Blood Red

by John Creasey

  Then Theodorus Wray spoke in a strangely remote voice, stood up slowly, and went towards her, as if in veneration. ‘So men come that bad,’ he said. ‘They’ll sink as low as that to make their money.’ He stood in front of her, and took her hands. ‘Honey, I just want to thank you for the way you told me that story. An hour ago I didn’t think there was another thing that could make me love you more than I did then, but I was wrong, I just have one worry. This Odell shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it.’

  ‘Forget him, darling; don’t think of him anymore. He doesn’t matter, now that you know. He just doesn’t matter.’

  Theo smiled, very gently. ‘I guess you’re right,’ he said, and kissed, then hugged her, and looked over her head at the window. ‘I guess we’ll forget him,’ he went on, but the expression in his eyes told Mannering that it was the last thing he intended to do.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘Forgotten Man’?

  Five minutes afterwards, Rosamund began to collect the cups, and noticed that Theo hadn’t touched his tea, then found out that she hadn’t touched hers. She gave a high-pitched laugh, and a cup and saucer rattled in her hand.

  ‘I’ll go and make some more.’

  ‘We don’t want any tea, honey.’

  ‘Well, I want a cup if you don’t,’ Rosamund said, and hurried out; the tray seemed to be banged down on the draining board very heavily.

  Theo was smiling, in a remote kind of way. ‘She’s some girl,’ he said with feeling. ‘She’s got just everything. John,’ he went on, more briskly, ‘I guess it’s time I tried to say real thanks to you.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘If I ever forget it, I’ll consider myself on a level with Mr Micky Odell,’ said Theo, and his eyes narrowed and that calculating look came into them again. ‘From that time on, you can forget me. Okay, we don’t talk about Odell. Did Lorna make any arrangements with Rosamund to stay at your apartment for the next week or so? I don’t want to talk to her as if I know about that in advance.’

  ‘I doubt if she had time,’ Mannering said, ‘but leave it to me.’

  ‘Right, thanks. I’m beginning to realise that relying on you is a safe way to live. Now we can talk about Odell. You spun me a yarn last night and I believed it, and maybe it was a good thing I didn’t smash his face in when we were on the dance floor, although I would have enjoyed seeing the look in that bandleader’s eye. Did you notice the way the guy crimped his hair?’ Theo wasn’t interested in the bandleader, only in marshalling his thoughts – or his way of approach. He decided on a frontal attack. ‘Did you know this Odell was a bad hat?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How bad?’

  ‘He’s worked the same kind of trick hundreds of times. He’s always used young girls – sometimes bribing them, sometimes having some hold over them. The men involved seldom complain.’

  Theo was moving up and down on his toes a little. ‘That the limit?’

  ‘That’s the limit.’

  ‘No call-girl stuff, and none of this’—he waved a hand disdainfully—’girls hanging about on street corners in the West End? He doesn’t run that?’

  ‘He doesn’t organise prostitution, doesn’t peddle dope, and doesn’t ask for the sacrifice which used to be worse than death,’ Mannering asserted solemnly.

  That won the expected chuckle.

  ‘You keep right on like that and I’ll be hearing what a nice guy Odell is,’ he said. ‘Why don’t the police pick him up?’

  ‘He’s managed to keep on the right side of the law so far. Whenever there’s been a threat of trouble, he’s seen that the jewels or the money are returned, and of course he always blames the girls. He’s always all right.’

  ‘That guy really wants a lesson,’ said Theo.

  ‘One day he’ll get all the lesson he needs, and it isn’t to come from you,’ said Mannering. ‘Theo, I don’t think you ought to take drugs.’

  ‘They’re hardly drugs at all,’ Theo said. ‘The effect soon wears off. Don’t nag me.’ He looked up as Rosamund came into the room, carrying the tray again. She had powdered and made up, and her eyes were very bright; she was more like the girl of last night again.

  ‘Mr Mannering,’ she said, ‘I just can’t thank you enough. I know that’s a banal thing to say, but it’s true.’

  ‘You can thank me enough,’ said Mannering, and Rosamund looked surprised. ‘Lorna wants to paint you in the dress you wore last night, and wants to do it soon, because she has some work coming along in a few weeks’ time that she won’t be able to postpone. And I want to make sure that you’re not in trouble from Odell. If you stay here, anything might happen, and before we know where we are, Theo will be accused of murdering him. I want you to come and stay with Lorna and me. Lorna was talking about it at breakfast.’

  Rosamund’s eyes were now laughing at him. ‘You mean Theo was talking, either this morning or last night,’ she said. ‘I just can’t understand how it is he manages to twist everyone round his little finger.’ She hesitated, and then went on with her refreshing honesty, ‘Yes, I’d love to, if you’re sure I won’t be in the way. I think I almost hate it here, and to think that I’d someone like Lorna to give me some advice would be wonderful.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Theo finished for her.

  ‘Perfect!’

  ‘Then that’s fine,’ said Mannering. ‘I’ll let Lorna know right away. How about settling in this afternoon?’

  Rosamund said rather unsteadily, ‘You’re all so good to me. Yes, I’d love to. It won’t take long to pack what I must take, and I can come over any time. I—’ She broke off, for there was a ring at her front door, and automatically she went towards it.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Mannering, and was much too quick for her. He opened the front door, half prepared to believe that Micky Odell had sent an emissary or two to take revenge, and ready to deal with them. Certainly Odell would not take what had happened lying down. But the caller wasn’t Micky or anyone like him: it was Charley Simpson, with his ready smile and his stocky strength.

  ‘My boss around?’ Charley inquired amiably. ‘He told me he would be back by eleven o’clock. I ought to have known better than to let him go out loose.’

  Theo called, ‘Hi, Charley, come in and have a cuppa.’

  Charley came in. He was much sturdier than he looked at first sight; he had fine shoulders, a deep chest, and a springy walk which told of a man at the peak of training.

  ‘Hallo, how are you,’ he said to Rosamund. ‘Hi, Boss. You’ve missed one call from Paris, one from Berlin, one from New York, and one from Galveston, Texas. Unless you get back to the Panorama Hotel pretty soon, you’re going to be the most unpopular man the switchboard operator ever heard of. I said I’d get you back in an hour, and that leaves forty minutes to go.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ll come as soon as I can. John, could you handle things here?’

  ‘I’ll see that everything’s all right,’ promised Mannering. ‘You go and make another fortune.’

  Theo laughed. Charley grinned, and turned towards the door, and it was as he was doing so that Mannering caught sight of the back of his head and the slightly swollen or cauliflower left ear. He exclaimed so sharply that all of them jumped.

  ‘Charley!’

  Charley spun round on his heel. ‘What the dev—’ He broke off when he saw Mannering smiling broadly. ‘Well, I don’t seem to have done anything I shouldn’t. Can I help you?’

  ‘I’ve just placed you,’ Mannering said. ‘Southpaw Simpson, isn’t that it?’

  Rosamund looked puzzled.

  ‘That’s it,’ agreed Charley happily. ‘I couldn’t make a living out of being a prize-fighter, and the boss took pity on me.’ He gave an infectious grin. ‘I’ll admit that there are times when I think I ought to take pity on him. He’s trying to crowd in three months’ work in three weeks, because he wants a long honeymoon, and he crams in two weeks’ work in one all the time. Theo, if we don’t get back, we’ll have Bueno
s Aires, Sydney, and Calcutta squealing for you at the same time.’

  ‘I’m on my way,’ said Theo. He squeezed Rosamund’s hands, then sped towards the door and went out as quickly. More sedately, Charley followed; then Charley turned at the door and beckoned.

  Mannering went across, and Charley said in a very quiet voice, ‘He’s not safe running around on his own. If he doesn’t run into someone, someone will run into him. He crossed a pretty nasty group of people in Australia, and they don’t want him to live until his next birthday, unless he’ll agree to do what they want him to. He won’t. I’ve persuaded him to have a secretary at the hotel, and she’s a damned good woman, but I have to be there part of the time. I can’t keep on his tail as much as I’d like to. And what with his usual working pressure, it’s too much for him.’

  Theo called from downstairs, ‘I thought Mars wanted me, you broken-down prize-fighter!’

  ‘Coming!’ Charley was already edging towards the door. ‘I’m worried about him. If you can persuade him to see a good doctor instead of the quack he saw a few weeks ago, it would make a lot of difference.’

  ‘Have I got to come and fetch you?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ said Mannering.

  Charley’s eyes beamed their gratitude. ‘I’ll tell you more about things when I get an hour to breathe,’ he said. ‘I’m coming up!’ Charley Southpaw Simpson fled.

  Rosamund said very quietly, ‘I’ve known there was something like that from the first. Theo’s not always frightened, but he’s frightened a lot of the time. And sometimes he’s so tired that he almost falls asleep standing up. Then he throws the fatigue off, and seems all right. I really thought that he would kill Odell.’

  ‘We’ll soon get things organised,’ Mannering promised. ‘And the first thing I’ll do is to send for Tom, from the shop. Of Tom, Dick, and Harry.’ That brought no smile to Rosamund’s eyes. ‘Tom will lend you a hand with packing, and get a cab to take you to Chelsea. His number-one job is to look after you.’

  She said intently, ‘Why are you doing all this for us?’

  Mannering smiled as he told her the simple truth. ‘I hadn’t realised that I was doing much. Theo’s just willed it on to me.’

  ‘I think meeting you and Lorna was one of the luckiest things in our lives,’ Rosamund said. ‘I can’t help it, though; I’m really scared. I find myself up in the clouds one moment, and the next wondering whether we’ll ever get through the next three weeks.’

  ‘You will,’ said Mannering, confidently.

  ‘Watch her all the time,’ Mannering ordered Thomas. ‘Don’t take any chances at all with her, Tom. Odell might decide to have a crack at her in order to get his own back on Theodorus Wray.’

  Tom’s look said: ‘Over my dead body.’

  That wasn’t surprising: Rosamund could win worship from a man who had seen her only once or twice.

  Mannering reached Quinns a little after half past one, and found Larraby deep in conversation with a withered-looking old man who came from Beirut, and who wanted papyrus scrolls, and Sylvester earnest with a Japanese who was examining two fantastically intricate carvings in jade. Mannering spent five minutes with each seeker after precious things, then went into his office. There were a dozen messages, among them two saying that Superintendent Bristow had called. It was possible that Bristow had heard of the encounter in Kensington, possible that he knew that Odell had been at the Signet Club last night. Mannering put a call in for the Yard man, but Bristow was out, and not expected back until the middle of the afternoon.

  ‘He’s on that smash-and-grab at Golders Green,’ said the detective who answered from his office. ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to see you about that, Mr Mannering. A lot of secondhand jewellery seems to have been stolen, and a lot of jade too. Wouldn’t be likely to steal jade unless there was a customer waiting for it, and I think Mr Bristow wondered if you know anyone after jade in London at the moment.’

  The little man from the Far East was within ten feet of Mannering.

  ‘If I hear of anyone, I’ll call Bristow,’ Mannering promised, and rang off. He finished making notes and then pressed a bell and found Dick at the office door, appearing rather like a genie after the rubbing of the lamp. ‘Dick, go and get me some sandwiches and some fruit, will you? I’ve a lot to do and haven’t time to go out. And ask Mr Larraby to come in and see me; tell him I won’t keep him a moment. Apologise to the gentleman with him, will you?’

  ‘Very good, sir.’ Dick went out, quickly, and almost at once Larraby was in the office, with the door ajar behind him, and the man from the Far East within sight. Mannering spoke so that his words carried only as far as Larraby’s ear.

  ‘The Yard’s looking for a jade collector who might buy on the side.’

  ‘I see,’ said Larraby, and did not need to glance round to show that he knew exactly what Mannering meant. ‘I’ll get all the information I can, sir, before he goes.’ He went out, closing the door very softly behind him.

  Mannering put jade and the Japanese out of his mind, and sat back, looking at Lorna’s portrait of him as a laughing cavalier, and yet hardly seeing it. The face of Micky Odell was in his mind’s eye, and he did not like Micky’s expression. Against this, he weighed everything that he and the police knew about the man. Odell had always reduced risks to himself to a minimum. He would be viciously angry about being battered, but would not be likely to attempt revenge in person. He would work through others. It was consoling for people to believe that there were no men in Britain who could be hired for such a task, but as foolish as it was untrue. Mannering wouldn’t make the mistake, nor would Bristow. The moment Odell recovered, he would thirst for action. The probable attack would be against Rosamund, who would be much easier to hurt than Theodorus Wray.

  Mannering found himself thinking of Theo’s naive philosophising about being hurt through those whom one loved.

  On the one hand, there was violence; on the other, the fact that Micky Odell would not want to take the slightest personal risk. In any case, there was a simple way in which he could take his revenge, a way which would enable him to watch both Theo and Rosamund suffer. If he passed on details of the five-year-old crime to the police, the police would have to take action. Facts were facts and crimes were crimes, and the passing of years did not necessarily make for leniency. In any case, leniency would have to come from judge and jury. If Bristow, one of the most human of policemen, had heard Rosamund’s story, he would have felt exactly as had Mannering. But when confronted with the evidence, he would have to charge the girl.

  There was another thing to take into account: the cunning of Micky Odell. It would not be difficult to involve Rosamund in more recent crimes. Simple, for instance, to hide stolen jewellery in that little apartment of hers. The wise thing would be to search her apartment before the police could. It might be a waste of time, but wasted time could be a form of insurance.

  At least it was something specific to do.

  Mannering was surprised at himself again because of his eagerness to help both Theo and the girl. He was absorbed in the need, which seemed to have become a deeply personal issue.

  Richard came in with sandwiches fit for a hungry man, brought from a nearby pub. Richard also brought a bottle of beer. Mannering enjoyed the lunch more than he would a six-course meal, relished the beer, half smoked a cigarette, reflected on the fact that Theo did not smoke, and then went out. He took a taxi to the corner of the road where Rosamund lived, and it did not occur to him that there might be the slightest danger. Several people saw him go into the house, but that did not seem to matter: he was going to search without taking any risk, with Rosamund’s tacit approval. He walked lightly up the stairs. The door was closed, and he grinned to himself as he took a penknife from his pocket, one which Bristow and every policeman anywhere would have viewed with stern disapproval. Any cracksman, any burglar, would regard it with envy. It was easy even for Mannering to forget that he had once used a cracksman’s tools wit
h surprising dexterity. To this day it did not occur to him that he might have any difficulty in forcing the lock of an ordinary door without leaving any trace of forced entry.

  Rosamund’s door was not likely to be different from the majority of the others.

  He opened it in less than thirty seconds, and stepped inside.

  Then he stopped with frightening suddenness, and his heart seemed to pause in its beating.

  On the couch where he had sat that morning lay the body of a man, a man killed with a knife, a man whose face was badly bruised and battered too.

  It was the body of Micky Odell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alarm

  Mannering closed the door very softly and moved across to the still figure on the couch. He hardly needed to feel the pulse in the limp warm wrist to be sure that there was no movement. It looked as if Odell had been trying to get up when he had been killed.

  The knife was still in the wound; a polished bone handle, looking clean and fresh, was jutting out.

  Mannering drew back from the body, then glanced at the door. His fingerprints would be on the handle, but only there; he had learned over the years not to touch any part of a door. He went across, opened the door, and wiped the inside and the outside clean of prints. He had touched nothing else since he had come in this time, and if there were prints anywhere in the flat, they could be explained by his morning visit; fingerprints superimposed on others on the door handle couldn’t be. He put on gloves which he had been carrying, locked the door, turned, and stood very still, looking at the body, fleeting thoughts going through his mind, concerned more with consequences than with guilt.

  Micky Odell looked quite ordinary in death. His features were slack and his mouth open a little, and the touch of the sinister had gone. At least he would never be able to give evidence against Rosamund to the police. Someone had made sure of that.