by John Creasey
‘Thank him!’
‘That’s right. Remember the times he’s caught your man for you.’
Bristow said evenly: ‘Get this straight, Mrs. Mannering. Your husband asks for trouble every time he gets an urge to go chasing after crooks. You can’t touch muck without getting soiled. He’s helped us get our man sometimes, but he hasn’t done it the right way.’
‘He’s caught them when you failed.’
‘We catch up with them all, eventually. This hare-brained habit of pretending to be the great lone wolf detective puts him both sides of the law. You know what I mean when I say that if he gets caught on the wrong side, there’ll be a lot of excavating done. Plenty of things he did in the past will be raked up. You’ll learn all about being a grass widow.’
‘He hasn’t a black past, that’s just your imagination.’
Bristow said: ‘Well, I’ve warned you. Now, what happened before the attack tonight?’
She told him about Pudding-face and the call from Marjorie Addel, and the substitution of the paste gem for the real one. Bristow grinned at that trick.
‘So you see, he’s not such a fool,’ Lorna murmured.
‘He’s too clever by half. I—’
A voice was raised in the hall, making Lorna break off and Bristow look round. The voice was raised again; it was Mannering, who said sharply: ‘What’s all this?’
‘Nasty spot of trouble, sir, I’m afraid,’ a policeman said.
‘My wife?’ The words were like bullets.
‘She’s okay, sir.’
Footsteps sounded, soon the door swung open, and Mannering came in. He ignored Bristow, and went straight to Lorna as she stood up. He took her hands and studied her face intently. He could see some of the marks, as well as the feverish brightness of her eyes and the puffy pinkness at the roots of her hair at temples and forehead.
He dropped her hands, and made her sit down.
‘I shouldn’t have gone out,’ he said.
‘So you expected trouble,’ Bristow flashed.
Mannering took out cigarettes.
‘So you’re here. Late, I gather – after the damage was done.’
‘We arrived before you did. What trouble did you expect?’
‘None. I should have done. I didn’t think it would come tonight.’ Mannering gave an odd little laugh. ‘I’ve been chasing over the countryside and getting lost, while here—forget it. What happened?’
Bristow told him.
‘So we’re right in it,’ said Mannering, heavily. ‘I almost wish I’d told you a bit before, but there was nothing for the police in this, until now. Tonight’s visit from the lovely was a border line case. Just. I followed her as far as Guildford, but she knew Guildford better than I did, and shook me off.’
‘Think she knew she was being followed?’
‘Not at first. Her boyfriend did.’
‘Boyfriend?’ Lorna said, in surprise.
‘She picked a man up not far along the Embankment. He’d been waiting for her – she only did the risky work. I think they tumbled to the fact that I was behind them when we reached the Kingston Bypass. After that they kept trying to shake me off, but I held on as far as Guildford.’
‘They could have driven through the town.’
‘Not likely. They went to earth. As all they’ve got for their pains is a paste gem, they won’t be very pleased.’
‘Did you get a good look at the man?’
‘No.’ Mannering helped himself to whisky and soda. ‘It wasn’t Bray.’
‘Bray?’
‘Lorna’s pudding-faced visitor. He’s a jewel dealer in a small way, with a good reputation, as far as I know.’
‘With rooms in Henrietta Street?’ Bristow said.
‘That’s the man.’
‘His reputation’s all right,’ Bristow said, ‘but he’s had some heavy losses lately. Did you know that?’
‘I know he’s not doing too well, and that he’s been worried. I don’t know how he got hold of a stone which looks like the Adalgo. Sit down, Bill. I’ll tell you the whole sad story from the beginning.’
Bristow grunted.
Mannering told the story in greater detail than he had told Lorna, while Bristow listened, poker-faced. Lorna closed her eyes; she looked as if she were asleep, but didn’t miss a word.
‘Wouldn’t you be interested in a paste diamond which looks remarkably like the real Adalgo, Bill?’ Mannering finished. ‘Have a heart – say yes.’
‘I didn’t think you could get the rose tint in paste,’ said Bristow.
‘That’s a new one on me, too.’
‘Why did you put the real stone on show?’ demanded Bristow.
Mannering chuckled. ‘I was waiting for you to get round to that. It’s simple – publicity. I told the trade that I had the Adalgo, wanting as many people as possible to know because I’d heard there were some rivals about. When the paste ones began to turn up, I put on the pressure – displaying it was a pretty touch.’
‘It’s a touch a fool like you would make,’ said Bristow.
‘Still sore? At least you can’t accuse me of keeping material facts from the police,’ Mannering pointed out, amiably. ‘There’s no report of anything having been stolen so far, it was a problem for the trade rather than the police. As Tring was here, presumably you’d heard a whisper.’
‘We hear plenty. We knew you were interested in the Adalgo business, and that you were having business callers here. I had Quinn’s closely watched after you’d put the diamond in the window. Ever heard of smash-and-grab raiders?’
‘No one’s smashed or grabbed.’
‘Not at the shop,’ said Bristow, heavily. He pondered, still poker faced, that concealed uncertainty, perhaps anxiety. ‘What about Larraby?’
Mannering chuckled. ‘The police are getting better and better!’
‘The police have always been good. Why do you want to see Larraby in the morning?’
‘Lorna wants him as a model.’
‘What?’
‘She thinks it a face worthy of paint, canvas and her modest talents,’ Mannering said.
‘I don’t believe it.’
‘It’s true.’
‘Come upstairs, I’II show you some sketches,’ Lorna invited.
Bristow ignored her.
‘Did you know who he was when he called at Quinn’s?’
‘Not until he’d told Carmichael,’ said Mannering.
‘He did that, did he?’
‘He almost boasted of it. So wherever you look there’s a blank wall. One is a most decorative wall – like Marjorie Addel. Know anything about her gown shop?’
‘I didn’t even know it existed,’ Bristow said. ‘I suppose you did the only thing you could with her. But—’ he hesitated.
‘If it weren’t for this show, her visit wouldn’t be a matter for police inquiry,’ Mannering said. ‘Let’s look at facts. The men who came here tonight wanted the genuine Adalgo, thought they’d found it, and took the rest of the stuff as pin-money. They didn’t believe the real one was on show at Quinn’s. The diamond was the direct cause of the murder of your man. Marjorie Addel’s interest in the same diamond puts her in the limelight. Going to question her?’
‘What do you think?’
‘That a really good policeman wouldn’t tackle Mistress Marjorie just yet.’
Bristow stood up. ‘I know my business. Is there anything else you can tell me?’
‘Nothing at all, Bill.’
‘Is Larraby coming tomorrow?’
‘Will you feel up to it in the morning?’ Mannering asked Lorna.
‘I hope so.’
‘Good! If Larraby’s up to no good, we’ll have him under our eye. All reports
of strange events will duly be laid before the police, William.’
‘They’d better be. Mannering, I’ve been telling your wife that Tanker Tring’s been promoted. He hasn’t long to go in the C.I.D. and his promotion has put dynamite into him. Give him one big catch and he’ll retire happy. You know what I mean.’
Mannering looked dazed.
‘Tanker, promoted. Wonderful!’ He hesitated, then said: ‘I’ll be seeing you.’ He hurried out of the room, before either of them could say another word.
Bristow said slowly: ‘I give up!’
‘You should have done years ago, but why decide now?’ Lorna said.
‘He hasn’t taken a look at the safe. He may have lost a fortune. And he rushes out to see Tanker as if Tanker were all the world.’
‘He’s so much confidence in himself, ‘ said Lorna, sweetly. ‘He knows he’ll get the jewels back.’
Chapter Seven
A MODEL AND A PAINTING
‘Inspector!’ called Mannering. ‘Inspector Tring!’
Tring, in the hall, started up and glowered towards the staircase. Mannering’s footsteps rang out but he wasn’t in sight. The shout had interrupted Tring’s dark ruminations and came at a time when he had reluctantly discarded a theory that the robbery at the flat had been fixed by Mannering. The enticing theory might have stood up had Mrs. Mannering not been hurt.
‘Well?’ he called.
Mannering hurried down the bottom flight of stairs, reached Tring and took his hand.
‘My dear chap! Wonderful! Congratulations!’
In spite of himself, Tring felt a glow of pride.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Ta.’
‘It’s the best bit of news I’ve had for years, Tanker, Everything comes to those who wait.’
‘Maybe,’ said Tring, and flashed: ‘Everything comes to those who deserve it, Mr. Mannering, they all get their desserts.’
‘So they should. Inspector, I’ll never be able to thank you enough.’
Tring gasped. ‘Thank me?’
‘Of course. If you hadn’t kept your nose to the grindstone, my wife might have suffered much more. I say, Bristow tells me you’re nearly due for retirement.’
‘Supposing I am?’
‘Retirement won’t suit you, Inspector. You’re far too active. And half the bad men in London will heave a sigh of relief if you go out of the game.’
‘The retiring age,’ said Tring, ‘is the retiring age.’
‘For the Yard, maybe.’ Mannering drew him nearer. ‘Think about this suggestion, Inspector. I need a good man, to keep an eye on the shop and look after me when I’m carrying jewels all over the country. There’s a job waiting for you, for the asking. Of course, you may get better offers, but I hope not.’
Tring hadn’t a word to say; just stared.
‘Or if you prefer to wash up for your wife and grow cabbages, good luck to you,’ said Mannering. ‘You’d probably take to that better if you could pull off one big coup before you leave the force. You know, Inspector, this job may be your big chance. There’s nothing like ending a distinguished career in a blaze of glory, is there? You’ve got your teeth into this one, don’t let anyone take them out.’
Tring said: ‘I’ve got my teeth in it, and in the right place.’
‘Fine! If there’s anything I can do to help, just say the word.’
Mannering pumped Tring’s arm, and went back upstairs.
Tring waited until the flat door had closed, then pushed his bowler hat back and ran a hand over his forehead. Slowly, he shook his head.
‘You’re a caution,’ he confessed, sotto voce, ‘a proper caution. But you can’t pull the wool over my eyes. Corruption, that’s what it is – bribery. You’d better watch your step.’
‘Did you speak, sir?’ asked a policeman.
‘No, I didn’t!’
‘Sorry, sir.’
Bristow came down, and was morose on the way to the Yard.
‘There’s one good thing out of this,’ said Tanker. “We can watch Quinn’s and watch this flat. Mannering won’t be able to make a move without being seen.’
Bristow grunted.
‘Aren’t I right?’ persisted Tring.
‘We’ve watched him before.’
‘He can’t always have the luck.’
Bristow said: ‘Tanker, you’ve always made a big mistake about Mannering. You’ve put everything that he’s done down to luck. It isn’t luck. He’s got something which you and I haven’t got and can’t get. If you think we can stop Mannering from going on with this job, you’re wrong. He’s every right to investigate. He had the right before tonight, and it’s ten times stronger now. Don’t forget it.’
‘He’ll slip up,’ said Tring stubbornly. ‘We’ll get him.’
‘I’m worried about getting that killer,’ Bristow said, abruptly.
They finished the journey in silence.
A light shone beneath the door of Bristow’s office when they reached it
‘Go and make your report, will you?’ Bristow said.
‘Yes, sir.’ Tring plodded off.
Bristow went in. A lean-faced whippet of a man sat at his desk, smoking a pipe. His bright grey eyes sparkled, but good humouredly. He was Colonel Anderson-Kerr, Assistant Commissioner of the Criminal Investigation Department; a martinet.
‘Hallo, sir. Don’t get up,’ Bristow greeted.
‘Your chair,’ said the other. ‘What’s all this about losing one of our men?’
‘True I’m afraid, sir.’
‘Mannering have anything to do with it?’
Anderson-Kerr knew what there was to know about Mannering, and accepted Bristow’s view that the Baron as a cracksman no longer existed.
‘This is one job where Mannering can’t be blamed for probing on his own,’ Bristow said. He lit a cigarette and talked, at length. Finally, he said: ‘I don’t think he knows any more than he’s told me, and I don’t think wild horses would stop him from investigating.’
‘Do you want to stop him?’
Bristow gave a mirthless mile.
‘I don’t I’d like to know more about the Adalgo business and I can’t think of a more likely man to find out than Mannering. He knows the trade inside out. He’s the most infuriating beggar – didn’t even look at the emptied safe, but casually promised to let me have a list of the stolen goods in the morning. I let him have his way.’
‘Why didn’t he want to give it to you tonight?’
‘He made the excuse that the full list was at Quinn’s. I think he wanted to get rid of me so that his wife could take it easy. I wouldn’t put it past her to tell him something she kept from me. They’re hard to crack. Mannering’s so often right, too.’
‘About what, this time?’
‘The Addel woman. If she’s involved and we go after her at once, we’ll warn her accomplices. We couldn’t do more than take a statement at the moment. She might lie to us, and we could easily foul the trail.’
‘What you mean,’ said Anderson-Kerr, dryly, ‘is that you think Mannering can get more out of her than you, and you think he ought to be allowed to try.’
‘I suppose that’s it,’ Bristow admitted.
The A.C. stood up.
‘You’re probably right. But we’ve got to get that killer. If Mannering suffers in the process, it’s his lookout. Is the flat being watched?’
‘I’ve two men on duty there.’
‘I’d give Mannering his head but make sure you know where he’s going,’ Anderson-Kerr said. ‘Get home now, Bristow, you look all in.’
Mannering heard Judy moving about the apartment, lay still and studied Lorna, who was sleeping on her side. It would be a pity to wake her. He glanced at the bedside clock and started to get out
of bed, to stop Judy bringing in the morning tea.
Lorna stirred.
She looked rested; when she opened her eyes, they were quite clear. He stood watching her, as recollection flooded her mind, and saw the way her body tensed.
‘Slept well, my sweet?’
‘Eh? Oh, yes.’
Judy tapped.
‘Come in,’ Mannering said. He took the tea tray at the door. ‘Thanks, Judy.’ He went to Lorna’s bed, put the tray on it and began to pour out. Head ache?’
‘Not too much. What’s the time?’
‘Five past eight.’
‘Larraby’s due at nine.’ She sat up and took her tea.
‘Put him off, and take it easy.’
‘No, I’ll be better up and doing.’
‘Going to take a bath?’
‘Yes, run the water for me, will you?’
He shaved in the bedroom. Lorna was still in the bathroom when he’d finished, keeping very quiet. He fidgeted for a few minutes, then went in to her. She was standing with the towel round her shoulders, examining her forehead; her hair was tied in an untidy bun at the top, to keep it from being wet. A few damp ends fell to her shoulders and clung to her neck.
‘Is there no privacy?’
Mannering closed the door.
‘None for an abandoned woman like you. I had visions of you unconscious in the bath. Take it easy today, my sweet.’
‘I keep seeing visions – of having to identify you on a mortuary slab. I think I should faint right out. I—John! It’s cold!’
He dropped the towel to the floor and put his arms round her.
‘I’ll put that right. Listen, my sweet. I love you. I hate myself for having let you in for that show last night. It was unforgivable. Look at me.’
She had to look in the mirror, for he stood behind her; their cheeks were close together.