by John Creasey
He saw Mark coming through the doorway with the other policemen and three men whom he recognised as some of those who had been at the farm-house; they were now safely handcuffed. It was a complete victory, yet in spite of his scepticism, Alexander had succeeded in making him less confident that he had heard all the truth from Kelham. True, that was insignificant compared with the change in the fat man. His voice remained thin and piping and his lips were twitching; he was obviously frightened. Roger thought that he was staring at him, really hoping that he would relent. He was wary, all the same, in case the man tried to wreak vengeance before the final disaster overcame him.
‘I—I always told you Newman worked for someone else besides me,’ said Alexander. ‘He worked for my half-brother. Why don’t you believe me, West, instead of standing and staring at me as if I were something horrible? Listen to me! You will be doing a grave injustice if you do not release me and arrest Andrew. He is to blame. Doubtless he has pitched a fine story to you, has hidden behind me, hoping to make me suffer for his sins. It is not right, West, it is not right!’
Roger frowned, and seemed to relax. Alexander’s eyes widened, there was a look of hope in them, and Mark, who came back to join them, stared in bewilderment at Roger, who said: ‘Look here, Alexander, supposing I can help you? I’m not interested in getting my own back, I want the murderer of Anthony Kelham. No policeman who’s got his wits about him interferes with big business!’
‘West, I knew you were a gentleman, I have always known it! Be reasonable, my friend, be helpful, and I will make it well worth your while.’
‘If only I knew why you wanted Griselda, and what was in those papers you talked about,’ Roger said, doubtfully, while Mark looked up at the ceiling, amazed that Alexander was being taken in by this apparent indecisiveness.
‘That is simple, West! Naturally I did not want you to find me here, I knew that Andrew would malign me. I thought that perhaps Griselda knew that I sometimes stayed here, and I had to find out. Those papers were sent to her in error by the Bellews. They contained the agreement by which I bought these three houses. You see how vital it was for me to find out whether she had read them. She had, West, and she thought it would help her if she kept silent. So I sent her to sleep. I intended to be here only for a short while, and she could not have known that I intended to leave the country, nor where I went. She told me, also, that the papers were tucked into a pocket of the typewriter desk, that is why you did not find them. Ethel Downy eventually found them. I once thought you had read them, otherwise I would not have sent Newman to—’
‘Kill me. So that’s it,’ said Roger, and he felt as if a great load had been lifted from his mind. Alexander’s statement explained so much about Griselda and her importance; and the only question remaining was to find the name of the murderer of Anthony Kelham. ‘All right, Alexander, I will put in a word for you if I can. Who killed young Kelham and Mrs Ricketts?’ He hoped his promise would elicit more information.
‘I did not! I swear I did not!’
‘I’m not interested in who didn’t,’ said Roger. ‘Was it the woman upstairs—Garner or Barton?’
‘I don’t think so. She swears that she did not know who killed him, although she was in the flat at the time. She saw Griselda and heard the quarrel. After Griselda had gone a man came in and shot him, and then went away. Agatha hurried out by the back stairs quickly; she was frightened, terribly frightened.’
‘Why was she there?’ asked Roger.
‘I had sent her there. I had a key and gave it to her. I knew that Griselda was going to see Anthony, and wished to know what the conversation was about, but I do not think Agatha fired that fatal shot. Griselda was troubled about some letters written by a friend, that is all I know. I was most anxious to know what Anthony would say. I wanted to make sure that he would not betray me, that—’
Roger snapped: ‘So he worked for you?’
‘He—he performed one or two little services for me, that is all,’ said Alexander, retracting hastily. ‘He was a nice lad. I was very fond of him.’
‘He was a young scoundrel,’ said Roger, and added harshly: ‘Did he poison his step-mother? Is that how you evaded Kelham’s watchfulness?’
‘Why—why, what a remarkable idea! I did no such thing, I assure you. Poison his step-mother, indeed! I—’
‘We’re just wasting time,’ said Roger, abruptly. ‘We’d better get along to the Yard.’
‘No, West, no!’ Alexander screamed; he still seemed to think that Roger might let him go, and Roger had difficulty in keeping his disgust and his astonishment out of his expression. ‘I beg you to give me a chance,’ gasped Alexander, pawing at his arm. ‘I will admit it, I did administer gentle drugs to Lynda, and Anthony did give them to her, in the form of chocolates and in her drinks. He did it in return for a substantial allowance from me. His father kept him very short of money, not approving of his loose living, and Anthony had to have more. I—West!’ Alexander drew back, and raised his hand to his chin. ‘West, do you think that Andrew discovered that fact? Do you think—’
‘Never mind what I think!’ said Roger, roughly, and he turned and called to the man in the doorway. ‘Take him to Scotland Yard, and don’t handle him gently if he tries to get away.’
He waited until the fat man, gasping for breath and still sending imploring glances towards him, had left the cellar, before he looked at Mark, who said: ‘So Kelham killed his son?’
‘Because the son was administering drugs to his stepmother,’ said Roger. ‘I think so. The difficulty will be to break his alibi.’
‘Do you want to break it?’ asked Mark, quietly.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Alibi
Roger admitted that he did not want to break the alibi, but he had no choice. He believed that Kelham had told him the truth; he believed that the man had killed his own son when he had discovered the devilry of which he was capable. He believed that Alexander was everything that Kelham said, and that it would soon be proved.
First, he had to make sure whether Kelham could have killed his son.
He returned to the Yard after Alexander was safely lodged at Cannon Row and made his report to Chatworth, leaving the theory of the murder until the last. Chatworth looked startled, and his immediate comment was the obvious one.
‘Didn’t you tell me that Kelham and Blair had perfectly sound alibis for the evening in question?’
‘According to various reports, they had,’ said Roger. ‘Here they are, sir.’ He opened a manila folder, and read from them. ‘At four-thirty, in conference with three directors of the Kelham Financial Trust. The meeting lasted until five-thirty, which would let Kelham out. Each of the directors was questioned, each corroborated the statement. That may mean, of course, that they were deliberately protecting Kelham. I don’t think we will do much good interrogating them again yet, sir. I’m more likely to get the information from Blair.’
‘How can you do that? He is fiercely loyal to Kelham.’
‘Will you leave it to me, sir?’ asked Roger.
‘Hum,’ said Chatworth. ‘Hum. Yes, all right.’
Roger invited Mark to drive him to Newbury, and Mark, seeing his friend’s face set, said little on the journey. He drove fast, and as Roger saw the pleasant countryside flash by, and drew nearer to the little town, all the things that had happened passed through his mind. He thought of Scoopy; and of the probability that at one time Kelham had thought as much of his son as any man. He tried to imagine the terrible pitch to which circumstances had brought Kelham, even driving him to kill his own son.
‘Shall I come up with you?’ asked Mark, when they reached the hospital where Blair was in a private ward.
‘Yes,’ said Roger.
Blair was lying back and reading. The ward was bright and sunny, and he looked less harassed than Roger had yet seen him. He looked up with a smile, which faded when he saw Roger’s expression; he put his book down, and hoisted himself up on his pillo
ws. He seemed very young.
‘Well, West?’he said.
‘I have a nasty job to do,’ said Roger. ‘I have to arrest a person on a charge of murder, which will almost certainly be proved, but I do not believe it is the right person. I can’t help myself. The evidence is there, the case is watertight. There is no alternative.’
Blair said: ‘I see. I didn’t kill Tony Kelham.’
‘I don’t for a moment think you did. I don’t intend to charge you.’ Roger smiled. ‘I am going straight back to London, to charge Griselda.’
Blair stiffened. ‘You can’t do that! She didn’t kill him!’
‘She was present,’ said Roger. ‘She had a motive. She had tried to kill him before. The only way to save her from being hanged is to find the real murderer. My superiors are satisfied that we have found her. As far as they are concerned, the case is closed. I’ve a soft spot for Griselda—’
Blair said, in an agonised voice: ‘Stop, West, Stop! I killed Tony!’
There was a short, tense pause. The confession was so unexpected that Roger gaped, and yet he was suddenly convinced that it was the truth.
‘I was away from the directors’ meeting for twenty minutes,’ Blair went on. ‘I drove to the flat, went in and shot him, and then drove back. I threw the gun into some bushes in Hyde Park.’ He closed his eyes, and added in a voice little above a whisper: ‘I knew how anguished Andy was about his wife’s illness, and I found laudanum in Tony’s room one day—I suspected him, and searched for the poison. If Andy ever learned the truth, I knew it would break him. I already hated Tony Kelham, because of Griselda, because he was a young devil, because he wasn’t fit to live, but most of all I hated him because of the torment he caused to Andy. I did it deliberately, and I would gladly do it again.’
He stopped, and there was silence in the room. In Roger’s ears the blood was throbbing. He had not dreamed of this; but now he had no doubt that it was true. Here was a man who loved Andrew Kelham as few men had ever loved another. In his confession there was an explanation for all that remained unsolved. The great tragedy was that at his trial the truth would be known; he could not save Kelham from learning of his son’s real beastliness.
Then Mark snapped: ‘Look out, Roger!’
Suddenly, Blair flung back the bedclothes and leapt towards the window, which was ajar. He pushed it wider open and vaulted to the sill, but before he could jump to his death, Roger had reached him, and they pulled him back into the room. There were tears in his eyes, and he was saying: ‘Let me kill myself, there needn’t be a trial then. Spare Andy the trial, West, spare him the trial.’
Roger said: ‘There are times when I do not like being a policeman. I’m sorry, Blair, but you’ll have to see it through.’
One evening in September, Roger walked slowly home from Scotland Yard, hardly noticing the passers-by, and often bumping into them. In his mind’s eye there was a picture of the scene at the Old Bailey that afternoon, the third day of the trial of Charles Blair for Anthony Kelham’s murder. Alexander and his accomplices had already been tried and found guilty of Mrs Ricketts’s murder, of which the Bellews had been accessories before Griselda was here until four o’clock, and then she went out and wouldn’t say where she was going, Roger, I—’ she broke off, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Pick him up,’ she said in a choked voice, and hurried to the kitchen.
Roger lifted the baby, who gurgled and pulled his hair, and then went thoughtfully into the sitting-room. When Janet came in, ten minutes later, he was bouncing Scoopy up and down on his knees, but his smile was mechanical. As soon as she took the child, he went to the telephone and dialled a number. Janet watched him, the bottle hovering about Scoopy’s mouth, until his crying made her realise what she was doing.
‘Hallo,’ said Roger. ‘Hallo—is that Mr Andrew Kelham’s flat?’
‘Yes,’ said a girl. ‘Who is that?’
‘Inspector West,’ said Roger. ‘I—hallo! Is that you Griselda?’ He shot an amazed glance at Janet. ‘Is it?’
‘Yes,’ said Griselda, ‘yes, I had to come to see if I could help, I feel such a beast. I’ll fetch him in a minute, he’ll be glad you’ve called. But’ – she hesitated, and then added quickly: ‘Will they hang Charles, Roger?’
‘I think he has a good chance of being reprieved,’ Roger said. ‘Try to be patient, Griselda.’
He thought he heard her sob, and there followed a long pause before he heard Kelham’s steady voice.
‘Hallo, West. This is very thoughtful of you.’
‘Not at all,’ said Roger. The words sounded inane. ‘How—how is Mrs Kelham?’
‘Practically fit again,’ said Kelham. ‘We shall go to live at Newbury, and Griselda has agreed to come and live with us in our retirement.’ There was no bitterness in his voice, but he sounded anxious when he went on: ‘Don’t feel sorry for me, West. About Charles now—did you mean what you said to Griselda?’
‘Yes, I meant it.’
‘If you get a chance, West, will you tell him that—that Griselda—’ He broke off.
‘I’ll tell him,’ said Roger, very gently.
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Alternative titles in brackets
'The Baron' (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
'Department 'Z'' (28 titles)
'Dr. Palfrey Novels' (34 titles)
'Gideon of Scotland Yard' (22 titles)
'Inspector West' (43 titles)
'Sexton Blake' (5 titles)
'The Toff' (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey's account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel's Act in 1829.
'The Baron' Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)
The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)
Alias the Baron (Alias Blue Mask) (1939)
The Baron at Large (Challenge Blue Mask!) (1939)
Versus the Baron (Blue Mask Strikes Again) (1940)
Call for the Baron (Blue Mask Victorious) (1940)
The Baron Comes Back (1943)
A Case for the Baron (1945)
Reward for the Baron (1945)
Career for the Baron (1946)
Blood Diamond (The Baron and the Beggar) (1947)
Blame the Baron (1948)
A Rope for the Baron (1948)
Books for the Baron (1949)
Cry for the Baron (1950)
Trap the Baron (1950)
Attack the Baron (1951)
Shadow the Baron (1951)
Warn the Baron (1952)
The Baron Goes East (1953)
The Baron in France (1953)
Danger for the Baron (1953)
The Baron Goes Fast (1954)
Nest-Egg for the Baron (Deaf, Dumb and Blonde) (1954)
Help from the Baron (1955)
Hide the Baron (1956)
The Double Frame (Frame the Baron) (1957)
Blood Red (Red Eye for the Baron) (1958)
If Anything Happens to Hester (Black for the Baron) (1959)
Salute for the Baron (1960)
The Baron Branches Out (A Branch for the Baron) (1961)
The Baron and the Stolen Legacy (Bad for the Baron) (1962)
A
Sword for the Baron (The Baron and the Mogul Swords) (1963)
The Baron on Board (The Mask of Sumi) (1964)
The Baron and the Chinese Puzzle (1964)
Sport for the Baron (1966)
Affair for the Baron (1967)
The Baron and the Missing Old Masters (1968)
The Baron and the Unfinished Portrait (1969)
Last Laugh for the Baron (1970)
The Baron Goes A-Buying (1971)
The Baron and the Arrogant Artist (1972)
Burgle the Baron (1973)
The Baron - King Maker (1975)
Love for the Baron (1979)
'Department Z' Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
The Death Miser (1932)
Redhead (1934)
First Came a Murder (1934)
Death Round the Corner (1935)
The Mark of the Crescent (1935)
Thunder in Europe (1936)
The Terror Trap (1936)
Carriers of Death (1937)
Days of Danger (1937)
Death Stands By (1938)
Menace! (1938)
Murder Must Wait (1939)
Panic! (1939)
Death by Night (1940)
The Island of Peril (1940)
Sabotage (1941)
Go Away Death (1941)
The Day of Disaster (1942)
Prepare for Action (1942)
No Darker Crime (1943)
Dark Peril (1944)
The Peril Ahead (1946)
The League of Dark Men (1947)
The Department of Death (1949)
The Enemy Within (1950)
Dead or Alive (1951)
A Kind of Prisoner (1954)
The Black Spiders (1957)
Doctor Palfrey Novels
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Traitor's Doom (1942)