by Amy Myers
‘Never better.’
‘Right. So there’s you, a gun or two, a few books and magazines and two dead bodies. We heard the last two shots, which was the third? Two of you, I know. The third man I didn’t know.’
‘We none of us did,’ I said obliquely. ‘Chesterton’s invisible postman. Always there, but we didn’t think Sam was a player.’
‘In this game of yours?’
I considered this. All along I’d been sure the game and the death of Geoffrey Green aka Philip Moxton were linked, and in an unexpected way I had been right. Sam West, like Alfred Randolph, had been one of the many forgotten casualties of the Moxton banks, which had sprung from the Hatchwell robbery that began the game. Had it been Sam whom Philip Moxton suspected of wanting to kill him? I’d never know the answer to that.
‘In a way,’ I replied to Brandon’s question, and he listened intently as I told him the story of that day on the beach and of the deaths of two men.
I’d have to make a formal statement asap, he told me, and then asked me if I had any hard evidence.
‘The gun?’ I came up with. It wasn’t much, but his would be the only prints on it. It wasn’t much and I was sure they and the Met would dig out far more at Sam West’s home, in his car and through unidentified prints and DNA at Wendy’s home.
Brandon actually clapped me on the back. ‘Thanks, Jack.’
‘What for?’ I asked, as I flinched with pain.
‘Through you, I’ll have solved the Met’s case for them.’
I didn’t need a nursemaid after that, other than Zoe. I didn’t mind the Herricks coming either, together with Joan and Gwen. They had come to express sympathy, but with an air of self-righteousness at being innocent all along. And then came Barney.
‘Hello, Jack,’ he said.
‘Hi,’ I said cautiously. He was clearly here with a mission, but what was it?
‘I’ve been deputed to tell you.’
‘Don’t let it be that the game’s over, please.’
‘But it is.’
‘Can’t be. I’ve still got the Packard. Does your family want it back?’
‘No. But the game’s over because we’ve found a permanent solution.’
‘Which is?’
‘I’m putting all my father’s money into a foundation.’
My mouth, as they say, dropped wide open. ‘You mean your family won’t get a penny?’ Was that funny? It was to me, but—
‘That doesn’t seem altogether fair,’ I ventured.
‘They’ve all agreed,’ he said cheerfully. ‘The money is tainted in a way, and perhaps that’s why my father had intended to set up a charitable foundation.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘My mother and Moira are going to run it – paid of course and pensioned. It’s a wrap, Jack.’
‘Which leaves you and me,’ I said to Louise when she returned that day from her own wrap.
It was still just about light enough to stroll out into the garden. The sun was already sinking but the garden was just as colourful with its autumnal tints. Still blooming. Still here, just as we were. Or were we? We were both silent, perhaps both realizing that something had to be said and not knowing what. So we stayed silent until we made our way back past the barn-cum-garage where my classics live. And outside stood the Packard, its buttery yellow paint still gleaming out at us.
‘There it is,’ I said. ‘It’s just you, me – and the Packard. Your very own getaway car.’ There was the hint of a question in my voice.
‘I won’t be needing one, Jack.’
I put my arm round her. ‘Nor me. The Packard game is over. Ours is just revving up.’
The Car’s the Star
James Myers
The Starring Car
1935 Packard Series 120 Sedan (Saloon)
The Packard One-Twenty (or ‘120’) was produced by the Packard Motor Car Company, of Detroit, from 1935 to 1941. The 120 model designation was replaced by the ‘Packard Eight’ model name during model years 1938 to 1942. The 120 was an important car in Packard’s history because it signified that Packard had for the first time entered into the competitive mid-priced eight-cylinder car market.
It is probable that the 120 saved Packard’s bacon back in the mid-thirties (Great Depression) years. Otherwise, as this theory goes, Packard would most likely have been defunct by 1940, as were Duesenberg, Cord, Marmon, Peerless and Pierce-Arrow.
Jack Colby’s own classic cars
Jack’s 1965 Gordon-Keeble
One hundred of these fabulous supercars were built between 1963 and 1966 with over 90 units surviving around the globe, mostly in the UK. Designed by John Gordon and Jim Keeble using then current racing car principles with the bodyshell designed by 21-year-old Giorgetto Giugiaro at Bertone, the cars were an instant success but the company was ruined by supply-side industrial action with ultimately only 99 units completed even after the company was relaunched in May 1965, as Keeble Cars Ltd.
Final closure came in February 1966 when the factory at Sholing closed and Jim Keeble moved to Keewest. The 100th car was completed in 1971 with left-over components. The Gordon-Keeble’s emblem is a yellow and green tortoise.
Jack’s 1938 Lagonda V-12 Drophead
The Lagonda company won its attractive name from a creek near the home of the American-born founder Wilbur Gunn in Springfield, Ohio. The name given to it by the American Indians was Ough Ohonda. The V-12 drophead was a car to compete with the very best in the world, with a sporting 12-cylinder engine which would power the two 1939 Le Mans cars. Its designer was the famous W.O. Bentley. Sadly many fine prewar saloons have been cut down to look like Le Mans replicas. The V12 cars are very similar externally to the earlier 6-cylinder versions; both types were available with open or closed bodywork in a number of different styles. The V-12 Drophead also featured in Jack’s earlier case, Classic in the Barn.
Footnotes
Chapter Eight
1 See Classic Calls the Shots
Chapter Nine
1 See Classic in the Clouds
Chapter Ten
1 See Classic Mistake
2 See Classic Mistake
