by A. B. King
With a last leer at Danny he made his way back through the kitchen to the back door.
“Good luck,” he said, shaking my hand. “Bye, Danny,” and with that he turned and walked off.
“What a pathetic creep,” Danny commented as I closed the door, and returned into the lounge.
“He's not usually that bad,” I said by way of an apology. “I guess he must be getting a bit wound up by the wedding.”
“Well, whoever the unfortunate girl is, she has my complete sympathy. Still, at least he gave you a business, so he can't be all rubbish. Now, what say we cut along to your office and get started on these phone calls, it would be nice to get them out of the way before you go to see Grayson.”
It was at that point I finally chickened out from what I had intended to say to her. The moment had come, and the moment had vanished as soon as Pete had knocked the door. It probably wouldn't have got me anywhere anyway. “Whatever you say,” I agreed.
It was still quite early and not a great deal of traffic about. No sooner were we back in the office than Danny set about brewing yet more coffee. It beat me where she put it all, and I certainly never noticed her flying backwards and forward to the loo as a result. Once it was ready we sat one either side of the desk, and from the look in her eyes I knew that Danny was about to launch herself into something that I probably wouldn't like very much. No sooner had the thought crystallised when she placed her mug firmly on the desk and fixed me with that expression that I was beginning to recognise as her 'I'm-going-to-say-something-and-there's-no-use-you-arguing' one!
“Right,” she announced. “When we go along to see Grayson, don't let on to any more than you have to; certainly nothing about my scheme.”
“You want me to lie to the police?”
“I didn't say that; just don't tell them everything, and certainly don't elaborate on our suspicions about who may have done what.”
“Danny, hasn't it occurred to you that Grayson is a very experienced police officer, and well accustomed to worming information out of people who don't feel inclined to be co-operative? He will know at once if I'm not being straight with him.”
“What are you expecting; the third degree?”
“I don't even much fancy the first degree.”
“I really don't see what you are bothered about?”
“I just don't want to be caught out in a lie.”
“Then tell him the truth,” she said with her usual dazzling smile that had me caving in no matter what the echoes of long since vanished common sense tried in vain to convince me of, “ just don't tell him all of it, and for goodness sake slant it a bit.”
“How?” I asked sarcastically.
“Even though he probably knows all the fine details, just tell him again that you inherited the agency from this pathetic friend of yours, Pete What’s-his-name, how you rescued me from certain death from drowning in a raging torrent at great risk to your own life, (she totally ignored my snort of disgust at that point,) how I was so grateful I gave you this case as a means of getting you launched as a private detective, how all the suspicions about violence, etc., are purely mine, and that you are just going along with the case for the money, and unless he picks up on it, forget about the Reagan in the lay-by. For goodness sake, Neil, there's nothing to it, it's a technique I use all the time in business, and look where it's got me!”
“But that car's our only real clue?”
“Exactly! And I wouldn't mention about your office being burgled, nor the information Tracy got off the computer being tampered with either.”
“And if he finds out that I have been holding out on him?”
“You can always plead selective amnesia?”
“Insanity, more likely!”
“No, I'd save that as a last resort.”
I sighed and gave up as I promised myself that one day I would find a subject upon which I would win an argument with her: One day!
“Right, I'm glad we've got that straightened out,” Danny said, taking a good pull at her coffee. “Now, about these phone calls; you can call the people that you interviewed, and I'll contact the ones that I saw. Tell them it is a courtesy call, or a follow up call or whatever, and then just suggest in your own way that there will be a re-enactment at about ten o'clock tonight-”
“Tonight!” I exclaimed. “Good grief, when do we get a chance to sleep?”
“You can have the afternoon off if you like; I'll be getting radio mikes sorted out and I'll meet up with you back here at say, four o'clock, and then we can sort out final details. Once 'Mr X' has spilled the beans, then you can do your 'hero' bit, and then we can have an early night if you like?”
I was still trying to decide if she had said what I thought she had said, or if I had only thought that she had said what I hoped she had said, or maybe I was just finally having a nervous breakdown when the door opened and Tracy breezed in.
“Hi everyone!” she said as she shut the door and hung her coat up. “Must say I didn't expect to see both of you here so early; anything special going on?”
The next hour or so passed in a sort of daze as far as I was concerned, a state of mental unrealism engendered no doubt in equal proportions by a lack of sleep and the bombshells that Danny kept lobbing in my direction. I began to understand in part what a lamb must feel like on being led to the slaughter. Only a few short days ago I would never have dreamed that I would be embarking on such an insane period in my life; trying to tempt a murderer out of the woodwork whilst playing fast and loose with the police as I followed a hopeless quest in trying to bed a woman who would probably just as soon eat me as make love to me. I eventually came to the conclusion that I ought to be certified; and not as a detective either.
With a marked lack of enthusiasm I settled to the task of telephoning the people I had already interviewed. Only by forcing my brain to concentrate upon the job in hand was I able to fend of Gloria Divine's avowed intention of joining in with the supposed re-enactment by agreeing that she could keep a 'secret watch' from the bottom of her garden at about ten o'clock that evening. In response to her pressing invitation to call later with the results of my 'investigation' I had to say that I was so very busy I would have to re-contact her when I had more time. Still reeling from the effects of that I pressed on, but it became no easier! Speaking to Alexander DeVere was even more trying than dealing with sex-starved Gloria, but I got through it somehow. At about a quarter to eleven Danny and I left the office for our appointment with the police, leaving Tracy in charge until our return at about four. We went in separate cars, because following the interview she planned to go off and sort out her communications equipment, and I badly needed some time in which to sort out what was left of my scrambled brains.
In the event the trip to the police station was a good deal less harrowing than I had anticipated. D.I Grayson received us in his office in his usual urbane manner, asked each of us if we would be prepared to make and sign a simple statement concerning our connection with Julia, and to my surprise didn't seem much interested in 'grilling' us about anything. Danny put on an air of being extremely businesslike, and I noted that she resisted all attempts at trying to be 'clever', and for my part I tried to be as honest as I could without actually volunteering anything. He politely requested our fingerprints for comparison, assuring us that they would later be destroyed. Rather than make him suspicious I agreed at once, and I heaved a sigh of relief when Danny raised no objections either. In less than an hour it was all over and we were out in the open air once more.
“Right, so far, so good,” Danny announced breezily as we emerged. “Can you imagine the look on his face when we get the whole thing wrapped up?”
Frankly, I couldn't see anything being 'wrapped up' apart from what was left of my allegedly good name, but it was pointless saying as much to Danny. I was rapidly learning that once she got a bee in her bonnet about something there was no turning her.
“It all went much too easily,” I said dubiously
. “I suspect that he knows or guesses a lot more than he would have us believe.”
“Just go home and get a couple of hours sleep,” she advised. “I'll see you at the office at about four.”
I watched her drive away, and then I got into my old rust-bucket and set off myself. I decided that en-route for my home I would look in at the office and have a word with Tracy; I thought it only fair that she should be put in the picture so that she could be on her guard.
“If you don't mind me saying so,” she said as I sauntered in, “you don't look as if you had a lot of sleep last night?”
“Correction, I didn't get any at all,” I yawned, “and before you start getting any funny ideas, my insomnia was all in the line of business.”
“Of course,” she agreed, but I'm sure I saw the suggestion of a twinkle in her eyes as she said it.
“Anyway, be that as it may,” I continued. “I've come back because I think it is only right that you should be brought up to date with what is going on. This is all confidential of course.”
“Naturally.”
“Between you, me, and the garden gate, things are getting a bit serious, and I'm worried about involving you in something that might turn out to be dangerous. If you would like to pull out now, I certainly wouldn't blame you.”
“This sounds jolly intriguing; what's in the air?”
I gave her a potted run-down of events since we had last chatted together, stressing the fact that it was not impossible that there was an unknown killer who might very well strike again, which was why I wanted her to think seriously about packing the job in and returning to the safety of her home.
“What, and miss all the fun?” she said in a voice that echoed Danny's. “No chance; I want to be in at the end of this!”
“Well, technically, I can't sack you, because I don't employ you, but this isn't a game, Tracy, and I don't want you taking any chances.”
“Don't you worry about me, I've got nerves of steel, and I'm a martial arts student.”
I suddenly thought of how history could be repeating itself; she was an attractive girl, the image of her aunt as she must have looked at that age, and with the same temperament as well, but she left me with the distinct feeling that any would-be suitor she took a dislike to might well be joining the queue at the local A & E behind those that fell foul of her aunt.
“Well, anyway,” I concluded, “Danny thinks that this crazy scheme of hers will force 'Mr 'X' out into the open, and if that happens, in theory, that is the end of matters. Frankly, I don't see it happening; he's more likely to pick his own time, and his own method if he really feels that your aunt has to be added to his tally, but I can't get her to see that.”
“And you still have no real idea of who it is?”
“Not really, just someone who drove a Reagan, and had a relationship with Julia. No doubt his name is on that list you prepared for me, but it might take some digging out with only Christian or nicknames being used.”
She looked at me pensively. “You know,” she said slowly at last, “there's one thing that puzzles me a bit.”
“What's that?”
“Well, you said that you found the door open when you came back last night?”
“That's right.”
“And no sign of forced entry?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Only I notice that the door lock is quite new.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.” I hadn't thought about that, and for the moment the relevance of her observation escaped me as I started to wonder what she was getting at.
“I was doing a bit more filing while you were out,” she explained, “and I'm sure I saw a recent invoice for the fitting of a new door lock.”
She went and rummaged in the filing cabinet for a few moments and then came back with one labelled 'accounts'.
“Here it is,” she said, placing the folder down in front of me. “See, it is dated only a matter of about four weeks ago. One mortise lock fitted, and three keys supplied. Now, you've got one, and I've got one, who's got the other, and were any more cut later?”
Quite suddenly the brain started to grind into some semblance of activity as I gazed at that invoice. If Tracy hadn't left the door open, and I was pretty sure she hadn't, then it had to have been opened with a key. Unless additional keys had been cut, there was only one other person who legitimately had one. Was it humanly possible that Pete could be involved? Almost certainly he had the third key, even though he hadn't bothered to hand it over once he claimed that he was passing the business over to me, nor was it enclosed with the various papers he'd dropped off. But what earthly connection could he have with the Fortescue affair? Was it just a coincidence, or was I on to something? Before I started leaping to conclusions I had to remind myself that it wasn't impossible that Pete had had further keys cut, and almost anyone could have one. Suddenly, I needed to know if he had, and if so, to whom he had issued them. I couldn't very well ask him direct, but if he had required more keys, perhaps he had had them cut locally?
“Ttacy, get on the phone to the locksmith who fitted this, find out if any further keys were cut subsequent to the fitting.”
She reacted with alacrity as I sat back in the chair trying to make sense of what I had just learned. Was it just wishful thinking on my part, or had Tracy stumbled upon the one thing that mattered? Would Pete have issued a key to the landlord of the building for instance, would he have issued a key to anyone else for any reason? It didn't seem likely, but what on earth could be the connection between him and the events of fourteen years ago?
Chapter Twenty Three.
I was still trying to force my tired brain around the various ramifications of this new situation when Tracy spoke to me again.
“What?” I echoed distractedly.
“I said,” she repeated patiently, “the locksmith says that no more keys have been cut.”
“Oh; right.”
“Which doesn't mean,” she said pointedly, “that more couldn't have been cut elsewhere.”
“No, that's true,” I agreed absently, “and even if Pete had had more keys cut it still doesn't mean anything, but on the other hand, if no more keys were cut, then it does suggest that he was the one who came in here yesterday. What I can't understand is why? I mean, what possible connection can he have with this affair? Is there anything in the files to say that he has ever taken on a Julia Gordon or Mrs Johnson as a case?”
“I'll have a look”
As she was rummaging through the cabinet I tried to figure out what possible connection there could be, but such mental capacity as remained to me simply couldn't see the connection, yet instinctively I felt there was one.
“There's nothing in the file,” Tracy reported a few minutes later, “but that still doesn't prove anything one way or the other does it?”
“Maybe not, but he called in on me real early this morning,” I said, “and I remember thinking at the time it was a bit of an ungodly hour for a purely social call. But if it wasn't just to say 'cheerio' as he claimed, then what did he want? He came in bold as brass and even had a chat with Danny. I'll swear he was his same old bouncy self. I mean, if he was really involved in this business he should have been thrown out completely by seeing your aunt there, but he didn't turn a hair.”
“Ah, but perhaps he expected to see her there?”
“Now how could he possibly have arrived at that sort of conclusion?”
“Well, it's all guesswork of course,” she admitted, “but if it was him that came in here last night because he's involved in some way, then maybe he had some undisclosed reason for coming in to see you so early this morning, and on getting there he saw Danny's car? I mean, you said he came in to your flat on the back-way, and I assume that is where she would have left her car, so he must have done?”
“You could be right at that,” I agreed slowly, wondering again why I hadn't thought of it myself. “And I suppose he could have been acting like he didn't know who Danny was, and
that he had never seen her before. If that was the case, I wonder what he really wanted?”
“Well, if we just assume for a moment that he is your mysterious 'Mr X', maybe he had some scheme whereby you could be thrown right off the scent?”
“Yes, I suppose that's possible,” I ruminated.
“Or maybe he meant to eliminate you, but finding Danny there rather scuppered his plan?”
The completely casual manner in which she said it shook me right through. “I think, young lady,” I said severely, “that you are now allowing your imagination to run away with you!”
“I hope so,” she replied enigmatically. “Coffee?”
“A good idea,” I agreed, forgetting how much I had already swilled though, “might help to wake me up a bit.”
