‘Why should you tell him anything?’ Goodwin cut in.
‘May I inquire,’ Dr. Morelle ignored the interruption, ‘if it is your intention to return to Park Lane presently? It occurs to me that if you have any explanations to offer, this atmosphere is not altogether conducive.’
She gave Goodwin a worried look. She realised his aggressive attitude would, in fact, make it difficult for her to tell her story uninterrupted. She patted his arm affectionately.
‘Perhaps it would be better if I went,’ she said placatingly.
‘Only too delighted to give you a lift back,’ Inspector Hood told her cheerfully.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said. She turned again to Goodwin. ‘I’d better go really, Dave. It’s very late in any case.’
‘All right,’ the other muttered grudgingly. ‘Though I don’t like it, and that’s a fact. Then I never was keen on coppers, anyhow, let alone riding about with ’em in their ruddy cars.’
‘Perhaps what Dr. Morelle says is true,’ Rosie admonished him. ‘It’s just coincidence that they came here tonight.’
‘It’s quite a comfortable car,’ Inspector Hood put in. ‘You might find it difficult getting a taxi.’
Dave Goodwin stood framed in the doorway staring after them as Dr. Morelle and the others made their way back across the gangway and over the hulk. He was still standing there, a grim, implacable figure, watching them as they disappeared along Cheyne Row, towards the police-car waiting outside the Jollyboat Inn.
Rosie Huggins turned for a moment to wave to him. Dr. Morelle noticed that he did not return her wave, and then the door closed behind him.
‘He’s taking this rather badly,’ she said in a subdued voice.
‘Our arrival, under the circumstances,’ Dr. Morelle replied, ‘must have come as somewhat of a shock.’
‘It certainly was a shock when I saw you. I really did think Mr. Drummer had found out. Just shows what a small world it is. Especially,’ she added unhappily, ‘when you start telling lies.’
‘‘Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practise to deceive,’’ quoted Dr. Morelle.
Her glance in the light of a street-lamp was full of admiration for him.
‘You do put things neatly, don’t you, Doctor?’ she murmured. Dr. Morelle made no further comment and she went on: ‘I suppose it’s pretty obvious to you now why I lied to you the way I did?’
‘An inkling of your motive is beginning to dawn on me,’ he answered smoothly.
They had reached the waiting police-car, and Hood took Eddie Rice aside and muttered in his ear for a few moments. The little man’s face was wearing a disappointed look as the Inspector left him. His dreams of remuneration for the under-cover work he had taken upon himself on behalf of the police had faded miserably.
Eddie Rice stood watching the police-car disappear into the darkness of Chelsea Embankment. With a muttered curse, he turned towards the back streets. Once more the world had turned against him. Never again, he decided, would he condescend to give the police the benefit of any information he picked up. Next time, if he saw someone being murdered in cold blood he’d keep it to himself and let the cops find out for themselves.
The police-car headed Park Lanewards.
Inspector Hood sat next to the driver, and behind him were Rosie Huggins and Dr. Morelle. Hood leant back, one ear cocked as the woman began to unfold the story of her association with Dave Goodwin.
At first she talked in disjointed phrases, and Dr. Morelle had difficulty in catching what she said. Then she grew more confident, as if Dr. Morelle was inspiring her confidence, and was soon speaking clearly and concisely.
She had met Goodwin, she explained, very soon after her husband’s tragic fishing-trip. Goodwin had attracted her from the first, she said. Even when he told her he was married, living apart from his wife, she still found herself unable to give him up. He had made this confession very early in their acquaintance, telling her his wife refused to divorce him.
She had realised from the start it was a hopeless love-affair, and from time to time she had made up her mind to break it off. Then she had started visiting him on the Aloha. She had kept her friendship with Goodwin a secret from Drummer. She feared that if her employer learned of her association with a married man he would almost certainly take exception to it. She might even lose her job. She couldn’t risk that.
Inevitably the strain of the liaison began to tell on her. At her last meeting with Goodwin the day before — that was the occasion about which she had lied to Dr. Morelle — she had suggested more strongly than ever they should never see each other again.
‘I suppose, by the way,’ she said ruefully, ‘you just rang up the Oriental; they told you the film I said I’d seen wasn’t on at that time, and you knew I was a liar?’
She sighed. Dr. Morelle murmured inaudibly, and she continued her story.
When she said good-bye to Goodwin he had begged her to reconsider finishing with him. Next day she had received a letter from him imploring her to slip out that night and meet him on the Aloha.
It was a desperately worded letter. Frightened he might come up to Park Lane and be seen hanging round the house, or worse still, commit suicide — he had threatened to do so when she had talked once before about their breaking up — she had slipped out of the house that night and gone down to Chelsea.
‘I’d just agreed,’ she concluded, ‘to continue meeting him on condition he made even greater efforts to free himself from his wife so we could be married, when you turned up.’ She smiled wryly in the darkness.
The police-car swung into Park Lane towards Drummer’s house. At Rosie Huggins’ direction it turned off along a side-street. A few yards along it stopped by the entrance to a mews. Down the mews was Drummer’s garage. There was an entrance from the garage into his house, the woman explained.
Hood watched her figure melt into the darkness of the mews. If by any chance her absence had been discovered she would say that being unable to sleep she’d decided some fresh air would do her good. Inspector Hood said over his shoulder to Dr. Morelle:
‘What d’you think of her?’
‘You heard almost as much of her story as I did,’ the Doctor replied, leaning back smoking a Le Sphinx.
‘Seemed to make sense to me,’ Hood said. ‘Didn’t quite catch what you told her before she got out.’
‘I merely reassured her that her relationship with Goodwin was no concern of ours, and her wishes about it remaining a secret would certainly be respected.’
The burly figure in front of him nodded.
‘Let’s hope it all works out for her,’ he said. ‘Nice woman. Deserves to be happy.’
Little could Inspector Hood foresee how his hopes for Rosie Huggins’ happiness were destined to be answered.
Chapter Twenty-Four – Dilemma
The man heard the car pull up at the entrance to the mews, and he darted quickly across into the shadows. He could see the car, dark and shining in the lamp-light, then a woman get out. There was a slam of a door and the car drove off. The woman stood staring after it for a moment. Then she turned into the mews.
The man hugged the shadows more closely and glanced at the luminous dial of his wrist-watch. It was approaching two-thirty. He watched the figure, never taking his eyes off her as she approached. The tap-tap of her heels on the cobblestones drew nearer. She stopped outside Drummer’s garage. She looked cautiously up and down the mews, and her eyes rested on the shadowy corner where he stood. He held his breath as he waited for her to challenge him.
His hat was tilted well over his face, hiding his eyes. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, one hand loosely curved round the butt of his automatic. He knew he couldn’t use it; that if she did discover him he would have to bluff his way out of it.
But the darkness hid him and she turned away. She dipped into her handbag and he heard a key turn in the lock, then a click and one of the garage doors swung open creaking slight
ly. The woman drew the door open wide. It was then the man, relaxing a little, allowed one foot to press heavily on a small piece of brick. The piece crunched loudly beneath the sudden pressure. The woman whipped round, hand to her throat, and stared in his direction.
‘Who’s there?’ she challenged.
He flattened himself against the wall, but after a pause the woman moved slowly towards him.
‘Who is it?’ she called. ‘Show yourself, or I’ll scream the place down.’
He cursed silently. Another moment and she’d have been in the garage. He pulled off his dark glasses, pushed them into his pocket and stepped out of the shadows. Forcing a laugh into his voice he said:
‘Why so scared? Take it easy.’
She gave a gasp of mingled amazement and dismay as he advanced towards her.
‘Oh,’ she found her voice and muttered apologetically, ‘I thought it was somebody hiding. A — a burglar or someone.’
‘Sorry if I startled you,’ he returned pleasantly.
He was holding the garage-door open for her. She eyed him curiously, and he knew she was waiting for him to offer her some explanation. He said nothing. There was nothing he could say that would sound like anything but an attempt to bluff her. They stood for a moment staring at each other. He could see clearly reflected in her face the questions that were battling round her mind.
Then without a word she went into the garage.
He pushed the door shut after her, and after a moment went swiftly and silently along the mews. Too bad, he told himself, it had to be like this. But it was just one of those unlucky breaks that came up. You had to take the bad with the good. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing except the obvious thing. His face suddenly became cruel and evil as he turned out of the mews.
Somewhere a clock was chiming the half-hour.
*
The police-car turned back into Park Lane and prowled along until Inspector Hood spotted a call-box. Dr. Morelle watched him while he telephoned. After a few moments the burly figure hung up and walked ponderously across the pavement. His face was heavy as he got back into the car.
‘Not so good,’ he said.
‘No news of his daughter’s return?’
The other shook his head and sighed wearily.
‘Drummer wants us to go round there. Sounded as if he’s feeling pretty low, I’m afraid.’
‘It is not in our power to bear him better news,’ Dr. Morelle replied. ‘However, we may be able to give him some reassurance.’
‘That it’s only a matter of time before his daughter will be safely restored to him?’ Inspector Hood struck a match and re-lit his pipe, drawing at it noisily. He stared at the glowing tobacco for a few moments before he ventured: ‘Don’t you think we’d better tell him about our flop tonight? And Miss Frayle getting — er — involved?’
‘I was considering it,’ Dr. Morelle murmured. ‘He is almost bound to ask after Miss Frayle. If he detects I am being evasive it may lead him to conclude that we are withholding information in order to allay his anxiety.’
‘We don’t have to say anything about Chelsea and Rosie Huggins,’ Inspector Hood said. ‘That wild-goose chase got us nowhere fast, anyhow.’
They drew up outside Drummer’s house. Harvey Drummer himself opened the door and led the way to his study. His face appeared grey and drawn with anxiety. He handed a cup of black coffee he had poured from a percolator to Inspector Hood. As he was giving Dr. Morelle a cup he told him what Inspector Hood had learned over the ’phone. His daughter had still not turned up. Stirring his coffee Dr. Morelle related what had happened at St. Julian’s Church. Harvey Drummer listened in complete silence. Inspector Hood put in a word here and there, and in conclusion took upon himself the entire blame for the disastrous turn of events.
‘Whatever happens to Doone,’ Drummer said heavily, ‘I shall never forgive myself for getting Miss Frayle dragged into this ghastly business.’
‘You have nothing to reproach yourself with,’ Dr. Morelle reassured him. ‘Had the misguided young woman obeyed my instructions —’
‘I think it was damned courageous of her,’ Harvey Drummer said warmly. ‘I hope she’ll be rescued safely so that I can tell her so.’ He paused and then looked at Dr. Morelle squarely. ‘You telling me this now,’ he queried sombrely, ‘to prepare me for the worst about Doone?’
There was a little silence while Inspector Hood cleared his throat noisily.
‘Personally,’ replied Dr. Morelle, ‘I see no reason to suppose your daughter’s safety is menaced any more now than before. In fact, her captor must be even more confident that he holds the whip-hand. Not only has he obtained the ransom he demanded, he also holds another hostage in the person of misguided Miss Frayle. As I see it, the worst that could happen is that in his confidence he may demand more ransom in excess of that you have already paid for your daughter’s safe return.’
The other appeared to give a faint sigh of relief.
Inspector Hood drained his coffee cup and growled:
‘What we’ve got to decide on is our next move.’
As if in answer to his question the telephone rang. Harvey Drummer glanced at Dr. Morelle and then at the Inspector interrogatively.
‘Maybe it’s — it’s Doone,’ he muttered.
Inspector Hood moved forward, picked up the receiver and held it out to him. Drummer’s hand was trembling visibly as he took it and spoke into the mouthpiece. Dr. Morelle and Inspector Hood watched his expression as he listened. After a moment, he looked at the Doctor and, covering the receiver with his hand, said:
‘It’s for you.’ He added: ‘A man. Might be —’
But Dr. Morelle had already taken the receiver and was speaking into it.
‘Dr. Morelle here.’
Once again the familiar voice reached him over the wire.
‘Tried to ’phone you at Harley Street. But there was no reply.’ Behind the muffled tones Dr. Morelle caught the suggestion of mocking triumph. ‘So I guessed you might be commiserating with your client.’ Dr. Morelle made no reply, and the other went on: ‘Thank him for the bracelet. Just what I ordered.’
‘When are you fulfilling your part of the bargain?’
Hood’s shoulders hunched as he watched Dr. Morelle. At his words Drummer had already moved slowly forward, realising whom the Doctor was speaking to.
‘That’s a little thing,’ the man was saying to Dr. Morelle coolly, ‘which I’m turning over in my mind. You see, you didn’t keep your part of the bargain. Remember?’ The voice added: ‘Maybe I should consult Miss Frayle. On second thoughts, her opinion might be biased in your favour. Only natural.’
Dr. Morelle responded with deliberate calm: ‘I am fully resigned to the fact that as a result of foolishly disobeying my orders Miss Frayle is in your hands.’
‘You’ll be glad to hear she’s enjoying good health,’ the other said. ‘At the moment.’
Dr. Morelle made no comment, and the voice went on:
‘It wasn’t only her butting in I objected to. I was disappointed to hear you’d set out to trap me, aided by your pal, Inspector Hood.’
‘I am waiting to learn what purpose you have in mind regarding both your captives,’ the Doctor said quietly.
‘Frankly, I don’t quite know how to play it. When a chap’s faith has been destroyed he needs a little time in which to build it up again. I trusted you, Dr. Morelle, truly I did. That trust’s been betrayed. I called you to let you know Miss Frayle was in good hands, which, considering the circumstances, is pretty big-hearted of me.’
‘I am suitably impressed.’
‘What happens next you’ll have to leave to me. I won’t keep you in suspense too long. You’ll be hearing from me. Soon.’
The line went dead, and Dr. Morelle replaced the receiver.
‘What’s he say?’ Inspector Hood grunted.
‘Did he mention Doone?’ Drummer said. Dr. Morelle tapped the ash off his cigarette. ‘He gave me to
understand that your daughter is still unharmed.’ He continued: ‘He asked me to thank you for the bracelet, which meets his requirements.’
Harvey Drummer gulped and then said: ‘Miss Frayle?’
‘It would appear he holds her a prisoner,’ was the reply. ‘She, too, it seems is unharmed —’ Dr. Morelle broke off as the other moved quickly towards the door. ‘Where are you going?’
Drummer swung round at him impatiently. ‘This is a chance to see if it’s Pearson or Mrs. Huggins,’ he said. ‘Using the telephone in my office. Come on.’
‘By God, he’s got something —’ Inspector Hood began, then he broke off as he saw Dr. Morelle’s face.
‘Whichever it is, even if they’ve left the office,’ Drummer was saying excitedly, ‘we still might catch ’em in their room.’
It was obvious to Hood, however, that Dr. Morelle remained unimpressed by Drummer’s enthusiasm.
‘I must remind you,’ he told Drummer coolly, ‘of one important fact.’
‘What?’ Harvey Drummer spoke impatiently from the door. ‘We shall be too late in a minute.’
‘If Mrs. Huggins and Pearson are innocent,’ Dr. Morelle said, ‘they should still be unaware that your daughter has disappeared. Supposing we find both of them asleep, what explanations have you in mind to offer for disturbing them?’
‘We can make some excuse,’ Drummer said quickly.
Dr. Morelle regarded the tip of his cigarette, murmuring:
‘You obviously have supreme confidence in your powers of invention.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘You’ll have to think up a pretty good story,’ Inspector Hood said. ‘If they are genuinely asleep they’re bound to start wondering what’s wrong, and maybe put two and two together.’
‘But surely, if one of them is the kidnapper —?’ Harvey Drummer frowned and left the question unfinished. He said: ‘We know Mrs. Huggins is a liar. Then there are those gloves of Pearson’s — by the way, they’ve gone from his drawer, I can tell you that —’
‘All of which point to both your housekeeper and secretary as being possible suspects,’ Dr. Morelle conceded. ‘But until we are convinced these circumstances offer no other explanation it would be rash to assume either person’s guilt.’
Dr. Morelle and the Drummer Girl Page 17
