that blasted husband of yours.’
When she made no reply, he said, ‘Do you know what’s going on outside? I’ve been watching from my window.’
‘I think it’s the police.’ She added foolishly, ‘Nicholas said they’re making mud pies.’
‘Is it your doing?’
She looked up at him, heart leaping. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Helen, you’re always asking me what I mean. It was a simple enough question. However, this is no place to talk; my room’s just here.’ And, as she drew back, he added acidly, ‘You needn’t worry, I shan’t compromise you.’
He had the knack of putting her in the wrong. Discomfited, she would have made some excuse, but he’d taken her arm and was opening the door beside them. The room was smaller than she expected — one of the two singles Stella had mentioned that first evening. It was also brilliantly lit by the lights which streamed through the uncurtained window.
Helen walked across and looked down. The whole scene was illuminated by the hard, white light, as though actors were taking part in a play. As Nicholas had said, two men were on their hands and knees on the ground, while others held cameras. Their concentration was almost palpable and Helen was thankful it wasn’t she they were after.
Michael came to join her and they stood watching in silence.
‘You know what they’re doing, don’t you?’ he said at last. ‘Or are you going to deny that as well?’
She said indignantly, ‘I haven’t denied anything.’
‘Well, profess ignorance then. Same difference.’ And at her continuing silence, he went on, ‘Right, then I’ll spell it out for you. They’re examining the ground where Dominic’s car was parked last night.’
‘But why?’
He seemed taken aback by her genuine bewilderment. ‘For tyre prints, I imagine, since they appear to be taking casts.’
‘But why should they want casts of Dominic’s tyre prints?’
‘At a guess, to compare them with prints they already have.’ He paused. ‘And who knows where they obtained those?’
She turned slowly to face him. ‘Michael, do you know what this is all about?’
‘My dear girl, you appear to know far more than I do. I’ve been staying here peacefully for several months now, and nothing struck me as being amiss. But no sooner do you arrive than tensions mount and we have the police sniffing around. Are you going to tell me why you really went to them this afternoon?’
She said awkwardly, ‘I haven’t thanked you for helping me out.’
‘You were so obviously floundering, and on a flash of inspiration, I noticed you weren’t wearing the beads you’d had on earlier in the week. Don’t, for God’s sake, wear them again. Terry’s office is in Maybury Street, by the way; he must have seen you from his window.
‘So, are you going to enlighten me? Or,’ he added, his voice hardening, ‘do you still not trust me?’
‘It’s not that,’ she said — though it was, in part. ‘It’s just that it’s all wild speculation as far as I’m concerned and I can’t start slandering people till I have some kind of proof.’
‘But you had enough to go to the police.’
‘I had enough,’ she corrected him, ‘to want to hand the responsibility over to them and let them sort it out.’
‘And that’s all you’re going to tell me?’
‘For the moment, yes.’
‘Helen Campbell, there are times when I want to shake you.’ He paused. ‘And there are also times when I want to do something quite different.’ Another pause. ‘And the worst times are when I want to do both things at once, such as now.’
She stood very still, her eyes on his face.
‘You see, until yesterday I thought you were a happily married woman, and that the bond which seemed to be growing between us must remain a surface one. But you’re not happily married, are you?’
She said barely audibly, ‘Not at the moment, no.’
‘You’re going back to him at the end of the week?’
‘Yes.’
‘Whether or not that woman turns out to be his mistress?’
‘I have to go back, Michael, at least to discuss it.’
‘And if she is?’
Her eyes dropped. ‘I don’t know.’
‘All right. I’ve said more than enough, but I just want you to know that if you need a shoulder to cry on, mine’s available. Now, perhaps you’d better go, before I forget my promise not to compromise you.’
She said with difficulty, ‘Thank you for being so understanding.’
He gave a harsh laugh. ‘Understanding is the last thing I am. I’ve not the slightest idea what’s going on, but I am worried that you might be putting yourself in danger. If you won’t let me help you, at least promise me you’ll take care of yourself.’
‘I promise,’ she said. She reached up and lightly kissed his cheek. ‘Good night, Michael.’
And leaving him standing looking after her, she let herself out of the room.
13
‘Guy!’
Jackson’s excited voice jolted Webb from the strains of a piano concerto and he straightened swiftly.
‘There’s a bloke getting out of a taxi — is that him?’ Webb looked across at the man bent to the taxi-driver’s window.
‘Very probably, Ken. Let’s go and find out.’
They caught up with him as he was about to insert his key in the entrance door of the building.
‘Mr Hardy?’
He spun round at the sound of Webb’s voice, and for a moment Jackson thought he was going to make a dash for it. But he just paused and waited.
‘DCI Webb and Sergeant Jackson, Shillingham CID.’
Hardy said softly, ‘Slightly off your patch, aren’t you, gentlemen?’
‘I’m arresting you on suspicion of aggravated burglary in connection with country houses, and must ask you to accompany us back to Broadshire. I’m also cautioning you, sir. You understand what that means?’
‘Oh, I do, Chief Inspector, I do.’
He turned without demur and went with them back to the car. ‘Been waiting long?’ he asked conversationally, as Webb handcuffed him to Jackson and gestured him into the back.
‘Long enough.’
Webb got into the driver’s seat and checked the dashboard clock. It was eleven-thirty-two. He reached for the phone in the glove compartment.
‘Chris? We’re on our way.’
*
Maybury Street police station was the only building in Steeple Bayliss that showed any lights. Night and day were interchangeable here and the fact that it was two-fifteen in the morning made no difference to the bustling sense of purpose.
Ledbetter was waiting for them in the foyer and Webb went to have a private word with him.
‘He’s been chatting happily all the way home,’ he reported. ‘You’d have thought he was at a bloody cocktail party. Nothing relevant, mind. A blow-by-blow account of a play he saw last week, the state of English rugby, the best way to cook grouse. I wished to God he’d shut up, but at least it passed the time.’
‘Nerves, would you say?’
‘Could be, but if so they’re well-disguised.’ Webb paused. ‘Did the girlfriend cough?’
‘No. Her father’s just died and we finished up having to give her a sedative. She’s asleep in the doctor’s room.’ He jerked his head towards Hardy, standing chatting to an unresponsive Jackson. ‘Does he know we’ve got her?’
‘Not from us.’
‘Fine. OK, then, here we go. Want to sit in on it?’
‘You bet I do. But Ken Jackson’s out on his feet; is there anywhere he can get his head down?’
‘Sure, I’ll get someone to show him the way. You must be pretty exhausted yourself. I at least managed a brief nap while I was waiting.’
‘I shan’t sleep till I know whether this lad’s behind the country house business, so let’s get on with it.’
All the same, he was grateful for the strong black coffee that was brought to the interview room. Ledbetter switched on the tape and went through the usual procedure. Then he took a small plastic envelope from his pocket and pushed it across to Hardy. As far as Webb could see, it contained a small gold button.
Hardy’s eyes fastened on it, but he made no move to pick it up.
‘Yours, I believe,’ Ledbetter said.
‘Not necessarily, Inspector. All members of my club wear them.’
‘Nevertheless, if you were to look at the sleeve of your blazer, I believe you’d find one missing.’
Hardy’s eyes narrowed. ‘And why the hell should you think that?’
‘Because this is smaller than the breast buttons. And also because you’re the only member of Chardsey Yacht Club whom we know to have visited the area.’
‘What area are we talking about?’
‘Beckworth House.’
‘Then I’m afraid you’re mistaken; I’ve never visited Beckworth.’
‘You might also be interested to know that we have taken casts of your tyre prints from outside the Seven Stars guesthouse to compare with those found near Buckhurst Grange on the night of the break-in.’
‘How very enterprising of you.’
‘Some hairs were also found at the scene. It will be interesting if we can complete the hat-trick by matching them to yours.’
‘You have been busy bees. Any other little snippets I should know?’
‘Only that your girlfriend’s here.’
A flash of something Webb couldn’t analyse rippled across Hardy’s face and was gone. That got to him, he thought.
‘What have you done to her?’ The bantering note had left his voice.
‘We had an interesting chat,’ Ledbetter lied.
‘That was bloody insensitive of you, when her father’s just died.’
‘Lord Cleverley died on Thursday,’ Webb said without expression.
The colour left Hardy’s face, but his voice was tightly controlled. ‘The significance of that comment eludes me.’
‘Just an observation, sir,’ Webb said stolidly. ‘In the midst of life, and all that.’
‘I don’t need reminding, thank you. Like Charles II, Roderick took an unconscionable time dying, and I don’t mind telling you it got me down.’
‘Which was why you deserted the grieving family and went back to London?’
He said with a flash of anger, ‘Caro never said that!’
‘I’m saying it, Mr Hardy.’
‘Then what did Caro say?’
&nbs
p; ‘Suppose you tell us your side of it.’
For what seemed several minutes but was probably only seconds, the two men held each other’s eyes, weighing each other up, perhaps calling each other’s bluff. Then, unexpectedly, Hardy relaxed and sat back in his chair.
‘Oh, what the hell?’ he said. ‘If the game’s up, at least we had a good run for our money.’
Webb and Ledbetter exchanged a quick look. Could it be as easy as that?
Ledbetter said, ‘You’re prepared to make a statement?’
‘I suppose so, since you’ve doubtless wormed most of it out of Caro; she’d have been in no state to stand up to your “chat”.’ He said the word viciously. ‘Before we go any further, though, I must make one thing clear. Lord Cleverley’s death was an accident and we bitterly regret it. I met him once at a polo match; he was a nice old chap.’
‘Which didn’t stop you hitting him over the head to save your skin.’
Hardy looked quickly from one to the other. ‘Hold on a minute. What exactly did Caro tell you?’
‘What are you telling us, Mr Hardy?’
‘Do you know, Inspector, I think you’ve pulled a fast one. You haven’t got a statement from Caro, have you?’
‘I never said we had.’
‘Bloody hell!’ Hardy said softly. ‘The oldest trick in the book, and I fell for it!’ Then, surprisingly, he laughed.
‘All right, you win. If you’ve got this far, I’m not going to demean myself by squirming. What do you want to know?’
‘Everything,’ Ledbetter said promptly, ‘but principally where the stolen goods went and how we can get them back.’
‘Ah, now I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I know nothing of the business arrangements.’
Webb’s heart plummeted. It seemed that even with Hardy’s cooperation, things weren’t after all going to be that easy.
‘Then what did you do with them?’ he demanded.
‘Deposited them at the Seven Stars for onward transit.’
The detectives tried to hide their surprise. Webb thought, so Chris was right; there is a connection. Ledbetter spared a quick, silent cheer for Mrs Campbell.
‘How did you decide which to rob and what to take?’
The Seven Stars Page 16
