Design For Murder

by Francis Durbridge

  Sally poured the drink and handed it to him.

  ‘As my wife has so loyally inferred,’ went on Wyatt, ‘I hope very shortly to have the pleasure of introducing you to “Mr Rossiter”.’

  There was a murmur of surprise as he made this announcement; the guests looked at each other questioningly.

  ‘Are you serious, Wyatt?’ said Knight at last.

  ‘Do you mean to tell me that you’re seriously suggesting that “Mr Rossiter” is here in this room?’ stammered Angus.

  ‘That’s what Mr Wyatt said, Sir Donald,’ put in Lathom sardonically.

  Knight selected a cigarette from a box on a side table.

  ‘You’ll forgive my saying so, Wyatt, but don’t you think you owe us some explanation?’

  ‘Of course I owe you an explanation,’ agreed Wyatt, who had now taken the centre of the floor. ‘I want you all to listen carefully, even though you’re not concerned with every aspect of the case. Are you sure you won’t have a drink, Sir Donald?’

  ‘Aye, maybe I will change my mind after all – make it a Scotch if ye don’t mind.’

  ‘That’s fine. Well now, yesterday morning Mr Linder and Doctor Fraser called on me to tell me exactly how they became involved in the Rossiter affair. In the course of his story, Mr Linder omitted one rather important fact.’

  ‘What was that?’ demanded Linder, half-rising from his chair.

  ‘You forgot to tell me why you went up to Shorecombe, Mr Linder, and why you made a particular point of getting on friendly terms with Bill Tyson, the fisherman.’

  ‘I can explain every—’ Linder was beginning, but Wyatt waved him aside.

  ‘I want to leave that for the time being and talk about Luigi. When “Mr Rossiter” began his activities, his line of business was not abduction, but simply blackmail. Now, so far as blackmail was concerned, Luigi was in rather a unique position. The sort of people who frequent the Madrid are not exactly the souls of discretion, and Luigi had plenty of opportunities for securing information. After a little time, however “Mr Rossiter” became ambitious; he decided to relegate the blackmailing business to the background and concentrate on abduction. Which brings us to Coral Salter, a dance hostess who had no scruples when it came to blackmailing her clients, but she drew the line quite emphatically at the prospect of being mixed up with abduction.’

  ‘H’m, that’s fairly obvious,’ grunted Perivale. ‘She must have decided to double-cross “Rossiter”, so she was murdered.’

  ‘And taken to my flat,’ put in Linder. ‘It must have been part of a plot to throw suspicion on me.’

  ‘But, look here, Wyatt,’ interposed Angus. ‘Are you trying to tell us that Luigi was “Mr Rossiter”?’

  ‘No, of course not. He was his right-hand man. When “Rossiter” switched over to the abduction racket, Luigi realized he was turning over big money, so he tried to double-cross “Rossiter”. And “Mr Rossiter” retaliated by throwing suspicion for at least one murder on to Luigi. It all helped to confuse the issue and distract suspicion from himself. “Mr Rossiter” had a knack of designing his murders quite neatly.’

  ‘That was why he did the same with me then?’ queried Doctor Fraser.

  ‘You’re making out this “Mr Rossiter” to be a pretty shrewd bird,’ commented Knight. ‘Are you trying to tell us that he was throwing suspicion on to three people simultaneously?’

  ‘That’s what I’m telling you, Mr Knight,’ replied Wyatt steadily. He turned to Sir Donald Angus.

  ‘Sir Donald, would you care to tell us why you went to the Palais at Rammerford the other evening?’

  Angus scowled.

  ‘I don’t see that it’s any of your business,’ he replied uneasily. ‘It has nothing to do with this case.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. If you don’t want any more unpleasant publicity, Sir Donald, I think you’d better tell us,’ said Perivale in a tone that was mildly threatening.

  Angus set down his glass.

  ‘Very well, then, if you must know. I went because Lauren Beaumont had started blackmailing me. She’d been there the night before and told the whole story to that little swine of a band-boy, and he put her up to it. I had to go down there to hand over the money – it was in my coat pocket when you saw me, Wyatt.’

  ‘All right, Sir Donald,’ nodded Perivale. ‘I’ll be pulling in Royston on the abduction charge tomorrow, so that’ll square your account I dare say … unless you’d like to make a charge yourself?’

  ‘No, no, I’ve had enough publicity of that sort to last me the rest of my life,’ growled Angus. ‘I wish I’d never set eyes on that girl.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ll see her again, Sir Donald,’ smiled Wyatt. ‘She’s gone back to Royston.’

  ‘Let’s get back to the “Rossiter” case,’ interrupted Lathom impatiently. ‘You were going to tell us why Linder went up to Shorecombe.’

  ‘He went for two reasons. First, because he suspected that “Mr Rossiter” had taken Barbara Willis there, and second to make certain inquiries concerning “Mr Rossiter” himself.’

  ‘Why at Shorecombe?’ queried Lathom doubtfully.

  ‘Because,’ said Wyatt deliberately, ‘“Mr Rossiter” happens to have been born there.’

  This caused a minor sensation. Wyatt allowed it to subside, and finished his drink.

  ‘You seem very certain of that, Wyatt,’ said Knight.

  ‘I don’t see why you should be so surprised,’ replied Wyatt. ‘After all, you interviewed his father – the old fisherman named Bill Tyson!’

  There was a moment’s silence. Then Lathom said in a tense voice:

  ‘I don’t believe it!’

  Linder leapt to his feet and glared at the inspector.

  ‘He’s right, you fool!’ he declared emphatically. ‘You ought to have guessed it the day Tyson committed suicide.’

  He subsided into his chair again, and they waited for Wyatt to continue.

  ‘Doctor Fraser was being blackmailed by “Mr Rossiter”,’ he went on evenly. ‘Hugo Linder knew this, and he went to Shorecombe to try to persuade Tyson to influence “Rossiter” to return certain letters to the doctor. Tyson knew, of course, that his son was a waster, but he never in his wildest dreams suspected that he was the notorious “Mr Rossiter”. When Tyson and Linder found the body of Barbara Willis, there was a note on it which said: “With the compliments of Mr Rossiter”.

  ‘Tyson took that note and confronted his son with it. From that moment, he knew that Linder had told the truth. The old man was almost out of his mind with anxiety and shame. I dare say he studied that note a thousand times. He’d been looking at it again that morning when we found him …’

  ‘It’s an interesting theory, Wyatt,’ said Lathom with the merest trace of sarcasm.

  ‘It’s more than a theory!’ retorted Wyatt. ‘Don’t you remember what happened the night Sally and I tried to interview Tyson? We were quite deliberately forced off the road.’

  ‘That’s right!’ put in Knight eagerly. ‘“Mr Rossiter” was determined to prevent you from seeing Tyson – just as he tried to stop me.’

  ‘Did he really try to stop you, Mr Knight?’ asked Wyatt quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Knight, looking genuinely bewildered. ‘I told you I traced the car number to Luigi and—’

  ‘Yes, it was a very neat little story,’ agreed Wyatt. ‘It fitted in quite nicely with several of your plans I should imagine. You came to see Mrs Wyatt and myself the morning after the accident to discover if you’d been recognized the night before. Also, to tell us the story about the number plate and throw suspicion on Luigi, and finally to cover up any damage which might have been done to your car when you deliberately forced us over the bridge.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that Knight is “Mr Rossiter”?’ asked Lathom in some surprise.

  ‘Or that “Mr Rossiter” is Maurice Knight. Put it which way you like,’ replied Wyatt, never taking his eyes off Knight.
>
  ‘I knew it!’ said Sally almost to herself.

  Knight leaned back in his chair and laughed.

  ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you, and ignoring the facts, Wyatt,’ he said. ‘May I remind you that “Mr Rossiter” has tried to murder me several times?’

  ‘On every occasion, Knight, there were never any witnesses to the attempt. We’ve only your word for it that any such attempt took place.’

  ‘Then what about the time when you were in my car, and there was a bomb thrown from that van?’

  ‘If we’d seen the man inside,’ replied Wyatt confidently. ‘I think we should have recognized Charles Luigi, who had been released on bail an hour earlier, and was intent only on wiping out old scores. He’d realized that you were the cause of his being arrested.’

  ‘And I suppose it was Luigi who tried to kill me the night before last?’ queried Knight sarcastically. ‘Two hours after you’d picked him out of the river.’

  ‘No one tried to murder you the night before last,’ said Wyatt calmly. ‘Royston tipped you off that we were going to that warehouse, and you tried to get Doctor Fraser down there. But that little plan didn’t quite work out, and instead we had the pleasure of meeting Mr Linder. So you had to switch the suspicion on to him – hence the penknife which you posted off to me. It was a knife that Linder had lent to your father.’

  Knight began to show some signs of weakening.

  ‘It’s a lie! A pack of lies!’ he cried. ‘You’re trying to fake a case against me!’

  Sir James, who had not spoken for some little time said:

  ‘On the contrary, Mr Knight, I think you’ve built up a pretty strong case against yourself. I must ask you to come back to the Yard and—’

  Before he could finish his sentence, Knight had moved quickly towards the door.

  ‘Stay where you are – everybody!’ he ordered. They could see he was holding a small revolver which he had snatched from an inside pocket.

  ‘Put that gun down!’ snapped Wyatt, gripping his walking-stick.

  Knight ignored him and backed another pace.

  Lathom’s hand closed over the syphon on the side-table near him. But Knight noticed the movement.

  ‘Leave it alone, Inspector!’ he cried, but Lathom had already lifted the syphon as if to throw it.

  The report of the revolver sounded like a small cannon, and Lathom dropped the syphon and clutched his wrist.

  In the resulting confusion, Knight grabbed hold of Sally and held her in front of him as he faced the others.

  ‘That’ll prove I’m not fooling,’ he said grimly. ‘Now, Mrs Wyatt, move back to the door – and if anybody tries to stop me I shall shoot first at Mrs Wyatt.’

  He was about a yard from the door when it opened abruptly and Fred Porter’s head appeared.

  ‘They said at the Yard I’d find you here—’ he began, then suddenly appreciated the situation. Before Knight could turn his head, a hefty right uppercut had lifted him a couple of inches off the floor. The revolver discharged itself into the ceiling, and Sally had already ducked out of the line of fire.

  Knight was half stunned by the blow, and it was a matter of seconds before Lathom and Wyatt had overpowered him.

  The person most concerned about the whole business was Fred later.

  ‘I hope I did right, Sir James,’ he said anxiously. ‘Blimey, the last time I let loose that uppercut, it half killed a pal o’ mine in the Police Boxing Championships.’

  ‘You certainly came in at just the right moment, Fred,’ said Wyatt a trifle breathlessly. ‘Are you all right, Sally?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine. But the inspector’s wrist is bleeding.’

  ‘I’ll see to it,’ said Doctor Fraser at once, and began to examine the flesh wound.

  After the guests had gone, Wyatt turned to Fred and said gratefully:

  ‘Well, we weren’t expecting you, Fred, but it was lucky you dropped in just then.’ Fred rubbed his bruised knuckles and said:

  ‘I’ve been trying all day to get you on the phone, but you were out. We’ve been having a bit of trouble down on the farm.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ said Sally. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s been our unlucky week, you might say,’ sighed Fred. ‘Hodgetts’ bullocks got in the orchard Sunday, and chewed up half the new trees, and the rain has played the devil with the raspberries.’

  Wyatt looked across at Sally.

  ‘I’m glad you found us, Fred,’ he said quietly, ‘it’s time we came home. As soon as I’ve written my report on this case we’ll be there.’

  Two hours later, Wyatt, Sally and Sir James Perivale sat in the Wyatts’ temporary flat. After accompanying Lathom and Maurice Knight to the Yard, Sir James had returned, on their invitation, for a ‘nightcap’ and a last discussion on the ‘Rossiter’ affair.

  The room was lighted only by a small table lamp, and the fireglow flickered cheerfully on the small group. While he was waiting for Perivale, Wyatt had completed his notes on the case, and he still had the neat blue file on the arm of his chair. He would dictate the full report to a stenographer at the Yard first thing in the morning and they would be home by lunch-time, he planned.

  ‘I don’t know what we’d have done without you on this case, Wyatt,’ said Sir James generously. He paused and looked across at Sally. ‘I suppose there’s no chance of you both coming back here permanently?’ he added hesitantly.

  Sally smiled and shook her head.

  ‘We’re both too fond of the country now,’ she replied, looking across at her husband, and receiving a confirmatory nod. ‘And there’s Lionel’s health to be considered.’

  Wyatt leaned over and patted his wife’s hand.

  ‘It’s been nice to come back, Sir James,’ he admitted, ‘but I’m afraid it’s a case of back to the land for Sally and me.’

  ‘How I envy you,’ said Perivale, yawning and stretching his arms. ‘Well, I’m no end grateful for all you’ve done. And now I really should be making a move.’

  ‘Oh, no, Sir James,’ said Sally. ‘It’s only half-past eleven. I’ve got lots of things I want to ask you and Lionel about this case.’

  ‘Have you indeed?’ murmured Perivale, with a slight lift of his bushy grey eyebrows. ‘Well, I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to give you all the answers. In fact I’d be quite interested to hear some of your husband’s explanations of the various side issues. I’m looking forward to seeing his full report.’

  Sally settled more comfortably in her chair, and Wyatt put another log on the fire.

  ‘Question number one,’ began Sally. ‘Why did Maurice Knight want to throw suspicion on Luigi, who was a useful member of the organization?’

  ‘I think I know the answer to that,’ said Perivale. ‘Knight knew that Luigi had ideas of his own about running the organization. He was convinced that Luigi wouldn’t be so anxious to do that if the police were after him.’

  Sally looked far from convinced.

  ‘Are you sure that Luigi wanted to take over?’ she asked.

  ‘No doubt about it,’ replied Wyatt. ‘Even when he thought the police were suspicious, he was still game. Knight greatly underestimated his man there. I’m inclined to think we did, too!’

  ‘He’d certainly got an ace or two up his sleeve,’ conceded Perivale. ‘I could never quite weigh up that business with the young waiter fellow.’

  ‘You mean the impersonator – Carver? Well, Luigi managed to get it out of Carver that Knight had bribed him to do that impersonation on the telephone to Sir Donald Angus. But Luigi covered himself very neatly by making Carver confess that he received his instructions from Doctor Fraser.’

  ‘What was the point of that?’ asked Sally, looking somewhat puzzled.

  ‘Because Luigi thought that once he had eliminated Knight then it would be a nice cover for him if we went on suspecting Doctor Fraser.’

  Perivale nodded thoughtfully as Wyatt rammed home a charge of tobacco in his cherrywood p
ipe. ‘I can’t say that had occurred to me before, Wyatt,’ he admitted. ‘That fellow Luigi had his wits about him. Look how he coolly produced those two fellows to go bail for him; then as soon as he’s free he immediately goes after Knight. He’d got a nerve all right!’

  There was silence for some seconds while Sally digested this and Wyatt sucked energetically at his pipe.

  Wyatt opened the file on the arm of his chair and began thoughtfully turning over his notes.

  ‘It rather mystifies me,’ went on Sally, ‘why Knight walked in on us that night in Coster Row. He seemed to be quite anxious to draw attention to himself on that occasion.’

  ‘Of course he did!’ nodded Wyatt. ‘He went down there to collect the money from Reed, suddenly realized that the Professor was in no condition to be trusted, and immediately decided to get rid of him. Under those circumstances, he had to draw attention to himself. He simply daren’t take the risk of being spotted.’

  ‘You see, Sally,’ explained Perivale, leaning towards her on the arm of his chair, ‘Knight was playing the part of the amateur detective, and you expect the amateur detective to pop up in unexpected places and poke his nose into things that don’t concern him.’

  ‘Exactly, Sir James,’ agreed Wyatt.

  ‘I suppose it was Luigi who killed the taxi driver, Vic Taylor,’ she asked.

  ‘Naturally. It would have put Luigi in a difficult spot if Taylor had identified him as the man who bribed him to kidnap you.’

  Perivale lay back and lighted a cigarette.

  ‘When did you first suspect that Knight was “Mr Rossiter”?’ he asked. ‘Was it that night you bumped into him at the Madrid?’

  ‘That’s a pretty smart guess, Sir James. It was that night, as a matter of fact. When I told Knight about Tyson’s death he was considerably taken aback. I couldn’t quite see why he should be so affected by the news; after all, he was only supposed to have met Tyson once in his life. That was the time he interviewed him down at Shorecombe.’

  ‘I noticed that, too,’ said Sally. ‘But it never occurred to me to suspect any closer link between them.’

  Perivale flicked the ash from his cigarette.