by John Creasey
‘Don’t take any notice of Mannering’s careless talk. Go into the kitchen and start cooking my breakfast,’ Lobb ordered sharply.
‘Percy, you didn’t kill—!’
‘Do what I say.’
She moved slowly towards a doorway at the back of this inner room, gave a final glance over her shoulder and disappeared. Lobb moved across and closed the door.
‘Don’t you know better than to talk in front of a woman?’ Lobb demanded.
‘Don’t you know better than to get a woman to telephone the police that I was at the cottage last night?’ countered Mannering, testing out a lightning suspicion and seeing by Lobb’s expression that he was right.
‘Who told you she—?’
‘A woman telephoned Fishlock. Who else would it be but Dora?’ When Lobb didn’t answer, Mannering went on: ‘Five minutes’ questioning, and she would admit she did it.’
‘That’s as maybe.’ Lobb’s voice was harsh now, all trace of laughter gone. ‘Who said I killed Anstiss?’
‘I do.’
‘Prove it.’
‘Lobb, or Cobb, or White, if you prefer it—if I have to prove it, it will be to the police. Chief Inspector Fish-lock just dropped me outside, by the way—and if I should fail to leave, he will certainly want to know why.’
‘I saw him,’ Lobb muttered. ‘Why have him to drive you around?’
‘I told him I was going to look into all the antique shops in the way of business,’ Mannering said. ‘He told me that Jenkins had served time. Don’t run away with the idea that the local police are stupid.’
‘They’re stupid all right,’ said Lobb, harshly. He fell silent for a while and Mannering kept silent too. ‘So you know Anstiss is dead,’ he added at last.
‘I saw him at the cottage.’
‘How do you know the police won’t suspect you?’
‘They can suspect whom they like; what matters is that I can prove he was dead when I got there’ – would his bluff work? wondered Mannering – ‘and alive when he was there with you. Why did you kill him?’
‘The same reason I would kill anybody,’ blustered Lobb. ‘I didn’t trust him. And I’m not sure I trust you.’
Mannering shrugged. ‘You don’t have to.’
‘And you don’t know as much as you think you do,’ sneered Lobb. ‘I didn’t try to kill Joanna Cunliffe.’
‘Who did?’
‘I don’t know who did.’
‘Why try to kill me?’
‘I didn’t want you around,’ Lobb said. ‘You could have discovered too much.’
‘Didn’t it occur to you to ask me if I would do a deal?’
‘No,’ Lobb answered frankly. ‘I thought you were one of those Holy Joes who wouldn’t even cheat the Customs. You still could be,’ he added sharply.
‘You’re right,’ Mannering said. ‘So I could.’
‘How much do you know?’ demanded Lobb.
‘Apart from the fact that you killed Anstiss and tried to kill me, I know you’ve been operating with Joanna for a year,’ Mannering told him. ‘I know you’ve got the girl where you want her, I know she’s paid you a fortune during that year, I know you use Anstiss and Jenkins to sell your pictures—and I know I would get twice as much for any I sold, probably three or four times as much.’ Mannering moved across to the wall and ex-aimed a picture that was propped against it, then turned back to his companion. ‘When do we start talking business?’
Lobb frowned. ‘How do I know you’re on the level?’
‘You don’t, but I can prove it.’
‘Tell me how.’
‘Give me a worthwhile picture—or anything worthwhile to sell,’ Mannering said reasonably. ‘You don’t have to tell me its history.’
Lobb was breathing very heavily.
‘So I give you a piece of stolen property and you turn it in to the police. It’s not that easy, Mannering.’
Mannering shrugged.
‘Who said it was easy?’ He turned towards the door leading back to the shop. ‘I’m going to see the other antique people,’ he added. ‘I should think it will take me about two hours.’ He had his back to Lobb, and was speaking very casually. ‘I hope you’ll have made up your mind by then.’
He walked through the shop towards the street door.
‘Mannering!’ called Lobb.
Mannering paused. ‘Well?’
‘You could turn me in.’
Mannering slipped a hand into his pocket. ‘My car’s across the road—a grey Ford Cortina.’ He took out his keys and tossed them towards Lobb. ‘Put anything you like in there, and I’ll do what I can with it. Lock the stuff in the boot, and leave the keys on the dashboard shelf.’
He opened die street door and went out.
Soon, he was in another antique shop near by, looking round the well-filled rooms and the attractively displayed stock. Prices were high for a provincial town, but he raised no questions except to ask where the next antique shop was. He visited five altogether and it took him an hour and three-quarters. Passing the Red Lion Hotel, he had coffee in a tea-room attached, then walked back to The Ketde. He went in, the bell clanged and almost immediately Dora Jenkins appeared from the back.
Mannering smiled brightly.
‘Is Mr. Lobb in?’
‘No, he’s gone out. He—he’s my brother!’ she announced breathlessly. ‘And he didn’t kill anybody!’
‘That’s good,’ Mannering said.
‘You shouldn’t have said he did.’
‘So he told me. I’m sorry. Where is he, Mrs. Jenkins?’
‘He’s gone out,’ she repeated. ‘He’ll telephone you at the Manor tonight.’
‘I see,’ Mannering said. ‘Dora, don’t get mixed up in his affairs. He may be your brother but he’s a very dangerous man.’
‘You think I don’t know it?’ she answered, her voice tinged with bitterness. ‘You’re a fine one to talk!’ she added sharply.
‘I can look after myself, Dora, but you can’t.’
‘I do all right!’ she muttered.
Mannering shrugged, and went out.
He drove through the city, twice getting lost because of the one-way streets, then called at the Infirmary, where he was told that there was no change in Joanna’s condition but that Eliza Doze would be discharged the next day. Getting back into the car, he drove towards the Manor and did not stop until he was nearly at the drive gates. Pulling into a lay-by, he got out, and opened the boot of the car.
Inside were two paintings, and a beautifully polished wooden box.
He did not attempt to study the paintings, but taking the box to the front of the car, placed it on the seat next to him. He looked at it for a long time from every angle, then, lifting it, shook it gently from side to side; nothing rattled. He held it close to his ear, tipping it up and down; and this time there was a movement, soft, flowing, as of liquid. Very quietly he got out of the car, holding the box in both hands before him. Raising it above his head he hurled it as far as he could throw. It hit the ground fifty or sixty feet away from him, smashed – and then burst into flames! On the instant fire seared the grass for a radius of at least two yards. Had he opened that box close to his face, it would have blinded him for life.
He watched the flames grimly.
He had suspected for some time what kind of psychopathic killer he was dealing with; now he knew for certain that Lobb would kill on sight, and that there was no easy way of fooling him.
Mannering went back to the car, driving soberly to the Manor. Here, the usual crop of gardeners were at work and everything seemed normal. He went in by the open front door and heard Cunliffe’s voice.
‘Nonsense, my dear, nonsense. You must stay at the house. Won’t hear of anything different—won’t hear of
it.’ Cunliffe turned round as Mannering went into the room. ‘Ah! Mannering. Hoped you would be in to lunch; wanted to talk to you. You’ve heard about the disaster at my sister’s place?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Mannering. ‘A terrible thing.’
‘Isn’t the place, so much,’ said Cunliffe, ‘but the contents. You, particularly, Mannering, will be able to appreciate the gravity of the loss, though it is very hard to calculate in material terms. Who would be able to value her miniatures? She had nearly as many as I have, Mannering. And her tapestries—dreadful loss, quite dreadful. And some of the most beautiful wood-carving—Violet, my dear, it hurts me to think of it.’
‘Oh, well,’ said Lady Markly, almost tonelessly, ‘I’m sure I shall get over it, Clive. It’s very sad, but then I never did have the same feeling for old things that you have. And they were fully insured.’
‘Hear that?’ Cunliffe asked Mannering wryly. ‘Barbarian, isn’t she? What will you have?’
Mannering looked at Lady Markly, trying to interpret the slight smile which played about her lips.
‘It’s hard to think so—and very brave of her to take the loss so philosophically,’ he said at last. ‘I’m told the cottage was absolutely gutted. May I have a dry sherry?’
‘Of course, of course. Just like that cottage in the village,’ Cunliffe went on. ‘Almost as if there was a purpose in burning it down.’
‘I’m much more worried about the possibility of there having been a body,’ said Lady Markly.
‘Body!’ ejaculated Mannering. Once again he pretended astonishment.
‘The police and some experts are over at the scene now; they think there may have been a thief in the cottage. Ah, sherry, Mr. Mannering.’
They had luncheon.
Lady Markly went up to her room.
‘Mannering,’ said Cunliffe, almost as soon as she had gone, ‘I’m very worried indeed. First Eliza Doze’s cottage burnt to the ground, now Violet’s. And then that fire that nearly started in the studio. I thought Joanna was responsible, but now I hardly know what to think. Imagine this magnificent old house going up in smoke!’ He began to pace the room, looking out on to the beautiful ornamental garden as he did so. ‘Why should anyone wish to burn the place down, Mannering?’
Mannering frowned. ‘Are you having a special watch kept tonight?’
‘Oh, yes. The police are vigilant enough, but they can’t protect the place for ever. It’s dreadful,’ muttered Cunliffe, straightening his shoulders as if bracing himself to face a hostile world. ‘Oh, well—’ He broke off and hurried from the room.
Mannering went upstairs feeling very thoughtful. There were several things he wanted to tell the police, but he was loath to telephone them from here, equally loath to go into Salisbury again. Undecided, he passed the door next to Joanna’s room – and heard a click. Instantly, he was on the alert.
He heard a whisper.
‘Mr. Mannering.’
He glanced over his shoulder at the door.
‘Mr. Mannering.’
Lady Markly was standing there, beckoning him urgently.
As soon as he was inside the room, she took his arm. ‘I don’t want to upset my brother,’ she went on in the same conspiratorial manner, ‘he’s worried enough already, but there are things I think you should know.’
Her eyes, very clear, very intelligent, looked into his, and the pressure of her fingers on his arm was tight.
‘What kind of things?’ Mannering asked.
‘If I tell you in confidence, will you promise not to say a word to my brother or to the police?’ demanded Lady Markly.
Chapter Eighteen
Confidences
It was one thing to lie to Lobb and his like; quite another to lie to a woman in his own sphere. Mannering had to weigh up the possibility of having to break a promise so as to help Joanna and to find out the truth – and at the same time he had to form a quick opinion of this woman’s intelligence.
‘I won’t tell your brother,’ he said at last, ‘but I might have to tell the police.’
‘And they might have to tell my brother!’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a very rare thing,’ said Violet Markly. ‘An honest man. Well, that’s a chance we’ll have to take. Mr. Mannering’ – she drew back, looking steadily into Mannering’s eyes – ‘I’m very worried about Joanna.’
‘I think we all should be worried about her,’ said Mannering.
‘She is in trouble.’
‘Do you know what trouble?’
‘No. But I know what she has been doing to try to get out of it,’ Violet Markly told him.
‘What?’ asked Mannering softly.
‘Stealing pictures from her father’s collection, substituting copies and selling the originals through dishonest dealers who have cheated and blackmailed her,’ Lady Markly said with great precision.
‘And why do you think this?’ Mannering demanded.
‘I began to suspect it about six months ago. After I’d paid a surprise visit to the studio and seen copies of two of my brother’s paintings.’
‘Does she know you’ve seen these copies?’
‘No. I went to the studio one day when she was with Hester in London,’ Lady Markly said. There was not a moment’s hesitation about her answers. ‘And I didn’t tell her, I simply waited.’
Mannering frowned. ‘If you’d told her, you might have helped.’
‘If I’d told her, I might have driven her away from me for life,’ retorted Lady Markly. ‘Now, when everything comes out and it’s all over, she will turn to me. I can be very patient.’
‘So I see. What do you expect to happen now?’ demanded Mannering.
‘I really don’t know,’ said Lady Markly. ‘Joanna’s safe in the hospital, that’s the most important thing so far as I’m concerned. I hope all this violence and burning will be over before she comes home.’
‘What do you think the violence is all about?’ asked Mannering.
‘If you really want my opinion, it is this.’ Lady Markly frowned in concentration, choosing her words deliberately. ‘I believe that Joanna has reached the end of her tether. She really can’t go on any longer—it isn’t in the child’s nature to lie. I think she’s told the men who are blackmailing her, and now that they’ve done their worst, they’re trying to destroy any evidence they feel might incriminate them,’ Lady Markly went on. ‘That’s my opinion.’
‘A final coup and a complete disappearance—yes,’ Mannering mused. ‘Do you know why they started on me?’
‘No. And I don’t know these men. But I have seen Joanna talking to the footman, Anstiss—who has disappeared, I understand. And I’ve seen Anstiss talking to a man who is supposed to work for the tree-felling company in the park—a big, powerful fellow. I think his name is Lobb.’
‘It is,’ Mannering said. ‘Lady Markly—Violet—have you any idea what Joanna did to put herself at these people’s mercy?’
Lady Markly lifted her hands helplessly. ‘None at all. I just can’t imagine how the child got tied up with anything like this. John’ – she looked anxiously up at Mannering – ‘must you tell the police all this?’
‘Not yet,’ Mannering reassured her. ‘But if you’re right—and I rather think you are—it won’t be easy to get Joanna out of this scrape unless the police have the whole story.’
‘No,’ Lady Markly said, slowly. ‘No, I suppose not. Poor Joanna. She is the only one who knows all the truth.’
Mannering frowned. ‘I wonder.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘I don’t really know exactly what I do mean,’ said Mannering uneasily. ‘Unless—’ He broke off, the flaming cottage glowing in his mind’s eye. ‘What do you know of Eliza Doze?’ he asked.
&n
bsp; ‘She’s a self-opinionated, stubborn, fanatically loyal and faithful old woman,’ answered Violet Markly, and a smile broke through the sadness in her eyes. ‘I was going to bring her to my cottage tomorrow to convalesce, but now she’ll have to come here. She was my nurse and Joanna’s nurse—nurse, indeed, to most of the family.’
‘Trustworthy?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Well, well,’ Mannering said. ‘I think I’m beginning to see part of the truth.’ He took Lady Markly’s hands and gripped them tightly. ‘Do something for me.’
‘If I can.’
‘Telephone Chief Inspector Fishlock and tell him that Lobb made another attempt to kill me this afternoon.’
‘John!’
‘Don’t worry too much—I’m substantial evidence to the fact that he failed. And say I hope to look in and see him between five-thirty and six o’clock.’ Mannering moved towards the door as he spoke, raised a hand to her and went out.
The landing, staircase and hallway were empty. His car stood where he had left it and he opened the driving-seat door and got inside—then got out again and lifted the bonnet, suddenly fearful that there might be a booby trap.
Everything beneath the bonnet was quite normal.
He laughed at himself, got back into the car and turned the key in the ignition. Driving straight to Salisbury Infirmary, he asked for Dr. Ignatzi.
‘As a matter of fact, sir, he’s in the physiotherapy department,’ the receptionist said. ‘That’s outside, through that doorway and—’
‘Send a message telling him that I’m with Mrs. Eliza Doze, will you?’ Mannering said, and started for the stairs. He knew that Eliza was now in a general ward of eight beds, and found her sitting up, earphones tight to her head, a rapt expression on her face. As Mannering went towards her, she started, frowned, waved to him to sit on a chair, and kept him waiting for fully three minutes. Then she took off the earphones.
‘Those Beatles!’ she rejoiced. ‘They’re a scream.’
‘Eliza,’ Mannering said, ‘you’re a wicked old woman.’
‘There aren’t many of us left.’ She grinned as if with very great pride.
