by M C Beaton
When they were seated around the table, Tommy looked at them and asked, “Found out anything?”
“I’m not looking for anything,” replied Fell. “We thought we would find you here. We thought we would drop in and thank you for putting that story in that we’d given up.”
“And have you?”
“Definitely. What on earth can we do that the police can’t?”
“I dunno,” said Tommy, “but they didn’t do much of a good job at the beginning, if you ask me.”
“Did Inspector Rudfern have a bad reputation?” asked Maggie.
“On the contrary. A good copper, rising steadily up the ranks, working hard. Usually cooperated well with the press, but not on this one. Wouldn’t give us a morsel.”
“Maybe he didn’t have anything to give?” suggested Fell.
“It looks that way.”
“He certainly didn’t seem very enthusiastic when we met him,” said Maggie.
“Grumpy old bugger.” Tommy took a gulp of whisky.
“His daughter’s pretty grumpy as well,” said Fell. “What’s her name again?”
“Oh, her, Gloria Lewis.”
Maggie felt a jolt in her stomach.
“She got soured a long time ago,” Tommy was going on. “I’ll tell you about it. Goodness, I’ve got an empty glass.”
“I’ll get you another.” Fell went to the bar, but it took some time, as the barman seemed determined to ignore him. When he got back to the table, it was to find Maggie on her own. “Where is he?”
“Gone to the loo.”
“What did he say about Gloria Lewis?”
“He said he’d tell us both.” Tommy emerged from the loo and then infuriatingly stopped to talk to various locals. Impatiently Fell held up the glass of whisky. Tommy saw it, ended his conversation, and came hurrying up. He raised the glass, took a gulp, and then sat down. “Ah, that’s better. Where was I?”
“Gloria Lewis,” prompted Maggie.
“Her, yes. She got married to James Lewis, a high-flyer.”
“A high-flyer in Buss,” exclaimed Maggie.
Tommy laughed. “No, London man, much older than she was. Must have been about nineteen and he was forty. Owned a chain of restaurants. Was thinking of opening a restaurant in Buss. Checked in at the Palace. Called in at the cop shop to find out if it was a safe area and got to know Rudfern. Rudfern invited him home. He fell for Gloria. She used to be quite a looker, by all accounts. Whirlwind romance, got married, off to London. One month later, he’s got his eye on a blonde model and he’s bored with Gloria. Gloria, furious at his indifference, has an affair with one of his friends to teach him a lesson. Friend tells James. James sues for divorce as injured party. No children. Gloria gets zilch. Rich lifestyle goes down the pan, back to being copper’s daughter in Buss.”
“She must have hated giving up the high life,” said Maggie.
“I s’pose.”
“Didn’t want to marry again?”
“I don’t think she found anyone around here good enough for her. I gather you were asking young Peter about Johnny Tremp.”
“It turned out to be a dead end,” said Fell.
“Still,” said Tommy, “it could have been a good lead. It must have looked to you as if he’d sat on that money all these years and then decided to spend it when everything had cooled down.”
“It did seem that way.” Fell noticed Tommy’s glass was empty again. The pub was very hot and smelly and he now wanted to escape and talk over with Maggie what they had learned. Then it struck him that Gloria might have money of her own, and who better to tell them than Tommy. “Another drink?” he asked.
“Very kind,” beamed Tommy.
“I’ll get it.” Maggie pushed back her chair. “What about you, Fell?”
“Another gin and tonic.”
When Maggie left for the bar, Fell said as casually as he could, “Does Gloria Lewis have a business of some kind?”
“Her business is looking after the old man.”
Maggie returned with the drinks. “That was quick,” said Fell. “How did you manage it? I thought that barman would never serve me.”
“An attractive lady will always get served first,” said Tommy, leering at Maggie.
Fell thought crossly that no one could call Maggie attractive on that hot day. Her face was shiny and her hair limp. “I believe you gave our Peter the elbow,” Tommy was saying.
“I am engaged,” said Maggie.
“Poor chap thought he was in there with a chance. Quite cut up, he is,” teased Tommy.
“Then he should know better than to try to poach on someone else’s land,” said Fell sharply, and Maggie looked at him in such amazement that Fell actually blushed.
Tommy’s eyes now focused on Fell. “You’ve got an odd engagement. I mean, what was Peter to think? You were wining and dining with Melissa Harley.”
“That was different. That was business.”
“Didn’t get any money out of you, did she?”
“No.”
“Just as well. Terrible woman. Probably thought you were an easy mark, but I’ll bet your young lady here wasn’t as easily fooled.”
“Nor was Fell,” said Maggie loyally.
“Mind you,” said Tommy, “I told Peter I didn’t think he had a chance. You always looked very much like a couple to me.”
“Are you working on any good stories at the moment?” asked Maggie, desperate to change the subject.
Tommy shook his head. “You two have provided the best stories we’ve had in years. It’s back to school-sports days and flower-arrangement classes.”
“We’ve got to go,” said Fell. Tommy looked settled in the pub for the afternoon.
“Okay. Be a pal and send another double over on your way out.”
“What a sponge!” complained Maggie as they stood at the bar. Fell signalled to the barman, who ignored him.
“Service, please!” shouted Maggie. The barman sulkily served them. Fell carried the drink to Tommy, said goodbye, and then joined Maggie, who was waiting by the door. “Let’s get home,” he said.
They walked back to the High Street where Maggie had parked the car and drove home, Fell going over and over what they had just learned. Once home, Maggie headed for the kitchen. “I’ll fix us something to eat.”
“No, you won’t. Go and sit down and relax. You’ve been doing all the cooking lately. What do you feel like eating?”
“Just a sandwich. The heat has taken my appetite away.”
Fell made a plate of ham sandwiches and a pot of tea and carried the lot through to the sitting room.
There was a ring at the doorbell. Fell put down the tray and went to answer it. He was so absorbed in thoughts of Gloria Lewis that he half-expected her to be standing on the doorstep, but it was Maggie’s mother.
“Going to ask me in?”
“Come in,” said Fell reluctantly. “Maggie’s in the sitting room.”
Maggie’s mother was deeply tanned. Fell thought she looked like a piece of bad-tempered old leather.
“So what’s all this about?” began Mrs. Partlett as soon as she saw her daughter. “I go off to Tenerife and when I get back the town’s buzzing with the news that you pair nearly got blown up by the IRA.”
Maggie could not be bothered explaining about the train robbery, so she said, “Someone mistook us for someone else.”
“I thought that might be it. Who’s going to bother about a pair of wimps like you?”
“You are in my house and while you are here, you’ll keep a civil tongue in your head,” said Fell quietly.
She looked at him as amazed as if a pet rabbit had bitten her on the ankle. “Oh, well,” she said with a shrug, “when are you going to get married?”
“Next month,” said Fell in that same quiet voice.
“And am I invited?”
“We’ll think about it.”
“What! Don’t you dare stop me from coming to my own daughter’s wedd
ing.”
“I will do what I want. If you are going to go on sneering at Maggie, then I don’t want you around.”
She had been about to sit down. But instead she marched back towards the door. “You just try to stop me,” she shouted. She opened the street door, walked outside and slammed it behind her.
“Oh, Fell,” said Maggie mistily, “I’ve been longing for someone to stand up for me.”
“I don’t like to see you hurt. Now let’s eat, Maggie, and we’ll get out some pens and paper and start working out what we’ve got.”
If only he had meant that about marriage, thought Maggie, and bit into a ham sandwich which tasted as dry as dust.
∨ The Skeleton in the Closet ∧
Nine
“The thing is this,” said Fell, making notes, “why was it so important for my father to get that shift? I know he was not my father, but I can’t get out of calling him that. He was a miser. Why should he pay Terry Weale a tenner? You got anything?”
“Maybe Tommy Whittaker was wrong. Maybe Gloria got a large divorce settlement from James Lewis.”
“Could be. But I can’t envisage an old man like Rudfern dressing up as a postman, pushing me in the river and putting Semtex in your car.”
The doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” said Fell. “I’ll take a look out of the window first.”
He opened the sitting-room window and peered round it. Then he headed for the door, saying, “It’s my aunt Agnes.”
Aunt Agnes was as buttoned up and whiskery as ever. “I came to see what you were up to,” she said.
“Come in,” said Fell.
Maggie in the sitting room heard Aunt Agnes say crossly, “It’s all the fault of that girl you’re engaged to. I bet she has a criminal background.”
And then she heard Fell’s voice, quiet and intense, “While you are here, no criticism of Maggie at all. Of course it has nothing to do with her.”
Aunt Agnes stumped into the sitting room. She eyed Maggie with disfavour. Fell followed her in.
“Nothing like this has ever happened in our family,” she complained.
“But I’m not of your family, am I?” Fell said.
She goggled at Fell.
“I appear to be the son of a certain Paul Wakeham.”
“How did you find that out?”
“So you knew all along,” said Fell flatly.
“My sister and her husband were good parents to you. There was no need for you to know.”
“On the contrary,” said Fell savagely, “they were paid a large sum of money for my education. I could have got a place at university. But, oh no, they pleaded poverty as usual and I had to work as a waiter.”
“It’s all water under the bridge.” Aunt Agnes gave an irritating sniff.
“Have you any idea of what a shock it was to me?” shouted Fell.
“It’s no use you getting uppity with me, young man. My sister reared you as if you were her own.”
“And you knew all along! And have you any idea what that rearing was like? The loneliness, the beatings, the constant complaining about how they couldn’t afford this and they couldn’t afford that.”
“You aren’t going to the papers with this, are you?” exclaimed Aunt Agnes. “Think of our good name.”
Fell’s anger left as abruptly as it had come. “No,” he said wearily, “I’m as anxious to protect my reputation as you are. While you’re here, you can answer me one question. Did my…I mean Mr. Dolphin have anything to do with the train robbery?”
“Bite your tongue! Of course not!”
“But on the day of the robbery he went on duty, even though it was his day off. He even paid Terry Weale a tenner!”
Aunt Agnes looked uncomfortable. “I ‘member that day. Because of the robbery, you see. It was that Colonel Wakeham. He said he wasn’t going to have nothing to do with them after you was handed over. But he suddenly says he’s going to come round and see how the boy is. So Charlie says he’s not having him round the house and the boy’s busy and that Colonel Wake-ham is to meet him at the station in the morning and he’ll give him a report. He saw the colonel, and soon as the colonel had left, that was when he got the call about stopping the train. He couldn’t tell the police the truth, for he had to protect you.”
“Yes, and I might have found out just what a money-grabbing miser he was,” said Fell bitterly.
“No need to take that tone with me,” said Aunt Agnes, every hair on her face bristling with indignation. “They didn’t want you. If it hadn’t been for my sister, you’d have ended up in an orphanage.”
“Would you like some tea?” asked Maggie, speaking for the first time.
“No, she’s just leaving,” said Fell. “How did you get here?”
“The train.”
“I’ll get you a cab. And then I don’t want to see you again.”
“There’s gratitude for you. Shunning those that clothed you and fed you.”
Fell went through and phoned for a cab. When it arrived, he went out and paid the driver. “I suppose you’ll be wanting your furniture back” were Aunt Agnes’s last words.
“Keep it.” Fell slammed the cab door on her and returned indoors to Maggie.
“It wasn’t really her fault,” said Maggie awkwardly when Fell sank down in a chair and buried his face in his hands. “I mean, she didn’t keep the money from you or bring you up.”
Fell took his hands away from his face. “I suppose not. Let’s get back to these wretched notes. The trouble about that lottery business is that Johnny Tremp is such an ideal suspect. He’s a nasty bit of work and brutal enough to have been in on the robbery. All we’ve got is one police inspector with an expensive daughter.”
Maggie was to regret her next words. “I suppose we could just go and ask him.”
Fell stared at her.
Maggie laughed. “I’m being ridiculous.”
“I don’t know. You know, Maggie, why not? Why not just ask? We could watch the house until we see the daughter leave and get him on his own. No witnesses.”
“Fell, it won’t do. He’ll just get angry and deny the whole thing.”
“But don’t you see, it’s worth a try? Until we get an idea who’s after us, we’ll never get another quiet moment. If he thinks it’s all ridiculous, I think we’ll be able to tell if he’s telling the truth.”
“I don’t really want to go.”
“Then you wait here. I’ll go.”
“No, we may as well stick together. Do you want to go now?”
“We’ll wait until this evening. We’ll start watching about six o’clock.”
♦
During the rest of the afternoon, Maggie tried to talk Fell out of the idea, but his face was grim and set. He was determined to go.
To add to Maggie’s fears, Dunwiddy phoned to say they were short of men and he had called off their guard.
They set out just before six. The air was hot and clammy and from far away came the distant rumble of thunder.
Maggie parked at the end of the street. “If we wait here,” she said, “we can see her if she drives past.” And in her heart of hearts, Maggie prayed that she would not drive past, or that if she did, she would have the inspector in the passenger seat and then they could go home and she would have time to talk Fell out of this crazy idea.
Seven o’clock came and went. Then eight. Maggie began to relax. The thunder crashed overhead and fat raindrops began to splash on the windscreen. Maggie switched on the wipers. By the time nine o’clock shone greenly from the clock on the dashboard, Maggie opened her mouth to suggest they should go home, but Fell suddenly hissed, “Car coming.”
They both crouched down and peered over the dashboard. A grey Mercedes passed them. Despite the pouring rain, they could briefly make out Gloria Lewis behind the wheel.
“Let’s go,” said Fell.
Maggie drove forward and parked opposite the inspector’s villa. “I haven’t an umbrella.”
“C
ome on,” said Fell. “A little bit of rain never hurt anyone.”
Maggie switched off the engine and got out of the car, gasping as the rain struck down on her. Lightning lit up the front of the villa. Thunder rolled and crashed overhead. They both ran up the drive to the front door. Fell, water running down his face, rang the bell.
They waited. He rang again. Again they waited.
“Well, that’s that,” said Maggie. “Let’s go.”
“We’ll walk round the side of the house and see if there’s a light on,” said Fell. “He may not be answering the door.”
Maggie groaned inwardly. But she followed Fell through the shrubbery and round the side of the house. “Look,” hissed Fell, clutching her arm. Light was streaming out from a window at the back of the garden.
They walked up to the window. Inspector Rudfern was sitting watching television.
Fell rapped on the French window. The inspector heaved himself to his feet.
“The gun,” whispered Maggie urgently. “What if he’s got Andy Briggs’s gun?”
Rudfern opened the window. “Who’s out there?”
“Fell Dolphin.”
“I might have known. Come in.”
Fell and Maggie walked inside. The inspector tugged at a cord and a Venetian blind dropped down to hide the window. Then he locked it.
“Sit down,” he said.
“We’re a bit wet.” Fell looked anxiously towards the now closed window. A huge crack of thunder reverberated through the room.
Rudfern said nothing, merely sitting down again.
Maggie and Fell sat down opposite him. Maggie could feel her wet clothes sticking to her. Droplets of rainwater were running down her face.
“Well?” prompted Rudfern.
Fell opened his mouth to say weakly that they had just dropped by to talk about the train robbery but found himself blurting out, “We think you did it.”
Rudfern looked wearily at him. “And what gives you that idea?”
Fell took a deep breath. “It’s all wild guessing. But your daughter was seen wearing a Versace dress. How could she afford it? Secondly, the police think there was Semtex put in our car engine in an attempt to blow us up. There was a raid on some IRA members ten years ago, and among other things a quantity of Semtex was seized. You would have been in an ideal position to take some.”
