The Ebenezer Papers

by Dawn Harris

  I was immensely relieved to find the yacht still there, and the Inspector asked me to check no-one was around while he dealt with the locked cabin door. There wasn’t a soul to be seen and when I got back he had the door open, but his broken collar bone meant he needed my help to make the search. I removed every article from the storage spaces, and after he’d checked for false panels and hidden compartments, I put everything back exactly as I’d found it, so that the Greenes would not suspect anyone had been on their yacht.

  The lockers were full of clothes, stacks of tinned food, jars of sugared almonds, as well as wine and beer. The yacht was ready for a long voyage, right down to new toothbrushes and toothpaste. It didn’t surprise me. Everything Edward Greene did was well organised.

  There were a few small souvenirs from the south of France, but no sign of a woman’s touch. We checked the boat from top to bottom with meticulous care, and as I’d predicted, there was not a single clue as to where they were living now. The Inspector did find a small, but empty, hiding place behind a false panel in the galley. And behind that was a bigger space. ‘Very cleverly concealed,’ he said. But that was empty too.

  ‘That must be where they hide their blackmail money,’ I suggested.

  'Could be.’

  The yacht was clearly set-up for a quick getaway, and I suggested the boat’s charts might offer a clue as to where the Greenes were going. He smiled, as if pleased I’d thought of that, and began looking at the charts while I finished putting things away. After a bit I glanced over my shoulder at him, ‘Any luck?’

  'Possibly. Those for Britain, France and the Mediterranean have been used, judging by the tea stains. The ones for the Atlantic, the east coast of America and the Caribbean are all new. If that’s where they’re heading they must be bleeding that poor woman dry.’ I nodded in sad agreement. If only Jean had not been so foolish. 'I’d say they’re ready to leave the instant their victim runs out of money, or her husband finds out, or she threatens to go to the police.’

  Once we’d checked that everything was back in its place I said, 'Would Bob Stokes be prepared to keep watch here?’

  ‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he grinned. Walking slowly back to the car I glanced at my watch and saw we had been on the yacht for more than four hours.

  I’d asked Al to drive leisurely because of the Inspector’s injuries, and on the way home, travelling along a straight stretch of empty road through some woods, I remembered the bet I’d made with the Inspector. Reminding him we hadn’t found anything to tell us where the Greenes were now, I informed him cheerfully, 'That’s five shillings you owe me, Inspector.’

  ‘Five bob,’ he grumbled. ‘Oh very well.’ He started to fish for the money in his pocket and I was about to tell him to put it in the police benevolent fund, when a large lorry suddenly thundered up beside us. But instead of overtaking, the lorry stayed beside us, and so close I thought it was going to hit us.

  The Inspector yelled above the noise of the lorry, ‘What the devil is he playing at? Why doesn’t he go past?’

  The wood was particularly dense here and up ahead I could see a very sharp bend. The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly bristled in real fear. The lorry driver was trying to force us off the road. And that’s when I realised what was happening. This was how George Crawleigh had died, and this was the man who’d done it. And now he meant to kill us.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  But I’d reckoned without Al. He suddenly accelerated and raced towards the sharp bend, meaning, I thought, to get round it before the lorry. There was a big tree right on the corner and convinced we were going to smash straight into it, I shut my eyes. The lorry screeched up beside us again, Al braked so violently we were thrown on the floor, then he reversed up the road at a recklessly high speed, backed into a rough track with brakes squealing, and shot off in the opposite direction.

  I helped the Inspector back onto the seat, fearing he’d damaged his broken collar bone again, but he assured me his left shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall. ‘I’ll probably have a monumental bruise. But better that than a tombstone, eh?’ And he grinned.

  Al was still driving at high speed and neither of us spoke to him until we came to a halt in the middle of a busy village. When Al opened the door and assisted us out, the Inspector held out his good left hand to shake Al's. 'Best bit of driving I’ve seen in years.'

  Al thanked him with a grin. ‘He’d been following us for some time. Keeping way back mind, hoping I wouldn’t notice, I guess. When I slowed down, he did too. If I went faster, so did he. He never dropped completely out of sight, or tried to overtake no matter how slowly I went, not until we reached the place that suited his purpose. I saw the tree Mr. Crawleigh crashed into, so I knew what to expect, and when he shot up beside us but didn’t go past, I was ready for him.’

  'Thank heavens you were,’ I said shakily, and I leant against the car for support as my legs felt decidedly wobbly. ‘I thought we were done for. Did you see the driver?’

  ‘Not really. He wore a cap well down over his eyes.’ And he went on, ‘I guess they’re onto us, Mrs. York.’

  The Inspector agreed with a sigh. ‘Al is right.’ And he asked me, ‘Who else knows you’ve been trying to find the Greenes?’

  'No-one,’ I said. ‘I’ve told no-one except you and Al.’

  ‘Are you absolutely sure about that?’

  ‘I am.’

  Al said, 'And I haven’t even told Connie.’

  ‘Hmm,’ he mused in his usual thoughtful manner. ‘Have there been any other incidents like this one?’

  I started to shake my head and then remembered how that falling scaffolding had only just missed Tim and me. I told him what had happened and said, ‘I assumed it was an accident.’

  'When was this?’

  ‘It was a Friday,’ I said, and added in sudden realisation. ‘Three days after I saw Ginger in Hyde Park.’ And the significance of that was obvious.

  ‘I see,’ he said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘Anything else?’

  'I don’t think----’ Again I stopped and when he urged me to go on, I said, 'No, that can’t have anything to do with it. It was rather odd, that’s all.’

  'For pity’s sake, Mrs. York, just tell me what happened,’ he insisted in exasperation.

  'Well, it was the day after the scaffolding incident and I was alone on the beach in Sussex, sunbathing, when I heard cries for help. A man appeared to be in trouble about fifty yards out. He went under and came up spluttering. I can’t swim Inspector, so I yelled out that I’d get help, and I ran up the beach as fast as I could. I’d just reached the top when I heard a motor boat, and looking through a small gap in the hedge I was immensely relieved to see him being hauled on board.’

  The Inspector pursed his lips. 'What was strange about that?’

  'Well – once he was on board he stood talking to his rescuer as if nothing had happened...........’

  'When he ought to have been stretched out gasping for breath. Yes, I see.’ And, suddenly he began to chortle. 'They expected you to rush to the rescue and you didn’t because you can’t swim. They didn’t think of that, did they?’

  ‘I’m glad you find it so amusing. It didn’t seem funny at the time. I thought he was going to drown.’

  'You were the one who would have drowned, Mrs. York.’

  I stared at him. 'What on earth do you mean?’

  'If you’d gone to help him you’d be dead by now.’ I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, but the Inspector was adamant. 'If that man wasn’t a strong swimmer I’ll eat my hat. He would have been strong enough to hold you under, and make it look as if you’d drowned by accident.’

  I gave an involuntary shudder. ‘Are you serious?’

  ‘Deadly serious, if you’ll excuse the pun.’ And he asked, ‘Could the swimmer have been Ginger?’

  ‘I don’t know. He was too far away.’

  ‘How many people were on the motor boat?’

  ‘I only saw one.’


  ‘So it could have been the Greenes. Or someone they hired to do their dirty work. Well, whoever it was, it’s clear Al is right. These villains know what you’re doing.’

  'But how could they know?’ I couldn’t understand it.

  He thought for a moment. ‘You said that scaffolding business happened three days after you saw Ginger collect the letter in Hyde Park?’ I nodded and he went on, ‘Then my guess is someone was keeping an eye on Ginger, and saw you follow him.’

  ‘His father you mean?’

  ‘That would seem likely.’

  ‘Yes, but if they knew what I was doing, why haven’t they just bumped me off? Why go to the trouble of trying to make it look as if I’ve had an accident?’

  'Oh, come along Mrs. York – surely it’s obvious. If you were murdered – which I, personally, would find most distressing – even the dim-witted Burns would realise that as Mr. Taverner is already in custody, he could not be responsible for your death. And, therefore, was not likely to be behind the other murders. Your murder would start a huge manhunt for the Greenes. Whereas an accident would appear to be an unfortunate mishap, and they would be safe.’

  'Yes, I see.’ And I suggested, ‘Surely, if I made a statement detailing what happened, even Superintendent Burns........’

  'Don't waste your time. In his eyes he has the case sewn up. And we don’t know the number of the lorry, nor did we see the driver. We have no real evidence.’

  Al, who had been listening quietly, urged, 'Wouldn't this Burns guy believe you, Inspector?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Al. He hates my guts.’

  'How did he get to be a Superintendent?’

  ‘Good question.’

  ‘Maybe he greased someone’s palm.’

  Inspector Nabber laughed. 'Policemen don’t get paid that kind of money, Al.’ He turned to me, his eyes full of very real concern. 'Now Mrs York, make no mistake, you are in great danger. Do not, on any account, go out alone, either on foot or in your car. Someone is watching your every move, just waiting for a chance to push you under a bus.’ I was touched that he cared and promised to do as he said. 'Make sure you do.’

  'What do we do now?’

  ‘Await events, I’m afraid. Bob Stokes will keep watch on the yacht, and the instant the Greenes appear, he’ll telephone me, and I’ll make sure they don’t get away.’ I was about to ask how, when he was not supposed to be at work, but seeing the question forming on my lips, he intercepted, ‘Trust me, Mrs. York.’

  ‘I do,’ I said. ‘Only I’d like to be there when you capture them.’

  He shook his head at once. 'It's too dangerous. These are violent men.’

  I couldn’t help feeling disappointed. I’d spent so long trying to trace them I wanted to be there when they were arrested. Still, I told myself, my feelings did not matter, the important thing was that their capture would finally exonerate Mr. Taverner.

  The whole incident had shaken me badly, but it wasn’t until I arrived home that reaction really set in. Walking through the door it suddenly struck me that if it hadn’t been for Al I wouldn’t ever have come home. I had made a Will, so Tim was provided for, but I would never have seen him again. A thought that was still in my mind when he ran up to greet me, and I hugged him to me so tightly he protested and wriggled out of my arms.

  I felt much better after a good night’s sleep, and spent a rainy morning playing indoors with Tim. After lunch I left him with Connie while I went to see Monica. Taking the Inspector’s advice, I had Al drive me to Bruton Street, where I found her snowed under with work.

  ‘I’m missing Jean,’ Monica sighed. 'She's such a good organiser. And the business has really flourished since the fashion show.’ She showed me the long list of orders and some of Oscar’s new designs. I studied them carefully and enthused, ‘These are great.’

  She smiled. ‘Yes, but don’t praise him to his face, he’s conceited enough as it is. Still I think we can make a go of the business now.’ She talked about her plans for quite a while and then casually asked, ‘By the way, have you seen the new Astaire and Rogers film yet?’

  ‘No, but I’d like to.’

  ‘Then go. You’ll love it. Johnny and I went last night.’

  ‘Oh,’ I muttered. “Follow the Fleet” was the film I’d told Johnny I wanted to see, but he’d been too busy. Well, it was no good feeling sorry for myself. I had to get used to this. Forcing a smile, I said I was glad they’d enjoyed it. And then I asked after her father.

  Immediately her bottom lip began to tremble. 'They’ve fixed his trial. It starts four weeks tomorrow.’

  I put my hand on her arm, thinking of all she’d gone through since Peter’s murder. 'Don't give up hope. There might be new evidence before then.’

  ‘I don’t see how,’ she said, choking back a sob.

  I longed to tell her everything I knew, to give her heart, but I couldn’t, and thankfully I was saved from answering by Emily coming over to say hello. I was pleased to see her bruises had almost gone now and she seemed much more cheerful.

  ‘People have been so kind,’ she told me, and confided, ‘Mrs. Carmichael even arranged taxis to take me to and from work while she’s away in the country. And she told my father to ring her at once if he has any more trouble.’

  Jean had been aware all along that Jewish people were being attacked, but as she had discovered, it was one thing to read about what happened to individuals who were unknown to her, and quite another to actually see the result of an attack on someone she liked. And it had shaken the very core of her beliefs.

  The only other time I’d seen her this distressed was when her father’s Jewish accountant ran off with the firm’s money. She’d loathed the accountant but liked Emily. In truth she had always tended to judge people by their religion or colour, but Emily being attacked had shattered those long held views. I hoped she might now start judging people by their character and actions.

  Emily broke into my thoughts inquiring if I thought Jean was quite well. 'She asked me to help her get everything up to date before she went into the country. I was happy to do it, but she wasn’t her usual self. She looked tired and peaky. She’s been so good to us, I can’t bear to think of her being unwell.’

  I promised to check up on Jean, but I believed her distress was caused by the Blackshirts attack on Emily and her family. And that she couldn’t forgive herself for having supported Mosley. Then, being bled dry by those vicious Greenes was enough to make anyone feel ill. If they planned to leave the country soon, they were probably demanding even more money.

  Jean’s anguish at having to endure these terrible events made perfect sense to me, yet remembering how my father and Johnny used to tease me about my belief that I was always right, I did look for other explanations. Only I couldn’t see any other answers. Not then.

  Monica had so many orders to fulfil that I stayed to help by typing out invoices and polishing off the backlog of filing while she dealt with more important things. I didn’t leave until I’d done all I could.

  By the time Al drove me home the rush hour was in full swing. When heavy traffic brought us to a halt, I was idly glancing out of the window at the people walking past, when I caught sight of Herr Muller. That short, stout, minor German diplomat who’d tried to impose his vicious Nazi views on everyone at that tennis match, by refusing to play with Sally Goldberg.

  Just looking at those harsh features made me shudder. Thankfully he was too busy talking to his companion to notice me. Al moved the car on, but when we came to another halt a hundred yards further on, they walked past again. This time the German was jabbing his finger at something on the other side of the road, for the benefit of his companion. As the other man turned to look over the road, I caught my breath, immediately aware there was something familiar about him. I’d seen him before somewhere, although I couldn’t think where.

  Al drove on and I didn’t see them again. That evening I was still puzzling over where I’d seen Muller’s comp
anion before, and I went to bed thinking it would come back to me when I least expected it. As these things do. And I was right, but I didn’t remember that night or during the following day.

  It rained on and off the whole of Wednesday and Connie and Al had gone out, it being their day off. I’d re-organised their free time so they could be together, much to Lang's disgust. Not that he said anything, but the look on his face was enough.

  Mindful of Inspector Nabber’s warning about not going out alone, I stayed in, having no intention of putting my son at risk. Tim, however, was itching to go outside, so suitably dressed in boots and coats, we went out into our small back courtyard garden. Here, he headed straight for the puddles and began jumping up and down, splashing water about, mostly over himself. It wasn’t cold and although I had to bath him afterwards, it was worth it to see him so happy and rosy-cheeked.

  In the afternoon we played games, and I read to him. Then we drew some cats; he loved drawing the whiskers especially. In the past week he’d reached the point where he couldn’t be persuaded to take a nap in the daytime, which meant he got tired earlier and was usually in bed and asleep by six thirty. I’d had a lovely day with him, yet now he was asleep I became restless. Accustomed as I was to going out every day, the poor weather and the Inspector’s restrictions on what I could do, left me feeling decidedly cooped up.

  Going into the drawing room I picked up “The Times,” happening to open it at the pages that showed what was on at the theatres and picture houses. Only then did I see that the last showing of “Follow The Fleet,” the Astaire and Rogers film I wanted to see, was tomorrow night, and I couldn’t go tomorrow. Today was my last chance. I ground my teeth in frustration, only too aware I ought not to go alone. Twice I decided to be sensible and stay home, and twice some instinct kept urging me to go, and that I’d regret it if I didn’t.