The Crimson Ramblers

by Gerald Verner

  ‘McKay seems to be all right,’ he said. ‘There’s nothing here. What about the other fellow, Gilbert?’

  ‘Nothing through yet, sir,’ said Soames. ‘They don’t seem to be able to trace him at all.’

  ‘Because Gilbert isn’t his name probably,’ said Halliday. ‘Did you manage to get hold of a photograph of him?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Soames nodded. ‘I got that feller who takes snaps on the pier to catch him as he came off. I’ve had it blown up and sent to the Yard. It’s quite a good likeness.’

  ‘That may help.’ Halliday rubbed his forehead. ‘I’m sure there is something wrong about that chap. I’ve come up against him before, but for the life of me I can’t think where. If only we could get a line on the dead woman.’

  ‘Collins and Vance have drawn a blank up to now, sir.’

  ‘She may have only just come down from London or somewhere,’ said Halliday. ‘If she hadn’t been so badly injured we could have circulated a picture to the newspapers. Blasted nuisance.’

  ‘We’re checking up on the laundry marks, sir.’

  ‘That all takes time,’ said Halliday impatiently. ‘We’re stumped till we know who she was.’

  ‘I still think McKay could help us, sir,’ said Soames.

  ‘You’ve got a bee in your bonnet about McKay,’ grunted the Superintendent irritably.

  ‘Well, sir, he hasn’t explained how that scrap of paper came to be found in her pocket,’ answered Soames.

  ‘It’s always possible that he hasn’t explained because he doesn’t know,’ said Halliday. ‘We’ve got to concentrate on the woman’s identity. If that ties up in any way with McKay we can have a go at him again.’

  ‘It’s a pity we couldn’t find her hat and her handbag, sir,’ remarked the Sergeant.

  ‘If she had a hat,’ said Halliday.

  ‘She must have had a handbag, sir...’

  ‘That’s probably at the bottom of the sea somewhere.’

  Soames cleared his throat.

  ‘I’ve been wondering if it wouldn’t be a good idea, sir, to get a diver on the job. Round about where the body was found. If we could find that handbag, sir...’

  Halliday looked up at him alertly.

  ‘That’s a mighty good idea, Soames,’ he said. ‘Get to work on it at once, will you?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied the gratified Sergeant.

  *

  ‘You don’t know who took the packet?’ said Jill Manners. She was sitting nervously on the edge of a chair facing Tony who had perched himself on the edge of the dressing table.

  ‘I only know that when I looked for it, it had gone,’ he replied. ‘I suppose that’s what you were doing here the other night — looking for it?’

  ‘Yes, I — I found the door open. I didn’t do any harm.’ She looked at him appealingly. ‘I was scared to death when you all came in. I hid on the stage.’

  ‘I’m afraid you had all your trouble for nothing,’ he said.

  She nodded.

  ‘I did,’ she said ruefully.

  ‘You might have got into serious trouble,’ said Tony. ‘What is there so valuable about this packet, Miss Manners?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she replied.

  He looked at her incredulously.

  ‘You don’t know?’ he repeated.

  ‘No,’ she answered. ‘I was told that it was very valuable, That’s all. I was to deliver it to someone in Westpool...’

  ‘Hargreaves?’

  ‘You know?’ she said in surprise.

  ‘Who asked you to deliver it?’ he said.

  ‘Mr. Granger...’

  ‘Is he a tall, thin man, with a scar on the left side of his face?’

  ‘Do you know him?’ she asked quickly.

  ‘I know of him,’ said Tony.

  ‘He was injured during an air raid — that’s how he came by the scar.’

  ‘How are you connected with him?’

  ‘I’m his secretary,’ she answered. ‘My father was one of his clients...’

  ‘Clients?’

  ‘Mr. Granger is a solicitor — Hargreaves and Granger. Mr. Hargreaves still has an interest in the firm, but he’s retired... I don’t know why I’m telling you all this...’

  ‘Because you’re very worried about something,’ he said gently. ‘Isn’t that true?’

  ‘Yes... I’m terribly worried,’ she admitted.

  ‘Why not tell me what’s worrying you?’

  he suggested. ‘I might be able to help.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘It’s very nice of you,’ she said, ‘but I’m afraid you couldn’t.’

  ‘May I suggest, Miss Manners,’ interrupted the voice of Simon Beatal, ‘that I could?’

  She gave a startled little cry and turned to the door. The fat man was standing on the threshold. They had heard nothing. He must have opened the door very softly while they had been talking.

  ‘Snooping again, Mr. Beatal?’ said Tony.

  Simon Beatal came in and closed the door behind him.

  ‘An ugly word, sir,’ he said, smiling blandly. ‘I am here entirely in the interests of our mutual friend, Miss Manners.’

  There was a frightened expression in her eyes as she stared at him.

  ‘I — I don’t know what you mean?’ she said. ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘I followed you.’

  ‘Following people seems to be a hobby of yours,’ remarked Tony.

  ‘Hardly a hobby, sir.’ Simon Beatal uttered one of his jerky little laughs. ‘A matter of necessity, shall we say?’

  ‘You were on the train,’ said Jill, still staring at him fearfully. ‘I — I was warned about you...’

  ‘By Granger?’ Simon Beatal nodded. ‘I admit that I was following you on that occasion also.’

  ‘Quite ubiquitous, aren’t you?’ said Tony.

  ‘You might call it that, sir. Yes, it’s a very apt description.’

  ‘Well,’ snapped Tony, ‘suppose you try being ubiquitous somewhere else, Mr. Beatal.’

  ‘If I adopted your suggestion, sir,’ remarked Simon Beatal. ‘I should leave Miss Manners suffering under a very grave injustice.’

  ‘I don’t suppose that would cause you to lose any sleep,’ said Tony.

  ‘You misjudge me, sir. I am a man of strong principles. I cannot remain silent and condone a swindle, sir.’

  ‘Is this where we’re supposed to laugh?’ asked Tony.

  Simon Beatal shook his head gravely.

  ‘There is nothing humorous about it, sir,’ he said. ‘This charming young lady has been misled.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Jill.

  ‘Naturally,’ he answered indulgently. ‘Certain things have been deliberately kept from you.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked wonderingly.

  ‘Would it surprise you to learn, Miss Manners,’ he said, ‘that potentially you are a very rich woman?’

  ‘Rich?’ She looked up at him in complete astonishment. ‘Oh, you must be mistaken...’

  ‘Your father, Miss Manners, made a very valuable discovery,’ he said.

  ‘My father is dead,’ she answered. ‘He was killed in a plane crash.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Simon Beatal. ‘And, if you’ll forgive my saying so, that was the beginning of the trouble. Your father, Miss Manners, lived long enough to entrust his secret, together with certain proofs, to the pilot of the plane, with instructions that they were to be sent to his solicitor in England...’

  ‘Is that what the packet contained?’ broke in Tony interestedly.

  ‘That, sir, is what the original packet contained,’ agreed Simon Beatal.

  ‘The original packet?’ said Jill, frowning. ‘I don’t understand...’

  ‘The packet that the pilot, before he too died of his injuries in the crash, succeeded in forwarding to Mr. Granger. The contents of that packet, Miss Manners, your father fully intended should be yours.’

  ‘Are t
hese more lies, Beatal?’ said Tony.

  ‘What I am telling Miss Manners, sir, are irrefutable facts.’

  ‘But I had no idea that my — my father had sent anything,’ said Jill.

  ‘I am aware of that,’ said Beatal. ‘Cupidity, Miss Manners, gained the upper hand. Mr. Granger saw the opportunity of keeping an enormous fortune for himself. A lamentable decision.’ He shook his head sadly.

  ‘Which you were quite prepared to emulate, if you could have got hold of the packet,’ remarked Tony.

  ‘What was it my father discovered that was so valuable?’ asked Jill.

  ‘I am a business man, Miss Manners,’ answered Simon Beatal. ‘I am not prepared to divulge that until I am sure that you are prepared to accept my proposition.’

  Tony laughed.

  ‘You’re quite an adept at running with the fox and hunting with the hounds, aren’t you?’ he said admiringly.

  ‘An excellent simile, sir,’ said Beatal. ‘If a trifle hackneyed. Hence the reason I am here at this moment. Let me assure you that whoever gets possession of the real packet, sir, need not give Miss Manners a single penny of its potential value. The mere possession of it is sufficient. Therefore, when I propose that Miss Manners should receive fifty per cent of the sum involved, I consider it to be a very generous offer, sir.’

  ‘And a great deal more than you’d get if you had to cut up with Hargreaves, Granger and Renton?’ said Tony sarcastically.

  ‘You are shrewd, sir. That is, I admit, the main consideration.’

  ‘You’ve got a nerve to offer her fifty per cent for something that you admit is all hers already!’ said Tony.

  ‘She would have difficulty in proving it, sir,’ answered Simon Beatal. ‘If you knew exactly what that packet contains, you would understand.’

  ‘But you won’t tell us that?’

  ‘Not at the present stage of these negotiations, sir.’

  ‘In fact,’ said Tony, ‘you’re asking Miss Manners to buy a pig in a poke?’

  ‘A very valuable pig, sir.’

  ‘The snag is,’ said Tony, ‘that neither you nor Miss Masters have the slightest idea where the pig is.’

  ‘Somebody stole the packet from Mr. Wayne’s dressing room,’ said Jill.

  ‘That was not the real one, Miss Manners,’ said Simon Beatal.

  ‘That was taken from Vera Lee’s digs,’ said Tony.

  Beatal laughed.

  ‘A moot point, sir,’ he said.

  ‘You mean that was a dummy too?’ asked Tony.

  ‘In my opinion, sir,’ said Simon Beatal.

  Miss Masters was not the only one Mr. Granger was planning to — er — double-cross.’

  ‘You mean — he’s still got the original packet?’ asked Tony.

  ‘A reasonable supposition, sir,’ replied the fat man, ‘but not, I believe the correct one. It occurs to me that possibly Mr. Granger’s wife knew its whereabouts...’

  ‘Thelma?’ asked Jill in surprise.

  ‘Your sister, Miss Manners — your twin sister. Unfortunately she is not in a position to tell us.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’ asked Jill and there was sudden alarm in her voice. ‘What’s happened to her?’

  ‘I regret very much to tell you that she’s dead,’ answered Simon Beatal gravely. ‘She was murdered...’

  11

  It was late — the clock on the wall of the office showed the time to be nearly half-past ten, but Superintendent Halliday was still at his desk. He was frowning at a letter that Soames had just brought in to him.

  ‘When did this come?’ he asked, looking up.

  ‘A few minutes ago,’ answered the Sergeant. ‘It was given to the station sergeant.’

  ‘Who brought it?’

  ‘A little thin-faced feller, so the sergeant says,’ answered Soames. ‘He said there wasn’t any answer.’

  ‘I’ll bet he did,’ grunted Halliday. ‘Wish they’d detained him.’

  ‘There was no reason to, sir,’ said Soames.

  Halliday read the letter again.

  ‘If there’s any truth in this somebody has saved us a lot of trouble,’ he remarked. ‘Listen.’ He read the letter aloud. “If you want to know who the dead woman was, ask Jill Manners. She lives in a caravan on the top of North Cliff’.’

  ‘Whoever wrote that knows a bit too much, if you ask me,’ said the Sergeant.

  ‘It may be just one of the usual letters we get in a case like this,’ said Halliday. ‘Do you know anything about this caravan?’

  ‘It must be on a private site, sir,’ said Soames. ‘There’s no caravan colony or anything like that on North Cliff.’

  ‘Get a car, Soames,’ ordered Halliday, making up his mind. ‘We’ll go and find this woman, Jill Manners, and see if she knows anything.’

  Soames glanced at the clock.

  ‘It’s a bit late, isn’t it, sir?’ said the Sergeant doubtfully. ‘She may be in bed...’

  ‘Then she’ll have to get up,’ snapped Halliday. ‘We’re going to follow this up right away.’

  *

  Renton poured himself a stiff whisky, gulped it down, and poured himself another. Hargreaves, pacing up and down the living room, stopped.

  ‘I wouldn’t have too much of that, if I were you,’ he said.

  ‘You mind your own business,’ snapped Renton.

  ‘I am,’ said Hargreaves. ‘You happen to be part of my business. Listen, I’ve been thinking...’

  ‘There’s a lot too much thinking,’ retorted Renton. ‘What we want is a little action.’

  ‘You’re going to get it,’ said Hargreaves. ‘I’m going out. I shan’t be long.’

  ‘Where are you going? It’s nearly ten-thirty,’ said Renton.

  ‘I’ve got an idea where the packet is — the real one,’ said Hargreaves. ‘I’m going to see if I’m right.’

  ‘Not without me you’re not,’ snapped Renton.

  ‘You can’t come...’

  ‘Then you’re not going,’ declared Renton. He was slightly drunk and inclined to be more truculent than usual.

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ snarled Hargreaves. ‘I’m not going to be, that’s why I’m coming with you,’ said Renton a little thickly. ‘If you think I’m going to let you get hold of that packet without me, you’d better think some more.’

  ‘What do you suppose I’m going to do?’ demanded Hargreaves.

  Renton smiled unpleasantly.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘but whatever it is we’re doing it together.’

  ‘Look here, Renton...’

  ‘What do you take me for, eh? Once you get your hands on that packet you’ll clear out and I can whistle for my share until doomsday.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that...’

  ‘Not much you wouldn’t. I’m taking no chances.’

  ‘Very well, if you feel like that, you’d better come along,’ said Hargreaves resignedly. ‘But you’ll do exactly as I tell you — understand?’

  Renton nodded sullenly.

  ‘Give me your gun,’ said Hargreaves, holding out his hand.

  ‘Nothing doing,’ retorted Renton.

  ‘Now, don’t let’s start another argument,’ said Hargreaves. ‘Either you give me that gun, or we don’t go. I’ll call the whole thing off. You can please yourself...’

  Renton eyed him for a moment in silence. Then he pulled out the automatic and threw it on the table.

  ‘There you are,’ he snarled.

  Hargreaves picked up the pistol and slipped it in his pocket.

  ‘Good,’ he said briefly. ‘Now let’s go...’

  *

  Jill Manners stubbed out her cigarette and began slowly to undress. It was comfortable inside the caravan if a trifle cramped for room. The hands of the small travelling clock on the table by the bed pointed to a quarter to eleven.

  She looked worried and uneasy. She was thinking of her interview with Anthony Wayne and everything that Simon Beatal had said.

&
nbsp; She got into bed and for a short while she lay staring up at the low roof above her head.

  She must have fallen asleep almost at once and how long she slept she didn’t know, but she was awakened suddenly by a sound that for a moment she couldn’t place. And then as she became wide awake she realised that it was somebody knocking at the door.

  The knocking was repeated.

  She got up and went over to the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ she called, her voice still husky with sleep.

  A man’s voice, muffled by the closed door, answered her.

  ‘I’ve got an urgent message from Mr. Granger,’ he called. ‘It’s very important...’

  ‘Just a minute, please.’ She put on the light and reached for her dressing gown. Going back to the door she turned the key and opened it. On the threshold stood the shadowy figure of a man. There was something wrapped round the lower part of his face but before she could see more he had pushed his way roughly into the caravan. She fell back with a startled cry as she saw the light glint on the automatic he held in a gloved hand.

  ‘Be quiet!’ he snapped curtly.

  ‘Who are you?’ she breathed fearfully.

  ‘Never mind who I am,’ he answered. ‘Get back there and keep quiet. Then you won’t be hurt...’

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

  ‘The packet,’ he said. ‘I want the packet.’

  ‘I — I haven’t got it,’ she stammered.

  ‘It’s here somewhere,’ he retorted. ‘Your sister hid it here.’

  ‘My — my sister...’ Her eyes were frightened and her throat was so dry that the words were scarcely audible.

  ‘Thelma Granger,’ he said impatiently.

  ‘But — she never had the packet.’

  ‘How do you know?’ he demanded quickly.

  ‘She didn’t — I’m — I’m sure she didn’t...’

  ‘I’m going to look. Keep quiet or it will be the worse for you.’

  He began to make a thorough search while she watched him too terrified to move. Everything that could be moved he pulled out and thoroughly examined — books from the small shelf, cushions, the mattress and bedding on the narrow bed. Once when she thought he might not notice her, she began to edge towards the door but he swung quickly round on her.

  ‘Don’t try that,’ he snarled threateningly. ‘If you do you’ll get hurt.’