He went over to the body and made a rapid search.
‘There’s nothing very much here,’ he said presently, straightening up. ‘A wallet, a small notebook, a fountain pen...’
‘The wallet and the notebook will do,’ she said quickly. ‘You’re going back to Hargreaves’ bungalow, aren’t you?’
He nodded.
‘When you get back plant the wallet and the notebook somewhere — in Hargreaves’ wardrobe perhaps — and put the pistol with them...’
He looked admiringly.
‘Thelma,’ he exclaimed, ‘that’s damned clever...’
‘I always had to think for you,’ she said a little contemptuously. ‘You’d never have done anything about this uranium business on your own.’
She looked at the sprawling, mountainous body of Simon Beatal.
‘Now,’ she said, ‘you’d better get rid of that.’
There was another terrific crash of thunder and behind the drawn curtains a white glare flickered.
‘There shouldn’t be anyone about tonight,’ he said. ‘At the best of times it’s pretty lonely up here.’
He stooped, put his hands under Simon Beatal’s shoulders and tried to lift him. But he couldn’t. He succeeded in raising the body a few inches but that was all. Again he tried, straining every muscle but with the same result.
‘I don’t think I can do it,’ he panted. ‘He weighs a ton.’
She frowned.
‘We’ve got to get him out of here somehow,’ she said. ‘Did you come by car?’
‘Yes,’ he answered.
‘How far did you leave it?’
‘On the road...’
‘Go and get it,’ she ordered. ‘Drive it as near to the door as you can. There’s a grass track — you’ll be able to get quite close.’
When he had gone, she went to the cupboard and took out a raincoat. This she put on, switched out the lights, and looked out of the door. It was still pouring with rain and the wind was strong. The lightning blazed and in its revealing whiteness, she could see that the entire cliff top was as deserted as the Sahara desert. There were no houses in the vicinity and it was very doubtful if they would be seen. She was satisfied.
She saw the car come bumping and lurching across the rough grass towards the caravan and presently it stopped within a yard or two of the door.
Granger got out and came towards her.
‘What did you do with the real packet?’ she asked. ‘Did you leave it in London?’
‘Trust me,’ he said.
‘In the office?’
‘Yes, in the safe,’ he answered. ‘It’s locked inside a hollowed-out ledger, together with David Manners’ last letter. Nobody would ever think there was anything there. It’s as safe as houses.’
‘Well, let’s get this over,’ she said.
It was all they could do between them to get the body of Simon Beatal the short distance to the car, but they managed it although it left them both exhausted and breathless.
Granger got in behind the wheel and Thelma slipped into the seat beside him. He started the engine and drove gently towards the cliff edge.
It was not very far and he brought the car to a stop within three yards of the sheer drop to the rocks below.
The rain beat in their faces and the wind tugged at their clothes as they got out and proceeded to haul the heavy body from the back seat.
Another blaze of lightning lit up the cliff top so that it was as bright as day. Granger shot a quick glance round. There was nobody within sight.
‘Come on, quickly,’ he muttered. ‘I shall be glad when this is over.’
Thelma said nothing. With difficulty they got the body to the cliff edge. One sharp push and all that remained of Simon Beatal went hurtling to the rocks below.
Granger straightened up.
‘Now,’ he began and it was the last word he ever uttered. Thelma gave him a sudden violent shove and he staggered backwards. For a second he swayed on the extreme edge and then he toppled over and was gone. The scream he gave was drowned in a crash of thunder.
Thelma, her lips set, went quickly to the car. It was pointing towards the cliff edge and she started the engine and put it in gear. It moved forward as she sprang quickly out and its momentum carried it on and over.
She waited only to make sure that it had vanished and then she hurried back through the blinding rain to the caravan. She went in and locked the door, took off her wet raincoat, and switched on the light.
For the next few minutes she was busy tidying the place up. There was no sign of any blood on the floor. Some splashes of water, that was all, nothing to show that anyone except herself had ever been there. Her husband had got the wallet and notebook in his pocket and pistol with which he had shot Beatal. When the bodies were found at the foot of the cliff, they would conclude that there had been a quarrel. The smashed car would be found too — Granger’s car. They would wonder what exactly had happened but there was nothing to connect her with any of it. She could go back to London, turn up at the office, still in her role of Jill Manners. The map and the photographs would eventually be found and her father’s last letter. Thelma was ostensibly dead. As next of kin she, Jill Manners, would inherit a vast fortune.
She smiled to herself.
It had all worked out as she had planned. All she had to do now was to get away from the caravan at once. No one would know that she had been there that night and she would avoid any awkward questions.
She started to get ready. It was eleven o’clock. There was a train to London at eleven-forty if she could make it.
Hurriedly she packed an overnight bag — a small affair with a zip fastener that was easily carried. She had no wish to attract undue attention to herself by having to enlist the aid of a porter at the station.
She had just finished and was taking a last look round the caravan to make sure that she had forgotten nothing when there came a sharp, authoritative knock on the door.
She turned quickly, her face white under the makeup.
Who was it? Who could it be at this hour?
The knock came again, louder and more impatient A voice that she knew called loudly above the noise of the storm: ‘Open up there, please, we wish to see you.’
Superintendent Halliday!
She would have to open the door. They knew she must be there. They must have seen the light...
She thrust the overnight case under the divan and stripped off her raincoat. After all they couldn’t suspect anything...
She unlocked the door and opened it.
‘What is it?’ she asked in a timid voice.
Halliday came in followed by Soames.
‘We have a police car outside,’ he said without preliminary. ‘I must ask you to accompany us to the station for questioning in connection with the murder of ex-Detective Inspector John Howard.’
‘Must I come tonight?’ she said. ‘It’s very late...’
‘I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you must,’ said Halliday sternly.
‘But — but I don’t know anything about it,’ she said.
‘You will be given an opportunity to prove that, Mrs. Granger,’ he retorted. ‘In the meanwhile I must warn you that anything you say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence hereafter...’
She felt as if a cold hand had gripped her heart.
They knew — but they couldn’t know...
‘You’re making a mistake,’ she said. ‘I’m not Mrs. Granger. She was my sister...’
‘I don’t think there’s any mistake,’ said Halliday.
18
The storm blew itself out during the night and the morning dawned hot and sunny. The promenade and beaches at Westpool became once more thronged with holidaymakers and the pier was crowded. Few of them were aware of the drama that had taken place in their midst or of the patient men who had been working since dawn to recover the bodies of Harold Granger and Simon Beatal and to salvage what remained of the wrecked car.
Lights had burned in the office of Superintendent Halliday far into the night as that weary man pieced together the evidence against Thelma Granger and eventually broke her down.
The news of her arrest reached the members of the concert party when they arrived for the matinée, although it was no news to Tony. It was the memory of that mole on her cheek that had put him on the right track and enabled him to provide Halliday with the evidence that he needed to bring the case to a successful conclusion.
It had been a big surprise to Halliday. He had never suspected that the dead woman was not Thelma but Jill and it was only the sight of the mole on Beatal’s face that had raised that dormant memory in Tony’s mind and led him to guess the truth.
He remembered that when he had first seen Jill Manners — the day she had come for the packet there had been no small mole beside her left eye. But there had been one on the second occasion he had seen her. It had only registered in his subconscious mind and it had taken the mole on Simon Beatal’s face to bring it to the surface.
‘Well, I’m hoping we’ve heard the last of it all,’ said Andy. ‘Maybe, now they’ve arrested the woman we’ll have a peaceful season.’
‘That goes for me too,’ declared Billy fervently. ‘I expected to find myself in clink any minute.’
‘I don’t think they ever really suspected you,’ said Tony.
‘They got near enough to be unpleasant,’ declared Billy.
‘Maybe this will teach ye to leave the girls alone in future,’ said Andy severely. ‘Ye see what they can turn out to be like.’
‘There’s something in that,’ grinned Billy. ‘Perhaps I’d better seriously think of going steady.’
‘Vera’s a very nice girl,’ said Tony.
‘Who said anything about Vera,’ demanded Billy.
‘I was thinking it was about time somebody did,’ said Tony.
‘Well, there’s no denying she’s attractive,’ said Billy thoughtfully. ‘She doesn’t hit you all at once...’
‘Aye, she grows on ye,’ said Andy.
‘Like Beryl?’ suggested Billy.
‘I’m seriously considering that matter,’ said Andy to his surprise. ‘She asked me to look after her Post Office savings book for her — and she’s of the saving kind.’
‘That was pretty cute of her,’ said Billy. ‘I’ve heard of ‘say it with flowers’ and ‘say it with music’ but a Post Office savings book is a new one.’
‘Ye must admit it’s practical,’ said Andy.
‘She won’t be able to save much once she’s got you to look after, poor girl,’ said Billy.
‘Maybe,’ replied Andy. ‘And then, of course, I’ll no be able to pay her her full salary after we’re married.’
‘Why, you old robber,’ said Tony.
‘It’d cost me too much in income tax,’ retorted Andy.
There was a tap at the door and Superintendent Halliday entered.
‘I hope,’ said Andy as he caught sight of him, ‘that ye havena come to ask a lot of questions?’
‘No, sir. I shan’t be bothering you any more,’ said Halliday cheerfully.
‘Well, that’s a relief,’ declared Billy.
‘I must say, Superintendent, there’s a lot I dinna understand,’ said Andy.
‘It’s very simple, sir,’ said Halliday. ‘Thelma Granger is a thorough bad lot, in my opinion. She was after the money from this uranium strike that her father had made. But he’d made a will before he went on his expedition leaving everything to Jill. He deposited this with a firm of lawyers in Saskachewan. He told Granger about it in the letter he wrote when he was dying. Now you see why Thelma killed Jill?’
‘To take her place,’ said Billy.
‘Exactly,’ said Halliday. ‘With Thelma apparently dead and Jill alive everything was easy. Granger could have registered the claim on her behalf and nobody could dispute it.’
‘How did you get all this information?’ asked Billy.
‘Hargreaves told me a lot,’ said Halliday. ‘When he knew that Granger was dead. He didn’t know it was Jill who had died. It was only Beatal who tumbled to that. Granger thought that Thelma was working in with him and that they would cash in together, but I believe she always intended to kill her husband when he was no longer useful. A real bad lot. Most of this scheme was hers. She thought up the business of the dummy packets so that they could ditch Hargreaves and Renton.’
‘Which one threw the packet into our compartment?’ asked Billy. ‘Jill, I suppose?’
‘Yes, that was Jill. It was also Jill who came the first time to see Mr. Wayne. That wasn’t part of the plan, you see. The arrangement was that Jill should bring the packet down to Hargreaves — she’d no idea what it was — and then go to the caravan and meet Thelma. The original idea was to kill her there and drop her body over the cliff and later identify her as Thelma. But when she told Thelma about throwing the packet into your compartment because she was scared of Beatal, and that she was going back to the Dome that evening to fetch it, Thelma thought of a better plan. She followed her. There was nobody here when Jill arrived, or when Thelma got here a few minutes later. She strangled Jill and put the body in the basket...’
‘She took an awful risk,’ said Andy.
‘But she got away with it,’ said Halliday. ‘From then on she became Jill. I thought that story she told me in the caravan was wrong somewhere — all that business of changing clothes and the rest of it — it didn’t ring true. I thought there was something queer about it, but I never guessed the real truth.’
‘Why did she kill Gilbert — sorry, Howard?’ asked Billy.
‘He found out what the game was,’ said Halliday. ‘He discovered Jill’s hat and it had got her name in it. He wasn’t quite sure but he tackled Thelma about it and she spun him the same story she’d told me, about changing clothes. But he was still suspicious. She knew he hadn’t any real proof but he was liable to be dangerous. She killed him while you were all at rehearsal.’
‘I think it was very smart of you to get on to all this, Superintendent,’ said Billy. ‘I don’t know how you did it?’
Superintendent Halliday almost blushed. ‘I really shouldn’t take any credit for it, sir,’ he said. ‘It was actually Mr. Wayne who discovered the truth.’
‘Tony!’ Billy grinned. ‘Well, well, Anthony Wayne, the great detective!’
‘I say we’ll have to hurry,’ said Andy. ‘The show starts in two minutes. Get a move on will ye? Have ye been in front, Superintendent?’
‘No, sir, not yet,’ said Halliday. ‘I’d rather like to bring the wife this evening.’
‘There’ll be two seats waiting for ye in the box office,’ said Andy. ‘They’ll no be the most expensive, ye understand?’
‘Naturally, sir,’ said Halliday gravely.
‘Come on,’ said Andy, ‘we’ll be off!’
They all trooped out into the passage. Sharon came hurriedly out of her dressing room.
‘Oh,’ she said as she caught sight of Halliday. ‘Don’t tell me there’s more trouble?’
‘No, miss,’ he said, smiling. ‘Its all over now — thanks to Mr. Wayne.’
‘I didn’t do much,’ said Tony deprecat-]ingly.
‘You put us on the right track, sir,’ said Halliday. ‘Well, goodbye. I shall look forward to seeing your show tonight and thank you.’
He nodded and went out the stage door.
‘What did you do?’ asked Sharon curiously.
‘Nothing very much,’ said Tony.
‘Only showed ’em who the murderer was,’ said Billy. ‘Good work, Sherlock.’
‘It was that girl who was killed, wasn’t it?’ said Sharon. ‘I shall never forget how scared she looked...’
‘She had something to be scared about,’ said Tony.
‘Yes,’ said Sharon. ‘Poor girl... Oh, I forgot, I’m not speaking to you.’
‘Couldn’t you go on forgetting?’ asked Tony.
‘Well,’ she loo
ked up at him. ‘Perhaps I might...’
Completely disregarding the rest of them, Tony caught her in his arms and kissed her.
THE END
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