‘Pity. We had an absolute dream of a prawn cocktail. And sliced melon, with a cherry on top. Coquille St-Jacques. Aitchbone steak, two kinds of potato, including croquettes that melted in your mouth. Paw-paws and whipped cream. Stilton, really ripe, fed with port——’
‘Turn it in!’ Wright said.
‘It was a dinner-party in a million.——I don’t mean just the chuck, though that was out of this world. I mean for sheer subtlety and refinement. It was rather like a cross between tournament bridge and liar dice. Everybody knew what all the bids meant. Nobody dared call anybody else’s bluff. You could pass on a pair of queens as a full house, and everybody knew what you had in your hand, but they had to accept your offer. I enjoyed myself. I let it be known, for example, that I associated Lesueur with Barson’s wife. Just dropped it into the conversation that we’d called at 19 Hagley Brow. Made out I was trying to illustrate the house-pride of the poorer people here. But the reference wasn’t lost on Lesueur.’
‘How did he take it?’
‘Turned to his wife and said “one of our long-standing tenants, dear. Quite a distinguished beauty in her youth——” almost as if he were trying to justify himself in my eyes for having seduced her.’
‘What did the Chief think of all this?’ Rhys asked. ‘Did he cotton on?’
‘From the very start. Quite a personality, your Chief.’
‘We think so. Did you get a chance to brief him in advance?’
‘No. Didn’t try. And didn’t have to. He saw at once that I was gunning for Lesueur. And he backed me to the hilt, without once forgetting his manners as guest of honour, or dropping his guard as my superior officer. For example, Lesueur was tickled pink that you’d charged Stanway. He’d heard it on the six o’clock news. I said outright I was sure Chick hadn’t done it——we were glad to give the real culprit a sense of false security and the chance to overstretch himself. The Chief met my eye across the table. Saw I was trying to get the knife well and truly in. Asked me outright if I had any evidence on which to clear Chick.’
‘You told him about the museum window?’
‘Not on your Nelly,’ Kenworthy said. ‘Too much hangs by that. I hedged. I chose that moment to mention that Barson had had a fancy woman in Kirby-le-Dale. Lady Lesueur was disgusted.’
‘And Lesueur?’
‘Knew about it already, I’ll swear. Oh, he said all the things one might have expected——scandalised surprise, and all the right reactions. But he couldn’t quite pull it off. He was really shaken that I knew about it. There was something just a little too suave in the way he refilled our wine-glasses. I thought the Chief was going to wink at me.——A vintage Moselle, too——’
He looked wickedly at Wright.
‘This suggested that Lesueur had, in fact, met Warren, whatever he may have said to Shiner on the point. I let it be thought that I’d had it from Warren’s own lips. And it went home. It was Colonel Hawley who gave the game away——just by an extra flicker of his eye-lids. The colonel’s no fool. He saw the way the wind was blowing, and played into my hands in a number of little ways. Rather like playing opposite a dummy that knows the game.’
‘Did Lesueur try to cover up?’
‘Not really. In fact, at this point he was at his lowest ebb of the whole evening. He didn’t do himself justice at all. He came out with a frightfully weak story. Said yes, of course, damn it, he remembered now, ought to have known who Shiner was talking about, but Shiner’s description of him had fallen so far short of what one might have expected from a professional man——’
Wright screwed up a bit of paper, hurled it at a pedestal ashtray in a corner of the room and missed.
‘My next move,’ Kenworthy said, ‘was to discover whether Warren had called on Barson, and this was relatively easy. Apparently Warren and Barson had come together to see Lesueur. That makes the blackmail angle look even stronger.’
‘Don’t forget, sir,’ Wright said, ‘that we were worried about the blackmail possibility when we heard that Warren had blown the gaff to Mrs Sawyer. That still remains to be explained.’
‘I think I know the answer to that, Shiner——but let’s wait till we see Heather’s report on Salamander Enterprises.——Incidentally, that might be in already——I still think there’s been blackmail about. And after I’d done with Warren, I thought I’d better go easy on Lesueur for a bit. So for the rest of the meal I stuck to general conversation. Lady K wanted my impressions of Fellaby, so I was able to turn the talk to the plans for the new High Street.’
‘You call that general conversation?’
‘Well, it just fell out that way. Lesueur got back on form——quite an honest man, in his way. Held forth at length on the relative amenities of multiple stores and family businesses. Said quite frankly that he was afraid his own view was in open conflict with his strongest political supporters.’
‘Which,’ said Rhys, ‘showed the Chief the rest of the picture.’
‘He grasped it all right. A lesser man might have kicked me under the table.’
Kenworthy looked at his watch again.
‘You know, Shiner——if anything’s gone wrong with your little plan, and Putty’s dad decides to cut up rough, you’re up the creek, my lad.’
Wright looked at him in some consternation. It was often difficult to know whether Kenworthy was joking or not, but at the moment he seemed in deadly earnest.
Kenworthy turned to Rhys.
‘We might have a job getting sergeant Wright off the hook.’
Rhys was seldom not in earnest.
‘If you ask me, both of you have been sailing pretty close to the wind, as far as this young lady is concerned——’
‘What are the Moral Welfare people like in Fellaby?’
‘Very co-operative.’
‘Get on to them in the morning. Get them to threaten a care and protection order. That’ll stop the old man’s mouth.’
‘I think it would be more to the point if we did ask for a care and protection order.’
‘Not on your life!’ Kenworthy said. ‘Putty can look after herself.——Is the Report Centre manned all night?’
‘Skeleton staff only,’ Rhys said. ‘I’ve taken the liberty of letting the Centre run down a bit.’
‘That’s always a healthy sign. I’ll see if Heather’s managed to get that report in.’
He went to the phone, and after a few seconds called for a notebook, in which he proceeded to write at great length. Rhys whispered to Wright.
‘If you’re really worried about something to eat, sergeant, there’s all night staff in the station canteen.’
‘If you asked me for my second priority, I wouldn’t know whether to say food or sleep. But right now my main wish is not to vacate this front seat. I don’t think Kenworthy’s going to lose any time over this, now Lesueur’s seen his cards.’
An electric bell cut across their conversation. They saw the night porter come sleepily out of his cubby-hole and cross to the street door. Wright followed a yard or two behind and saw Putty standing under the outside lamp. The porter was unsure of her. Wright leaped to let her in.
‘I’m sorry——I couldn’t get through by phone. All the boxes seem out of order.’
Her face was tired. Her cosmetics were cheap, badly put on and stained by the sweat and stresses of the evening. She was an odd mixture of callow adolescence and weary maturity.
‘Did you get what you went for?’
Wright took her up to the mezzanine lounge, where the others were sitting.
‘I got something,’ she said. ‘Not much, though. I only hope it means more to you than it does to me.’
‘Tell us about it, Putty.’
Kenworthy spoke to her in fatherly tones. It was easy to see why she had become so attached to him.
‘That lot!’ she said, making a gesture which seemed to take in the whole of Fellaby. ‘That lot!——They want their heads tested.
It’s taken me till now to get a ha
’porth of sense but of them.’
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, a small hand, with coarse skin and an unsightly wart.
‘It goes back to the night Chick left the gang and Riley took over. Some of them wanted to go over to Sal’s caff, where Webbe and his crowd hang out, and teach them a lesson. Riley said no. He said the cops had played pretty square with them for once, and he wasn’t pushing his luck. But some of them had already set out——Billy and Arthur amongst them, of course. Riley sent a couple after them, and these two saw Billy and Arthur taken in tow by a man in a car. He came up behind them, got out and talked to them, then drove them off somewhere.’
She reached for her cheap little handbag.
‘Nobody know who he was, of course?’
‘That lot! They don’t know anything. And when it comes to a description, they must be half blind, too.’
She brought out a tiny little notebook, decorated with a picture of a Siamese cat on the front cover. Wright was interested to see her handwriting: small round letters, sloping backwards, immature and laborious.
‘Not a big man. Not a little man. Thickset. Car coat, with a fur collar, expensive——not less than thirty pounds. No hat. Black hair, parted nearly in the middle, but not quite, and plastered down flat on either side.’
‘Warren!’ Kenworthy said. ‘Putty——you couldn’t have done better.’
He turned to the others.
‘The cheek of it——the very day I’d talked to him in his office.——Now, Putty——we’ve got to think of getting you home.’
‘I can’t. I daren’t. I’m dead scared.’
‘We can look after you. I’ll send a policewoman to have a word with your mother. You slipped out to give us some information that you knew was vital——’
‘That wouldn’t help. They wouldn’t want to be on your side, even in a thing like this.’
‘They might, Putty. This isn’t chicken-feed.’
‘No!’
‘I’ll see if the porter can fix you up with a room for the night. Then in the morning we can get one of the welfare officers to go into things for you.——They’re sensible types, Putty——not do-gooders, or anything like that.’
She subsided. She was too tired to argue. And tomorrow was tomorrow.
Kenworthy fetched the porter.
‘You’re lucky, miss. No. 17 didn’t turn up. These commercials!’
Putty turned on the stairs.
‘What about Chick?’
‘We’ll let him out in the morning——after he’s had some breakfast. Not much point in turning him out in the middle of the night, is there?’
‘When can I see him?’
‘Come round to the station and have breakfast with him. Would you like that?——Good night, Putty. You’ve saved the day for us——and for Chick.’
He picked up his notebook.
‘Heather’s produced another of his semi-miracles. And I’m not surprised to learn that Lesueur has no connection at all with Salamander Enterprises. One can never be sure of tracing all the share-holders——there’s always a floating population, as it were. But Heather knows where most of the money is, and Lesueur couldn’t have had more than a five or six per cent holding——which wouldn’t have interested him.’
He brought out his pipe. They were in for another long session. ‘This is no more than we had expected. But what might surprise you is that Salamander is very small fry indeed, minimal capital, almost on the rocks, and a reputation so bad that they wouldn’t have got a look-in on the Fellaby redevelopment. Even Lesueur couldn’t had resuscitated them without rousing suspicion.——And so, Shiner, I come back to something that’s been in my mind ever since you gave me your support on what you learned from inspector Cook——about Barson in Germany. There was something characteristically Barson in all that. It nearly led to his own undoing, and the undoing of those about him. It’s this: Barson couldn’t be content with someone else’s racket, even if it were a going concern. He was both big-headed and tightly blinkered enough to think he could out-Lesueur Lesueur. And my reading of events is this: when he contacted Sturgess in Kirby-le-Dale, it was to try to make his own settlement for Fellaby High Street——to sell out Lesueur and cash in himself.’
Kenworthy blew his nose.
‘Now we can understand why Mrs Sturgess said they were afraid of Colonel Hawley. Of course they were. Hawley represented the establishment——and they were agin the government.——Does all this make sense?’
‘Possibly,’ Rhys said, ‘but there’s a heavy element of speculation in it.’
‘True. But let’s see where it may lead us.——When Gill put Barson into Warren’s hands, he gave him a good deal more than Barson’s garden-path. I’m quite sure that Warren quickly saw that there wasn’t much to be made out of Barson. Barson’s never been a thrifty man. What money’s come his way, he’s spent on his idea of good living: his wife can’t even afford to pay the grocer’s bill. So Warren concentrates on Lesueur.’
‘If that is so, why should he take Barson with him when he called on Lesueur?’
‘It may have been because Lesueur was not easy of access, and Barson had the open sesame. I think it’s more likely that he used a confrontation——as you or I would——to get an admission out of Lesueur.’
‘But surely he was damaging his whole prospects by putting the garden-path at Gill’s disposal?’
‘Not at all. By bringing Barson into disrepute——or, rather, by letting someone else bring Barson into disrepute——he automatically gave credence to the big stuff that would follow.’
‘It’s a wonder Warren wasn’t the one who was killed.’
‘Perhaps he would have been, before long. Perhaps it nearly came to that, and he got Barson first.’
‘I’m sorry to keep reminding you of this,’ Wright said, ‘but we still don’t know why Warren blurted out what he did to Mrs Sawyer.’
‘No. But we can make an intelligent guess. Warren saw Barson to tell him the chips were down. Barson blustered. He would. Not reasonable——but Barson wasn’t a reasonable man. So Warren has to show him——and Lesueur——that he really means business. He blows the Barson-Sturgess liaison into the open. Then he takes Barson to see Lesueur.’
‘So you think,’ Rhys said, ‘that Warren ultimately killed Barson in self-defence? How, then, did he get hold of the Luger? Might not Lesueur be the murderer? To destroy Barson as Warren’s evidence? Or Hawley, acting as always as Lesueur’s trouble-shooter?’
‘Hawley’s shot plenty of trouble for Lesueur in his time. And we also know, from the slum-clearance appeal, that there were times when he jibbed at shooting trouble. He’d jib at shooting a man on Lesueur’s behalf.——At the moment, I wouldn’t like to choose between Warren and Lesueur. If I have a strong preference for settling on Warren, that’s all the more reason why I propose to leave that gentleman to you.’
‘We’re a long way from knowing the truth,’ Rhys said.
‘We must get that in the morning. For one thing, we’ve now pushed our suspects as far as they can go. If we don’t settle with them immediately, this case will go on for months. What’s more important, I’ve been away from my home comforts too long already. I shall, if you’ll pardon the intrusion, make myself responsible for Lesueur tomorrow morning——’
‘You’re very welcome,’ Rhys said.
‘If there’s a charge against him, I’ll try to keep him on ice till you’re round.——Because I propose to give you this case. I’m heartily sick of it. It leaves a very nasty taste in my mouth.’
‘Thank you very much.’
‘In exchange for a promise. You’ll be handling Warren in Bradcaster while I’m at Fellaby Moor. If you can charge him with murder, do so without waiting for me. But if you can’t do him for murder, do him for something else. I want you to promise you’ll break him. Warren’s been going on too long.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘If you can pull it off, th
ey might even make you Chief Constable of Bradcaster.’
‘And what about me?’ Wright asked. ‘Fellaby Moor Hall with you?’
‘No. I want you to stay behind here. To mop up. Anything that needs mopping up. Including settling our hotel bills and having our cases at the station in time for the 3.47. Because the 3.47 is our last chance of a connection that will put us in our own beds tomorrow night. And I’ve had more than enough of Fellaby.’
Chapter Nineteen
After Kenworthy and Rhys had departed on their missions, Wright found something sad and nostalgic about the streets of Fellaby. He had come to know the place extraordinarily well. He felt as familiar with the tradesmen in the principal shops of the High Street as he was with those of his own suburban Broadway.
And today they were leaving. He ought to have learned enough by now of Kenworthy’s eccentricities not to doubt the point. If Kenworthy said they were catching the 3.47 train, they were catching the 3.47 train. Wright had been foolhardy enough to bring up the subject at breakfast, and Kenworthy had fixed him with a savage glare.
‘Fallen in love with this place, have you?’
‘No, sir, but——’
‘Whatever else we may or may not have achieved, we must have succeeded in putting our man on the qui vive. If we don’t strike today, we lose the initiative.’
Without counting them he gave Wright a handful of pound notes with which to pay his share of the bill. The girl at the reception desk showed no surprise that they were leaving. She assumed, as did the rest of Fellaby at this moment, that the arrest of Stanway closed the file.
But Chick had already gone, when Wright reached the police station. Putty had left with him, and no one knew for certain where they had gone. And Kenworthy, who had preceded his sergeant by some twenty minutes, was just coming out of Grayling’s office, finishing a conversation in the open doorway.
A constable’s head bobbed round an office door.
‘Sergeant——there’s a couple asking to see someone about the Barson case. A Mr and Mrs Sturgess——’
‘I’d like to sit in on this for a few minutes,’ Kenworthy said.
Death of an Alderman Page 17