The Main Chance

by Colin Forbes

  `If you work for me I will pay you fifty thousand dollars a year. If you agree to liquidate anyone who stands in my way I will pay you twenty thousand dollars per kill...'

  That was how it had started, Calouste remembered as he gobbled down his breakfast.

  His instinct told him it might be wise to move on soon. He had not had a word over Max's mobile and he was supposed to report regularly. Something must have happened. At that moment his own mobile buzzed.

  `Yes?' snapped Calouste.

  `Orion here. About half an hour ago Tweed and a large team drove off in the direction of Gladworth.'

  `Why not an earlier warning?' Calouste raged.

  `This was the first opportunity to call you' Reception was beginning to fade. 'Marshal Main has a second home at Sheebka.'

  `Where?' Calouste scribbled the name on a sheet of his notebook.

  `Sheebka. Why don't you listen?' There was a brief moment of clarity. `Seacove in Cornwall..

  The phone had gone dead. Calouste didn't bother writing down Seacove. He tore out the sheet from the notebook, screwed it up, threw it on the table. He was so busy he didn't see the wind had blown the bit of paper onto the floor. Pierre, who had just come in, didn't see it either as his boot kicked it under the cooker.

  Calouste picked up the Ordnance Survey atlas he had brought in. Turning to Cornwall, he circled it with his biro, tore out the sheet. It was the only sign of panic he had shown so far. He rushed into the front room to collect his packed bag. The wind which had blown up suddenly lifted the map sheet, floated it out of the window.

  `Pierre is almost losing his breakfast since I told him to stay behind and clear up,' Jacques reported.

  `We've all eaten only half our breakfast.'

  `What shall I tell him,' Jacques persisted, 'if Tweed arrives before he's finished?'

  `Tell him to motorcycle across the fields at the back, for God's sake. You and I leave now.'

  Calouste was in such a hurry to get away he grabbed the Ordnance Survey atlas. He'd forgotten he'd torn out the map of Cornwall.

  He ran across the front garden and up the road to where he'd parked his car. As he moved off Jacques was in his car behind him. They reached a roundabout with five possible routes. 'Which way now?' Calouste muttered to himself. Then he saw a signpost, West Country. Cornwall was somewhere down there. He swung the wheel along that route.

  14

  Tweed had a shock as he climbed out of the car now parked at the foot of the steps leading up to the entrance of Hengistbury Manor. Standing at the top of the steps, arms folded, a smirking expression of triumph on his ugly face, was Chief Inspector Hammer. He couldn't wait until Tweed with Paula, Marler, and Newman close behind him reached the terrace.

  `You can all go home now,' he gloated. 'I've solved the case. The murderer was Crystal Chance. Caught her red-handed.'

  `Be more specific,' Tweed suggested.

  `Come with me, then,' Hammer commanded.

  He led them up the wide staircase, almost swaggering. They arrived at Crystal's apartment. The door was closed. Outside stood Sergeant Warden.

  `I've left another junior officer inside with her,' Hammer announced.

  'Junior officer?' Tweed glanced at Warden, who raised his eyebrows. Warden was regarded as a highly experienced officer.

  With a flourish Hammer opened the door, entered the apartment. They were in the bedroom. Crystal was seated on the bed, her green eyes glowing with fury as she combed her hair. Seated on a chair facing the bed was a uniformed policeman. Hammer turned to him.

  `Well, Parrish, has she moved from the bed since I left? To go to the lavatory, for example — or should I say the loo in these exalted circles?'

  `It's called the loo in most places these days,' Crystal snapped at him.

  Not talking to you,' Hammer told her. 'Well, Parrish?'

  `Since you left she has remained where she is now... sir,' he added after a pause.

  `Then shove off. Join the others in searching. Although it's a waste of manpower after what I've discovered.'

  `So what have you discovered?' Tweed enquired when Parrish had left the room.

  With another flourish Hammer opened the double doors of a wardrobe equipped with old enamel ball- shaped handles.

  `Stop!' Tweed ordered. 'Were you wearing gloves when you first opened those doors? You're not sure? Which means you didn't. So it will be useless checking for fingerprints. Yours will have smeared the original ones.'

  `He wasn't wearing gloves all the time he was in here,' Crystal said viciously.

  `No one was talking to you—' Hammer began, glaring at her.

  `Concentrate,' Tweed ordered. 'After you'd opened these doors, what did you do next?'

  `Bent down, removed that pile of stuff I've dropped on the left. Hey presto! Look at that.'

  Tweed crouched down. He saw two collars of wire with savage-looking spikes protruding. They seemed to him to be replicas of the ghastly collar which had ripped Bella's throat open. Each was complete with a pair of wooden handles to jerk the wire tight. He looked to the left where a pile of blouses had presumably concealed the collars. The top blouse was badly torn and strips of it were attached to the wire of one collar.

  `Chief Inspector,' he said, to calm down the officer, `you were in quite a hurry when you searched this wardrobe.'

  `I'll say he was,' Crystal screamed. 'Those are pure silk, those blouses. I bought them in a sale at Harvey Nick's but they still cost a small fortune. I'm suing that policeman.'

  `From a police cell?' sneered Hammer as he stood up with Tweed.

  `Chief Inspector,' Tweed said grimly, 'I think it's time you joined the others and helped the search. Now! Please.'

  Crystal calmed down the moment Hammer had left. She said with conviction, 'Isn't it obvious that someone planted those beastly things on me? Hammer had ordered all apartment doors should be left unlocked. I was working on accounts in the upstairs library when Hammer summoned me back here. Anyone could have slipped in.'

  `It's a possibility,' Tweed agreed.

  `Something I want to tell you,' she said, lowering her voice.

  Would you sooner I was not here?' suggested Paula.

  `No, I want you to hear too. It's about my half- sister, Lavinia. I hate her, but that's not why I'm going to tell you about the secret scandal no one else will tell you.'

  `Sisters often don't get on,' Paula mused. 'Sounds as though that's the case with you and Lavinia.'

  `Lavinia is the chief accountant. I'm only her assistant. We're both forensic accountants and I could do the top job as well as she does.'

  She brushed a curl of red hair away from her face and Paula studied her. She looked perfectly calm, perfectly normal. Perhaps more than Tweed, Paula could understand her fury when Hammer had torn and ruined her new silk blouses.

  `Maybe,' Crystal suggested, 'I could meet you both in the library downstairs and tell you what I know down there. I feel the police may come back to search again.'

  Tweed knew Sergeant Warden would soon check Hammer's search. He opened the door. At the far end of the corridor Marler and Newman were staring at Pike's Peak. The summit was now covered in cloud. He walked along to them.

  `Bob,' he said to Newman, 'a long job for you. I think those fiendish collars — two more have been found in Crystal's room — could have been created from a length of wire taken from the top of the wall guarding this huge estate. Snape probably has a telescopic ladder which could reach the top. Could you check the whole wall?'

  `Snape has a cottage in The Forest,' Marler said. 'I'll join you. I know the way to his cottage now …'

  Tweed and Paula arrived in the library to find Lavinia the only occupant. She greeted them cheerfully, pulling Newman's leg.

  `Well, did you climb Pike's Peak? I imagine you could hardly resist the challenge.'

  Newman laughed. 'I took one look up and decided I wanted to live a little longer.'

  `Then some time you should visit Marshal's hideaway at
Seacove down in Cornwall.'

  Seacove? Sheebka, Tweed muttered under his breath. The weird name Calouste had scribbled on the screwed-up bit of paper found under the cooker at Heather Cottage. Confirmed also by the Ordnance Survey sheet of Cornwall they'd found with the county circled.

  `What's down at Seacove?' Newman asked.

  `Nothing!' Lavinia laughed again. 'It's minute and wild. He, that is Marshal, has the most amazing small luxury yacht. Designed by Marco Shepherd, the unorthodox designer of ships.'

  At that moment Marler appeared at the door. He beckoned to Newman, who sighed.

  `Have to go. Work to do. Talk about climbing Pike's Peak.'

  `You must excuse me too,' said Lavinia. She gave them her flashing smile. 'A load of accounts to check and they won't wait.'

  When they had both gone Tweed and Paula settled at the round table. In a few minutes Crystal slipped into the library, clutching a notebook. She raised her eyes to heaven.

  `The library is usually empty mid-morning. Today it was just like Piccadilly circus. I was hiding at the top of the stairs until they'd all gone. This is so secret. It is all about my cousin—'

  `What do you mean?' queried Tweed, puzzled. `Don't interrupt me or I'll lose the thread. Before Lavinia was born, Marshal and his wife had tried hard to have a child. I heard this from my so-called aunt on her deathbed. Long before, Marshal had been quietly fooling around with any attractive woman who took his fancy. One affair lasted for months and she became pregnant. Marshal told his wife, who was desperate for a child. You can guess the rest but I'd much prefer it if you heard it from her. I think Marshal has been paying her huge sums of money to keep her quiet.'

  `Blackmail; Tweed rapped out.

  `Definitely. I found a secret chequebook. He's been paying the real mother twenty thousand pounds a month for ages.'

  `Good Lord,' Tweed said. "That's nearly a quarter of a million a year.'

  `It is,' Crystal agreed. 'But, like Warner, my father, he's very rich. The name of the woman is Mrs Mandy Carlyle. She lives at Baron's Walk, Dodd's End, a village this side of Tunbridge Wells.You will go and see her?'

  `No time like the present. And you come with me, Paula.' He took the sheet with the address Crystal had torn from her notebook.

  `Does Lavinia know this woman is her real mother?' Paula asked.

  `I don't think so. It was all done very quietly.'

  `Time we set off for Dodd's End,' Tweed decided, standing up. 'If anyone wants to know where we've gone we've made a quick visit to London.'

  15

  They were getting into the Audi when Tweed changed his mind. He got out again and Paula joined him. Tweed explained as they mounted the steps, 'It occurred to me I've interviewed most of the family prior to a tougher interrogation later. One person I've overlooked is Warner's son, Leo.'

  Reaching the top of the staircase they saw Sergeant Warden leaving an apartment. He had just closed the door.

  `Any idea which apartment is Leo Chance's?' Tweed asked.

  `He's in there.'Warden gestured to the apartment he'd just searched. 'Nothing incriminating. Leo is an odd bod.'

  Tweed knocked on the door and they walked in, Paula following Tweed. Leo, neatly dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and with his flaxen hair combed, sat in a wicker chair with a pile of typed sheets perched on a drawing board. He grinned at them.

  `Already had one of you in here. Now I get the big guns. Seat yourselves.' He eyed Paula politely. 'Care for a Coke to wet the whistles? Both of you? No? OK by me.'

  `Leo,' Tweed began quietly, after they were seated in armchairs, 'could you please tell me where you were on the night Bella was murdered?'

  `A night to remember. I was where I am now, checking some balance sheets. Before you ask, no one with me. So no alibi.'

  `Between the hours of 7 p.m. and 10 p.m.'

  `Same answer.' Leo tucked his hands behind his thick neck. His build was brawny, Paula noticed. 'Again no alibi, folks.'

  Leo was restless. He drew up his long sprawling legs and reached for a guitar lying on the bed, began strumming a popular tune from years ago, which Paula recognized.

  Then he stood up, still strumming his instrument, and began a little dance, jerking the guitar upright, then down. He appeared absorbed in what he was doing.

  `I would appreciate it,' Tweed said, 'if you'd sit down and play your guitar when we're gone.'

  `I'm eccentric. Everyone at Hengistbury thinks so.

  What do I care? I was once grabbed and put in a clinic.'

  As he spoke he stopped dancing. Throwing the guitar back on to the bed, he sat down again in the wicker chair. Crossing his legs he waggled one up and down. Can't keep still for a minute, Paula thought. He sat hands clasped together, his fingers interlaced.

  `Why were you put in a clinic?' Tweed enquired.

  `Thought I was potty. At least Marshal did. Took me to a place in a house the other side of Gladworth. Couple of trick-cyclists, as Churchill called them. Psychiatrists to you. One Mr Kahn, a negro. The other Mr Weatherby, white. I chattered a lot of rubbish to confuse them.'

  `Your father took you there?'

  `He did not! Marshal took me. My father was in America on business. When he got back and found out what had happened he blew his top at Marshal, punched him. Never known Dad hit anyone before. He got in the car, drove to the clinic, brought me home — after telling those two guys they were fakes. Soon afterwards the clinic closed. Weatherby and Kahn disappeared abroad into the wild blue yonder. The rumour was they were caught in a tax fiddle. Have you interviewed the others?' he asked suddenly.

  `Some of them,' Tweed replied cautiously.

  `So all you've heard is a pack of lies. They're all liars. Bet no one's told you about the back door left open on the night of Bella's murder.'

  `You tell me, please.'

  `Mrs Grandy, our delightful cook and housekeeper, has the responsibility of checking it last thing. On that night I couldn't sleep. I was thirsty, so I went down to make a pot of tea. Switched on the kitchen light and saw the back door was half open. At two in the morning. I closed and locked it, made my tea, brought it up here.'

  `Was anyone else about?' Paula asked.

  `No, honey, not a living soul. Although I thought I heard the door to the upstairs library being shut. It creaks. Decided it was my imagination.'

  `You have been very cooperative,' Tweed said as he stood up to leave.

  A smirk appeared on Leo's face and quickly vanished.

  `The kitchen and Mrs Grandy next,' Tweed said grimly as they descended the stairs. 'Someone else I've missed.'

  `What did you think of Leo?' Paula wondered. 'I'm sure he's not potty. He seemed to be very articulate.'

  `I didn't like the smirk on his face at the end. It suggests "I got away with it".'

  At the top of the staircase they met Lavinia. As always, she was smartly dressed. Today she was wearing a pleated blue skirt, a polo-neck sweater, gleaming shoes. Her swathe of black hair might have just been attended to by a Mayfair hair-dresser.

  `We've just heard disturbing news,' Tweed said. `How do we get to the kitchen?'

  `I'll show you.

  Snape was hanging round in the hall and Lavinia said no more. She waited until they were walking along a narrow corridor, pointing out a narrow flight of steps the servants used. A young maid was passing. Lavinia stopped her, adjusted her cap, smiled and proceeded along the corridor.

  Arriving at a heavy door, she pushed it open, led them into the kitchen, a vast oblong room. Here hygiene and hard work took the place of panelling. The walls were of stone, as was the spotless floor. The equipment was very modern, including two mammoth- sized refrigerators.

  At the far end was a large wooden table where a well-built woman in her fifties was chopping meat. She ignored the intruders. Lavinia spoke in a clear voice tinged with authority.

  `Sorry to interrupt the work, Mrs Grandy, but this is the police. Deputy Assistant, that is Chief of the SIS and his assistant,
Paula Grey.'

  Mrs Grandy, a hard-faced disagreeable-looking woman with grey hair, tight mouth, aggressive curved nose and dark hostile eyes, turned round. She glared at Lavinia. She raised the meat cleaver, and Paula thought she was going to slice more meat. Instead she swung the cleaver down with a ferocious sweep and thudded it into the table. Other scars in the wood showed where she had performed this act before.

  Standing with her arms akimbo, she glared contemptuously at Paula, transferred the gaze to Tweed and finally to Lavinia.

  `How in the name of the devil do you expect me to get my work done with these useless interruptions? I have already chased a rude chief inspector out of here with my meat cleaver.'

  `You could have been arrested,' snapped Paula.

  `Rested, you say? He ran out like a scared rabbit.'

  `Mrs Grandy,' Tweed said firmly, `I'm here to find out who murdered Mrs Bella Main. You will answer all the questions I put to you. For example, where were you on the night of the murder between the hours of 7 p.m. and 10 p.m.?'

  `You accusing me of murder?' she growled. 'Get my lawyer on you. That I will.'

  `Just answer the question. Unless for some reason you're feeling in need of a lawyer.'

  `Mrs Grandy,' Lavinia intervened quietly, 'everyone in this house has had to answer these questions, including Mr Marshal and Mr Warner.'

  Not Warner yet, Tweed thought, but kept quiet. `Between the hours of 7 p.m. and 10 p.m., please?' he repeated.

  `All right.' Mrs Grandy drew herself up to her full height. 'I served dinner in the library that night at 6 p.m. They prefer it to the dining room — Lord knows why. The rest of that evening I was in here, eating my own meal, then preparing for the next day.'

  `Anyone come in here while you were preparing?' `They know better.' Mrs Grandy glared. 'Better than to come in while I'm working.'

  `Absolutely no one came in here that evening?' he persisted.

  `Just told you that, didn't I?'

  `Mrs Grandy, I gather one of your duties is to make sure the back door over there is secured for the night. Did you do so on the night Mrs Bella Main was murdered?'