by Bruce, Leo
‘He’s a solicitor. I’m going to consult him.’
‘Really? On what?’
‘On the case of a missing man. Bridger.’
Rolland started.
‘Don’t bring me into this!’ he said. ‘If you want to throw your life away by going to these people, you can. Though I don’t see what you’ll gain by it except to be beaten up and possibly worse.’
‘I hope to gain information,’ said Carolus mildly.
‘Don’t forget you’re not acting for me.’
‘Or anyone else. I’m on my own. You won’t have to make any statement until you’re quite, quite safe, Rolland. Now, where will I find Antoine?’
‘In the kitchen. And very busy, with Bridger away. I hope you won’t waste his time.’
Carolus found Antoine in the act of garnishing a lobster Newburg.
‘Yes?’ said the chef sulkily.
Carolus came to the point.
‘Did you lend Bridger your car?’
‘Yes.’
‘Have you done so before?’
‘Yes.’
‘What is its make and index number?’
‘Vauxhall. Victor Estate. Four months old. Pale blue. YYY8o8.’
‘Thank you very much.’
Antoine nodded and became even more absorbed in his work. Carolus left.
Before going to bed that night he telephoned to his friend John Moore. John had been a young Detective Sergeant in Newminster when Carolus had first met him and had now climbed almost to the top of his profession as Detective Superintendent at Scotland Yard. The two men had remained friends but Moore was strictly a professional and was not to be drawn into Carolus’s unconventional investigations except when his duty, rigidly interpreted, caused him to be. On this occasion Carolus did no more than ask if he could come and see him at his office tomorrow at 11.30. Moore agreed.
Then Carolus dialled the number of Mr Gorringer, his headmaster, and a muffled voice replied: ‘Residence of the headmaster, Queen’s School, Newminster.’
Carolus, who knew Mr Gorringer’s penchant for making himself difficult of access, said cheerfully: ‘That you, headmaster? Deene speaking.’
There was a pause in which Mr Gorringer could almost be heard debating in his mind whether to continue his impersonation or admit his identity. He decided, reluctantly, on the latter.
‘Ah, Deene,’ he said.
‘I wondered whether by chance you would be in town tomorrow,’ said Carolus. ‘If so I hoped perhaps you would lunch with me.’
‘It happens that I had intended to run up to London for an hour or two tomorrow,’ said Mr Gorringer. ‘I shall be somewhat occupied with school affairs but I have as yet made no luncheon appointment. I should be pleased to accept your invitation. Perhaps you will name the venue?’
Carolus, in view of the last weeks, chose a restaurant where there was no affectation of haute cuisine, which appeared in no list of recommended places to eat with starry grading, where the cook was probably called Bert and the food was extremely good.
‘The Saddle of Lamb in Whitehall, at one o’clock?’ he suggested.
‘Excellent,’ agreed Mr Gorringer. ‘It is hard by my club, the United Headmasters and Headmistresses, where I already have an appointment during the morning.’
On the completion of these arrangements Carolus slept well and woke to find Mrs Boot in his room with a tea-tray.
‘I heard it was you in here,’ she said, ‘and I knew you wouldn’t want those Arabians creeping about when you woke up.’
‘Thank you,’ said Carolus.
‘Specially after what’s happened with them. You heard about that I suppose? Trying to kill one another. Dancing round the yard, they were. Pushing and making as though to strangle one another. Getting hold of each other’s hair and kicking. Shouting all the time like a pair of lunatics. If they want to fight why can’t they fight and have done with it? Then afterwards looking daggers at one another. Now they’re thick as thieves again. I said to my husband, I feel as though I was in a menagerie, I said.’
Carolus made a sympathetic noise.
‘Then there’s that Gloria,’ said Mrs Boot, ‘crying her eyes out morning, noon and night because that Bridger’s gone off somewhere. Mind you, there’s something funny about that. I happened to be passing the phone box when he was in there and couldn’t help hearing. “I never said anything,” he kept saying. “He never heard anything from me.” Then something about the Old Cygnet which he hadn’t mentioned. I couldn’t follow it all but I could see he was upset. Still, why she should blubber about it I can’t think. It’s not as though he’s any loss, always grinning. I told Gloria. “Let him pop off if he wants to. There’s plenty more,” I said. But she wouldn’t have it. There’s some like that, aren’t there?’
‘I suppose there are. You actually overheard Bridger on the telephone?’
‘I couldn’t help it, could I? I’m not one to listen to anyone’s conversation but he hadn’t shut the door properly and I happened to be dusting just near.’
‘What else did he say?’
‘Nothing to speak of, really. He promised to go up somewhere or other that afternoon. He sounded as though he was upset, as I told you. And he went straight off for a drink afterwards. Then to Antoine to borrow his car. There was more in that than meets the eye. You don’t find someone like Antoine lending a new car for nothing, do you? It’s not as though the two of them were all that friendly. Antoine isn’t one to give anything away. As soon as I saw what had happened I said to myself, that’s funny, I said, Antoine lending his car like that. I wonder what he gets out of it. But there you are. You never know, do you?’
‘No.’
‘You’d never think that Gloria would give herself away like that, would you? It shows what there was between them and I’ve always said. You’d think she’d have more respect for herself than to show everyone. Still, there you are. As for that Stefan…’
‘What’s the matter with Stefan?’
‘You know very well what’s the matter with him. Drink. That’s what’s the matter with him. I don’t see it so much because I’m not here at night. Though last night Mr Rolland asked me to come back because Bridger wasn’t there and they needed help in the kitchen. I give you my word he could hardly stand up straight. How he went round the tables I don’t know but I suppose he’s used to it. Fancy a head waiter, though! You’d think he’d set an example, wouldn’t you? I’d like to know where he keeps it. He doesn’t often go in the bar. He doesn’t get on with that Gloria if the truth were known. He seems to have been worse since all this happened, as though there was something on his mind. I think he knows more than what he’s said. That’s what it looks like, anyway.
‘As for that Rolland, he’s like a dog with two tails. You’d think he’d be at his wits’ end with all this food poisoning and people being suffercated and Bridger going off, wouldn’t you? Not him. He was humming as he came through the hall this morning. You can hum, I said to myself, but what’s going to happen next, that’s what I want to know. And that Molt’s been acting funny.’
‘Funny?’
‘Very funny. Going about with a face like a funeral and watching everyone out of the corner of his eye as though he thought a policeman was after him. If I hadn’t worked here all these years I’d go, I can tell you. It was different in Mist’ran Misses Cheeseman’s time. You didn’t have all this going on. I don’t say they wasn’t close. She used to count the pickled eggs in the Public and write it down on a piece of paper. But we never had any Arabians here in their time—that was one thing. I should like to have seen Mist’ran Misses Cheeseman’s faces if there’d been Arabians slinking round while they was here. Or if young Dave Paton was to have asked for more wages as he did yesterday.’
‘Really?’
‘I’m telling you, aren’t I? Soon as ever Bridger didn’t come back he was in the office saying he had twice the work to do and wanted more money. What’s more, Rolland gave it him. Well,
he had to, didn’t he? It’s a job to get anyone, nowadays. Well. This’ll never do. I’ve got my work to see to. I can’t stop here all day. Only I was going to tell you about that Dr Jyves.’
‘Yes?’
‘It’s only what I’ve heard, mind you. I can’t answer for it. But if half of it’s true it’s enough to make anyone think twice about being on his panel. It seems he’s gone to pieces altogether. Doesn’t seem to remember what he told you five minutes ago. Forgets where he is sometimes. They say it’s drugs. But it may be all talk. There’s people in this place that are only too ready to take your character away from you. Going round saying things about one another. It’s all wrong, isn’t it?’
‘It is.’
‘I say to them sometimes, “Can’t you say something good about people? If not, I don’t know why you have to talk at all. We only live once. We might as well make the best of it.” I do hate backbiting and making mischief. My husband’s the same. He tries to make the best of everyone even if he knows what they are.
‘Well. I must fly. I’ve got my staircase to do. They’ll start wondering whatever’s happened. They know I’m not one to stop gossiping when there’s work to be done. Not like some of them I could mention. I asked them the other day. “Haven’t you anything to do?” I said. They didn’t half give me a look. They don’t like anyone to call attention, do they?’
As though with a supreme effort, Mrs Boot made her exit.
Fifteen
Carolus was punctual in his call at John Moore’s office. The Detective Superintendent gave the impression that delighted though he would be to see Carolus anywhere else on other business he had certain professional reserves about him at this time and in this place.
They exchanged warm greetings and enquiries. Then John Moore said, ‘What can I do for you, Carolus? Because I know you too well to suppose you’ve come here to enquire after the wife and children.’
Carolus resisted the temptation to say it was a question of what he could do for Moore. He came straight to the point.
‘What do you know about a firm working the protection racket on luxury restaurants and clubs?’
John Moore looked up sharply.
‘You know it’s not the slightest good your asking questions like that. Whatever we know, or don’t know, I can’t discuss that with you.’
‘From which I take it that one you know something but not much, two that someone else is handling the matter, and three that it’s giving you all a headache.’
John Moore sighed pointedly.
‘I know enough to tell you to keep out of this, Carolus. Whatever it is you can only do more harm than good to yourself and to us.’
‘Unfortunately I’m too far involved.’
‘Speaking generally—and it’s the only way I can speak—the kind of case you describe is notoriously tricky. Months of work usually go to it as recent cases show. With exact knowledge of what’s going on it may take anything up to a year before we can prosecute. And if some interfering outsider like you pushes in it may cause us trouble and delay. I tell you to get out of it, Carolus, and stay out.’
Carolus seemed to consider.
‘Months, you say. Suppose it can be speeded up?’
‘What do you mean by speeded up?’
‘Suppose you were informed by some interfering outsider like me exactly who was running the thing and from what address? Also the names, or assumed names, of his assistants? Plus three of the people who are being blackmailed, or paying protection money if you like. What then, John?’
‘It wouldn’t necessarily alter the immediate position. The names may already be known. The identities of those being blackmailed are useless if they’re afraid to give information. I am speaking in general terms of course.’
Carolus smiled.
‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘But suppose we carry the hypothesis a little further. Suppose that circumstances enabled you, indeed forced you, to arrest most or all of the principals on another charge on which bail would not be allowed. What then? Couldn’t you get your information easily enough?’
‘What circumstances?’ asked John Moore.
‘Suppose you found these people in flagrante delicto, with beaten-up victims actually on the premises? That would enable you to search…’
‘Without a warrant?’
‘Oh come, my dear John. Your memory must be short. The late Maxwell Fyfe, when as Home Secretary he caused to be circulated a directive ordering a drive against homosexuals, had to defend in the Commons the conduct of the police. He was asked on what authority they had searched the home of one of the victims of his prejudices. He said that since the man had been arrested no search warrant was necessary, or words to that effect. Does not the same apply here?’
‘I am not saying a search of the premises could not be made if the tenant or owner was under arrest. But I think this has gone far enough, Carolus. So many ifs and buts. I’ve warned you in the friendliest way to keep out of this thing. If it’s anything like you suggest you’re risking your life. I mean that. The sort of people you describe stop at nothing.’
Carolus lit a cheroot.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I did not expect you to welcome my interference, as you call it, though you must be aware that I could tell you a great deal you don’t already know. I know you are bound by all sorts of restrictions on the use of informers. Let me put it to you this way. If you received information at, say, between four and five this afternoon, that at such and such an address a certain individual was being held by force and probably maltreated, would you not have to act?’
‘By “a certain individual” I presume you mean yourself.’
‘Could be.’
‘Of course we should have to act. Whatever it was. A patrol would be sent to the address at once with orders to investigate.’
‘And, my dear John, if you had reason to think that the matter was a serious one, leading to the breaking up of a very dangerous criminal clique of blackmailers, with possibly one or more murders thrown in, would it not perhaps be your duty to accompany the patrol yourself, with sufficient force for all eventualities? I speak in general terms, of course.’
It was John Moore’s turn to smile.
‘No comment,’ he said.
‘But my point is taken? Good. The only other provision I should like to make is this—will you in fact be in your office between four and five this afternoon?’
John Moore made some play of examining an engagement book.
‘Yes. I shall,’ he said.
‘Is there a number through which you can be reached at once, with no delay at all?’
The Detective Superintendent wrote a number on a slip of paper and silently handed it across.
‘Thank you,’ said Carolus. ‘And now perhaps—still in general terms—I can chatter away a few moments of your time. I should just like to mention an address in case it should happen to interest you.’
John Moore’s attempt to look bored was not a success. Nor did Carolus mistake the notes he made for doodling.
‘It’s a solicitor’s office,’ Carolus went on. ‘A certain Montreith. On the first floor of Gaitskell Mansions, Attlee Avenue, Bayswater. There is a porter called Humbledon who may have been bribed.’
Moore said nothing, but no one could have supposed he was not listening.
‘Above the offices, on the second floor, there is a flat, also Montreith’s. A metal staircase runs up to it from the offices. I don’t know who will be in the offices or flat but if Montreith is out no one will call you and we’re back to square one. There may possibly be a character known as Razor Gray and another, Rivers or Maxie.’
Was there a suggestion of recognition of these names on Moore’s would-be inscrutable face?
‘And possibly a gentleman who chooses the name Mandeville. Perhaps others. I imagine you’ll see nothing at first but a quiet solicitor’s office. That’s the cover.’
John Moore rose.
‘Well, Carolus,
it’s nice to have seen you,’ he said. ‘Goodbye for now.’
For once Carolus allowed himself a colloquialism which normally he detested. ‘Be seeing you,’ he said.
In the foyer of the Saddle of Lamb Mr Gorringer was already waiting. His gift for making his presence felt in all surroundings was evident. His mighty red ears, hairy at the orifice, his weightiness and height, his protuberant eyes were all too noticeable.
‘Ah, Deene,’ he said. ‘This is indeed a pleasure. As you know I all too rarely leave our academic backwater for the stir and bustle of the metropolis.’
‘I hope I am not late, headmaster?’
‘Not in the least. I have been filling the unforgiving minute with observation.’
‘Have a drink before we go in to lunch?’
Mr Gorringer inclined his head.
‘I should appreciate a glass of sherry,’ he admitted. ‘Are we to celebrate some new triumph of yours in the field of your curious hobby?’
‘Not yet, I’m afraid.’
‘You are not, I trust, still engaged in some investigation or other? I must remind you that our term starts in two days’ time.’
‘That’s just why I’ve asked you to meet me, headmaster. I need your help.’
‘My help? Only, I trust, in extricating you from circumstances irrelevant to our educational work?’
‘You can call it that.’
‘May I ask what is the nature of the assistance I can render you? As you know, my dear Deene, the welfare of my staff lies very close to my heart. Only last week I was called upon to arrange a small advance for one of them whose wife is expecting to …’
‘Not Hollingbourne again? This will be the sixth.’
‘I name no names. I was merely demonstrating my willingness, in cases of real necessity, to go to the assistance of those who loyally serve the school. Though I am confident that your problem is not of that nature.’
‘No, headmaster. It is not. Shall we have lunch? I will tell you while we eat.’
‘An excellent idea. Let us be fortified against any dire eventuality.’
When they had ordered, Mr Gorringer leaving the details to Carolus, the headmaster prepared to listen.
