by John Creasey
Bristow chuckled. ‘Why not? You’ve a lot of leave due to you.’
‘It ain’t the leave I want. I’ll need a rest after tonight,’ said Tring. ‘Well, I really am grateful, Mr. Bristow. I wouldn’t never have got it if it hadn’t been for you, I know that. Anything turned up?’
‘You don’t want to worry about work tonight,’ said Bristow. ‘You get off, Inspector.’
Tring’s smile nearly split his face in two.
‘I shan’t half feel funny when they call me that. Not that it won’t make some of the sergeants look down their noses, and I’ll make one or two of the cheeky baskets sit up before I’ve finished. Cor, I—’
He broke off.
He had glanced down at the desk, and the report from ‘A’ Division had caught his eye.
‘Don’t that say Quinn’s?’
‘Reading upside down, are you? It’s a routine report about a beggar who went there today.’
‘Routine,’ echoed Tanker. ‘Just routine, is it? Well, you’ve got it on top of all the others, that don’t look much like routine to me. You aren’t keeping anything back from me, are you?’
‘I am not,’ said Bristow, firmly.
‘Because if there’s anything doin’ about Quinn’s, I’m in it,’ said Tanker. ‘They can buy my beer next Thursday. Mannering’s not up to anything again, is he?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Tring sat back in his chair.
‘That means you think he might be. Don’t put anything across me, Mr. Bristow. You know—’ he paused, and licked his lips. ‘You know I’ve got a conscience, don’t you?’
‘It’s the biggest at the Yard.’
‘And I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Mannering this last few weeks,’ confided Tring. ‘I like Mannering as a man, no one ever heard me say I don’t; but right’s right, that’s what I’ve always said. He’s a rich man, he’s living in the lap of luxury, as you might say, and his conscience don’t prick him.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure,’ said Bristow.
‘But I am sure, Mr. Bristow,’ insisted Tring. ‘Living in the lap of luxury, that’s what he’s doing, on the proceeds of his crimes.’
‘I don’t think that’s true,’ Bristow,argued.
‘It ain’t far out. I know you’ve got a soft spot for him, and so have I, in a way, but right’s right, and it don’t matter if he has given a lot o’ money away to charities, he can afford it, can’t he? And he was a thief. The cleverest jewel-thief we ever came up against. There’s no getting away from that. When I sit back and think about the old days, when he was the Baron and always putting his finger to his nose at us, I go all hot and cold.’
‘Forget it.’
‘That’s not so easy,’ said Tring. ‘Every now and again, I get an urge.’
‘An urge?’
‘I reflect that it isn’t right that Mannering should be living in the lap of luxury, like he is, and other poor beggars who never had half the nerve he’s got, nor pinched half the stuff, do their stretch. It’s all very well to say he cut out the funny stuff years ago. Maybe he did.’ Tring paused, and then added heavily: ‘And maybe he didn’t.’
‘Now, Tanker—’
‘And maybe he didn’t,’ repeated Tanker Tring, ominously. ‘I used to think he had, but since he bought Quinn’s, I’ve wondered. That shop’s a wonderful cover for a fence, Mr. Bristow. And he has some funny customers there. D’you know who I saw go in there only last week?’
‘No. Who?’
‘Flick Leverson.’
‘Flick’s been out of the game for years, to my knowledge. Mannering’s been out for eight years. Don’t get worked up about Mannering. I’ve often wondered why he took to burglary,’ Bristow added, in an effort to distract Tring’s attention. ‘I think he was badly hit during the slump, had a knock from a woman, and—’
‘It’s my opinion that once a thief you’re always a thief,’ announced Tring. ‘Once a thief, you’ve always got it in the back of your mind. You may resist temptation for years and then something turns up and you fall for it. It’s an attitude of mind,’ Tring went on, elaborating with great care. ‘I don’t know that it’s even his fault, Mr. Bristow, it’s a moral matter, that’s what it is. Psychological.’
‘Mannering wouldn’t play the fool now.’
‘You’ve often thought he was playing the fool, and he’s pulled the wool over your eyes,’ said Tring, darkly. ‘I’ve never been really sure. Do you know what? I’ve got about six months to run at the Yard, and if I could get something on the Baron in that six months I’d retire happy.’
‘We’ve never had a spot of proof against him. Any counsel would tell us that we can’t prove he was ever the Baron.’
‘Oh, can’t we,’ growled Tring. ‘I know what I know, and you know it, too. Is he up to something fresh?’
Bristow shrugged and passed over the report. Tring read it, grunted two or three times, then handed it back as if it were precious.
‘There’s not much in that, I agree,’ he said, ‘but that’s one of the things I’m always telling you, he’s got a lot of queer friends. Why should Mannering and his wife want to see a hobo at nine o’clock tomorrow? How do you know he is a beggar? How—’
The telephone rang.
Tring sat back, Bristow picked up the receiver.
‘Yes, I’ll speak to him,’ he said, and covered the mouthpiece with his hand. ‘It’s Parker, of ‘A’ Division.’
‘Anything brewing there?’
‘I don’t think so . . . hallo, Parker . . . yes, I’m all right, thanks. There’s plenty to do, you know . . . eh? . . . yes, I’ve had Baynes’s report . . . what’s that?’
He listened intently, staring at Tring, while Tring tapped the P.C.’s report significantly and looked almost smug.
‘There isn’t any doubt, I suppose,’ Bristow said at last. ‘No . . . fine, thanks. I’ll look into it. Goodbye.’
He replaced the receiver, and lit a cigarette; his small moustache was stained bright yellow with nicotine. He eyed Tring through a cloud of smoke, and the new Inspector continued to tap the report and to look as if he wanted to say: ‘I told you so.’
‘Well?’ asked Tring, at last. ‘Something is up, isn’t it?’
‘It’s a queer business,’ said Bristow, ‘but I can’t believe there’s anything in it. The man at Quinn’s this afternoon has been identified. The sergeant placed him.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Josh Larraby.’
‘Larraby! The man who stole that stuff from the Mace Gallery? I thought he was inside.’
‘He’s been out for three months, on his ticket of leave.’
‘Cor, strewth!’ exclaimed Tring. ‘And Mannering’s pally with him. There you are, what did I tell you? I don’t think I’ll take a day off tomorrow, after all, Mr. Bristow, thanks all the same.’
Chapter Four
THE BARON AND HIS WIFE
Mannering hurried up the stairs to the Green Street flat, just before seven o’clock. Lorna opened the door before he took out his keys. He beamed.
‘Wonderful! Anyone would think you were glad to see me.’
‘I am. Getting soft in the head, aren’t I?’
‘You said it. A plucked beauty.’ He kissed her between the brows, where there was a faint pink puffiness. ‘Food?’
‘Plenty.’
‘Work?’
‘I’ve done some sketches of Larraby.’
‘Why aren’t they round the walls?’
They sat at the table, where dinner was served.
‘You can go upstairs after dinner and see them,’ said Lorna. ‘I couldn’t have picked a better subject if I’d tried for a year.’
‘As a model, maybe.’
�
��I know he’s a tramp, but—’
‘Oh, he’s not such a tramp,’ said Mannering. ‘He’s known better days. Trust you to pick our Josh to come here.’
‘What is the mystery about?’
‘His past. He was a jewel merchant in a small way, and gradually increased his business, and then one day fell for some stuff which he pinched. He had a big failing as a dealer – he loved gems for their own sake.’
Lorna sat, very still and silent, frowning.
‘There was a small collection at the Mace Gallery, five years ago. It was a private show, carelessly arranged, and there was a diamond Josh coveted. He took it and was caught. He’s still on his ticket of leave.’
Lorna said heavily: ‘What a fool I am. We can’t have him here.’ All her brightness had gone.
‘Light fingers being dangerous in the flat? He may genuinely have reformed. Such things happen! I’m inclined to think that he fell to temptation and wished he hadn’t, even before he was caught. I took to him.’
‘You would.’
‘You wouldn’t!’
Lorna forced a laugh. ‘I didn’t know his past. What was he doing in the shop?’
‘Apparently he was passing the window and saw the Adalgo diamond. He wasn’t the first to stand and stare. A policeman wanted to move him on, but the proud Josh wasn’t having any. He swept the said policeman imperiously on one side and entered the shop. Carmichael had heard most of what went on, thanks to the new speaker system which works perfectly, and greeted him as he would anyone else.’
‘As instructed,’ said Lorna, dryly.
‘Yes. I’m glad he did. I think Larraby might have had a sharp knock if he’d met with the usual rebuff. You see how sentimental I’m getting! Carmichael thought that Larraby was genuinely interested in the stone – its history and so on.’
‘Not to mention its value.’
‘He did ask its value, yes. Oh, I know it might not be all it appeared to be on the surface, our beggar may be a sinister villain, but I doubt it. I had a chat with him myself.’
‘Did he tell you about his past? Or did you recognise him?’
I didn’t know him from Adam,’ said Mannering. ‘He volunteered the information first to Carmichael then to me. We discussed jools, my love. The man has a fever for them.’
Lorna didn’t speak.
‘But he’s been so stung by his fever that I fancy he’ll keep his own temperature down,’ said Mannering. ‘After all, if a man really goes for sparklers and sees the Adalgo in a shop window, you can’t expect him to ignore it.’
‘No. You wouldn’t suspect him of being a spy, sent to find out if it’s genuine and to weigh up the chances of breaking in, would you?’
‘With my innocence? No!’
‘Seriously—’
‘The jewel fascinated him, that’s all. He has a one track mind. That’s what you saw in him, what you want to put on canvas. It had struck me, but I daren’t wish a jail-bird on you.’
‘Ought I to let him come?’
‘I don’t see why not. Judy will be in all the time. If you’d feel happier, I’ll send young Simon round to keep an eye on things while he’s sitting.’
‘I’ll paint him,’ Lorna decided. ‘Two or three days should be enough. I can finish it after he’s gone.’
‘And he’ll be glad of the sitting fee, I fancy,’ said Mannering. ‘He’s not a man who takes charity easily, in spite of his boxes of matches. Part of what you saw in his face was pride.’
‘I suppose so. But—’
Mannering laughed. ‘I know, I know! Would a man who was really proud come to Quinn’s with a tray in his hands and “beggar” written all over him? Would he push past a policeman to enter the shop, just for the sake of inquiring about a jewel which he couldn’t hope to buy if he lived to be a hundred? I still think it was a chance visit, and the Adalgo fascinated him.’
After a long pause, Lorna said: ‘I wish you’d sell that diamond.’
‘Gem fatale?
‘All right, laugh at me, but—’
‘If it’s burglary you’re worried about, you can rest happy. Quinn’s has all the latest burglar-proof contraptions. Carmichael’s vastly intrigued by the listening-in system. It isn’t bad, either, although I thought of it myself.’
‘I don’t see how it helps to scare off thieves.’
‘Take an example. Carmichael saw Larraby outside, and heard the policeman speak to him. Both voices sounded at the back of the shop. The microphone picks up whispers. Supposing a pair of toughs came along to smash and grab. Supposing, as is likely, they gave each other last minute instructions. Carmichael would be able to call the police before the job had started. It has commercial possibilities, too. People come and stare, and talk outside. Carmichael knows in advance whether they’re likely to buy. Not bad?’
‘Oh, you’re full of bright ideas.’
They finished the sweet.
‘John.’
‘Hmm-hmm?’
‘I’ve been foul to you, lately.’
‘Forgotten.’
‘I know you don’t let it rankle, but—’
‘I don’t even remember it.’
‘It isn’t the only thing you forget to talk about.’
Mannering said: ‘Oh? What’s the other?’
‘Mystery callers, mystery packets – there’s another in the settee.’
‘So that’s it,’ Mannering said, slowly.
‘Not why I’ve been unspeakable, but—’
‘We’ll talk over coffee,’ Mannering said.
He led the way into the drawing-room, the largest room in the apartment. It was a treasure-house of lovely furniture, with grey and blue decor, richness of colour and of age. Small Dutch panels, exquisitely painted, hung on the walls, each with its separate light.
Outside, it was dark: the curtains weren’t drawn. They stood side by side, looking towards the Thames, its broad, flat bosom reflecting lights from the two bridges in sight, and from the Embankment. Heavy clouds were blowing up; the window shook in a sudden gust.
Mannering drew the curtains.
‘Well?’ asked Lorna, and sat down.
Mannering perched on the arm of her chair.
‘A further adventure in the life of a certain diamond,’ he said.
‘The Adalgo,’ Lorna said, heavily.
‘There is one, and only one, Adalgo. It’s now in the safe at the shop. But there are a number of replicas, or similar gems. They’ve popped up all over the world. Some are real stones, very like the Adalgo at a casual glance. Some are paste, and perfect copies. After I bought the Adalgo, and put it in the window for the first time, three separate men came to see me and told me that he had the Adalgo.’
‘Oh,’ said Lorna.
‘I broke the news to them. They didn’t like it, and asked me to examine their gems. Two were genuine diamonds, with slightly different measurements. The other was a paste thing, worth about thirty shillings.’ Mannering laughed. ‘I spread word among the trade that I was interested in similar gems. There may be only one Adalgo, but if I could get a collection, each diamond about the same size and quality, there would be something worth having.’
‘For your own collection?’
‘That’s how it started. I didn’t know what I’d let loose. Many mysterious merchants telephoned the shop, they didn’t want to see me there, so I told them to bring their stuff here. Each, of course, thought he had the Adalgo. You had one this afternoon.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Mannering said gently: ‘Fuel to the fire? By then, it was an outsize mystery. I could understand finding two or three replicas and even two real stones pretty much alike, but altogether, a dozen have turned up. Odd, isn’t it?’
‘Odd! It sounds
crazy!’
‘It’s worse. Hold tight!’ He rested a hand on her shoulders. ‘The police have been paying some attention to Quinn’s. Tanker Tring was in the street the other week, when Flick came along to see me. Our bad luck! Tring always thinks the worst. He can’t really believe that Flick Leverson and the bold bad Baron have really retired.’
Lorna jumped up.
‘Steady,’ Mannering said.
‘How can he believe you’ve stopped being the Baron? Flick visits you. Whenever you get half a chance, you fling yourself into crime. You’re a friend of thieves and fences, even when you investigate a case, you thumb your nose to the police – look at this one. It shouts crime. Have you told Bristow?’
‘Why should—’
‘You’ve kept it to yourself because you’ve some silly notion that you’ll find excitement in it. You laugh at me because I’ve never liked the thing, but who’s really superstitious? Don’t interrupt! You are. It’s a diamond with a history, a blood- diamond, that’s why you bought it. Isn’t it?’ She almost shouted.
Mannering snapped his fingers.
‘I’ve an idea!’
‘Never mind your ideas. Isn’t that why you bought it?’
‘Not in a thousand years. I’ll tell you why. Every woman who’s worn it has died a violent death. So—’ he went to her and poked a finger between the full swell of her breasts, ‘—my tortuous mind worked fast. If you were the beauty, one day I’d be free from—’
He took her in his arms, and kissed her fiercely. She caught her breath, then slowly yielded her body against his.
He drew his head back.
‘Now you know what a villain you married.’
‘I wish I hated you.’
‘I wish you did. I’d have to woo my fiery beauty over again. It wouldn’t be so easy.’
‘Easy!’
‘That’s what I said. I held all the cards, then. Wasn’t I the Baron and in the height of his career? Wasn’t there a risk that I’d never give it up? Would you have married a sedate, middle-aged antique dealer who flares up now and again as a dude detective?’
