There was something about the rough voice that did not ring true, she thought. A nuance that convinced her it was put on. And there was also something vaguely familiar about it. She was racking her brains to try and think why when the sound of a car came suddenly to her ears. The unknown man heard it too and stopped in his search to listen.
The car was approaching. It came nearer and stopped. A voice called to someone: ‘This must be the place.’ And another voice answered: ‘There’s a light, sir. She’s still up.’
The man gripped Jill by the arm with a grip that made her wince.
‘Keep quiet,’ he whispered.
There came the sound of approaching footsteps outside and then a knock on the door.
‘Anyone by the name of Manners live here?’ inquired a voice loudly.
The unknown man, pulling the girl after him, moved over to the door softly.
‘Hello there. We’re from the police. We’d like a word with you,’ called the voice.
‘Tell them you’re coming,’ whispered the man with his lips close to her ear.
‘I’m coming,’ she called obediently and a little quaveringly.
‘All right, miss,’ came the answer. ‘Sorry to disturb you but it’s important.’
The unknown man motioned her to get on the other side of the door. As she did so he suddenly flung the door open and dashed out. Clutching the door frame for support she heard a startled cry from outside followed by the sound of a shot.
‘Look out, Soames,’ cried the voice that had spoken before. ‘Grab him — he’s got a gun.’
There came the sound of another shot farther away and a faint cry. There was a confused noise of shouting.
Halliday came quickly up the steps and into the caravan.
‘Is your name Jill Manners?’ he asked as he saw the frightened girl crouching back against the wall.
‘Yes,’ she answered faintly.
‘Who was the man who just left here?’ he asked.
‘I — I don’t know...’
‘What did he want? How did he get in?’ demanded Halliday.
‘He — he said he had a message for me... I let him in,’ she stammered. ‘Are you — are you from the police?’
‘I’m Superintendent Halliday of the Westpool C.I.D.,’ said Halliday. ‘I’m inquiring into the death of an unknown woman whose body was found in the sea off the pier. From certain information that has come into my possession, I believe you may be able to identify the dead woman.’
Soames came in before she could reply. He was breathless and there was a nasty gash across his right wrist.
‘He got away, sir,’ he said.
Holliday uttered an exclamation.
‘You’re hurt, man,’ he cried.
‘It’s only a scratch,’ said the Sergeant. ‘One of the shots grazed my wrist.’
‘Let me look,’ said Halliday. ‘It’s a nasty gash. Have you got anything I can bind this up with?’ He turned to the girl.
‘I — I think my sister kept a first-aid box in the kitchen,’ she said shakily. ‘I’ll go and look.’
She moved unsteadily towards the narrow opening that led into the tiny kitchen. Halliday looked after her.
‘Her sister,’ he whispered to Soames. ‘I think that note we got was genuine, after all.’
12
Simon Beatal was sitting in an easy chair in the sitting room of his suite in the Majestic Hotel placidly reading a novel. It was quite late but he was comfortably clad in a silken dressing gown and there was a decanter of brandy on a small table by his side. The book he was reading was a popular love romance by that prolific and somewhat cloying writer, Miss Rachel Sweeting. Simon Beatal was partial to that type of story.
The house telephone near his elbow buzzed softly and with a frown he laid aside his book and picked up the receiver.
‘Yes?’ he said and a moment later: ‘Send him up.’
After a little while Chives came in.
‘It’s a bit late but I thought I’d better come,’ he said.
‘The lateness of the hour means nothing to me, sir,’ said Simon Beatal. ‘When there is business to be discussed I am available at any time. What exactly is it you wish to tell me?’
‘Did you know that girl ’as got a caravan — up on North Cliff?’ asked Chives.
‘Miss Manners? Come, come, sir, I hope you did not put yourself to all this trouble just to tell me something I already knew?’
‘Not altogether,’ said Chives. ‘Hargreaves an’ Renton ’ave just gone up there.’
‘To the caravan?’
‘Yes. That’s why I came. I thought you’d want to know.’
‘You were quite right, sir,’ said Simon Beatal.
‘Did the estimable Mr. Granger go with them?’
Chives shook his head.
‘No — only the two of ’em,’ he said.
‘Things seem to be moving, sir,’ remarked Beatal.
‘What do you think they’re up to?’ asked the little man.
‘When people are acting at cross purposes — I might almost say double-cross purposes — it is very difficult to say what they are up to, sir.’
‘What are you going to do about it?’ said Chives.
‘I, sir, am going to finish this excellent novel and I retire to my bed,’ said Simon Beatal. ‘I have reached a certain conclusion on my course of action, sir. It will, I believe, not only give a severe shock to people of our acquaintance, but prove exceedingly advantageous to myself.’ He laughed and picked up his book. ‘I wish you good night, sir.’
He settled himself comfortably in his chair and went on reading.
*
‘Now let me get this clear, Miss Manners,’ said Superintendent Halliday. ‘You came down to Westpool on the Sunday for the purpose of delivering a supposedly valuable parcel to a certain Mr. Wilson Hargreaves. The parcel having been entrusted to you by your employer, Mr. Granger?’
‘That’s quite right,’ said the girl.
They were sitting in the small room in the caravan. Sergeant Soames had had the wound in his wrist bound up and Halliday had been questioning the girl.
‘On the journey down, you became aware that you were being followed by a man called Simon Beatal, whom you had been warned might make an attempt to get the parcel,’ continued Halliday. ‘In a sudden panic you threw the parcel into a compartment on the train in which certain members of The Crimson Ramblers concert party were travelling, having scribbled a message on it that you would call for it at the Dome. What made you choose that particular compartment?’
‘They were the only people on the train I knew I could find again,’ she answered. ‘I’d seen their luggage on the platform. I knew they were going to the Dome Pavilion.’
Halliday smiled.
‘As simple as that, eh?’ he said. ‘Now, let me see what else you’ve told me. You had to wait until Monday before you could contact these concert party people so you decided to stay the night at this caravan, which belonged to your father, and to which both you and your sister had keys. Right?
‘You couldn’t collect the parcel when you called at the Dome Pavilion on Monday afternoon, because Mr. Wayne had left it at his lodgings,’ Halliday went on. ‘You arranged to call back again in the evening. When you got back here, you found that your sister, Mrs. Granger, had arrived during your absence. Let’s go on from there, Miss Manners. Did she tell you what had brought her to Westpool?’
The girl shook her head.
‘No, but she seemed rather excited about something and rather surprised and annoyed that I should have turned up,’ she said. ‘I didn’t take much notice of that. Thelma and I never hit it off very well and we hadn’t seen each other for months.’
‘Didn’t she ever come to the office — her husband’s office?’ asked Halliday.
‘Oh, no,’ she replied. ‘You see, they weren’t — well, friendly. I don’t think she’s seen him for — oh, goodness knows how long.’
‘I see,’
remarked Halliday thoughtfully.
‘Did you tell her about the parcel?’
‘Yes — and I thought she behaved very queerly,’ said the girl.
‘How do you mean — queerly?’ asked Halliday quickly.
‘She asked me if I knew what was in it, and when I said ‘no’ she laughed. I said I couldn’t see anything to laugh at and she said: ‘You wouldn’t — not even if you knew’.’
‘Did she give you the impression that she knew?’ asked Halliday.
‘I don’t know. I didn’t really take much notice. You see, I had a splitting headache and I really did feel ill. All I wanted to do was to lie down and keep quiet.’
‘I know the kind,’ said the Superintendent sympathetically. ‘I have ’em myself sometimes.’
‘Like a really fierce hangover,’ remarked Sergeant Soames feelingly.
‘You probably know more about that than we do,’ snapped Halliday.
‘Thelma was quite nice about it,’ the girl went on, ‘which in itself was a bit unusual. She made me some tea, told me to lie down, and offered to go to the Dome, instead of me, and collect the packet.’
‘Did she go?’
‘Yes. She said that if she put on my clothes nobody who didn’t know us very well, would notice the difference.’
‘A black suit?’ asked Halliday with interest.
‘Yes. How did you...’ She suddenly realised how he did know and her face went white.
‘Was there a scrap of paper in one of the pockets with the name ‘McKay’ on it?’ said Halliday.
She frowned.
‘I don’t know... That’s the name of the man who runs the concert party, isn’t it? Oh, yes, I remember. I scribbled his name down when I got to Westpool, so that I’d know who to ask for.’
‘That clears that up.’ Halliday shot a quick glance at Soames. ‘Surely, Miss Manners, when your sister didn’t come back, you must have thought there was something wrong?’
‘I was worried... but it was so like Thelma. I thought she’d just cleared off back to London.’
‘Didn’t you telephone Mr. Granger?’
‘I’d already done that — first thing on the Monday morning,’ she explained. ‘I told him what had happened to the packet. He told me not to worry. He said I’d soon get it back again.’
‘Didn’t that strike you as rather a casual way to treat the loss of something that was supposed to be very valuable? You didn’t know then that the packet was a fake, did you?’
‘I suppose I was too relieved that he hadn’t made a fuss to think much about it,’ she said.
‘You haven’t been in communication with Mr. Granger since?’ asked the Superintendent.
She shook her head.
‘So he doesn’t know that your sister came down here?’
‘Not from me,’ she said.
Halliday frowned thoughtfully and stroked his chin.
‘From what this man, Beatal, told you,’ he said after a pause, ‘Granger was trying to appropriate something of considerable value which your father had discovered and which was rightly yours. Would your sister have shared in it?’
‘I don’t know,’ answered the girl. ‘I’ve no idea what it could be.’
‘What was your father’s business, Miss Manners?’
‘He hadn’t any,’ she answered and smiled. ‘I mean he’d tried all sorts of things. Some of them made money — some didn’t. The last time I saw him he was practically broke.’
‘You don’t know what he was doing in Canada when he was killed?’
Again she shook her head.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘As a matter of fact I didn’t even know he was in Canada until Mr. Granger told me he had been killed in a plane crash.’
‘Whereabouts did that happen?’
‘Near Saskatchewan, I believe.’
‘That man who was here when we arrived, Miss Manners,’ said Halliday. ‘You said he thought your sister had the real packet and had hidden it here?’
‘That’s what he said. I’m quite certain she didn’t.’
Halliday rose to his feet.
‘We’d better make sure,’ he said. ‘It won’t take long to search this place. If she did have the packet — and somebody knew it — we can guess the motive for her murder.’
*
Hargreaves paced restlessly about the living room at the bungalow, his chin on his chest, his thin hands clasped behind his back.
Renton leaned up against the mantelpiece, staring with growing irritability at his companion.
‘For Pete’s sake stop the tiger act!’ he burst out at last. ‘It’s getting on my nerves.’
‘How did the police find out about Jill,’ muttered Hargreaves, continuing his ceaseless patrol round the room.
‘Does it matter?’ snapped Renton. ‘All that matters is that your little party was a complete fiasco.’
‘How was I to know the police would turn up?’ said Hargreaves.
‘It’s a lucky thing we’re not both in clink,’ said Renton. ‘You winged one of’em.’ ‘It was the only way — he nearly caught me.’
‘All that trouble,’ snarled Renton disgustedly, ‘and we’re no nearer getting the packet than we were before.’
‘I still think it’s hidden in the caravan,’ said Hargreaves.
‘Fat lot of good to us that is,’ grunted Renton. ‘We can’t take the place to pieces. Maybe Beatal can suggest something.’
‘I don’t trust Beatal...’
‘I don’t trust anybody — not even you,’ said Renton. ‘What’s Granger up to tonight?’
‘I haven’t seen him.’
‘No, he went out early this evening and he hasn’t come back. It’s nearly one o’clock. What’s he up to?’
‘I don’t know...’
‘More double-crossing, I suppose,’ said Renton crossly.
‘If only we could lay our hands on that packet and clear out,’ said Hargreaves. ‘We wouldn’t have to bother about any of them then.’
‘If, if, if,’ sneered Renton. ‘The whole of this business has been nothing but if. We should never have left this to Granger in the first place. I said so right from the start but you had to be pig-headed. All this nonsense of sending the packet down here. We ought to have gone up to London and collected it ourselves...’
‘You know why we didn’t?’ retorted Hargreaves. ‘With Beatal watching like a cat at a mousehole we’d have been spotted at once. We’d never have got away with it. Granger thought that if he sent Jill Manners as a decoy and got the other girl to bring the real packet, it would be safe.’
‘And now look what’s happened?’ grunted Renton. ‘If you ask me, Granger worked it out very well.’
‘You think Beatal’s right?’
‘Yes, I do. You can say what you like about it being hidden in the caravan but I believe Granger’s got it. If I had my way I’d rough him up until we got the truth.’ ‘I object to violence...’
‘You didn’t object to shooting that copper.’
‘That was unavoidable.’
‘You’re too squeamish. Unless you want to lose a fortune you’d better try a little violence with Granger.’
Hargreaves shook his head.
‘There are other ways of dealing with Granger,’ he said.
‘You tell me one as good,’ said Renton.
‘I’ll tell you one that’s better,’ answered Hargreaves. He came over and sat down. ‘Listen...’
For nearly twenty minutes he talked softly and Renton listened, his small eyes glistening with approval as Hargreaves outlined his plan.
13
Andy had called a rehearsal for the morning following the events in the caravan on North Cliff. It was a little after ten o’clock that the company at the Dome Pavilion waiting for Andy’s arrival.
‘I do hope,’ said Sharon, ‘that Andy won’t keep us long this morning. I’ve got a lot of shopping to do.’
‘I don’t know what he wanted to call a rehearsal at all f
or,’ said Vera a trifle crossly. ‘Everything’s going quite well.’
‘It’s for the new numbers,’ explained Beryl.
‘We’ve done the new numbers,’ said Vera.
‘We need quite a lot you know,’ said Billy. ‘Andy’s idea is to change the show as often as possible. You can get the same people in twice that way.’
‘Trust Andy to think of something like that,’ said Vera.
‘Well, dear,’ put in Beryl gently. ‘He’s not running the show for fun, you know.’
‘Of course, you would stick up for him,’ snapped Vera.
‘I don’t see why he had to call all of us,’ said Sharon.
‘Well, Tony’s not here — neither is Gilbert,’ remarked Billy.
‘Nor Andy,’ said Vera. ‘He’s usually the first.’
‘I think we’re a bit early,’ said Beryl.
‘Funny how Gilbert’s managed to stay so unfriendly, isn’t it?’ said Billy. ‘Keeps himself very much to himself.’
‘That’s something to be thankful for,’ said Vera feelingly.
‘Who’s the little thin-faced man he’s always talking to?’ asked Sharon. ‘Anybody know?’
‘What little man?’ asked Billy.
‘Haven’t you seen him?’ said Sharon. ‘I’ve seen them together several times. They always seem to be lurking in doorways.’
‘I suppose Gilbert’s got to talk to somebody now and again,’ said Billy.
‘So long as it isn’t me,’ said Vera, ‘I don’t mind. I don’t like the man.’
‘We rather gathered that, darling,’ remarked Billy.
Andy came in the stage door rubbing his hands.
‘Good morning everybody,’ he greeted cheerfully. ‘I see ye’re all here eager to get to work.’
‘I don’t know about ‘eager’, Andy,’ said Sharon. ‘I was just saying I hoped you weren’t going to keep us long.’
‘I’ll no keep ye longer than I can help,’ said Andy. ‘I want to put the new numbers into the show at the matinée next Monday.’
Tony came in quickly.
‘I say, I’m not late, am I?’ he asked.
‘No,’ answered Andy. ‘I’ve only just arrived myself. Let’s go up on the stage and get started.’
The Crimson Ramblers Page 9