‘No thanks, don’t bother.’ Chris pointed at the open door of the office beyond the anteroom. ‘But I would like to speak to my wife in private. Could we use that room?’
Blackburn looked shocked.
‘But that’s Mr Warburton’s room, sir. He didn’t say – I really don’t know –’
‘That’s all right,’ Chris said, taking pity on him. It must have been the first time in his life that Blackburn had been faced with such an outrageous request. ‘We can use the hall outside just as well.’
He drew Beth out into the hall and closed the door behind them. She was immediately in his arms for a long, satisfying, completely unhousewifely kiss.
‘Oh, I needed that,’ she said when she had caught her breath, and then in a tense undertone, ‘Where did you go? What happened with that girl? Is everything all right?’
‘Everything is all scrambled. Teodorescu has just walked into the picture and taken over. Did you get a look at that character who was with Baby back at the airport?’
‘Baby?’
‘The red-head. Did you get a look at the freak with her?’
‘If you mean the one with the girly hair-do and swinging clothes, yes. What about him?’
‘He’s Teodorescu’s hired hand. A real murderous type. Teodorescu took off somewhere and gave him the job of being housekeeper for Baby and me in his place over in Chelsea. And I have to go along with it right now. At least for another day or two.’
‘You mean,’ Beth said, trying to comprehend this, ‘you expect to stay there? But why? Chris, I won’t let you. You told me that girl was poison. She didn’t fly all the way from Miami just to greet you at the airport here.’
‘No, she didn’t. She flew in so she could finger me for this Michael – Teodorescu’s boy – and then they could take care of my funeral arrangements. But it’s like I figured. What she really wants to do is close that deal with me for half the estate. See how it works? I stall her, she stalls Michael, and meanwhile you and I sneak into court with Warburton and get you your money. Simple.’
‘Sure it is,’ Beth said. ‘As simple as seeing how long you can hold a lit stick of dynamite in your hand before it goes off. And it still doesn’t explain why you have to go back and stay there with those two for even another minute.’
‘Because they let me know I have to. This Michael punk doesn’t bother me too much, but Baby stopped me cold. She made it plain that if I try any tricks, she’ll frame me for Jack Zucker’s murder. I hate to tell it to you, sweetheart, but with the story she’s cooked up, and with the cops back home itching to buy any story that’ll get them off the hook there, she can just about send me to the chair. Hiding out won’t help either. Just having the police here turned loose on me means I can never make it to court with you in time. Then what happens to your inheritance?’
‘Our inheritance.’
‘It’ll be nobody’s inheritance then. What we need is time – a few days, that’s all – and we can get it by playing this my way. Now do you understand?’
‘Yes, and I still don’t like it,’ Beth said. ‘And I don’t understand about Teodorescu. What’s he got to do with Mookerjee or his girl friend? How come he even knows them?’
‘I suppose the same way he knows Prendergast, because he sure as hell does. That’s where Big Brother comes in, too. From what I make of it, Teodorescu was using Clive Valentine’s business as a front for some kind of racket. A big one, Baby says. She says it took in nine countries and involved top-level people in all of them. That’s big, all right.’
‘Then you were wrong about what those men were searching you for, Chris. It must have something to do with spying.’
‘I know. I already thought of that. Anyhow, the territory was all divided up, and everyone we’ve been bumping into along the line had a piece of the action. That’s what Prendergast’s index cards are about; the cities listed on them were the ones he handled. And Teodorescu was the man on top. The kingpin. That’s a break for us in a way. Warburton already has Teodorescu marked lousy, so when we let him in on all this he won’t be too surprised.’
Beth wasn’t giving up that easily.
‘That doesn’t change anything. It’s still crazy for you to live there with that Baby and Michael combination. And if you think you can depend on that girl –’
‘I think I can. Look, if it’s my being around her that bothers you –’
‘Oh, don’t be a fool!’ Beth said with outrage. ‘If it kept you from being hurt, do you think it would matter a damn to me whether you went to bed with her or not?’
‘Wouldn’t it?’ he asked, deliberately baiting her.
‘No, it wouldn’t.’ Then, as he suspected it might, her utter, ingenuous honesty got the best of her. ‘Well, maybe it would. Anyhow, she didn’t tell you stud service was part of the deal, did she?’
Chris shook his head.
‘I have a feeling money is her gig, sweetheart, not sex. Just money. That’s why I’m depending on her. And that’s a lot smarter than getting myself flown back to Miami with handcuffs on. Look, stop worrying so hard. None of this gang expected me to make it to London at all, it caught them off balance when I did. So I’ve got some time at least before they figure out how to move. Meanwhile, Baby’s out to stymie any move. And you can see for yourself I’m not locked up in the house.’
‘Yes. Until they lock you up.’
‘They won’t.’ He nudged open the office door. ‘Now let’s go sit down inside. Standing around on this goddam leg isn’t doing it any good.’
It was a mean trick, he knew guiltily, but he had already learned from experience that the least suggestion of physical anguish on his part was enough to drive everything else out of her mind, and that was the objective now. So he let her help him to a chair in Warburton’s anteroom where Blackburn, with much clicking of dentures, sympathetically explained how the London dampness got into everyone’s joints this time of year. Now take his own touch of rheumatics. Ordinarily –
He was cut off in mid-sentence by the opening of the door. The man who strode in, bowler set square on his head, umbrella over his arm, was small and slight, but he more than compensated for this, Chris observed, by an erect, soldierly posture and brisk manner.
‘Good morning, Mr Warburton,’ said the secretary from her typewriter.
‘Good morning, sir,’ said Blackburn, hastening to take the bowler and umbrella. ‘These people have been waiting to speak with you.’
‘Oh, no,’ Beth said. ‘I mean, we were supposed to meet the other Mr Warburton. Mr Simon Warburton.’
‘Indeed?’ The man smiled at her, evidently liking what he saw. ‘But I am Simon Warburton. The only one hereabouts, I assure you.’
Chris suddenly felt a terrible apprehension. From the way the colour was draining from Beth’s face, he knew he wasn’t alone in it.
‘But there must be another,’ Beth said, desperately trying to impress the logic of this on the obtuse, alarming, totally wrong ‘Simon Warburton standing before her. ‘We already met him. He asked us here. That’s why we are here.’
Chris put an arm around her.
‘Let’s go inside,’ he said to the wrong Warburton. ‘I think you’d better hear this from the beginning.’
4
It didn’t take long to tell, Chris found, if you stuck to the bare facts of the case and left out everything concerning Teodorescu’s gamy international operation and Big Brother’s counter-operation. The appearance of the impostor in Miami, the description of Clive Valentine’s will, the marital arrangements, the disillusionment just encountered – that was it. And the real Warburton made a good listener, filling the room with an aroma of pipe tobacco as he sat attentively behind his desk, taking it all in, evidently tempted now and then to open his mouth in comment, but managing to restrain himself each time.
So far, so good.
Then, in the question and answer session that followed, everything went wrong. And, Chris had to admit to himself, it wasn’t
Warburton’s fault. Put yourself in his position, and what did you find yourself faced with? A young American couple out of nowhere. An alleged Mr Monte who could produce no identification at all. An alleged Mrs Monte who did have a passport made out in the name of Elizabeth Jones, but who was living under the alias of Mrs Alice Sanders at The Wilbraham, while her husband was living elsewhere at an address he would not divulge.
That was sticky enough to make Warburton puff even harder at his already fuming pipe, and it got steadily stickier as it went along.
No, the impostor had not offered any credentials, and had not been asked for any. Two people, however: a Joseph Prendergast of Boston and a Martin McClure of Miami Beach, had made – or said they had made – inquiries about Simon Warburton of the Middle Temple court and reported favourably on him. Where were these two, now that they might be helpful in clearing up this affair? Well, Joseph Prendergast’s present whereabouts was unknown; Martin McClure was dead.
It was at this point, Chris saw, that Warburton, who so far had handled the questioning with a sort of dogged hopefulness, now took on an expression of fascinated disbelief in what he was hearing.
Had either Mr or Mrs Monte actually seen a copy of the will? Mr Monte turned to Mrs Monte inquiringly, and Mrs Monte, looking even more wretched than she had right along, shook her head. It seemed that the impostor had simply described the terms of the will to her.
‘But good God,’ Warburton said when he had recovered from this, ‘when the peculiar terms of this – ah – will were described to you, didn’t either of you think to ask a lawyer about them? To have one represent you in the matter? To inquire of our authorities here what the devil was going on?’ He looked from one to the other of them. ‘No, of course not. If someone offers you a sackful of diamonds for a shilling, never ask questions or the diamonds may disappear.’
Chris’s own temper started to rise.
‘Look,’ he said, ‘as it happens, I did ask some questions, and I can tell you for a fact that there was a Clive Valentine who left an estate worth millions. And considering all the trouble our phony friend took to let Mrs Monte know she had a claim to it, he’s up to something serious. Since he dragged you into this, too, by using your identity, I’d say the smart thing for you to do right now is skip the moral lectures and help us find out what he is up to. And what Mrs Monte’s position is in regard to the estate. I can’t see that character cooking up his whole story out of thin air. If there’s any such truth at all in what he told her, she’s only got a week left in which to enter her claim to the estate. That means we have to move fast.’
‘But in different directions,’ Warburton said shortly. ‘I’m sorry about Mrs Monte’s problem, but I am not her solicitor and don’t intend to try solving it. My problem concerns the use of my identity by some unknown, possibly for unlawful purposes. It may not seem as serious as hers, but to me it is very serious.’ He picked up his phone. ‘A police matter, in fact. So if you’ll bear with me while I call Scotland Yard –’
‘Put that thing down,’ said Chris.
‘My dear sir –’
‘Put it down. You’ll be making the mistake of a lifetime if you don’t.’
‘Will I?’ Warburton’s expression was a mixture of condescension and polite puzzlement, but he slowly placed the phone back on its stand. ‘I don’t quite see what you’re driving at, Mr Monte.’
‘I’ll explain it in plain language then. You just said you weren’t my wife’s solicitor, but you’re wrong. As far as she and I are concerned, you’ve been our solicitor since we sat down here. That makes everything I’ve told you privileged information. Let one word of it out to the police or anyone else without our permission, and we’ll yell our heads off to your Bar Association or whatever it’s called here about your breach of ethics. You won’t have to worry what that joker might do to your reputation then. You’ll have done it all by yourself.’
‘I see,’ Warburton said, and Chris had to admire the way he managed to keep himself in tight control. ‘Are you a fugitive from the police, Mr Monte?’
‘No, not in the sense you mean it. But calling them in now will only make things a lot worse for us than they already are. There’s more to this than I’ve told you.’
‘I suspected as much. But if the police aren’t holding your passport and credentials, Mr Monte, who is?’
‘Please, Chris,’ Beth said. ‘Why can’t we tell him?’
Chris grimly shook his head.
‘Not right now. Not for a few days.’ He turned to Warburton. ‘That’s all I’m asking, a few days’ time. Meanwhile, you can help us clear up this thing.’
‘As your solicitor?’ Warburton said drily.
‘Yes. I’m serious about that. The Valentine estate is worth a fortune. If you handle Mrs Monte’s claim to it, it means a fair return to you, win or lose.’
‘If it’s lose, Mr Monte, how much would your personal cheque be worth at my bank?’
‘I don’t blame you for wondering about it,’ Chris said, ‘but I give you my word you’ll be paid in full sooner or later.’
Warburton sat there considering this for a long while, his fingertips drumming steadily on the desk.
‘Why,’ he said at last, ‘would our friend go to such lengths with this hoax?’
‘I don’t know,’ Chris said. ‘But it must be for a lot more than those personal records he walked off with. I mean, those birth, marriage, and adoption records. My guess is that it’s for a pile of money. Clive Valentine’s money.’
‘That would be my guess, too. So the first step is to take a close look at the pile of money.’ Warburton raised his voice. ‘Blackburn!’
Before the echo of it had died away, Blackburn was there like magic.
‘Mr Warburton?’
‘Please look into this, Blackburn. Clive Valentine, deceased May last year. Address –’ Warburton glanced inquiringly at Chris, but it was Beth who said, ‘A house called Monkshood in Sunningdale.’
‘Berks,’ said Warburton. ‘I want information about the will, Blackburn, so look into the district registry there if Somerset House has nothing to offer.’
‘There are also some people Valentine was closely connected with,’ Chris said. ‘They might be worth checking on.’
‘Yes?’ said Warburton.
‘A Katia Danska, who’s living at his place now.’ Chris waited until Blackburn had laboriously written this down. ‘Henry Gardenhire, who did book designing and art work for him, and Anton Teodorescu, who has a house here in London.’ There was very little chance, he was sure, that anyone would come ringing Teodorescu’s doorbell in making a private investigation of him. ‘Those last two were Valentine’s partners in a fancy book club he ran. They seem to have been closer to him than anybody else.’
Warburton’s lips curved into the suggestion of a smile.
‘So you have done some looking into this after all.’
‘Not enough, that’s for sure. How long will it take to get this information?’
Warburton cocked his head at Blackburn, who did some silent calculation.
‘No more than three or four days, I believe,’ he finally decided. ‘Today is Wednesday. By Monday next –’
‘By tomorrow noon,’ said Warburton.
‘Yes, indeed, sir. But that means an investigator. A good one. Eames, perhaps?’
‘No perhaps about it. Put him on it at once. The client –’ he looked shrewdly at Beth ‘– is Mrs Alice Sanders, residing at The Wilbraham.’
‘Yes, indeed.’ The hotel’s name evidently met Blackburn’s ear like a sweet chord of music. ‘At once, sir.’
Warburton stood up in what was plainly a gesture of dismissal.
‘You’ll be here tomorrow noon then,’ he said to his clients.
‘We’ll be here,’ said Chris.
5
They emerged from the building and stood there on the walk looking at each other. From Beth’s desolate face, he was sure her thoughts matched his.
> ‘Now what?’ she said at last.
He pointed. ‘You go that way back to the hotel, I go the other way back to Michael. We meet here upstairs at noon tomorrow.’
‘I know. Don’t turn around. Just let me remember you this way. Want me to go ahead?’
‘I don’t mind if you do, blondie. For a skinny girl, you offer a very tricky rear view.’
‘“How brave a prospect is a bright backside!”’ Beth quoted. ‘Do you know that’s a real honest-to-God serious line of poetry about a meadow by Henry Vaughan, 1622 to 1695? We read it in freshman English, and it broke everybody up.’ Then she dropped the pretence of lightheartedness. ‘Chris, can’t we go for a walk first? It’s so quiet and lovely around here. And scared as I am now, I’m going to be a lot more scared when I’m not with you. For you, not for me.’
‘No walk, sweetheart. I’m probably late punching in as it is. Anyhow, I’m dead on my feet. While you’re watching the B.B.C. on television I’ll be catching up on about a week’s sleep. Alone.’
‘Good thinking. You let Michael take care of Baby.’
‘Believe me, nobody takes care of Baby but Baby. Wait a second. How much do you have left of that money I gave you at the airport?’
It turned out to be three pound notes, eight shillings and some coppers. He took the coins and returned the rest.
‘Stretch it,’ he advised. ‘Michael’s got my wallet right now along with everything else. Don’t pay cash at the hotel for anything. Just sign the bills.’
‘But you don’t even have anything to stretch,’ Beth protested. ‘How will you get back to Teodorescu’s?’
‘By subway. I used to use it in London when I could duck away from Frenchy.’
‘It’s not the subway, it’s the Tube. That shows how much you know about it.’ She was trying hard to recapture the light-hearted touch.’ You’ll probably be lost in it all day.’
‘Change at Earl’s Court and take the District Line to Wimbledon, that’s all you have to know. I can always start over again from there. And you’re stalling, sweetheart.’
The Valentine Estate Page 20