‘Highly organized, by the look of it,’ he said. ‘He’s built up a nice little circle of contacts – bank managers and suchlike – through whose services he can line his pockets.’
‘But how does it work, Guv?’
‘I imagine Rollo and the others get a list of investments Sinclair wants to push, and when their clients come for advice, they’re gently nudged in the right direction. In return for which, Rollo and Co. get a handsome backhander. But his days are numbered; a report’s gone to his Head Office – no doubt he’ll be hearing from them.’
‘It sounds very dodgy. I thought bank managers were a cautious lot.’
‘There are exceptions to any rule, but I’d guess it seems fairly innocuous at first. They get a percentage of commission – something like that. But then it escalates. If they bring in the big fish, they’re suitably rewarded – lunch or dinner in the Big City, with optional extras.’
‘Like at the Commodore?’
‘Precisely. And once they’re in that deep, it’s added protection against belated stirrings of conscience. Anyway, Marriott smelt a rat and started sniffing around.’
‘You reckon that’s why he died?’
Webb sighed. ‘Could have been. At very least, it’s another line of inquiry to be followed through. God, Ken, I wish Stan Bates was mobile. We need all the help we can get on this one.’
‘Have you heard how he’s going on, Guv?’
‘Not since Thursday. Which reminds me, I promised to look in again. In the meantime, though, I’ve prevailed on Court Lane to root out the other solicitors. We’ll see what that brings forth. Oh, and permission from the Home Office is through on Peru. Evening flight from Heathrow tomorrow, so bring your case in to work. Just the bare essentials – we’ll be issued with specialist gear on arrival. We’ll check with Doc Pringle what jabs we should have. In the meantime, phone Mrs Coverdale, will you, Ken, and see if there’s anything else we ought to know.’
Jan returned from the phone and resumed her seat by the fire. Miles, who’d been invited for Sunday lunch, regarded her quizzically.
‘You’re looking very pensive. Not bad news, I hope?’
‘No, just the police with last-minute queries on Peru. They’re flying out tomorrow.’
‘Will they be able to contact them?’ Lady Peel asked.
‘They could be deep in the jungle.’
Miles laughed. ‘Believe me, if Webb’s interested enough to go all that way, a bit of jungle’s not going to stop him.’
‘But how can Edward help?’ Jan demanded. ‘He’s been away the whole time.’
‘We don’t even know,’ Lady Peel said, ‘that it’s Edward they wish to question.’
‘Rowena?’ Jan stared at her. ‘I never thought of that. You think they might want to ask her about the letter?’
‘What letter?’ Miles’s voice was sharp, and they looked at him in surprise. Lady Peel explained about Sir Reginald’s withdrawal.
‘Ah, that explains it. Webb asked if I’d had one.’
‘But you haven’t?’
Miles bent and stroked the cat on the rug. Her fur twitched in protest and she flicked her tail.
‘No.’
‘He also mentioned a book your father might have written.’
‘That’s right. Some nonsense about a schoolgirl magazine.’
‘They seem to believe it existed,’ Jan said.
‘Then he must have destroyed it later.’ He stood up suddenly. ‘God, I’m sick of all this ferreting into our affairs. I’ll be glad when it’s over and they leave us in peace.’ He looked down at Jan. ‘You’re not having much of a holiday, are you? Let me take you out to dinner, to make up for it. Mario’s in Gloucester Street have a decent menu.’
Jan said quickly, ‘That’s kind of you, but I don’t think –’
‘Why not, my dear?’ Lady Peel interrupted. ‘It’s an excellent idea. Miles is right, this has been a most trying trip for you. Why not take the chance to relax for an evening? The children will be quite safe with Edith and me.’
Any further protest would be embarrassing. Jan was aware of the amusement in Miles’s gaze. Damn him! she thought impotently. Aloud, she said, ‘Then thank you. I’d enjoy that.’
‘Tomorrow suit you? I’ll call for you at eight. Mondays are fairly quiet, there should be no problem getting a table.’
Ken Jackson said, ‘I haven’t any option, love. The Guv says “Jump”, and I jump. That’s the way it is.’
Millie shivered, and the baby she was holding stirred sleepily. She was in her dressing-gown, and the warm, domestic picture they presented emphasized the point she was making. ‘All the times we’ve sat here by the telly, me with my knitting and you in your slippers, watching people pitting themselves against the elements and taking terrible risks. And I’ve sipped my cocoa, thinking how lovely it was to be safe and snug at home. And now you’ll be out there with them. Oh, Ken!’
‘I shan’t be in danger, love,’ he reassured her. ‘No more than going after a villain here in Shillingham. And as far as we know, Mr Langley’s not a villain anyway.’
‘He might have killed that man,’ Millie pointed out.
‘Aye, and he might not, which is what we’ve got to find out. But he won’t kill us, never fear. There’ll be other people about, anyway, the lads who fly us out, and – and the Indians,’ he ended less certainly.
‘Indians?’ Millie’s round eyes widened still further, and Jackson made a hasty substitution.
‘Peruvians, then. The guides and people. And it will only take a few days anyway. Then I’ll be back, and we can watch telly to our hearts’ content.’
She smiled, resting her cheek on the baby’s fluffy red head. He smelt of warm milk and talcum powder. ‘Yes, of course. I know I’m being silly – it’s just that it’s so far away. Peru might as well be the moon, for all I know about it.’
Jackson grinned. ‘I don’t think even the Governor will send me to the moon. Not till it gets its quota of criminals, anyway.’ He nodded towards the drowsy child. ‘Shall I take him back to his cot?’
‘We’ll give him another five minutes. We don’t want him waking Tessa.’
‘It’s some time since Mr Webb saw his godson,’ Jackson commented. ‘We could ask him round one Sunday, when the case is wrapped up.’
‘That’d be lovely. Paul and Vicky’d enjoy it, too – Mr Webb’s very good with them. Pity he’s no children of his own.’
‘I doubt if he misses them,’ Jackson said.
‘My God!’ exclaimed Alec Pringle the next morning. ‘What the hell are you going out there for?’
Webb grinned and winked at Jackson. ‘An exotic holiday, and to hell with crime? That what you’re thinking? Not true, unfortunately. The sergeant and I have to penetrate the impenetrable, and we want to know what jabs are called for.’
The police surgeon leant back in his chair. ‘This evening, you say? Left it a bit late, haven’t you?’ He was a tall, expatriate Scot, known for unfailing cheerfulness whatever the occasion. It was a trait which new recruits, initially shocked, quickly came to appreciate in a tough and stomach-turning world.
‘No option, I’m afraid. The Home Office didn’t pronounce till yesterday.’
‘Right, we’ll see what we can do. Peru, you say. From what I remember, there are no required inoculations, but I’ll check the chart. “The King of Peru, who was Emperor too – ” I always think of that. Christopher Robin, isn’t it?’ He was running his finger down the chart. ‘Aye, here we are. Nothing required, but I’d advise some protection. Your polio boosters are up to date, and I can give you one for typhoid. Hepatitis is easy – immediate protection on that one – and you’ll need malaria tablets if you’re going into the jungle. It’s a bit late to start, but carry on taking them for six weeks. And that, my lads, is the best I can do for you. You’ll have to get your yellow fever jab at Heathrow, so allow time before your flight.’
‘Ye gods! We’ll be like a couple of pin-cushions
!’
‘This still the Chedbury case? Casting your nets wide, aren’t you?’
Webb grinned. ‘The long arm of the law,’ he said.
It was as he was leaving his office en route to the airport that a phone call came through from Broadminster.
‘Spider? Foggy Horn. Regarding that solicitor inquiry, I’ve got my lads’ report here. Want me to summarize?’
Webb reached for paper and pen. ‘Please, Foggy.’
‘Here goes, then. First William Langley. You were right – he left letters for both his son and daughter. They’re holding Edward Langley’s till his return from Peru, but they didn’t know Mrs Coverdale was here, so hers was sent to Oz.’
Webb whistled softly. ‘Now, that is interesting. They didn’t happen to say what was in them, I suppose?’
‘They haven’t a clue. They were simply asked to deliver the sealed envelopes at the required time, and that’s what they’re doing.’
‘Three months after the survivor’s death?’
‘That’s it.’
‘And the date they were deposited?’
‘February, nineteen fifty-six.’
‘That figures. And Laurence Cody?’
‘Even more interesting. He deposited a letter for his son at the same time, i.e. February ’fifty-six. But a year or so later, he also left a parcel with the same instructions. Again, they don’t know what it contained, but it felt like a bundle of papers.’
‘His manuscript! So it did exist! And what happened to it?’
‘Both it and the letter were delivered to Cody last week, by registered post. The GPO confirmed it.’
‘Did they, by Jove?’ Webb said softly.
‘You’ve already questioned him, I presume?’
‘Oh yes, and naturally he denied all knowledge.’
‘Want us to have another word?’
Webb hesitated. He would have preferred to go back to Cody himself, but he’d be away for a week or more, and the man could be a killer. ‘Thanks, Foggy, I’d be grateful if you would.’
Mario’s restaurant went in for low lights and soft music, both of which Jan would willingly have dispensed with in Miles’s company. They were seated with many flourishes at a corner table that was screened by plants from its nearest neighbours. Menus were produced, their selections made, and Miles ordered wine. Then he leant back in his chair, smiling across at her.
‘Well, this is very pleasant. I’m glad of a chance to relax, myself; I’ve been burning the midnight oil for the last week or so.’
‘On Buckhurst Grange?’
‘Yes. It’s coming along quite well. If you like, I’ll drive you over one day, and you can have a look round. It’s not officially open till Easter, but I can go whenever I want.’
‘That would be lovely, having seen your sketches.’
‘Which reminds me,’ he said casually, ‘on our day out, you mentioned a book of Sir Reginald’s.’
‘Oh yes.’ Jan was not sure that she wanted to talk about it.
‘You hinted there was something odd in it.’
‘It was probably nothing.’ She looked up at him, and came to a decision. Lately, there’d been so many things that puzzled her; perhaps Miles could provide some answers. In any case, it would be a relief to discuss them.
‘It was a book called Treasures of the Incas, and there was a section on those that have never been recovered. Two were described in detail, the original Punchao and Cura Ocllo’s emerald collar.’ She glanced up at him with a smile. ‘I’m not sure how much of this brushed off on you, but the Punchao was a sun image made of gold. Cura Ocllo was the wife of Manco Inca, who went into exile at Vilcabamba.’
‘And the collar?’
‘It was said to be composed of nine emeralds, as large as quails’ eggs.’
‘Nine emeralds. I see. Go on.’ His large, dark eyes were fixed on her face.
‘Well, that’s almost all. But what struck me as strange was that a large pencil bracket had been drawn in the margin, enclosing the whole page, and beside it was an exclamation mark.’
He went on staring at her in silence.
‘I’m sorry if you were expecting something more dramatic,’ she said, with an embarrassed little laugh. A waiter appeared and began to lay out their cutlery. The wine was produced, tasted, and pronounced satisfactory. When they were alone again, Jan cast around for some comment to break the growing silence between them.
‘I don’t know why I –’ but he stopped her with a movement of his hand.
‘You were right, Jan – it is very strange.’
‘Have you any idea what it means?’
‘I believe I have, yes.’
They were interrupted by the arrival of their first course. When it had been served, Jan looked at Miles expectantly. But he picked up his fork and began to eat in silence. Puzzled, she did the same. After several minutes, when he still hadn’t spoken, she burst out, ‘Well? Aren’t you going to explain?’
‘I’m sorry. I was wondering how to go about it. But since you told me about the book, I’ll tell you something. Shortly before Sir Reginald died, I called round to inquire after him. I arrived at the same time as the vicar, and Mary wanted a word with him. She asked me if I’d take her place in the sick-room for a few minutes.’
To Jan’s frustration, the waiter approached again to remove their plates. She could have wished the service at Mario’s had been less efficient.
‘Yes?’ she prompted, as he moved away.
‘Well, he was tossing and turning and complaining about the sunlight, which was shining straight on to his face. I went to draw the curtains, and as I was doing so, he gave a strangled cry. I hurried back to the bed, wondering if I should call Mary, but he reached up and grabbed my hand, staring up into my face. And he said, “You will do the right thing, won’t you, Edward? Your father was right, we should never have kept it.” Then he fell back on the pillow and closed his eyes.’
Jan found that her heart was thumping. ‘And that was all?’
‘I said, “Kept what?” and he muttered something that I couldn’t catch.’
‘So what did you do?’
‘Well, I didn’t want to say anything to Mary. We all knew he was dying, and she was too upset to be questioned. But after the funeral I asked Edward and Rowena about it.’
‘And could they help?’
Miles smiled grimly. ‘They could have, but they didn’t. At first, they tried to make out the old man had been rambling. Then Rowena flew off the handle and began ranting and raving about it being too early and she hadn’t had time to think. And Edward did his stuffy act, pretending he didn’t know what I was talking about. Not unnaturally, I lost my temper, and a lot of harsh words were said. It ended in an almighty row, since when, I’ve been persona non grata at Rylands.’
‘But I don’t understand. Why should they react like that?’
Miles was silent for a moment, and his next question when it came seemed the height of irrelevance. ‘Are you having your mail forwarded from Australia?’
Jan gazed at him blankly. ‘What?’
‘Your mail. Is it being forwarded?’
‘No, I didn’t bother. There’s not likely to be anything important. Why?’
‘Because, my dear, something very important will be lying on your hall mat right now.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘A letter from your father.’
She went very still. ‘You mean he really did write one?’
‘Almost certainly. I received mine last week. It had been lodged with Father’s solicitors, for delivery three months after Sir Reginald’s death.’
‘So we were all left one?’
‘That’s right.’
Jan felt the colour draining out of her face. ‘About the third expedition?’
He nodded. ‘Until mine arrived, I didn’t know any more than you do. But yesterday, Mary said Sir Reginald had withdrawn his to Rowena after your father’s death.’
&nb
sp; ‘And you think that’s significant?’
‘Oh, it’s significant, all right. It means she knew the contents long before we did.’
Jan said slowly, ‘You said yesterday that you hadn’t had a letter.’
‘I know. I didn’t want to discuss it in front of Mary.’
‘And did you also receive your father’s book?’
He held her eyes for a moment. Then he said quietly, ‘Yes. I’m sorry I lied to you.’
‘You also lied to the police, which is more important.’
‘Not to me it isn’t. What my father wrote wasn’t intended to be pawed over by the police.’
Their plates were removed, their entrées served, and again they ate in silence. Then Jan said quietly. ’Are you going to tell me what was in the letter?
‘Do you want me to?’
Did she? After all the wondering, now that the answer was within her reach, she was afraid to hear it. It must be momentous indeed, to have been kept secret for thirty years. Did she want to learn it from Miles, over a restaurant table? Or from her father, in words which had been carefully chosen for her alone?
‘I’m not sure that I do. You must think me an idiot.’
‘Not at all. In some ways, I wish I didn’t know, either.’
‘If I change my mind, will you tell me later?’
‘Of course But don’t worry about it; your father wasn’t in as deep as the others.’
Their plates were removed and the dessert trolley wheeled across, but Jan’s appetite had gone. The meal which was supposed to have offered a respite had failed abysmally.
Over coffee. Miles said, ‘I suppose you are going back to Australia? Permanently, I mean.’
‘There’s nothing for me here.’
‘That’s rather up to you.’
Her mouth went dry. ‘All the children’s friends are there. They’re doing well at school.’
‘What about you?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s been my home tor fifteen years.’
‘You’ll go ahead with a divorce?’
‘I don’t know.’ And suddenly, appallingly, she was crying.
She reached blindly for her handbag. ‘Oh Miles, I’m sorry! I don’t know what’s the matter with me.’
The Nine Bright Shiners Page 15
