by John Creasey
“Mrs Kane,” she said, “I’m dreadfully sorry about this.”
“I’m sure you are,” Eve responded.
“I know how difficult it must be for you,” the massive woman went on, “but I really think that we ought to call the police at once. I am very deeply disturbed.”
“May we talk about the police?” asked Rollison. He knew that the woman was scrutinising him closely, and the light fell clear upon his face. There was no hint of recognition; in London he might be recognised by many people, but that was much less likely here.
“Miss Ellerby, this is Mr Rollison, who has kindly promised to help me,” Eve introduced; she still held on to her composure. “Rolly, this is Miss Ellerby, the headmistress.”
“The Mr Rollison?” asked Miss Ellerby, without a moment’s pause. Although her large face was in shadow, it was easy to see that she was very tense. “Dare I use the soubriquet – the Toff?”
Bless her heart!
“That’s right,” said Rollison lightly.
“By all accounts, you’ll be able to help as much as the police,” declared Miss Ellerby. She had a very emphatic manner and the gruffly mannish voice was powerful; she might be speaking because of the feeling of tension. “Whatever you think, I must say that I feel it would be a great mistake not to go to the police. I sent Higgs, the porter, to the station to find out what he could, and there was an incident which worries me very much. But please come in. And you, Abby. Mrs Higgs, I’m sure that Mrs Kane could do with a cup of tea or coffee – which would you prefer, Mrs Kane?”
“Coffee, please.”
“Yes, m’m,” the dumpy woman said, and went round the back of the house, while Rollison followed the other women into the well-lighted passage, then into a large, square, equally well-lighted room, one wall of which was filled from floor to ceiling with books. There were several very comfortable looking armchairs; this looked a man’s rather than a woman’s room. “Do sit down,” Miss Ellerby said. On close inspection she proved to have a hardy looking outdoor kind of face, and very bright and rather beady blue eyes; her face was too fleshy, and so was her body, but it was firm flesh; there was nothing flabby about her.
“What was this particularly worrying incident?” asked Rollison.
Eve was stripping off her gloves, and showed no sign of wanting to sit down.
“Higgs tells me that there was only one porter on duty at the ticket barrier near the front of the station,” answered Miss Ellerby. “And when the London train came in there were only two taxis, and both drivers were waiting with their passengers on the platform – that kind of thing happens at Hapley, Mr Rollison; there is still a great sense of courtesy, and taxi drivers carry luggage. This porter, a young man named Smart, says that he saw a large car, a Humber Super Snipe 1951 model, black, draw up at the entrance to Station Lane, an alley which Caroline would probably take as it is a shortcut to the station. He says that two people got out, a man and a woman, and went to the other side of the car, that is the alley side; when they drove off, he saw three people in the car. Apparently a taxi had driven up in the meantime and his attention was distracted for a few minutes, so that he didn’t see anything else; but he was quite sure that there was an extra person in the car when it drove off. I really think you should inform the police – unless, Mrs Kane, you know what is behind this disturbing situation?”
“I don’t know anything about it. I’m only frightened of what it may be.”
“Forgive me for being frank, but is there an estrangement between you and your husband?”
“Yes.”
Miss Ellerby said: “Oh dear, oh dear.” She glanced at Miss Abbott, who was in the doorway. “And you don’t want scandal?”
Rollison answered: “We just want to find Caroline. May I use your telephone?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you,” Rollison said, and smiled at Eve, trying to give her some reassurance. “I think we can start a search for that car without giving anything else away yet.” He saw the hope which sprang into her eyes, and the new evidence of tension in Miss Ellerby, who had such a responsibility for the missing girl. Along the passage there was a rattle of cups. He dialled O, and Miss Ellerby said: “If it’s a long distance call, just give this number and then the one you want.”
“Thanks . . . Whitehall 1212, please,” Rollison said into the telephone, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and said to the others: “The man in charge there tonight is an old friend of mine; he’ll help. Don’t be surprised if you don’t quite recognise the story I’m going to tell him.” He saw Mrs Higgs come in, carrying a tray laden with cups, saucers and sandwiches, and Miss Abbott followed with the coffee. The Yard answered. “Superintendent Marshall, please,” Rollison said, and a moment later heard a man’s deep voice. “Nick . . . Rollison here.”
He chuckled when the other man said: “I didn’t think it would be long before you got restless again. What do you want?”
“Nick, some friends of mine have lost some valuables, and they think they were taken off in a Humber Super Snipe . . .” Rollison gave all the details, and then went on quite easily: “The car was seen at about ten o’clock at Hapley Station, and no one knows whether it was heading north or south. How well do you know the Hapley chaps? . . . Or the county coppers? . . . Yes, if you would, it would be a great help. What? . . . Oh, furs mostly, but it’s the car I’m after.” He chuckled. “Thanks, I know you will . . . Leave a message for me at Hapley 97, will you?”
He rang off.
Miss Ellerby said: “It’s nice to know you act as quickly as your reputation. I feel easier in my mind already.” She didn’t look it. “Do sit down, Mrs Kane. Black or white coffee, Mr Rollison?” Miss Ellerby was doing her best to make sure that the whole proceedings were kept on a matter-of-fact level, and she had everything very well organised, for Mrs Higgs had gone and Miss Abbott, who had a surprisingly friendly but horse-like face, was pouring out the coffee. “I must congratulate you on one thing, Mrs Kane. I am quite sure that Caroline did not even suspect that there was any trouble at home. There are times, you know, when it is better for a child to be warned. Children are much tougher and hardier creatures than parents think. Their minds are most resilient and their emotions, too. I don’t have a lot of time for some of the methods of advanced psychiatrists, you know; my experience with girls over a period of nearly thirty years is that they are born with most of the qualities they reveal, good or bad, and that only a child born with a peculiarly sensitive and abnormal metabolism really suffers any permanent scar from parental problems.” Whether she really believed that or not, she made it sound as if she did. “Do you think that Mr Kane has abducted Caroline?”
Eve did not answer.
Miss Abbott dropped a spoon.
There were footsteps in the passage, the bustling ones of Mrs Higgs, and perhaps they stopped Eve from answering. Mrs Higgs appeared and stood foursquare in the doorway, carrying an envelope which was badly crumpled. Rollison had an impression that there was a kind of constant cold war between her and Miss Ellerby.
“What is it?” Miss Ellerby asked sharply.
“I just saw this in the letter basket. I don’t know how long it’s been there,” said Mrs Higgs with a kind of aggressive defensiveness, as if she expected to be blamed for not having found it earlier. “I thought you would like it at once, Miss Ellerby.”
“Yes. Thank you,” Miss Ellerby said. “Give it to Miss Abbott.” Mrs Higgs obeyed, and went off, a dumpy and heavy-footed woman, burdened up with some kind of grievance or disapproval. Miss Abbott took the letter and crossed the room with it.
“It’s addressed to the headmistress,” she remarked as she glanced at the envelope, and handed it over. “I wonder when it was delivered.” Rollison saw the new tension on Eve’s face, the eager interest of Miss Abbott’s and the forced composure of Miss Ellerby
’s as she opened the envelope. It was obviously too late to try to trace whoever had delivered it.
She drew out a lock of silky, auburn-coloured hair, tied round with a piece of string from which was dangling a crumpled card. There was a moment of shocked silence before Eve cried: “That’s Caroline’s!” She half ran across the room and snatched it from the headmistress’s grasp. “It is Caroline’s. Oh, dear God, what has happened to her?” She held the lock of wavy auburn hair in one hand and poised the fingers of the other over the card, as if she were afraid.
Rollison said urgently: “Don’t touch it, please,” and reached her side in two strides, held the card gingerly by one tip, and then took the other corner, so that the words written on it in block letters were easy to read. Miss Ellerby and Miss Abbott had moved round so that they could see it, too.
It read: “Don’t go to the police or you won’t see her again.”
5
GUILTY FATHER?
Rollison felt Eve trembling; this was almost more than she could stand. Still holding the card by one corner, he put his free arm round Eve’s shoulders, and led her towards one of the large armchairs. Miss Abbott patted a cushion. Eve lowered herself into the chair and sat for a few moments, staring blankly in front of her; only the twist of her lips and the way her eyes were narrowed told of her anguish.
“I’d like to cut this string,” Rollison said. “There might be fingerprints on the card.” He wasn’t surprised that Miss Ellerby went straight to a small Welsh dresser of dark oak, and picked up a pair of scissors. “And can I have two clean envelopes? We need to keep the envelope that this came in.” Miss Abbott and Miss Ellerby fetched envelopes and waited on him, until the card and the crumpled envelope were quite safe.
Throughout all this, Eve had sat staring in front of her, but as Rollison pushed the protected card and envelope into his pocket, she said explosively: “I can’t believe that it’s Ralph.”
“It would surely have been signed, if it were from him,” Miss Ellerby declared, and looked at Rollison.
“I can’t believe that he would have allowed other people to come and take Caroline away,” said Eve. “I’m quite sure that he wouldn’t do anything as crude as this.”
“Then why—” Miss Abbott began, but stopped at a sign from the Head.
“The obvious possibility is that she will be held to ransom,” Rollison said, and wasn’t surprised to see the shocked reaction on Miss Abbott’s horsey face. “But there’s nothing to indicate that yet.”
“Mr Rollison,” Miss Ellerby said in much the tone of voice she used when talking to Mrs Higgs.
“Yes?”
“How thoroughly will the police look for the car? Are you sure that it wouldn’t be better, in the circumstances, to tell them what this is about? They will surely treat the matter with a greater sense of urgency.”
“They won’t slack,” Rollison assured her.
“The official you spoke to might have thought that your interest was very casual.”
“He would take it for granted that it was urgent if not desperate, or I wouldn’t have asked for help,” retorted Rollison. “You can be quite sure that the local police are already making inquiries about that car. It won’t be easy to find out much about it until the morning, but you can be sure that police patrols and beat-duty policemen in the towns and cities within a hundred miles will have been alerted. I’d like to talk to that porter, Smart,” he added, and his sense of urgency showed in his manner.
“He didn’t see the number of the car. Higgs asked him,” announced Miss Ellerby.
“You’d be surprised how much people see without realising it until they’re questioned,” Rollison said drily. “Do you know his address?”
“He’ll still be at the station, he’s on night duty.”
“I’ll go and find him,” Rollison decided. “Meanwhile, I’d like all three of you to exercise your own memories to see if you know anything that might help, but which you’ve forgotten.” He was looking intently at Eve. “Eve, this is especially important for you. Have you had the slightest indication that anything like this might happen – indications that you wouldn’t appreciate before the event, but which might drop into perspective now that it’s happened?”
“What kind of thing?” demanded Miss Ellerby.
“Has Caroline been watched? Has she had anything to do with anyone in Hapley, outside the school? Has anyone shown any special interest in Caroline or in you, Eve? Has anyone asked for or expected money from you that they haven’t received? Has any friend of yours a Super Snipe of this colour and year? Has Ralph shown any sign that he would like possession of Caroline? Has—”
“I’ve told you that, he hasn’t.”
“Think harder,” urged Rollison. “Has he said or done anything lately to suggest that he might take some kind of violent or unexpected step? Have you had any special quarrel lately? If he has been screwing himself up to do this, he might have acted out of character by employing other people; we can’t rule that out. Ask each other questions, to be as searching as you can.”
“We will, indeed,” Miss Ellerby assured him, with a grim note in her voice.
Rollison finished his coffee and went out, finding that there was a spit of rain in the air as he reached the car. He had plenty of room to turn round, and drove back the way he had come, remembering a sign pointing to the station. Now he saw a finger-post pointing at what seemed a blank wall; that was probably Station Alley. He pulled up just past it, took out his pencil torch, stepped into the unlit alley and shone the torch towards the cobbles. Almost at once he saw a sixpence, leaning between two cobblestones, and picked it up. At the far end of the alley there was a glow of light, and he thought he heard voices, but he could not be sure. There were no footsteps. He shone the beam from side to side, wishing that it were brighter, wishing still more that it was daylight. He found a screwed-up cigarette packet, the shaggy ends of several cigarettes, a crushed ice-cream carton and several spent matches. Then he reached the end of the alley, and two men loomed up, big and threatening.
So there had been voices.
“Would you mind telling me what you are doing, sir?” one of them asked.
“The same as you, I think,” Rollison said. “Looking for two people who were here in a Humber Snipe earlier this evening.”
“How did you know about that, sir?”
“I asked the Yard to look out for it,” answered Rollison. “Have you chaps spoken to the porter, Smart?”
The man on the right said: “Yes. He saw the car. May I have your name and address, sir?”
“Richard Rollison, of 22 Gresham Terrace, Mayfair,” answered Rollison promptly, and took a card out of his pocket with a movement that was almost sleight of hand. “Are you C.I.D. or uniformed branch?”
“C.I.D., sir.”
The other man was looking at the card in the poor light.
“Turn that over,” Rollison said, “and—”
The man obeyed, and saw a little sign on the other side: a top hat, a monocle, a cigarette in a holder, and a bow tie; a man, in fact, without a face. Immediately the officer flashed a look at him, his manner changed subtly, and there was a touch of eagerness in his voice: “It’s Mr Rollison, Jeff – the Toff.”
“Good God!” gasped the C.I.D. man.
Rollison said: “What I’d very much like is to have a word with Smart, on my own, and you to take this along to your headquarters and have the contents tested for fingerprints.” He handed over the envelope in which the lock of hair had come, but kept the card. “I don’t really know what this is all about yet, but I’ll come over to headquarters as soon as I’ve finished with Smart. What’s he like, by the way? Reliable?”
“He’s a bit too cocky, otherwise he’s all right,” the officer told him. “Do you know how to get to our place, sir?”
“No.”
“Jeff, you bring Mr Rollison along, I’ll go and get this fixed.” The spokesman was obviously determined to show that what the Yard could do, Hapley could do as well if not better. “See you later, sir.”
“Fine,” said Rollison. “Er – just one thing.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Except for your chief, don’t tell anyone I’m here, will you?”
“Mum’s the word, sir!”
The man went off, and Jeff stood by Rollison, who said: “Come and introduce me to this man Smart, will you?” and they crossed the uneven cobbled yard. The C.I.D. man got into a car and the engine roared. A small figure loomed out of the gloom of the station booking-office, and Rollison saw a perky man, peaked hat on one side, who seemed to be wearing a uniform a little too large for him.
“I’m a friend of one of the mistresses at the girls’ school,” Rollison said.
“Oh, Miss Ellerby’s.”
“That’s right. I—”
“Told the school porter all I know when he rang up to find out if I’d noticed anything. Can’t do more than that,” Smart said, as if he were tired of the whole business.
“Did you see these two people from the Snipe?”
“Course I saw them.”
“What were they like?”
“The man was a proper Teddy boy type but a bit older, that’s all,” Smart answered. “And the girl – phew!” He made exaggerated curvaceous shapes in the air. “More like an egg-timer, she was; haven’t seen one with a bigger pair for a long time! Couldn’t mistake her. Hasn’t this kid turned up?”
