by Simon Brett
‘And your husband’s well impressed too. He says I done just what he wanted. And he says he really wants to explore further what can be done with technology in his line of business. Then he hands across a brown envelope containing a grand in fifties and offers, like, a monthly retainer for me to come on board and work with him.
‘I thought Christmas and my birthday had come at the same time. I was well chuffed. One of the best days of my life – though I was to have a few more good ones when I was working with your old man. He was a diamond, Mr Pargeter, a genuine two-thousand-carat diamond.’
‘Thank you,’ said Mrs Pargeter, because it seemed the appropriate moment to say it. She could hardly contain her excitement. She had now come closer than ever before to finding out the details of her late husband’s early career. And she felt sure that Gizmo Gilbert had more information to give her.
‘Tell me,’ she asked, ‘what happened to Hair-Trigger Hardcastle?’
‘He went on working with your husband for a few years, sourcing guns and that kind of stuff whenever they was needed, but then … there was a big falling-out.’
‘Oh?’
‘Turns out Hair-Trigger had a scam going. He was creaming off twenty per cent for himself on every deal he done. Well, when your old man found out, he didn’t like that. Always being such an honest man himself, he didn’t like to see dishonesty in others.’
Mrs Pargeter nodded agreement. ‘So what happened to Hair-Trigger?’
‘He must’ve gone off to do something else. For someone else.’
‘But you’ve no idea what? Or for who?’
Gizmo Gilbert shook his head wearily. ‘Not a clue, Mrs Pargeter.’
NINETEEN
She was almost out of the door, saying her goodbyes, when Mrs Pargeter remembered there was something else she needed to ask Gizmo Gilbert. It had been floating around in her subconscious since she’d last met him: the niggling feeling that she’d forgotten something that might be important.
‘Betrayal!’ she said suddenly.
‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gizmo Gilbert.
‘You talked to me last week about people who betrayed my husband.’
‘What, you mean like Hair-Trigger Hardcastle?’
‘Yes, that was a kind of betrayal. A betrayal of trust, certainly. But mostly it was just straightforward theft, taking his unauthorized cut out of the gun deals. You mentioned another, more serious betrayal – an undercover cop insinuating himself into my husband’s operation.’
Gizmo Gilbert nodded. ‘Oh yes, the original cuckoo in the nest.’
‘Remind me, what was his name?’
‘Magnet Mitchell.’
‘And you implied that after he was unmasked, he was killed by some hot-headed younger members of my husband’s … business?’
‘I don’t know that for sure.’
‘Gizmo, I want you to tell me everything possible that you know about Magnet Mitchell.’
‘Certainly, Mrs P. But that might take a while, so do you mind if we sit down again?’
She didn’t mind. They sat.
When she left Gizmo Gilbert’s house and got into Gary’s Skoda Octavia, parked discreetly around the corner, Mrs Pargeter felt for the first time since the investigation had started that she might be getting somewhere.
She was slipping gently into a quiet little nap as they drove along when her phone rang. It was Truffler Mason, and there was an urgency in his lugubrious tones. ‘Mrs P, there’s just been an attempt to kidnap Lady Winthrop.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Where are you?’
‘In Gary’s Octavia.’
‘Then switch on speakerphone. I want him to hear this too.’
Mrs Pargeter did as she was told, then asked, ‘Where did the attempted abduction happen?’
‘At her house. Two men burst in. They’d got a car waiting outside.’
‘What make?’
‘Toyota Prius.’
‘Right.’
‘Anyway, these two villains got into her house, and they were dragging her down the steps to the car when something extraordinarily rare happened.’
‘What was it?’
‘You’ll never believe this. When they get out on to the pavement, the villains see, walking towards them … two uniformed coppers.’
‘Good grief.’
‘Yes, that is a rare moment, isn’t it? Policemen appearing actually when they are needed. Like back in the days of having a friendly bobby on the beat. Anyway, the boys in blue see there’s someone being abducted, so they run forward, whipping out their walkie-talkies. And the villains are suddenly not so interested in kidnapping Lady Winthrop. They drop her on the pavement, leap into the Prius and depart in an eco-friendly screech of tyres.’
‘Is Helena all right?’
‘She’ll be fine. A bit shaken, but who can blame her? I’ve spoken to Napper Johnson about her.’
‘Oh?’
‘Bodyguards are another part of his business. He says he’s going to put one of his best female operatives on to guard Lady Winthrop twenty-four/seven. Or he may actually do the job himself.’
‘Good. I suppose you haven’t heard anything from Napper about Holy Smirke?’
‘Mrs Pargeter,’ said Truffler Mason, a little reproachfully. ‘You should know that the minute we get any info there, you will be the first to know.’
‘Of course I know that. Bless you, Truffler.’
‘Anyway, the reason I want Gary to hear this—’
‘Morning, Truffler,’ said the chauffeur’s voice from the front of the Octavia.
‘Morning, Gary. Listen, I want you to take on bodyguard duties for Mrs Pargeter.’
‘But I don’t need any of that,’ she protested. ‘I’m in no danger.’ Again, stubbornly, she made no mention of the call from Edmund Grainger.
‘Mrs P,’ said Truffler wearily. ‘Holy Smirke got kidnapped because he might have been able to give you information about the early days of Sir Normington Winthrop’s career. Lady Winthrop was nearly kidnapped because she’s trying to find out details of her husband’s early career. You are investigating exactly the same thing. I would say you were definitely at risk from whoever these people are.’
‘You might have a point.’
‘I do have a point, Mrs P. And for that reason I am asking you not to go off on your own making further investigations.’
‘Very well,’ she said. And then, in a mood of contrition, she finally told them about the call she’d had from Edmund Grainger.
It was the first time she had ever seen Truffler Mason really angry. ‘Why the hell didn’t you mention that before?’
‘I don’t know. I just thought he was a bully and I don’t like letting bullies win.’ Even as she said them she knew how inadequate her words sounded.
With great restraint Truffler curbed his anger. ‘Well, that’s all the more reason why you need protection,’ he said. ‘Gary, you keep an eye on her. Don’t let her out of your sight.’
‘Right you are,’ said Gary, who wouldn’t find following Truffler’s instructions any hardship at all.
Though when she had spoken to Sammy Pinkerton earlier in the day, the girl had said Kelvin wasn’t taking her calls, Mrs Pargeter still thought it was worth trying to get through to him. When they had met at Greene’s Hotel, she’d had reservations about his choice of career, but the one thing she’d never doubted was the quality of his devotion to Sammy. Every time he’d looked at his fiancée, it was as if he wanted to bundle her up into his arms and protect her from all the evil in the entire world.
Mrs Pargeter therefore conjectured that though he might have reacted initially with pique when Sammy informed him the engagement was off, he would in more thoughtful moments since have been wondering how he could get things back to the happier status quo. And that was one of her goals too.
When she rang, still from the back of the Octavia, Kelvin Stockett sounded very cautious and suspicious, but at least he did answer t
he phone.
Mrs Pargeter’s identification of herself prompted a very terse, ‘What do you want?’
‘Listen, Kelvin, I’ve heard from Sammy that the engagement’s off.’
‘Yes.’
‘I was just ringing to say I’m very sorry.’
‘I’m not exactly ecstatic about the situation myself.’
‘And she’s got it wrong, hasn’t she? You didn’t spend Saturday night with another woman?’
‘No, of course I didn’t!’
‘But you were out all night?’
‘Yes.’
‘Doing a job for people who’ve forbidden you to talk about it …?’ Mrs Pargeter hazarded.
‘Yes. Exactly.’
‘And why can’t you tell Sammy that?’
‘Because … well, look, you know that she doesn’t fully approve of my profession?’
‘I had pieced that together, yes.’
‘And anyway, I did lie to her about Saturday. I told her I’d just watch telly and have an early night, but even as I was saying the words I knew I was going to be off on this big job all night. I lied to her. I was out doing a burglary.’
‘I think she’d much rather you were doing that than being in bed with another woman.’
‘Maybe, but I still lied to her.’
‘Kelvin, you want Sammy back, don’t you? You still want to marry her?’
‘More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.’
‘Then we need to meet.’
Kelvin had suggested the Greyhound, the pub near the flat he shared – or possibly had shared – with Sammy. Their local – or what had been their local. The thought that their relationship might be over hurt Kelvin like a physical pain. That’s why he’d so readily agreed to meet Mrs Pargeter. She had the air about her of someone who would get things done.
Mrs Pargeter herself was delighted by the venue. From when she was a child, growing up in the area, she had always loved Southend. Also, it was getting near lunchtime, and Mrs Pargeter always associated Southend with fish and chips.
Gary’s Skoda Octavia did not look conspicuous in the car park of the Greyhound. The other cars were from a similar price range, and there were a couple of white vans. Just as well he hadn’t driven the Bentley.
Gary, mindful of Truffler’s instructions, insisted on coming into the pub too, but Mrs Pargeter insisted that he should not look as if he was with her. So they gave the impression once inside the pub that they had never met before but had just happened to arrive at the door at the same time.
Kelvin was already sitting at a table in the corner, two-thirds of the way down a pint of lager. His face suggested that the horse on which he had staked his entire month’s salary had just limped in a resounding last. Which actually wasn’t a bad metaphor for what had happened to him.
He looked up at Mrs Pargeter’s entrance, recognizing her at once. (Nobody who’d met her once ever failed to recognize her again.)
‘Hello, Kelvin,’ she said breezily. She pointed to his glass. ‘Looks like you need a top-up. What is it?’
‘San Miguel.’
‘Because I’m in Southend and because it’s lunchtime I’m going to order fish and chips. Same for you?’
‘I don’t feel much like eating at the moment.’
‘I’ll order you fish and chips.’ She strode across to the bar, ordered a pint of San Miguel and, for herself, a Vodka Campari. ‘I’ll move on to the wine later,’ she said to the cheery young barman. ‘And fish and chips twice, please. Can I put that on a tab?’
No problem. As she moved across to join Kelvin she noticed that Gary had retired to a table on the other side of the bar, from which she would always be in his eyeline. He’d picked up a copy of the Sun from the bar and was perusing it as he sipped at a glass of mineral water. Gary was always very good about not drinking when he was working. Losing a licence could all too easily finish off a car-hire business like his.
‘Well, look,’ said Mrs Pargeter, after she had raised the Vodka Campari to the doom-struck young man sitting opposite her, ‘I know you’re afraid the whole relationship’s over, but I think things can be sorted out between you.’
‘No, they can’t,’ he said despondently. ‘What happened at the weekend wasn’t really the cause of Sammy breaking off the engagement. It was, if you like, a symptom of what has been going wrong for some time.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘And, in fact, what you said on the phone, about her preferring me to be off working than with another woman? That might not actually be true.’
‘You mean it’s basically your profession that’s driving a wedge between the two of you?’
He nodded miserably, like a dog that’s just been refused a walk.
‘Is Sammy worried about you being caught and arrested?’
Kelvin dismissed the suggestion with something approaching contempt. ‘She knows I’m too good at it for that to happen.’
‘So it’s a moral issue?’
‘I guess so. Sammy thinks it’s wrong to take other people’s stuff.’ There was a note of bewilderment in his voice at the incongruity of this idea.
‘Well,’ said Mrs Pargeter gently, ‘a lot of people would agree with her there.’
‘But I keep telling her … when I steal from individuals it’s only stuff they can easily get replaced by their insurance. And when I steal from commercial companies, the damage I do is so minimal that they’re often not even aware of it.’ He was careful not to mention what he’d been doing at the weekend, which didn’t fit into either of these categories.
‘“Victimless crimes”, eh?’
‘Pretty much.’
Mrs Pargeter did not pass judgement on his reply. Instead, she said, ‘And you’re doing this – you’ve chosen this route through life – because of your father?’
‘Yes, I’d like to do something to make him proud of me. I was never able to achieve that while I was alive, because my mother tried to stop us from having any kind of relationship, but I want to make up for that.’
‘And do you think he would be proud of you now?’
A glow of self-esteem burst through the young man’s misery. ‘I think he would. I’ve worked so hard to try to emulate him. And I am now – I can say without any false modesty – one of the best burglars in the country.’
‘Congratulations,’ said Mrs Pargeter drily. ‘How much do you know about your father’s career?’
‘Apart from the fact that he was a burglar, and he died in a motorcycle accident, not a lot. As I said, my mother did everything possible to keep us apart.’
‘Even, I’ve heard, to the extent of giving you her surname rather than his.’
‘Yes. By the time I realized what had happened, the name “Kelvin Stockett” was on so many forms, school registers and so on, that it was too late to do anything about it.’
‘But you do know what your father’s surname was?’
‘Of course I do. It was Mitchell.’
‘And do you know what he was called by his professional associates?’
‘Yes. Magnet Mitchell.’
‘This morning I’ve found out rather a lot about the career of Magnet Mitchell.’
‘Have you?’ Kelvin sounded really excited. ‘How did you find it out?’
‘Well, normally I would have used the archival services of two experts I know – Truffler Mason and Erin Jarvis.’ Mrs Pargeter was not expecting any reaction to the names, so didn’t notice the tremor of recognition that crossed Kelvin Stockett’s face. ‘But their records are … currently unavailable, so I consulted another of your father’s former colleagues.’
‘This is wonderful, Mrs Pargeter. I’ve been starved of information about my old man all my life, so please tell me everything you know.’
‘Very well. I will.’
And she proceeded to tell him everything that she had learned from Gizmo Gilbert. How Magnet Mitchell had developed his skills as a burglar in order to become accepted as one
of the team on the late Mr Pargeter’s payroll. But how all the time he had actually been in the employ of the Metropolitan Police, awaiting the moment when he showed his true colours and shopped the lot of them to the authorities.
When she finished there was a silence.
‘So,’ Mrs Pargeter continued after a while, ‘it looks like you’ve been following the wrong role model, Kelvin.’
‘Yes,’ he murmured, still stunned, still trying to take in all this new information.
‘Your father’s cover was so deep that he couldn’t even tell his wife that he was actually working for the Met. She, daughter of a Chief Constable, despised him all his life for being a burglar, while he was actually on her side.’
There was a shocked silence from Kelvin. Then, suddenly, he stood up and announced, ‘I must join the police force as soon as possible!’
TWENTY
It was a Council of War. ‘Just like the old days,’ said Gary, rubbing his hands together with relish. Then he noticed he was receiving a rather old-fashioned look from Mrs Pargeter, so he stopped rubbing his hands together with relish.
They were in a private room at Greene’s Hotel. Mrs Pargeter, Gary, Truffler, Napper Johnson and Erin Jarvis. And though the atmosphere hadn’t quite got to the level of an interrogation, Kelvin Stockett – or Kelvin Mitchell, as he now wished to be called – was enduring fairly tough questioning.
But now his ambitions had shifted from crime perpetration to crime prevention he was an extremely useful witness. Truffler Mason and Erin Jarvis were both hugely relieved when he revealed himself to be the perpetrator of the thefts from their offices. He had transferred all their belongings to the back room of the house off Lavender Hill, and when he’d last been there in the early hours of Sunday morning everything had looked intact.
‘I still don’t really see,’ said Erin, ‘why they wanted our stuff.’
Mrs Pargeter explained. ‘They want to do anything that will stop us making any progress in our investigation of Sir Normington Winthrop’s background. That’s why they kidnapped Holy Smirke, so that he couldn’t talk to us. It’s why they set up Kelvin to rob your office – and Truffler’s. That’s why they tried to kidnap Helena Winthrop – because they knew she’d contacted Truffler and been in touch with me.’
