by John Creasey
Dell was smiling.
“A strange choice,” Mannering murmured, glad that his voice sounded normal.
“One of a pair,” said Dell. “It is the fellow one that is missing.” He handed the pendant to Mannering, who looked at it with affected casualness.
“You do not think much of it, I see,” commented Dell. “It is, however, an heirloom. That pendant and its fellow, were the only jewels I possessed before I began to see the living beauty in rare gems, and started to collect them.” He touched an empty space in the black velvet lining, the only one in that tray. “The other pendant should be there, Mr Mannering, and I am still anxious for you to obtain it for me.”
“I’ll still try,” said Mannering.
“I thought you would.” Slowly, lingeringly, Dell shut the lid. Light seemed to fade from the room. The old man looked up with a faint smile. “I think Kingham was determined to steal these from me one day. At least his death has prevented him from attempting it.”
“I know of men who’d risk their lives for them,” said Mannering.
“Oh, undoubtedly. But, I don’t think the thief exists who could break into this house, and find all the jewels – for I have others, of which I told you – and escape. I should have a great admiration for any man who could.”
He looked up; in his eyes there seemed to be a challenge.
That was pure imagination on his part, Mannering decided: but the impression lingered. “Do your sons know of these?”
“Indeed, yes,” said Dell. “It was when I was showing this tray to them that the pendant was stolen.”
“Why, out of all that selection, choose the pendant?” Mannering asked.
“They knew how I valued it,” said Dell, simply.
That could be true.
“Why have you shown them to me?” asked Mannering.
“Because you are a collector, because I have taken a liking to you, and because you have tried to help me. There is a sadness in collecting, Mr Mannering. We dare show our beauties to so few people without fear of envy and malice.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Will you be so good as to replace the drawer for me?”
Mannering did so.
When he straightened up and while Dell was pressing the ends of the chiffonier, to lock it, Mannering looked round him. There were two doors in the long room, one at the far end, one close beside them, and it was as his glance passed over the nearest door that he saw the handle move.
With a couple of swift strides Mannering reached it, and before the door had entirely closed, pulled it open.
Bunny Firth stood there; and beside him, was Mrs Kingham.
Firth was glib: he hadn’t been sure whether Mannering was still here, hadn’t wanted to interrupt if he were. The woman was more put-out, paling noticeably under her vivid make-up.
Firth said nervously: “Mrs Kingham would very much appreciate a word with you, Uncle. I took it on myself to bring her with me.”
“Yes, to be sure,” said Dell. He turned to her. “You will not want me to use many words in offering my deepest sympathy, Mrs Kingham, but be sure you have it.”
“You’re very kind,” Mrs Kingham murmured.
“If you will wait just a few moments, until I have finished my talk with Mr Mannering, I shall be happy to see you.”
Firth and Mrs Kingham withdrew. The door closed. Dell looked at Mannering, smiling faintly.
“He is in love with her,” he said, “a dangerous and uncertain state in which he – the one man on whose loyalty I have always felt that I could rely – might be prompted to betray me. But I think I can handle Bunny!” he added, briskly. “And now you know the whole position Mr Mannering, and I have put myself in your power, for naturally I am most anxious that the police should not know about my secret collection.”
He held out his hand.
“Do, I beg of you, find the missing pendant for me, even if it does not seem as important as discovering the murderer. It is just as important to me, and I am an old man.”
Mannering wished him goodbye, and before the summoned footman had arrived, ran down the stairs, opened the front door and slammed it shut.
He did not go out.
Stepping swiftly behind a tall oak settle, he waited for the footman to pass through the hall. A door closed quietly, then silence settled down on the house.
Mannering went to the foot of the staircase.
He heard voices as he crept from stair to stair, keeping close to the wall.
Reaching the landing he saw Bunny Firth and Mrs Kingham entering the ante-room.
At the end of the passage was a door which Mannering took to be one leading to the big room. He was right in part, for it turned out to be a small adjoining ante-room. One look at the lock assured him that it would be impossible to force in so short a time. There was however a ventilator. Pulling up a chair beneath it, Mannering set himself to listen.
Chapter Sixteen
Tanker Takes a Bus
Many people were deceived by Tanker Tring’s unremarkable presence into assuming that he was a fool. This was not so; moreover, he had what he called ‘my methods’. These led him to Dacres. True, he had been given a good start by Lorna, but without it he would have got there just the same.
So he waited near the drive gates, and a little after twelve o’clock saw Mannering appear from a window at the side of the house. Tring rubbed his chin and frowned. He found it hard to believe that Mannering had broken into the house in broad daylight, but it was obvious that he was breaking out.
Then Mannering did an odd thing; he hid behind some bushes. At the same time, Mrs Kingham appeared on the porch, accompanied by Bunny Firth. Tring now found himself in two minds. He wanted to follow Mannering and he also wanted to follow Mrs Kingham. He did not know her, but had a fixation about women in a case; if the evidence against a man and a woman was equal, then he preferred to suspect the woman.
His decision made, he hurried along the side of the drive, safely hidden by the thick bushes. When Mrs Kingham appeared at the end of the drive he was standing patiently waiting, at a bus stop. Mrs Kingham was also prepared to wait. Mannering, aware of what was going on; watched them sardonically from the grounds. From there he saw the approaching bus whip up both Mrs Kingham and Tring and lumber on its way towards Larmouth.
Mannering, both hungry and annoyed at the walk before him started off for the Royal. A picture of the tray of jewels was vivid in his mind’s eye, and it was only with a conscious effort that he thought of the brief interview he had overheard between Mrs Kingham and Dell.
They had met before his arrival.
Mrs Kingham had told Dell that she knew where to find the incriminating documents, and that her price for them was ten thousand pounds. As far as Mannering had been able to judge, Firth had not been in the room.
Mannering had never heard a man so scathing as Dell. Within five minutes Mrs Kingham’s confidence and stridency had been reduced to silence. She had Dell’s permission to go to the police, if she thought it would do her any good, and a veiled warning that he could, and would if necessary, take strong counter-action. It had been an illuminating interview, in some ways, in others irritatingly obscure. Mannering now knew, for instance, that Mrs Kingham was aware of her husband’s blackmailing activities, but did not know what knowledge Dell possessed strong enough to shut her up so effectively.
Back came a vision of the tray of jewels, and, superimposed on that glittering array, the comparatively valueless pendant on which Dell set so much store. Why? thought Mannering, not altogether believing in the reason that had been given to him.
He recalled the impression of danger, of challenge, which Dell had inspired when he had been in the middle of his story. There seemed only one conclusion – that Dell knew Mannering as the Baron.
That was the only thing which Mannering kept back from Lorna, when he told her of all that had transpired.
Tanker Tring entered the office which had been set aside for Bristow at five minute
s past two. He was lugubrious of expression, but Bristow was used to that.
“I’ve been wondering where you’d got to,” he said, “sit down.”
“It’s that Mannering,” said Tring, sinking gratefully into a chair.
“Playing tricks?” Bristow asked, concealing a grin.
“If he didn’t mind me knowing he was going to Dacres,” grumbled the Sergeant, “why did he give me the slip? He’s like a child, he really is, sir.”
Bristow nodded in agreement. “Go on.”
“Well, he comes out,” continued Tring, without a change of expression or a brightening of his voice, “by a window.”
“By a—” began Bristow, and broke off.
“I saw him,” said Tring. “I’ve got me eyes. He went in at the front door, one of the gardeners told me and he was expected all right, for the footman opened the door before he knocked. If you ask me, he was after Mrs K.”
“Kingham’s wife?” asked Bristow, sharply.
“That’s right. She came out by the front door and Mannering was waiting in the grounds, but they didn’t meet. There was a man with Mrs K. on the porch, answers to the description of Firth. He saw her off. She came back by bus, and so did I.”
“Where was Mannering?”
“It wasn’t any use looking for Mannering,” said Tring. “I didn’t think he’d go back into the house, having come out, and he probably knew I was there and gave me the slip.”
“You mean you preferred to follow the woman,” said Bristow, grimly. “Well, what did she do?”
“She went straight to the Royal, stayed there about ten minutes, then walked down to the shop. I don’t think she knew I followed her,” said Tring, “but I saw what she did. She went upstairs and unlocked the safe, and she took something out.”
“Kay told me the safe was cleared,” said Bristow, sharply.
“Can’t help that,” said Tring. “She opened it and took something out, must be a secret drawer, and then she went back to the Royal, and there’s men watching the Royal, so I tipped them the wink and here I am. Is it all right if I have my dinner now, sir? A man must eat.”
“If you could stay the pangs of hunger for just a minute,” Bristow said, “I would like to know what she took out of the safe.”
“Papers,” said Tring, succinctly. “Pinned together. She put them all in an envelope, and stuck it down, and stuffed it down her dress, sir. If I’d thought we’d got anything to run her in on, I’d have had her here like a shot, but there isn’t anything, is there?”
“Not yet,” said Bristow. “Come straight back from the canteen and put your report in writing Tanker, will you?”
Tring rose from his chair with a certain alacrity, leaving Bristow to ponder what he had heard.
He knew that there were rumours of an affair between Mrs Kingham and Bunny Firth. The possibility that this had something to do with Kingham’s murder was obvious. He knew also of Montagu Dell’s private collection, the fact that Kingham had been a fence, and the possibility that Dell was, or had been a buyer of ‘hot’ stuff. This did not surprise him. As a specialist in jewel robberies he was well aware that only one in every two collectors was strictly honest. It had once astonished him to discover how many men absolutely trustworthy in all other respects, were dabblers in stolen gems. With those who stole and bought for profit, it was easy to deal, but with those who bought and stole for the love of the jewels themselves it was a different matter. Mannering had once done just that. Could he, would he, fall again at the dazzling temptation of Dell’s display, Bristow wondered?
The inquests aroused a good deal of public attention and the court was crowded on both occasions. The Press made much of the possible connection between the two murders, but as far as Mannering could find out, nothing fresh came to light.
Thomas and Charles represented the younger Dells. Carol Armitage gave evidence, and won much sympathy. Mrs Kingham was not so popular. Nevertheless the Coroner expressed the wish that the charming lady should be allowed to continue to trade.
The police gave permission for the curio shop to be reopened and Mrs Kingham called at Carol’s room to ask her when she could start work.
“Immediately,” said Carol, promptly.
Mannering learned of this from Jeff Dell. He was alone in the bedroom reading, when, after a brief tap on the door, Jeff entered. He was frowning.
“Now what’s biting you?” asked Mannering, putting his book down.
“Does it show that much? Actually, I’m in a foul mood. That unpleasant Kingham woman, has made Carol promise to start work in the morning. I think it’s damned silly. She’ll only crack up.”
“It might be better for her to have something to do,” said Mannering, mildly.
“Nonsense!” Jeff glowered. “The girl needs a month’s holiday, anyone without a heart of stone can see that. Ah well, it’s none of my business. Have you got very far?”
“I’ve reached several conclusions which aren’t, at this stage, certain enough to share. Do you know your cousin well?”
“Bunny? Of course.”
“Did you know he was in love with Mrs Kingham?”
Jeff said, incredulously: “Are you serious?”
“There are strong rumours.”
“I shouldn’t think there was anything in it. Bunny wouldn’t be such a fool. Though falling in love’s a damned unpredictable business. Do you still think that Kingham was blackmailing the Old Man?”
“It was your suggestion.”
“But only a suggestion. Have you found anything to confirm or disprove it?”
“I think it was true.”
“So the Old Man had a strong motive for wanting Kingham dead,” said Jeff.
A new, and unpleasant thought had obviously flashed through his mind. He tried to hide it, but failed.
“Double motive for Bunny Firth to have murdered Kingham,” murmured Mannering.
“So you’ve seen that, have you?” growled Jeff.
Mannering shrugged. “It’s an obvious possibility. Bunny might have killed Kingham (a) because your father wanted him to or (b) to save your father from further blackmail, and he might have been strengthened in the resolve because he is in love with Kingham’s wife.”
“It makes Bunny pretty villainous,” said Jeff, “and he’s not.”
“It makes Bunny a man keyed up to a desperate pitch of emotional anxiety,” said Mannering, quietly. “Where it slips over the boundary is in the murder of young Clive.”
“I can’t see Bunny doing it,” said Jeff obstinately.
“It’s always difficult to see a man in a new light,” Mannering answered. “There’s one thing you might be able to tell me. Was Bunny away about the time of Kingham’s murder?”
Jeff nodded.
“Oh, absolutely. He took a prescription to the chemist to be made up, and was to call for it an hour later. There’s no doubt, unfortunately, that he was in Larmouth during the time the murder was committed.” Jeff kicked at a chair near the bed. “There’s even worse,” he added morosely, “Mrs Kingham left the hairdressers at half-past twelve. She might have gone to the shop and met him there.”
“Oh,” said Mannering aware that, according to her statement, Mrs Kingham had been at lunch during that time.
Jeff said, savagely: “Look here, Mannering, I don’t believe that Bunny knew anything about it. He was out during that morning, assessing some furniture up for auction at a private house. And it was near Milden Woods, but – well, it just wouldn’t be Bunny.”
Yet Mannering thought Jeff was afraid that Bunny Firth knew much more about things than he should.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if the police mark him down as suspect number one,” Jeff said, after a pause, “but I hope you won’t, Mannering. I must admit—” he broke off.
“Go on.”
“If it sounds a bit crude, you must forgive me,” said Jeff awkwardly, “but, well, you haven’t got very far in your investigations, have you?”
&nb
sp; Mannering smiled good-humouredly. “One doesn’t produce murderers from one’s sleeve like a magician’s white rabbit. There are difficulties, you know. Lack of trust among the Dell family is one of them. You and your father have told me the same story about the pendant. What’s the real one, Jeff?”
Jeff was annoyed. “As far as I know, you have the truth about the pendant. What makes you think we’ve lied to you?”
“A knowledge of men and of jewel mania,” said Mannering, “but I won’t press the point. There are other clearer indications of the lack of confidence. One of them, that I learnt from the police and not from you that you and Kingham are old acquaintances.”
Jeff’s colour deepened. It seemed to Mannering that there was an innate honesty about him, a curious kind of transparency. He could lie and dissemble with any man, but when he was caught out his face betrayed it.
“I don’t remember saying that I didn’t know Kingham,” he said at last.
“Oh, you kept within the letter of the truth,” said Mannering, “but how can I help if I’m kept in the dark on things like that? It could alter the whole concept of the case, and certainly worsen your position with the police. The fact that you were released doesn’t mean they’ve given up suspecting you. They haven’t yet detained me, but they know I had the opportunity to kill Kingham – so I’m in this for my own neck as well as yours. Why didn’t you tell me you knew Kingham?”
Grudgingly, Jeff said: “I didn’t want anyone to know.”
“Yet you met him at Gentian’s, it was an open secret.”
“It didn’t think it would be found out so quickly,” said Jeff. “It’s a pretty powerful piece of circumstantial evidence against me. I don’t want to put my head in a noose.”
“You’re having a good shot at it,” said Mannering grimly. “Why did Kingham come to see you?”
“He bought and sold a bit through Gentian’s. The Old Man introduced him to me, so he was my customer. Gentian’s work like that, each representative is in a water-tight compartment. Kingham never offered me any illegal stuff, or I would have been on him like a shot. I didn’t even know that the Old Man had quarrelled with him until I came down here.”
