A Dip Into Murder (David Mallin Detective series Book 10)

by Roger Ormerod

  “Of course I’m here. Go away.”

  “Lord Rosen is downstairs.” His voice was hushed with reverence. “Lord Rosen of BHV.”

  “Then tell him to wait.”

  And wait he did. I had no intention of hurrying, and intended to reach that living room in a fit condition to go on to the Domino. Alone, too, so that it would need something like the impact Clara had made. It was a pity about the trouser suit.

  The small room was packed. Ian was sulking because his proper place in front of the fire had been appropriated by Lord Rosen. Anywhere else would have been acceptable, but not his own hearth. Besides, he wasn’t equipped with the correct supply of sophisticated drinks, and was obviously embarrassed.

  Lord Rosen was delivering a lecture on the place of the employer in modern society. McIntyre was nodding and nodding. Had Lord Rosen actually met a shop steward, I wondered.

  To one side, pale and diffident, stood a young man in a perfect suit, carrying a brief case as though it contained pure gold. Perhaps it did, in the form of Rosen’s spare speeches. Goodliffe was trying to hide himself in a corner. He looked dazed. Probably McIntyre had had words with him about his future as a manager, with or without the assistance of a computer. As I entered:

  “Ah!” said Lord Rosen. “So this is Mrs. Mallin.”

  He was small and dapper and completely bald, with eyes like a snake’s.

  I said, insincerely, that I was pleased to meet him.

  “Adventures, I hear,” he went on, looking round as though for approval. “Clandestine meetings in dark places. And what news have you for us, dear lady?”

  Rimlock had used the same title, but he graciously. This was condescension.

  “I’m sure the chief inspector will have told you,” I said softly.

  “The outline only. I have always said: go to the source. From time to time I go out, myself, and speak to the fellows who operate ... ”

  “One hundred thousand,” I said. “It was quite clear.”

  “And was it your impression that this would be their last demand?”

  “My only impression was of rain and cold.”

  He could not descend to a frown. His thin lips just fractionally tightened. “The inspector should have gone. I feel it was a gross dereliction of duty — ”

  Perhaps the chill had caught my throat after all. My voice was quite tight.

  “There was no impression that anybody cared what Lord Rosen felt, only that he would wave a magic wand and produce the money. You were mentioned purely as the representative of a larger corporation than our small company.”

  McIntyre clicked his tongue. “A more wealthy one,” he said with approval.

  Nothing ruffled Rosen’s control. “And as such, I will arrange for payment.” A man of decision, obviously. Showing off a bit, too.

  “But sir ... ” murmured the slim young man.

  “Arrange for it, Carstairs. Another eighty thousand.”

  “In singles,” I said calmly. “One pound notes.”

  “As she says, Carstairs.” Then he looked at me with challenge. “I have always maintained that it’s the duty of management to know when to concede a point, dear lady. And how far to go. Were you on your way somewhere?”

  “I am.”

  “Then we will not keep you. Men’s work, you know.”

  I turned to the door. “You must let me know when you have it ready,” I said. “No doubt they’ll expect me to complete the handover. After all, it could turn out to be another filthy and wet affair.”

  Then I left them to it, uncomfortably aware that I’d trapped Ian into arguing with them on my behalf, when his natural inclination was to insist on completing the handover himself.

  The Domino Club was a special place at that time of the morning. The ordinary members had wilted and left, so that only the hardy, and therefore younger, were left. There was no doorkeeper; the atmosphere itself would have deterred the nervous.

  It was not so much a sense of stifling inadequacy in the air, nor the decreased lighting, that seemed to press the outskirts of the room closer. There was something more subtle. I think the catch in my throat originated from the combo. It was a different team, or perhaps the same one with their restraint wearied and their basic instincts laid bare. There was something sullen and sexual in their rhythm, all heartbeat and indrawn breath. It caught at the mind, warping it. I felt immediately breathless and afraid.

  And yet there was no obvious indication of any danger. Very few people remained at the tables. A few couples stood, in near collapse, on the dance floor, and twitched rather than moved. The air was caught in the beat, and instinct pleaded for the combo to go on and on, like a lifesaving pump to a heart machine.

  I moved down onto the floor, though my triumphant entry was completely ruined. No one was in any condition to admire it.

  Except Peter. I found him at a shaded table. He rose.

  “Is this the lady I met in a railway cutting? Is this she of the cape and gumboots?”

  I threw his shoe on the table. A pity about the cloth.

  “I didn’t clean it,” I said.

  “Thank you, all the same.”

  He had a second glass waiting for me, and a bottle of something as basic and earthy as the music.

  “I mustn’t stay,” I said. “Just time for you to apologise.”

  “Now Elsa ... what did I do?”

  “You led me into that fiasco.”

  “I’m sorry. But listen, please. I’ve been thinking.”

  “What is this stuff?”

  “Please, listen. Just suppose the idea was to hire Rimlock to kill Ian, and to arrange a special job to provide the money to pay him with.”

  “We are supposing it.”

  “But we’re not supposing it far enough, are we! If we assume that much, surely it’s reasonable to suppose they’d also arrange a trap for Ian, get him some place where Rimlock could take a good shot at him.”

  “It’s reasonable. After all, the crime brings him out in the open.”

  “But wouldn’t it be fittingly ironic if Ian was shot as he handed over the ransom money? Then he’d be paying for his own death.”

  I studied him carefully. “But Peter, they asked for me to do it.”

  “They didn’t. That’s the point. It was me who asked for you to do it. My own idea,” he said modestly. “But obviously, it didn’t suit them at all.”

  “It didn’t suit me, the way it turned out,” I told him severely.

  “They’d expect the senior police officer to do it. Probably they were hopping mad when they realised I’d fixed it with you. So what did they do about it? Why ... they doubled the amount, and still in ones. They wanted to make it more difficult for a woman.”

  “They were simply twice as greedy. Wait a minute!” I tapped him on the knuckles with my cigarette case. “At what stage did you work this out?”

  He looked away, and across the room. “When they doubled it.”

  “They ... they! You mean, when you doubled it.”

  “It was my voice, I admit. I was simply told to pass on the instruction.”

  “And yet you still insisted it should be me. You knew Rimlock would probably be there at the railway cutting, and yet you still asked for me!”

  “You don’t seem to realise what I’m trying to do,” he complained.

  “I know what you did,” I couldn’t keep the anger out of my voice. “And what if Rimlock had taken me for Ian?”

  “Oh ... come on! Did you look like a policeman?”

  It was what I’d said to Ian, but nevertheless I said severely: “I was wearing a policeman’s cape.”

  “Nonsense. It was laughable.”

  “I’m glad you were amused.”

  “The idea,” he said, frowning, “was laughable, that you’d be mistaken for Ian.”

  “Well, I hope you haven’t got any more bright ideas.”

  “Only about what they did next,” he said, eagerly getting back to his own point. “
They made damn sure you wouldn’t do it again. They made it a hundred thousand, and Elsa, they still insist on singles. Don’t you see, they’ve purposely made it impossible for you.”

  I thought about it. “But they also might have assumed that £20,000 was too much for me. So they’d send Rimlock to the cutting, and he was disappointed that Ian wasn’t carrying it. But it didn’t give them much time, did it. It was only at the last minute that they’d know it was going to be me, because we were both there in the car. So the interesting point remains, Peter — when did they increase it to £100,000?”

  “That isn’t the important point,” he said solemnly. “They’d already decided to make it £100,000. But it didn’t have to be in ones. That was the last minute decision, and that bit of it was to keep you out of it. There’s a phone box right by the bridge, where I left my car. I was hanging-on for last-minute instructions. They simply said: in singles. Just that. Then I knew, and that’s why I dashed back here, to see if Rimlock was missing.”

  I’d noticed he was in a lounge suit. “You mean you haven’t changed?”

  He produced his legs from beneath the table. The light was poor, but I could see he still carried six inches of mud, and one unshod foot. I couldn’t help laughing. What was that stuff in the bottle?

  “He was here,” Peter said. “Beat me to it.”

  “You’re certain he was waiting at the siding?” I asked. My spine corrugated at the thought.

  “Sure of it.” He nodded sideways. “Don’t look now.”

  It was a ridiculous thing to say. Whenever I looked it’d be ‘now’ to Rimlock. But he was in no condition to notice, sitting against the wall in a stupor of intoxication from the heady bongos.

  “But to carry it on, Peter,” I whispered, “as you put it, wouldn’t it be logical to remove you from the situation, just to make sure you don’t arrange something with me in spite of all that money!”

  He nodded, and pushed across the table a screwed-up piece of paper that I had difficulty in reading, what with the slumbrous lighting and the drained lettering.

  Your services are no longer required.

  “How did you get this?”

  “Somebody’s splendid idea to keep it anonymous. It came to me in a salmon sandwich.”

  I dropped it quickly. “So what can you do, if you’re no longer in touch?”

  “It’s Friday tomorrow, Elsa. Today, really. The last day, so you can reckon the handover will be arranged for tomorrow, after dark. So there’s very little time.”

  “And in what time there is — what can you do?” I insisted.

  “I did think I might steal Rimlock’s gun.”

  Never have I so longed for David’s steady and impressive presence. He would have known how to deal with somebody like Peter, and his ridiculous ideas. Also, he would have known how to go about stealing a gun from a hotel room.

  More as a matter of interest than anything else, I asked: “How do you propose going about it?”

  “I’ve borrowed these,” he said, producing a leather pouch. It tinkled. “From Merridew. He can open anything.”

  To me they were simply a set of bright steel objects, apparently bent in a haphazard way.

  “Perhaps you should have borrowed Merridew as well.”

  “Elsa!” he sounded shocked.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it. That damned throb was getting at me. “You don’t know anything about picking locks.”

  “Merry gave me a crash course.”

  “You don’t know where his hotel is.”

  “I followed him there. I know where the hotel is. I don’t know which is his room, though.”

  I snatched my cigarette case from the table. “You can’t expect me to show you.”

  “To show me only, Elsa. Nothing more.”

  “And to think I trusted you!”

  “Can you suggest anything better?”

  “I’m going straight back to have a heart to heart talk with Ian.”

  He sighed. “A lot of good that’d do.”

  “I could ... tell you how to reach his room.”

  “All right, All right.” he was clearly annoyed. “I’ll try it on my own.”

  “I’m sorry, but you must understand ... ”

  “I was expecting too much,” he admitted, getting up to follow me.

  “You were.”

  “But there seemed so little time.”

  We were still arguing when we reached his car, still arguing when he drove out onto the road. Later, I was silent. It seemed hazardous to distract Peter from his driving. He made it into an obstacle race.

  “This is it,” he said, peering ahead.

  We had parked in the street.

  “It doesn’t look like it.”

  “I assure you it is.”

  Closer to it, I could see he was correct. I’d been hoping Rimlock had moved. But this was a small hotel, which shut its doors at midnight, and issued a front door key if you intended to return late. It at least offered Peter some practice, with an open retreat if we were discovered.

  “Cylinder locks are the worst,” he said, struggling with it. “Have you got any credit cards?”

  “Not in my evening bag.”

  “Ah, I think I’ve got it.”

  He had. The door opened into the tiny lobby, and the system now seemed to have its advantages. Locking the door at midnight would be stupid if it was intended to leave anyone at the desk. It was therefore unguarded, and the lights were dimmed. A hush of sleep rested on the building.

  “The staircase on the right,” I whispered.

  “Come on then.”

  At once I knew exactly where to go. My heart hammered, but it was nearly over for me. Indicate the door ... and run.

  I indicated the door. He said: “Here, hold this,” and thrust a tiny torch like a fountain pen in my hand. The lighting was extremely dim in that corridor, I must admit. But all the same ...

  “Can’t you manage on your own now?”

  “Keep it still. On the lock.”

  “Then be quick.”

  He fumbled and fiddled.

  “Peter ... please!”

  “Will you keep it still!”

  The building had seemed silent. But now, to my nervous ears, it was alive with sound; creaks and whispers, mutterings and sighs.

  “And for God’s sake stop sighing,” he said in an angry whisper.

  The lock clicked back. I could have screamed with release.

  “The door,” he said. “Shut the door after you.”

  I closed it behind me, thereby sealing my retreat. He fumbled in the dark until I realised he wanted the torch. I put it in his fingers. He played it on the window, and the drapes were drawn. He reached past me and put on the light.

  I gasped at the sudden brightness.

  The gun case was where I had seen it before, on the bed. It appeared that Rimlock was not shy about advertising its presence, but perhaps that was applied psychology. It would attract less comment than if it had been discovered hidden. Perhaps, I thought, the chambermaid would remove it while she made the bed, then replace it, and while I was developing this thought Peter had it open.

  I wondered vaguely why he needed to open it at all.

  He lifted out the gun. “Well,” he said in disappointment, “it’s only an ordinary rifle.”

  “I can assure you,” said Rimlock from behind me, “that it is far from ordinary. And,” he added, as Peter swung it round, “it is certainly not loaded.”

  I turned very quickly indeed. The Rimlock who was standing with his back against the door was far removed from the sad old man I had met before. For one thing, he held a small pistol in his right hand, and in my experience a pistol always alters a man’s personality. I have seen it with David. Now Rimlock seemed to be stiff with anger. Certainly some tension was twisting his mouth. And yet his voice was calm.

  “It may not have occurred to you,” he said, “that a man who spends all his working life watching the world thr
ough a telescopic sight must naturally learn to lip read.”

  I really couldn’t let him get away with that. “You allowed me to believe you used the open sight, you deceitful old man.”

  He twisted his mouth disconcertingly. “But I always choose a time when my targets are still, dear lady. The assumption was yours.”

  “Then perhaps the rest was untrue.” I could not help but be severe.

  “What exactly are you referring to?”

  “Your statement that you never use your gun for personal reasons.”

  “But it’s quite true.”

  “Then why are you holding that thing in your hand, when the present situation could hardly be more personal?”

  Then he did sincerely smile, though it was not freely given. “My gun, yes. That ... ” He gestured towards Peter with his pistol. “ ... is my gun. This is a paltry thing, not fit for specialist work. I think it’s quite suitable for personal shooting.”

  Peter coughed. It was to draw attention to the fact that he was restoring the Heckler & Koch to its velvet lining.

  “Good boy,” said Rimlock. “But don’t think that will save you.”

  “And you didn’t even say that with any serious intention,” I said chidingly. “Of course you don’t intend to shoot us. You had your opportunity earlier, in the cutting when we were both in your sights.”

  He made no attempt to deny it. “Neither of your names appears on my contract.”

  “Then let us leave.”

  “But this is personal. You made it personal by breaking into my room.”

  “Now look here ... ” said Peter. “This has gone far enough.”

  But now Rimlock really was angry, Peter having fractured the mood I’d striven for.

  “Not nearly far enough,” he snapped. “Why should I not take this opportunity to be rid of you? Tell me that. You’re an interfering nuisance, young man, introducing annoying delays, when I have a flight booked from Elmdon tomorrow night.”

  “So in fact Peter was right,” I said. “Be quiet, Peter! He was right in saying it’s to be Ian Carefree.”

  “I refuse to discuss it. No, it is not.”

  “A double denial? It halves the conviction.”

  “Please do not upset me,” he said. “I can be quite unpredictable.”

  “You’re not at all frightening,” I challenged him. “Show me your contract. I dare you.”