‘Perhaps you’d like to answer that for us, Corina?’ Mike said in a level voice.
‘You flatter me. Whatever makes you think I am in a position to answer your clever little conundrum?’ He smiled and reached for a cigarette in an open box near by. With his other hand he felt for his lighter. But it was not a lighter that he held when he finally withdrew the hand from his pocket. It was a compact but deadly-looking revolver.
‘Look out, Baxter!’ Rodgers shouted, and both women screamed. Sanders made an instinctive movement but Corina whipped the gun towards him and rapped out, ‘All right, the party’s over, there’ll be no more games. Everyone back up against that wall … go on, quickly now! Rodgers, Goldway, get away from that door, I’m going now and I don’t want to have to shoot my way out!’
Somewhat sheepishly they obeyed him, stumbling into line along one wall, leaving a clear passage for Corina to walk down the room and out of the door. He passed rapidly down the line, the gun poised in one hand and the other making a brief but effective search for concealed weapons. No one was armed.
Just as he was leaving he caught sight of Linda’s handbag. He snapped open the clip and tipped the bag upside-down. spilling the contents on the carpet. He smiled at Linda, ‘Women have been known to play about with these things,’ he said, indicating the gun in his hand. ‘I shall lock the door from outside. The first person who tries to break through will get a bullet in the chest. That’s about all, I think.’
He took the key from the lock, backed swiftly through the door, and in a second had locked it behind him. There was no further sound.
Sanders was the first to make a move. The Code of a Gentleman called for it. Swearing something about ‘damned swine’ he made a move towards the door. Irene Long screamed at him, but Inspector Rodgers reassured her. ‘He’s hardly likely to be lurking outside. First thing he’ll do is put as much ground between us and himself as possible.’ He wheeled and made for the telephone but Goldway had got there already and was just finishing dialling. A second later he was issuing instructions for a general alarm to pick up Charles Corina, proprietor of La Pergola night club, Hampstead.
When he had finished Sanders had taken off his coat and was brandishing a poker, with which he proceeded to attack the door lock noisily, but not very effectively.
Mike restrained him. ‘Steady on Miss Long’s paintwork, old chap! I think there’s an easier way.’ Turning to Hector Staines, who was sitting down on the settee looking old and tired, Mike asked, ‘I believe the caretaker has a pass-key. You don’t happen to know Dan Appleby’s private number, do you?’
Staines blushed scarlet and muttered some unintelligible answer, whilst Rodgers and the others looked puzzled. Irene Long recovered sufficiently to supply the number and a few minutes later Dan Appleby opened the door with his pass-key and did a double-take when he saw the motley group inside Miss Long’s flat. His face was such a battleground of vast curiosity, blank surprise, and instant recognition of the Baxters that Linda could not repress a smile.
Under cover of the confusion Mike was able to draw Goldway to one side and murmur quietly, ‘A word in your ear, John, when you have a spare moment. Preferably somewhere very private.’
Goldway flashed him a sharp, understanding glance and muttered, ‘Be at my house in one hour.’
Twenty-four hours later Mike let himself into his flat and was greeted by an anxious Linda.
‘Darling, Inspector Rodgers was here only a moment ago. There’s no news of Corina. You don’t think they’re going to bungle it after all your hard work, do you?’
Mike smiled. ‘I don’t think they’re going to bungle it.’
‘I hope you’re right. How did Weldon take the news?’
‘He was slightly less sarcastic than usual. He actually thanked me! I told him it was the Home Secretary and Goldway that he had to thank, not me.’
‘You’re too modest. Is that all he had to say?’
Mike chuckled. ‘No. One has to admire his spirit, considering the hell he’s been through. When I told him about the reprieve he said, “How very convenient; now I can take my lawyer his cheque in person, and tell him what to do with it.”’
Linda laughed, and then her tone became serious. ‘It’s all very well, but I still don’t understand why it should take the authorities so long to pick up Corina. Inspector Rodgers told me they’ve got all the ports and railway stations and airports sealed and scores of men out on the job. He himself doesn’t look as though he’s had a wink of sleep in ages.’
‘I don’t suppose he has. Now stop worrying, Linda. I promise you everything’s going to be all right.’
The telephone rang and Linda answered it. She handed the receiver to Mike. ‘It’s John Goldway for you, darling.’
‘Mike here, John … Yes, everything’s under control … I know he has, but he’ll keep this appointment, I’ll bank my life on it … Quite. The main thing is to be sure the place is completely surrounded, but your men must keep out of sight … Thank you, John. Nine o’clock on the dot.’
As he replaced the receiver Linda broke in excitedly, ‘An appointment with Corina? Where?’
Mike placed two fingers under her chin and smiled at her. There was a glint of anticipation in his eyes as he answered, ‘Where is Charles Corina generally to be found at nine o’clock in the evening? At La Pergola, of course.’
Linda was about to ask more questions but he cut her short. ‘Now be a good girl and find a nice book and curl up on the settee for a short while, will you? I shan’t be long.’
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
‘To La Pergola, of course.’
‘Without me?’ Linda asked in astonishment.
‘Darling, there’s just a chance this could be a bit of a rough house. Not what I’d describe as a ladies’ night.’
‘Not a hope, Mike Baxter! I’m not leaving the race just as we’re reaching the finishing post. You’ll have to tie me down if you want to leave without me!’
Mike looked at her and slowly shook his head. ‘And this is the woman who was complaining only yesterday – or was it the day before – that her life was dull. I ask you!’
At La Pergola Club Linda failed to notice anything unusual except that the place seemed very full. The same sinuous brunette with the startling cleavage who had been huddling over the microphone on their first visit to the club was again moaning what sounded like exactly the same song; the same brand of pasty-faced débutantes and chinless young men were drifting listlessly in the soft-focus lighting on the tiny dance floor to the music of the small Latin-American band. Pink-jacketed wine waiters glided with their customary skill in and out of the tables, and the flaxen-haired bartender still badly needed a haircut. Linda was so keyed up she was unable to hide her disappointment.
Mike reproved her in a low voice. ‘What did you expect, Linda – blue helmets peering out from underneath each table and the Police Band up there on the stage instead of our Latin American friends?’
‘But I didn’t see any of Rodgers’s men outside either.’
‘You weren’t meant to. But they’re there, have no fear.’
‘What on earth makes you think Corina will come back here, of all places in the world?’
‘Let us say, exactly because it’s the last place in the world where he might be expected.’
Linda looked at him sharply. Despite the easy, almost flippant manner in which he had answered her questions, she knew him well enough to be able to detect the signs of unmistakable tension beneath the surface as his eyes flickered swiftly round the crowded room. She caught her breath as she saw Inspector Rodgers seated alone at a table in an alcove from where he commanded a good view of the packed room. She nudged Mike but he cut short her comment.
‘I know, I’ve seen him. Don’t do any handstands. I’ll just have a brief word with him, then I’ll join you at the bar. John promised to meet us here at nine o’clock. And if there’s a rough house dive under the bar.’
‘Any sign of Corina yet?’ Mike asked.
‘No such luck. What are you drinking?’ Rodgers signalled a waiter and ordered a dry martini for Mike and a tomato juice for himself. He grinned self-consciously and added, ‘I’ll take my first tot when we’ve rounded up our man, and believe you me it’ll be a stiff one!’
Mike smiled. ‘I’ll bet it will. Cigarette?’
Rodgers accepted, chain-lighting it from the one he had nearly finished. He said, after he had inhaled deeply, ‘Tell me, what made you so sure it was Corina at the bottom of all this?’
Mike raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean you didn’t suspect him?’
‘Oh, he was a suspect all right, but not at the top of my list.’
‘Who was, if I may ask?’
‘Harold Weldon, I’m afraid. Later, after the Peggy Bedford incident and the Tarrant murder, I had to think again.’
‘And you settled on …?’
‘Victor Sanders.’
Mike nodded. ‘Logically enough, I must say. Sanders was friendly with both Irene Long and Harold Weldon. His girlfriend had one third of the microfilm; all Sanders had to do was to get the second part from Lucy Staines—’
‘And he’d be two-thirds of the way home.’
‘Exactly. That left Peggy Bedford with the missing third.’
‘Yes.’
‘Weldon, however, wouldn’t play. So Sanders decided to enlist the services of Hector Staines; he ought to be able to get it for him from his daughter. He told Staines about the film and promised to cut him in handsomely on the proceeds. Staines was always chronically hard up, part of the trouble being that he was trying to make the running with a very expensive young lady – Peggy Bedford. It costs money to court a young lady of her tastes. Unfortunately for Sanders and Staines, Lucy was murdered before they could get at her.’
Rodgers nodded. ‘And we don’t need to ask who killed her.’
‘Naturally, it was the mysterious Mr Bannister, who knew about the Cordoba robbery, knew about Larry Boardman, and knew that the hiding-place of the pendant was indicated on a strip of film which had been cut into three pieces. He also knew that Lucy Staines had one of them.’
The waiter arrived with their drinks and Mike sipped his appreciatively. ‘Staines was of course horrified by the death of his daughter, but I don’t think it came as such a shock to Victor Sanders. He already knew quite a lot about Bannister and realised he must be the murderer. That’s why it shook him so rigid when his friend, Harold Weldon, was arrested and convicted. Sanders learnt of the Fairfax entry in Lucy’s diary and came to the conclusion that Fairfax was another name for Bannister. That was why he concocted that letter from a mythical Fairfax, intending to show that Weldon had been framed, which indeed he had.’
‘By Bannister?’
‘Yes, by Bannister.’
‘My first impression of both Staines and Sanders,’ Mike went on thoughtfully, ‘was moderately near the mark. They were both genuinely anxious to prove Weldon’s innocence, but as their own hands were far from clean they couldn’t press the matter too hard.’
‘Yes, that adds up,’ Rodgers commented. ‘But tell me, where do you think the Tarrant woman fits into the picture?’
‘She was bought and paid for by Bannister. He told her to get hold of Irene Long’s portion of the microfilm. She succeeded in this, but Sanders got to hear of it and was furious when he heard that his girlfriend had got cold feet and had sold out for a mere thousand pounds. That’s a pretty small share of a pendant worth fifty thousand.’
‘So he immediately offered the Tarrant woman fifteen hundred?’ Rodgers suggested.
Mike nodded. ‘Something like that. I don’t know the exact figure. But that’s what he was telephoning about the day Linda and I were in that ghastly dump in Soho Square. He said, “What about the Bannister affair; do I get the third shoe?” – by which he meant the third piece of film.’
‘H’m. We all know what happened to Nadia Tarrant.’
‘Yes, but she was the sort of person one could very easily underrate.’
Rodgers glanced at him sharply. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Even a man of Bannister’s class underrated her,’ Mike replied.
‘I don’t quite get that.’
‘He must have paid her a substantial sum to testify against Harold Weldon.’
Rodgers nodded thoughtfully. ‘Unless he was blackmailing her, of course. In which case it wouldn’t have cost him anything.’
Mike conceded this point. ‘True enough, but it’s my belief she was on the point of blackmailing him.’
‘How? She’d never actually met him, had she?’
‘No. She didn’t need to. She had her suspicions and she made a few inquiries in the right quarters. She even went to a Reference Library.’
Rodgers’s brows knitted in perplexity.
Mike smiled and enlarged on the statement. ‘It’s a library just off Tottenham Court Road. She looked up the person she was suspecting in a weighty reference book. I imagine she must have found out certain things about the mysterious Mr Bannister and she wanted to check them against the biography of the person she thought was Bannister.’
Rodgers stubbed out his cigarette and lit a fresh one. His tomato juice remained untouched. ‘You seem to have dug up a surprisingly large amount of information in the past few days. A pity we haven’t got you on the Force, Mr Baxter.’
‘That bit wasn’t difficult. Luigi Saltoni said they met in a Reference Library, which struck me as rather odd. I went there a day or two ago and found out that Nadia Tarrant had asked for two books. One was a hefty tome called The Theory of Photographic Process.’
‘That’s interesting! Sanders’s pet hobby is photography.’
Mike nodded. ‘Yes, but it was the second book she was really interested in. It was called An Encyclopaedia of the Social Sciences. You’ll know the one I mean.’
Rodgers’s eyes narrowed but he made no comment.
After a pause Mike went on, ‘It contains a large number of biographical details about CID personnel.’
Rodgers stiffened, but his face was a blank mask. ‘Rather an odd place to look for Charles Corina, wasn’t it?’ he said at length.
Mike leaned across the table and said quietly, ‘Nadia Tarrant wasn’t looking for Corina. She was interested in the biography of Detective-Inspector Rodgers.’
Rodgers seemed amused. ‘Are you saying that this Tarrant person suspected me? She thought I was Bannister?’
‘That is what I am saying.’
‘But for Pete’s sake – why?’
‘Because you are Bannister, Inspector,’ Mike ground out savagely. ‘That’s why!’
Rodgers stared at him in blank and utter astonishment. ‘What in heaven’s name are you driving at?’ he said at last.
Watching Rodgers’s hands, Mike went on deliberately, ‘Shall I tell you why you came here this evening, Inspector?’
‘To get Corina, of course!’
‘No, not to get him, but to meet him. Corina sent you a note, telling you to meet him here, adding that if you failed to turn up he would be forced to put certain uncomfortable facts on Superintendent Goldway’s desk tomorrow morning.’
Rodgers’s expression changed almost imperceptibly, but there was a fine controlled sarcasm in his voice as he retorted, ‘How very enlightening! Do go on.’
‘You were prepared to do a deal with Corina,’ said Mike flatly.
‘Nonsense! If I were really Bannister I wouldn’t need to do any deal with him. I would presumably have the whole film.’
‘You have. All the three sections are in your possession, but Corina knows too much. You need him out of the way, then your road is clear. You let the Cordoba affair die down, bide your time, pick up the pendant, and quietly
disappear.’
‘Baxter, you’re out of your mind!’
‘No, I’m inside yours, Rodgers. I happen to know you received that note from Corina because I was there when he wrote it and I actually posted it myself. If you don’t believe me, ask Corina.’
For the first time Rodgers was visibly disconcerted. He seemed to bunch together like a coiled spring. ‘And where might Corina be?’ he rasped.
‘He’s standing right behind you, Inspector.’
Rodgers whirled round, his full glass of tomato juice in his hand. ‘Blast you, Corina!’ he yelled, and flung the contents into Corina’s face, at the same time lunging out with his feet and upturning the table as Mike jerked forward to grab him. Mike was sent sprawling, a woman screamed, and in a few seconds utter confusion reigned in the room. Rodgers vaulted with incredible agility across the alcove, aimed a savage kick at Corina’s groin, and shot out of sight down a thickly carpeted corridor.
Mike staggered to his feet, jumped over the railing, and crouched at Corina’s side. ‘Where does that passage lead to?’ he shouted above the din.
‘My office,’ Corina muttered, clutching his stomach.
‘Anywhere else?’
‘No, it’s a dead end.’
Mike jerked upright and found Goldway by his side.
‘Mike! I was watching, but I wasn’t quite quick enough. Are you hurt?’ Mike made a move in the direction of the corridor but Goldway held him back. ‘I’ve got men stationed all over the place, leave this to us.’
His words were cut short by scattered gun-shots, and a second later a sergeant in uniform ran up, clutching his shoulder. ‘I was waiting in the passage, sir, but he shot his way past me. He’s locked himself in the office. I think I heard the window sash going down. Poulson and the others must have got him from below as he tried to climb out.’
Mike pushed his way roughly through the dazed crowd and reached the exit. Vaguely he realised that Linda was close behind him.
Outside in the street a small knot of bystanders and a large number of police were gathered in a half-circle round the body that lay in an ugly sprawl on the pavement beneath the open window. A police doctor thrust his way through the onlookers and knelt at the side of the body.
Another Woman's Shoes Page 17
