by John Creasey
‘Mannering, if you—’
‘You weren’t so fond of the police last night, were you?’
Alarm touched grey eyes which were as bright as Marjorie’s.
‘What the hell do you mean?’
‘What I say. You thought they were following you, and you dodged them. I was in the car behind that MG.’
Harding gulped, but fought on.
‘That doesn’t matter. The police have nothing on me. They’ll have plenty to say about your keeping the stone which Bray sent you. They—’ Harding paused, and then rested clenched fists on the desk and thrust his face forward. He made a palpable effort to speak calmly. ‘Look here, Mannering, I’m not fooling. I mean to have that diamond. If I have to go to the police, I’ll go to them. It isn’t yours. You’ve admitted that. I don’t want to make trouble, but I’ll go the whole hog if you make me.’
Mannering said: ‘Sit down, Harding. I like that tone much better.’ He held out the case again, and Harding accepted both cigarette and light. Here was a man scared out of his wits but fighting hard, knowing what he wanted, facing risks which he hated. The desire for the diamond obsessed him. He was afraid of the police, but used them as a threat. Nothing mattered but getting the Adalgo.
Did he know about Marjorie’s arrest?
Could he have kept silent about it, if he did?
‘Look here, Mannering—’
‘I’m coming to it. How much does Marjorie Addel mean to you?’
‘That’s my business. I’m here—’
‘I know why you’re here. Are you engaged to her?’
‘No. Will you give me that diamond, or—’
‘Take it easy. Marjorie’s having a spot of bother with the police.’
Harding started back; the cigarette dropped from his mouth.
‘She’s at the Yard, being questioned.’
Harding muttered: ‘At Scotland Yard?’ The news had knocked him silly.
‘Yes. Want to help her?’
‘Help her?’ Harding sounded stupid. ‘I don’t see—Mannering. Mannering! You told the police about her visit last night, because a few of your lousy stones were stolen. You’ve done this to her. Why, I’ll break your neck!’
He struck at Mannering’s face. Mannering caught his wrist as Harding swung another blow, then gasped as Mannering twisted. He was half way out of his chair, and couldn’t move. The colour drained from his face, which was only a foot from Mannering’s. Perspiration rose in little blobs on his forehead. He had the sense not to move.
Mannering let him go, and pushed him back into a chair.
‘If you and the girl would behave like ordinary human beings, we’d get somewhere. Bray was murdered last night or this morning.’
Harding caught his breath. ‘Murdered.’ He had Marjorie’s trick of echoing words.
‘At Marjorie’s shop.’
‘At—Addel’s,’ gasped Harding. ‘Bray—’ he paused. He swallowed hard, and then stood up slowly. ‘It’s not true, it can’t be true.’
‘The body was found in the workroom by the police, and Marjorie and her sister-in-law are now being questioned. Marjorie says she didn’t know Bray. Obviously you did. Isn’t it time you told me what you knew of him?’
‘It—it doesn’t sound—feasible.’
‘It’s the second recent murder over the Adalgo diamond. Anyone interested in the stone is going to be questioned by the police. Your turn’s coming.’
‘It’s dreadful,’ Harding muttered. ‘Dreadful.’
What had really shocked him most? Bray’s death or Marjorie’s danger?
At last, Harding said in a dull voice:
‘This is all true isn’t it? Bray is dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘They can’t think that Marjorie or Zara had anything to do with it.’
‘They can and they will until they know the truth. Both women will probably be detained for the time being. That’s why Marjorie needs help. She needs it from someone who will keep a cool head. I’ve promised to do what I can.’
‘Will—will you—’
‘What I can do depends on knowing the truth.’
‘I—I’m sorry I lost my head just now,’ Harding muttered. ‘I can’t expect you to give me much of a hearing, after that. But this—’
‘Supposing you tell me what you know about Bray, and how you came to meet him,’ Mannering suggested.
There was no fight left in the man.
‘It—it’s simple enough. My father’s a collector of precious stones. He hasn’t got many, he’s not what you’d call wealthy, but he’s got a few very good diamonds. About six months ago, he bought the Adalgo. It was sold at—at rather a low price. Like a fool, I thought that he’d bought it under cover.’ Harding raised his head, defiantly. ‘I expect you’ve bought gems under cover before now. Every collector has. I thought—well, thought it had been smuggled into the country, and that he hadn’t paid duty on it. That’s why I was nervous about the police last night.’
‘I see,’ said Mannering, expressionlessly.
‘I had a heart-to-heart talk with the old man this morning,’ said Harding, wearily. ‘He told me that I was crazy. I must have been! He’d bought the stone at a private sale, there was nothing wrong about it. The previous owner didn’t realise what it was – its history, I mean – and put too low a price on it. There’s nothing wrong in that.’
‘Nothing at all,’ Mannering agreed, heavily.
‘Then my father had a bad run in his business, and lost a lot of money in one or two speculations. He had to realise on some of his collection. He did a lot of business with Bray, who often found him rare stones. He asked Bray whether he could sell the Adalgo. Bray said he knew you were interested, and brought it along.’
‘I see,’ said Mannering. ‘And then?’
‘One of those thousand-to-one chances came off,’ said Harding. ‘My father put a deal through his New York brokers a few weeks ago. It’s come out a winner. Oil. He decided to cancel the sale of the Adalgo, and tried to get in touch with Bray. Bray wasn’t at his office. I said I’d come and see you, and if you had the thing, get it back.’
‘Fair enough, up to that point,’ Mannering said. ‘Next?’
‘A rather queer thing happened, Mannering.’
‘How do you mean, queer?’
‘Well, we were leaving the house – Marjorie was with me, and my father was alone in the house – when a man stopped us in the drive. I’d never seen him before. He was a tough customer, and put the wind up me. He told me he’d seen Bray, and knew Bray had offered you the Adalgo. He said he knew the Adalgo had been smuggled into the country, and would make trouble if he wasn’t squared. I would have liked to have pushed his face in, but he caught me on the raw – I was already nervous about the diamond. I told him to come back and see me in the morning – anything to get rid of him. Then Marjorie and I drove to London. I don’t mind admitting, Mannering, that I had cold feet – oh, not for myself but for the old man. He’s sick, and I didn’t want anything to go wrong. Can—can you understand me?’
‘Go on.’
‘I was anxious to prevent you or anyone else learning that my father owned the Adalgo,’ went on Harding. ‘That’s why I was so nervous about the police. The long and short of it is that Marjorie said she would go and try to get it from you. We—we decided to put one across you.’
‘Nice thought!’
‘We knew a bit about your reputation,’ Harding went on, heavily, ‘and we didn’t think that any ordinary story would fool you. Marjorie’s a bit of an actress – amateur – and we decided that she should put on an agitated girlish act, well, you are a bit of a ladies’ man, aren’t you?’
Mannering drew a deep breath.
‘I see. Marjorie was to appeal to the Old Adam in me?�
��
‘Yes. Everything would have been all right, I think, but—but when she got to your flat, she was so nervous she forgot Bray’s name.’
‘Well, well!’
Harding gave a weak grin.
‘When she told me about it afterwards, I nearly split. I thought she had got the diamond then, you see, we couldn’t tell paste from the real thing. The way she told me how she tried to remember that name, and kept waiting for you to ask her – she was sure you wouldn’t let her have it without naming Bray – was damned funny. Well, you know what happened. We thought she’d pulled it off, and drove home. I realised we were being followed, and being a bit worried about the police—’
‘Why were you, just then?’
‘Well, the man who’d stopped me had said he would get a reward from the police if I didn’t pay him to keep quiet. I was pretty edgy. I’ve been busy lately. My nerves aren’t what they might be,’ added Harding. ‘Well Marjorie did a bit of weaving about Guildford, and we shook you off. If we’d known it was you—’ he broke off, and shrugged his shoulders. ‘But Bray. It’s damnable! He always said he was worried about handling that stone. He said there was blood on it, and always would be. Besides—’ Harding broke off.
‘Yes,’ encouraged Mannering.
‘I don’t know how much I ought to tell you,’ muttered Harding. ‘The police—’
Mannering said: ‘Cards on the table, Harding. If this is something the police must know, I’ll tell you. If it can be kept from them, I’ll hold it back. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you can play ducks and drakes with the police. They’re good. But you’ve nothing to worry about if you’re told the truth. The diamond wasn’t smuggled.’
Harding stood up abruptly.
‘Oh, what the hell! I suppose the police will find out, anyway. My father went out after we’d left the house last night. He saw Bray. They had a pretty fierce quarrel – I don’t know what it was about, probably because Bray hadn’t the diamond. It was at Bray’s office. You can see why I’m worried, can’t you?’
Chapter Eleven
MR. MANNERING AND THE DETECTIVE
It all sounded so beautiful. If he’d had to sit down and work out a story to fit all that had happened, Mannering couldn’t have done better himself. All the i’s were dotted and the t’s crossed. That was, if he could believe in two people in the early twenties being so dumb. That curious quality of naivete penetrated through everything that came to the surface in the case. Even in the acting story; and he didn’t doubt Marjorie’s histrionic ability. They’d actually believed that Mannering would hand over a diamond they knew to be worth a fortune . . .
Even they couldn’t have believed that.
But they had; Marjorie’s shock when he’d told her about the fake had been real shock.
Could Harding be so desperate, simply to get the jewel back for his father? Was that motive enough? Not by a hundred miles!
He’d told that tale well, made it almost convincing – perhaps too convincing; the last touch had been masterly.
‘What the hell am I going to do?’ demanded Harding. ‘If I tell the police—’
A bell rang softly; it was the telephone from the shop to the office. The ringing sound was so low-pitched that it could be used when anyone was entering the shop, without the caller knowing.
Mannering lifted the receiver.
‘Yes?’
Simon’s husky voice sounded in his ear.
‘We thought you would like to know, Mr. Mannering, that Superintendent Bristow is outside – or rather he is just stepping into the shop.’
‘Thanks,’ said Mannering. ‘I’ll see him in a moment.’ He replaced the receiver, seeing that Harding was watching him intently; but Harding could not possibly have heard the Simon message.
‘The police have come to see me,’ Mannering told him. ‘Do you want to make a statement?’
‘No! No, of course not.’ Harding clenched his fists. ‘Look here, you haven’t sent for them? This isn’t a trick to—’
‘Oh, be your age!’ said Mannering. He was having too much of Harding-Addel tantrums. ‘They don’t know you, do they?’
‘Not as far as I know. There’s no reason why they should.’
‘Then there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be a customer leaving the shop,’ Mannering said. He stood up, and opened the door. ‘Hurry. Yes, we’ll look after all that for you,’ he added in a louder voice, and shook hands. ‘Goodbye.’
‘I do appreciate all your trouble,’ said Harding with commendable steadiness. ‘When shall I see you again?’
‘I’ll tell you later – call me here or at home.’
Mannering ushered him out, to see Bristow waiting halfway along the shop.
There was no time to dwell on young Harding’s story, no chance to check where it corroborated what he already knew. The visit from Bristow meant that the heat was on; Bristow would keep it on, giving him little chance to relax; and when with Bristow, a single mistake might prove fatal.
If Bristow knew who Harding was, for instance.
Carmichael went forward to open the door for Harding, and Mannering approached Bristow, who gave the youth a long, calculating stare, then turned to Mannering. So that trick was won. Bristow was looking a trifle drawn but was as spruce as ever. There was a fresh gardenia in his buttonhole; that was Bristow’s favourite flower, and it was an unhappy day when he failed to get one.
‘You’re just in time for tea, Bill,’ greeted Mannering, and led the Superintendent into the office. Simon, as if by magic, brought in tea.
Bristow sat in Harding’s chair. He wasn’t sure of himself, which meant that he wanted something.
‘Well, Mannering. I’ve asked you not to do too much on your own, haven’t I?’ His voice was flat.
‘And I haven’t.’
‘You knew Bray’s body was in that room,’ Bristow accused.
‘My dear chap! I can’t see through a brick wall. ‘
‘You’d been upstairs – the lock had been picked. I’ve had it down and inspected it, and the marks are fresh. Why must you go crazy?’
Mannering murmured: ‘I didn’t go crazy that way, Bill. But if I had, I would have called you just as quickly as I did.’
‘Oh, you knew he was there. One of these days when you do a job that – oh, forget it! Why did you chase the girl out of the shop? If you’d let her get away, we would have picked her up and had a much stronger case.’
‘I didn’t want her to panic,’ said Mannering.
‘Why not?’
‘Haven’t you seen her eyes?’
‘Don’t be a fool. What had you been saying to her?’
‘I warned her that she would be in trouble over the Adalgo stone, and that you would ask her many questions,’ Mannering said. ‘As she was bound to know that soon, I didn’t see any harm in it. The bloodstains shook me. The office and yard had been covered in blood, and I thought you ought to know about it. Surely you can’t complain about that. Any news of Bray’s murderer?’
Bristow leaned back; in his manner there was a promise of frankness, a ‘we’re old friends, John, let’s work this out between us’ look.
‘Not yet. He was killed in that office, there isn’t much doubt about that. He was carried up to the stock-room, and the murderer tried to rub out the traces. I’m not sure whether either of the women partners knew anything about it. According to her statement, Miss Addel was away from the shop all the evening, but—’ Bristow hesitated; he was going to try to pull a fast one. ‘You know as much as I do, I expect. She stayed the night at that house in Guildford.’
‘Which house?’ asked Mannering.
‘The one she told you about.’ Sly Bill Bristow!
Mannering chuckled. ‘She didn’t tell me about any place at Guildford, Bill. Y
ou may be surprised, but I spent ages trying to persuade her to be frank with you, and all I got for my pains was a kick in the shins. Did she tell you about that?’
‘A kick?’
‘A hard one.’
‘Oh,’ said Bristow, who knew he’d failed. “Well, you probably asked for it .She spent the night at Guildford, and came back late this morning.’
‘With friends?’
‘You’d better try to find out for yourself. She told you that she knew Bray, didn’t she?’
Mannering looked blank.
‘I told you that she didn’t seem to know him. What’s the matter with your memory today?’
Bristow leaned forward and smiled a little wanly; he was preparing another catch question, and looked as innocent as Marjorie Addel.
‘To tell you the truth, John, I’m tired. I’ve had a run of late nights, and I’m not feeling at my brightest. A good night’s sleep would put me right. Sure she didn’t mention Bray to you?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘She still insists that she doesn’t know him,’ said Bristow, with a fine disregard of consistency. It was when he appeared to be illogical, tired and losing his grip that he was most dangerous. ‘Yet the man was killed there between the time they shut up at six o’clock last night, and midnight. He’d been dead about twelve hours. Say between nine and nine-fifteen.’
‘Medical evidence?’
‘That’s what the doctor says. What did you think when you saw Bray?’
‘But Bill, I haven’t seen him since he died. You wouldn’t let me, remember?’
‘How well did you know Bray?’
‘Casually. We didn’t do much business.’
‘Did you like him?’
‘Well enough to be sorry he’s dead, and to hope you find the murderer, but not well enough to risk my neck.’
‘I hope you mean that. Did Bray ever speak to you about a collector named Harding?’
Was that a trick question or just for information? Bristow stifled a yawn as he put it.
‘No.’
‘Do you know a collector of that name?’
