After filling the largest cup she could find for her own share, she took the tray through Dr Salt’s bedroom, which contained a huge double bed that cried out for another woman to share it, and deliberately made a noisy approach to the spare room, so that any embarrassing confidences might be halted.
‘Tea – tea,’ she cried as she entered. ‘And it’s very good tea too – just the kind you like, Daddy.’
He produced a rather tired smile for her. ‘Wonderful, Maggie. But haven’t you given yourself any?’
‘About a pint – in the biggest cup I’ve ever used. I’ll be drinking it while I’m trying to get Alan on the phone. You know what a business that can be.’ She was all very gay, but it was rather a heart-breaking pretence. Her father looked better than he had done in the nursing home, but it was still as if about fifteen years had fallen on him during the last four days.
‘And your mother, Maggie – what about her?’ There were those extra fifteen years in his voice now.
‘Well, naturally she’s been very worried. But I’ve explained to her that Dr Salt was helping us to find you. She doesn’t know him, of course, but she perked up at once just because we had a doctor on the job now.’
‘Dr Salt says I ought to be able to see her in the morning – but – there are difficulties—’
‘Nothing that Maggie and I can’t settle,’ Dr Salt cut in cheerfully. ‘Leave that to us. And now you pop off, Maggie. You’ve work to do.’
‘I know, I know. And what an orderer-about you could be! Well – Daddy—’ And she pressed her cheek to his, and he clung to her for a moment, then she hurried out before she began bawling again.
There was the usual fuss about finding Alan at the University and getting him to the telephone. As soon as he heard her voice, he began grumbling, telling her she knew very well he hated being rung up there.
‘Oh – shut up, Alan. This is important. Dr Salt’s found Daddy, and now he’s here – in Dr Salt’s flat.’
‘What happened to him?’
‘I don’t know all the details yet. But Dr Salt wants you to come here as soon as you can. Daddy’s telling Dr Salt the whole story, and then he wants Dr Salt to tell us.’
‘Why can’t he tell us himself? There seems to me a lot too much Dr Salt in all this—’
‘My God – you really are the end, Alan.’ She was furious. ‘Daddy’s here because Dr Salt found him for us – when you and I hadn’t a clue. Where did you think you were going to find him – in Jill Thing’s bed—’
‘Turn that up, Mag.’
‘Well, you turn up your too much Dr Salt. Daddy’s still very shaky – and looks awful. After all, he was knocked out and then taken to a nursing home and filled full of dope. He’s in a highly emotional state and must explain to somebody—’
‘What about us, then? You’re his daughter. I’m his son—’
‘Oh – don’t be so stupid. I keep telling you he’s still weak and shaky, and so he doesn’t feel ready yet to explain everything to us. But he has to tell somebody – to get it out of his system – and the obvious person is the doctor who’s now looking after him – Dr Salt. So what time can you be here?’
‘About six, I suppose.’ Alan’s voice still had a grumbling tone.
‘All right, then. I’ll tell Dr Salt. And I warn you, Alan, that if you’re hostile or sulky, I’ll be furious. You may be against Dr Salt – chiefly because he made your Jill Thing look silly – and I’ll admit his mixture of the offhand and the bossy doesn’t charm me – but the fact remains that in one day he’s found our father for us – when we’d have been wandering around for weeks with our mouths wide open. So for God’s sake – try to look and sound a little grateful. He’s a lot cleverer than we are. And if he suddenly decided he’d had enough of us, we might find ourselves still in a mess.’
‘Why should we?’
‘Because there’s still this sinister Noreen Wilks business – and Daddy’s up to the neck in that, don’t forget. And there’s Mother. She’ll have to be told something, probably tomorrow. Dr Salt can do it. Can we? I’d be bad and you’d be worse. So just try to forget Jill Thing for an hour or two – and be nice to Dr Salt.’
‘Right, Mag. Do my best. Must go now.’
Maggie tried to finish her tea, but now it was cold, and she returned the giant cup to the kitchen. Then she set to work again on the toppling piles of books and records.
CHAPTER TEN
What About Noreen Wilks?
1
It was about five o’clock when the three young men walked in. Twenty minutes earlier, Dr Salt had returned from the spare room, carrying the tea tray, and had told Maggie that her father had told his story and had then needed only one mild pill to send him to sleep. ‘I doubt if he’ll wake up much before breakfast time,’ Dr Salt had continued. ‘When he’ll probably feel hungry. He wants to sleep now, to take a rest from reality. I won’t tell you his story until your brother comes. He is coming, isn’t he? Good!’
‘I’ll only ask you this,’ Maggie had said. ‘Is it – something – really disgraceful – shocking?’
‘It didn’t give me a shock,’ Dr Salt had said cheerfully. ‘And if you’re the sensible girl I take you to be, Maggie, it won’t give you one. I can’t answer for your brother. You’ve been tackling the books and records, haven’t you? I’m getting damnably behindhand. So let’s keep at it.’
Having just piled some special records on his desk, at the far end of the room, they were still standing near it when the three young men, having found the front door open, walked in at the other end. Maggie felt afraid as soon as she saw them. One, who seemed to be the leader, wore dark glasses and a leather jacket. Another, very big but quite young, was wearing a dark blue sweater, dirty flannel trousers and what looked like gym shoes. The third was much smaller and rather older; he had a tight black suit and a thin and beaky face, pale and vicious. Maggie knew at once they were horrors. Even before anything was said, she took a step nearer to Dr Salt.
‘Well,’ said the one with dark glasses, ‘if he hasn’t got a bird. Made it yet, Doc?’
‘And while I’ve seen better,’ said the big one, coming farther in, ‘I’ve seen worse. So if you’re looking for anything young and fresh – what about it, Birdie?’
‘He’ll never be any use to you,’ the black-suited one sneered, as he, too, came forward. ‘Too many bloody books.’ And he aimed a kick at the nearest pile and demolished it.
Maggie cried out and put a hand on Dr Salt’s arm.
‘It’s all right,’ he told her quietly. ‘Take it easy, Maggie.’ Then he moved to open one of the drawers in his desk.
‘You won’t be told, will you, Dr Salt?’ said the one with dark glasses. ‘And you can’t say I didn’t warn you. Remember, you’re redundant now, so you can be roughed up a bit.’
‘I don’t think you’ll do anything to me, Russ,’ Dr Salt told him, quite coolly, almost pleasantly.
‘I’m afraid we’ll have to. These boys love it. And they don’t like your attitude. You see, Doc, though you don’t like Birkden, you won’t leave it when you’re told. But your bird can take off.’
‘Aw – Russ boy – don’t I have any playtime?’ This was the big one.
‘She isn’t going,’ said Dr Salt, rather sharper now. ‘But you are. For two reasons.’
‘Shove your reasons,’ said the black-suited one. He turned to the one called Russ. ‘Let’s shut him up.’
‘Not yet,’ Russ told him. ‘Let’s see how he talks his way out of this. Go on, Doc. Two reasons?’
‘Yes. The first is – I’ve an appointment here with Superintendent Hurst at five o’clock. And it’s a minute or two past five now. So he’ll be here any time now.’
‘That’s your story. And I think it’s a load of crap. Anything else?’
‘Aw, for Chrissake, Russ – let’s knock the shit out of him.’ And the big one came nearer.
But Dr Salt, who had taken something out of his desk drawer, now
moved round to stand in front of Maggie. ‘The other reason is this,’ he said, not sounding at all frightened and even rather amused. ‘It looks like a water pistol. But in point of fact it’s filled with telluric acid. A little idea of my own – I’m thinking of patenting it. Telluric acid not only burns the skin but also stains what’s left of it a dark purple. Now three of you can obviously overpower me. But one of you – the first man – will have a face like a squashed black grape. And I advise him to keep his eyes tightly closed. Naturally I’ve never tried this stuff on the human eye, but I’m afraid the result will be very unpleasant indeed. Of course it won’t be easy to rush me with your eyes shut.’ He moved forward, well in front of the desk now. ‘You have your dark glasses to protect you, Russ. So if anybody’s going to risk it, then it ought to be you—’
‘Him or nobody,’ said black-suit. ‘Not me.’
‘Nor me.’ This was the big one. ‘I didn’t reckon on this packet.’
‘He could be bluffing,’ said Russ slowly.
‘Okay, Russ. Have a go – an’ see.’
‘Mind you,’ Dr Salt told them in a brisk and cheerful manner, as if giving a lecture. ‘The acid might easily burn through the frame of the dark glasses, then the eyes wouldn’t be protected. In any case, Russ, your cheeks, nose, mouth – especially the mouth – will be badly burned—’
‘I hate to see this patronizing sod get away with it,’ Russ cried. ‘Look – we could rush him with our hands stretched out, covering our faces—’
‘An’ what happens to our hands – for Chrissakes—?’
‘A sensible question,’ said Dr Salt. ‘I’d hope to hit four out of your six hands. And those four wouldn’t be picking anything up for a good many weeks – probably months. I don’t know what you two are being paid for this – I’m leaving out Russ now – but I think you’ll be badly out of pocket.’
‘An’ so do I,’ said black-suit. ‘You think you’re bloody smart, Russ, but you’d be smarter if you got some proper info before doing a job.’
‘Right,’ said the big one. ‘You said it would be dead easy.’
‘I’m afraid he’s been deceiving you. Don’t forget – for twenty years I’ve had to look at things that would make you boys go and vomit.’
‘An’ I’ll bet you have, at that. The deal’s off, Russ.’
‘You stop an’ play with him,’ said the big one. ‘Not me.’
There was a knock. ‘Come in, Superintendent,’ Dr Salt called cheerfully. Then a large middle-aged man filled the doorway. ‘Sorry I’m late, Dr Salt,’ he began. ‘Hello, who are these?’
‘Callers,’ Dr Salt told him.
The superintendent looked them over. ‘And not invited neither, if you ask me. Villains or layabouts. Well?’ he bawled at the one in the black suit.
‘We’re not doing nothing, Super. Honest.’
‘Are you charging them, Dr Salt?’
‘No, no.’
‘Sure? All right, if you say so.’ He cleared the doorway for them, then shouted: ‘Outside! Sharp as you can. And straight home. Go on.’ They left hurriedly and he closed the door behind them. ‘You don’t want to be soft-hearted with that sort, Dr Salt.’
‘Superintendent Hurst – Miss Culworth. You all right, Maggie?’
‘Now I am. But I must sit down. My knees were like jelly when you were talking to those three.’
‘Sit over there.’ He turned to the superintendent, who had now come closer. ‘No, I don’t want to charge them. And not because I’m soft-hearted, but simply because I don’t want to be kept hanging about as a witness.’
‘Would you have burnt their faces or hands?’ Maggie inquired. ‘I mean, if they’d attacked you.’
‘Not with this I wouldn’t. It’s a water pistol I took from a small boy at my surgery a week or two ago.’ He squirted a little water at the floor. ‘Must try to remember to return it to him. Well, Superintendent, I must find a chair for you—’
‘Don’t bother, Dr Salt. We had this appointment, so I looked in, but I’m not staying.’
Dr Salt frowned at him. ‘I’ve been busy since we last met. And everything that’s happened points one way. I’m certain now that Noreen Wilks never left Birkden, that she’s dead and that her death was no accident.’
‘Now, now, now, Dr Salt, I told you to leave it to us, didn’t I? If you’ve been busy trying to find out about this Noreen Wilks, then I’m afraid you’ve been wasting your time. No, just a minute. Can I use your phone?’
‘Of course. But I wish you’d listen to what I have to say.’
‘I’m trying to save your breath, Dr Salt. And your face, perhaps.’ He was now at the telephone, dialling. ‘Superintendent Hurst here. Anything come through for me from Comdon Bridge yet? Yes, Wilks inquiry. Well, you might give them a tinkle. It was a Sergeant Driver who was looking into it for me. No, I’m coming straight down myself.’
He looked across at Dr Salt as he put down the receiver. ‘Will you be here the next hour or two? Right, then. As soon as I have this information I need, I won’t just phone you, Dr Salt, I’ll come back here and tell you straight to your face exactly what we know about your Noreen Wilks. No, no, I don’t want any argument. And I don’t think you will – very soon. But I’ll be back – I’ll be back. And don’t bother – I can let myself out.’ And he bustled off.
‘And that’s that,’ Dr Salt observed darkly. ‘I don’t dislike Hurst. He’s a good, honest bobby. But he’s looking too pleased with himself. And if I know his type, that means he’s getting himself into something dam’ stupid.’
‘I’m thinking about you, not him. You’re really entitled to feel pleased with yourself. I thought you were wonderful with those three horrors,’ she continued rather shyly. ‘You’re very brave, aren’t you?’
‘Not at all. No bravery required. Just cheek. But that reminds me. I must ring up our friend Buzzy. By the way, would you like a drink?’
‘I would – but I think it’s too early.’
‘No, that excitement makes it later. I think you need one, Maggie. Doctor’s orders. Help yourself to a drink while I’m calling Buzzy.’
While she was finding the gin and tonic in the kitchen, she could hear him at the telephone. Apparently Buzzy wasn’t there. ‘All right, then, Winston. Give him a message from me, Dr Salt. Tell him I’ve had that chap I mentioned the other day – Russ – round here making a nuisance of himself again. So I’d be obliged if Buzzy could have him run out of town. . . . Yes, that’s it – seen off. And I’ll be here for some time if Buzzy wants to call me. Thank you, Winston.’
He was attending to the pile of books that had been kicked over, when she returned with her drink. ‘We’ll get on with this until your brother comes,’ he told her. ‘We can also be thinking about dinner. I don’t mean cooking it but planning it. Something good that doesn’t take too much time and fiddling about. That means the Far East is out. But one day I’ll cook you a Chinese dinner that’ll astonish you, Maggie.’
Still squatting among the books, he looked up and gave her a wide grin. Hardly knowing what she was up to, she said, ‘I hope so, Salt,’ and bending down quickly, she gave him a brief light kiss somewhere just below his right eye.
2
‘I still can’t see,’ said Alan as soon as the three of them had settled down, ‘why my father couldn’t have waited and then told us himself.’ And he gave Dr Salt a defiant look, for which Maggie could have slapped him.
‘Try using your imagination,’ said Dr Salt. ‘Start by imagining yourself a man in his late fifties, far from robust, bewildered, worried, loaded with a guilty secret like a rucksack full of lead. Right?’
‘Oh – Alan – I did explain,’ Maggie began.
‘Next, you’re knocked out and then wake up all dopey in a strange nursing home. Before you can make sense of anything, you’re out again. But you’re just as full of worry and feelings of guilt as you are of sedatives. Finally, you’re taken out of this nursing home by another doctor – and you
r daughter’s with him.’
‘And he must tell somebody,’ cried Maggie, ‘but he can’t face telling you or me – not yet. Alan, you’re deliberately being stupid—’
‘All right, then,’ said Alan, impatient rather than convinced, ‘let’s say it had to be done this way. Go on, Dr Salt. What’s the great and terrible secret?’
‘Well, it won’t be one to you – or to Maggie – but I want you to remember that it is one to him. And might be to your mother if she ever found it out. And you two can’t afford to take it lightly, not only for your parents’ sake but also because it could easily become entangled with a murder—’
‘Oh – no!’ And as Maggie, horrified, cried out, she couldn’t help feeling that somewhere, at the back of her mind, she had known this all along.
‘Is that a fact or just your opinion?’ Alan looked and sounded sceptical.
‘So far – just my opinion,’ said Dr Salt quite mildly. ‘But during the last two days, as Maggie realizes even if you don’t, several of my opinions have turned into facts.’
‘And if they hadn’t, Alan, we’d still be wondering what had happened to our father. What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing, Mag. I’m not trying to be offensive. I just thought the murder thing a bit much, that’s all.’
‘Quite so. And I’m not taking offence, Alan. Now then,’ Dr Salt continued briskly, ‘I’m leaving out all details, accusations or excuses, mental lights and shades, and just giving you what you want – the facts. During the War, as you know, your father was some sort of clerk, with the rank of sergeant, in the RAF. He fell in love and had an affair with a girl in the WRAF. She was a young and childless widow whose husband, a rear-gunner of a bomber, had been killed early in 1940. Her name was Catherine Wilks. I came to know her fairly well because she ended up as a patient of mine. She only died a year ago – cancer. She had a daughter, Noreen, and from the first your father regarded her as his child—’
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