by June Tate
‘It would be the last thing I would do. I admire Victoria; she’s a wonderful girl, why would I want to hurt her?’
‘I can’t imagine and let’s hope I don’t have to ask myself that question in the future.’
At that moment Victoria returned and Lily climbed off the bar stool and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I have to fly, darling. After all, I have a business of my own to run. You’ve done a wonderful job here and I’m very proud of you.’ She turned to Johnny. ‘It was nice meeting you Mr Daniels.’ She gave him a piercing look. ‘You take care now.’ And she walked to the door with her daughter.
George Coleman watched her leave with a knowing look. He’d seen her talking to young Daniels and recognized the expression on her face. She was telling him the score, of that he was certain, and from the look on the boy’s face, he’d got the message. Job well done, Lily.
When Victoria returned she asked, ‘What did you think of my mother, isn’t she wonderful?’
‘Indeed she is. A formidable woman I would say.’
Victoria laughed, then made her excuses as her clients started arriving.
Johnny sat quietly drinking, going over his conversation with Victoria’s mother. He glanced over to where Coleman was talking to a man and wondered just how much he’d had to do with this visit tonight? And . . . if he was to upset the apple cart, would it be Coleman who would be sent to sort him out? He didn’t doubt that it would be, but there was an even bigger worry. If his father was setting up his gang to burgle some of the houses belonging to the wealthy members of the club, would the trail eventually lead back to him? Now he began to worry.
Six
The following Wednesday evening, Sandy was in the Smuggler’s Return, having a quiet drink and chat with the barman before the evening began, when the door opened and Johnny Daniels walked in. Sandy looked at him with interest.
‘Evening, young man, a little out of your way aren’t you, so early in the week?’
‘Just thought I’d pop in and have a drink with Dad, he said he’d be in later.’
He seemed to be a little agitated, which was very unusual, and Sandy wondered if Lily had anything to do with this.
‘So how’s things, young shaver? Still keeping busy?’
‘Yes, thanks, Sandy, the business is picking up well. I made the right move going to Southampton, I’m happy to say.’
‘And how’s your love life and that good girl you were telling me you’d met?’
The young man relaxed a little. ‘I don’t have a love life at the moment, I’m sad to say.’
‘Am I hearing right?’ Sandy pretended to be shocked. ‘What about the girl, blow you out did she?’
Johnny’s ego wouldn’t let this pass. ‘No, as a matter of fact she hasn’t and later this week I’m going to ask her out.’
At that moment, Pat Daniels entered the bar with a couple of his henchmen and Sandy took his leave and made his way to the piano where he started playing very quietly, his gaze never leaving the men as they settled nearby at a table.
He couldn’t hear what was being said, but tried to guess by the change of expressions on the faces of father and son as they talked. He’d have been more than interested had he been able to overhear the conversation.
‘Well, son, what’s so important that couldn’t wait?’
‘It’s the jobs your men have been casing; I want you to call them off.’
‘You mad or what?’
‘No, Dad, I’m serious, we’ve got to put them on hold for a while.’
Pat snorted with derision. ‘Give me one good reason!’
‘Lily Langford, Victoria’s mother came into the club last Saturday. She warned me off her daughter.’
His father roared with laughter which made Sandy sit up very quickly.
‘Is that all? Your love life’s got nothing to do with the business.’
Johnny persisted. ‘This time it has! It was the way she spoke to me implying without saying anything as if she was on to me.’
‘You’re not making any sense, my son.’
Johnny shook his head in frustration. ‘All I know is if you pull a job too soon, she’ll put two and two together and I’ll be finished down there. She smells a rat, I could tell, and remember, Dad, she lived with The Maltese, so she’s no fool!’
Pat stared long and hard at his son as he pondered his words. ‘All right, my boy, I’ll take all that on board. But I want you to do me a favour next Monday.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’ve got a shipment of iron girders arriving at the docks and I want you to go down and check them in. I’ll give you the manifest. They’re coming from Holland and I don’t trust those Dutch buggers so I want you personally to see to it for me.’
‘Yes, of course. Have you got the papers with you?’
The two men pored over the documents together. ‘The ship docks at ten thirty in the morning,’ said Pat. ‘You be there when it arrives and don’t leave until everything is clear and the papers signed. All right, got that?’
‘Yes, Dad, don’t worry, I’ll see to it.’ Finishing his drink, Johnny rose from his seat and left the bar, winking at Sandy on the way out.
As the pianist’s fingers covered the keys, he wondered just what had passed between father and son. Johnny had been unusually serious and the old man looked as if he was mulling things over in his mind before he spoke. Something was going down, of that he was sure.
One of Pat’s men who had been listening to the conversation spoke. ‘So that’s put the mockers on our plans then, guv?’
‘Don’t be a bloody fool! The timing couldn’t be better. We may not get such a good chance again and now Johnny will be out of the way in full view of the dock police – and the customs – what stronger alibi could he have? No we go.’
At the Langford Hotel, Luke and Lily were in conference with the chef. Since last month, a world food shortage brought about the return to food rationing on a near-wartime basis and the chef had no choice but to scale down the menu. Much of their stuff was purchased from local farmers. The chickens, local pork and, when they could, a side of beef. Vegetables were not a problem; the market gardeners grew their own and supplied the hotel. But the cereals for poultry and animal consumption were being drastically reduced. The chef wasn’t happy.
‘We beat the bloody Jerries in the war and now we have to feed the bleeders,’ he stormed. ‘Let the buggers starve I say!’
Lily tried to placate him. ‘All their agricultural industry has been destroyed, chef, and we did that to them.’
‘Excuse me, madam, but had it been the other way round, would they care about us? Would they hell!’
Luke intervened. ‘You’re probably right, chef, but the fact is we have to simplify the choices on the menu.’
‘As a matter of fact, sir, I’ve pulled a few strokes which I’d rather keep to myself if you don’t mind. I can get the poultry we need, well, most of it, and I’ve managed to put some pork in the freezer and—’
Luke stopped him. ‘Don’t tell me any more, we’ll leave it to you to do the best you can.’
‘Thank you, sir, I promise our reputation won’t suffer, you have my word.’
As the two of them left the kitchen, Luke chuckled. ‘That man is worth a fortune to us, Lily. I only hope he knows what he’s doing.’
Tucking her arm through his she laughed. ‘He’s far too smart to get caught doing whatever he’s up to. Come on, let’s take a quick walk round the park and get some fresh air before we start.’
After a while, they sat on a bench, people watching until Luke spoke.
‘When are you going to tell me why you took yourself off to the Club Valletta the other day, Lily?’
She looked at him with surprise.
‘I heard you tell the receptionist where you would be if you were needed, yet you didn’t mention it to me and I wondered why?’
She paused, wondering just how much to disclose to her husband. If he knew about Johnny D
aniels and his background, he would worry, and at this stage she decided it unnecessary to share her concerns.
‘I thought I was being selfish not seeing the effort that Victoria and George had put into their business. After all, the past is the past . . . and I’m pleased I did go. You were right; they’ve done a grand job.’
Luke wasn’t fully convinced as he looked at her, but if Lily had another reason, no doubt she would tell him in time. He’d learned over the years that his wife was very much her own woman and, indeed, that had been part of her attraction. He would just have to trust her.
The following Monday, Johnny Daniels made his way to the docks to check on the shipment of iron girders for his father, as promised. He walked into the customs shed and produced the necessary documents, had a chat with the officer and waited for the shipment to be unloaded. It took some time and eventually, several hours later, he handed over papers at the dock gates to the police on duty and sat beside the driver of the lorry moving the load, and left the docks behind.
Meanwhile, the house in Chilworth belonging to The Honourable Henry Charterhouse was being burgled. Henry was away, staying with relatives in The Cotswolds, unaware that the alarm, fitted at great expense, had been expertly dismantled by professionals.
Pat Daniels’ men had done their homework very thoroughly. Under the guise of security men from the company that had installed the alarm, they had arrived a few days previously, to give the system an overhaul. Armed with false papers and dressed in the appropriate uniforms, they had easily gained access to the house without arousing the suspicions of the housekeeper. Now they collected a small painting by Goya and two first editions from the library, all going to private collectors who would pay a high price to own them and keep them in a private room for their own pleasure, without enquiring from whence they came, only thrilled to have them as part of their collection.
The housekeeper was out shopping as was her habit every Monday morning and Henry’s valet had travelled with his employer, and so the intruders had an easy time. They were in and out of the house in minutes, resetting the alarm before they left.
It was days before the housekeeper noticed the empty space on the drawing-room wall and reported the loss to the police after informing her employer, who came rushing back from his holiday where he also discovered the loss of the books.
It was the main topic of conversation in the Club Valletta, after the news made the front page of the Southern Daily Echo.
George Coleman read the report and frowned.
When Johnny Daniels saw the headlines he was livid. His father had completely ignored his warning. Now he knew why he’d been sent to the docks: so that he had an airtight alibi. It hadn’t taken the police very long to realize when the burglary had taken place as the Monday morning was the only time the house had been empty. Johnny was thankful that Henry Charterhouse hadn’t been one of his clients; that would have given him cause to worry. As it was, he wondered if George Coleman and, indeed, Lily Langford would put two and two together. He would just have to bluff it out. He would go to the club that evening or it might seem suspicious if he kept away.
Later that evening, Johnny took a deep breath as he walked through the door of Club Valletta, knowing his actions would be carefully scrutinized by Victoria’s watchdog. He sat at the bar as was his habit and ordered a beer.
‘Read about Mr Charterhouse’s house being done?’ the barman asked as he poured the drink.
‘Yes, saw it in tonight’s paper. How awful for him.’
‘Can’t understand it. It said in the paper the alarm was working, the police tried it.’ He placed the full glass in front of Johnny. ‘I suppose he was insured but still, knowing someone’s been in your house uninvited is a bit of a worry. You could be murdered in your bed!’ He walked away to serve another customer.
‘Don’t suppose you know anything about it do you, Daniels?’
Johnny turned to find George Coleman beside him.
‘Me? Why would I know anything?’
Coleman glared at him, his eyes piercing and cold. ‘Because I reckon your old man’s behind it and you fed him the information, that’s why!’
Johnny felt his heart racing, but he held the other’s gaze. ‘That’s a serious allegation, Mr Coleman, and one I take exception to, frankly.’
George leaned closer until Johnny could feel the man’s breath as he spoke. ‘Now you listen and listen good. If I find out you or your family – through you – have anything to do with this, you won’t make old bones, my boy, and that’s no idle threat, it’s a promise.’
‘You’re barking up the wrong tree.’ The young man protested. ‘Why would I jeopardize my good reputation when my business is doing so well? It would be madness. Of course I had nothing to do with it. My dad and I are in the construction business, that’s all.’
‘Now you’re underestimating my intelligence, boy! I know your old man of old, so don’t try and make him out to be a bloody saint, not to me.’
‘I am not my father!’ Johnny protested, his face flushed with anger.
‘Maybe, but the acorns don’t fall far from the tree.’
As George walked away, Johnny Daniels took a swig from his beer. He could feel the beads of perspiration on his brow but didn’t dare wipe them away. He’d kill his father for putting him in this situation.
Whilst his son was fuming in Southampton, Pat Daniels was counting his money. The painting was safely out of the country, before its loss had been discovered, packaged among the painting materials and landscapes of an elderly woman off on a painting holiday to France where it had been delivered to its buyer. The books were now part of a private library in a castle in the north of Scotland.
Pat knew that his son would be angry with him, but business was business. However, he would now wait a good while before he pulled another job in Southampton. No good getting greedy. Perfect timing was one of his strong points. He could wait. There were other jobs on hand anyway and he had plenty of construction work to keep him busy meantime. Besides, he didn’t want to spoil what was a new source of income for the future. This last one had been worth a great deal of money. Frankly he could never understand how his clients were prepared to spend so much money on what was commonly known as art. It didn’t do a thing for him, but each to his own. Now if it was horseflesh he could understand it. He had a couple of racehorses that showed promise. His one wish in life was to win the Derby. Now that would be something that would really give him pleasure.
Seven
The following day, Johnny rang his father. ‘I thought we had agreed that you would hold back on the burglaries!’ He accused the older man.
‘I said I’d take your warnings on board! Listen, son, you’re well covered, I saw to that but the timing was perfect and God knows when we’d have had the opportunity again. I couldn’t let it go. Anyway, you have a watertight alibi, so what’s your problem?’
‘My problem is George Coleman! He threatened me in the club, said if he discovered any connection with the burglaries, I wouldn’t make old bones!’
He heard his father laugh. ‘Well he won’t find any, so for heaven’s sake relax. It’ll be some time before we pull another stroke in Southampton, so stop getting your knees in a twist. Work on the girl, that’s what you’re good at!’ And he hung up.
Johnny walked up and down his office, fuming, but he knew his father was the boss, what he said was never questioned and he was a past master when it came to criminal activities, which was why he’d never been caught. But it made Johnny nervous. He was enjoying being his own boss in Southampton, away from the tight hold Pat usually held over him. He was successful in the construction business and was quite enjoying being apart from the gangster life style he’d been brought up with. He was making money and he’d found a woman who really interested him, not just one who was an easy lay. He respected Victoria Teglia . . . but he lusted after her too. That made her even more interesting and he intended to keep after her for his own en
ds, not because his father told him to.
Whilst young Daniels was making his own plans, in Portsmouth, Bruce Chapman, in his office, was making his. He folded the papers on his desk and, putting them in a drawer, sat back and lit a cigarette. He had been ashore for a few weeks now and he missed the feel of a swaying ship beneath his feet. Were it not for the fact that he had renewed his relationship with Victoria, he would be really restless.
Getting up from his seat he wandered outside and breathed deeply, trying to fill his lungs with the smell of the salt air of the sea as he gazed over the Channel, looking at the naval ships sitting in the docks, some undergoing repairs, others preparing to sail. It was only the fact that he knew he would be given another vessel of his own in the near future that helped keep his sanity. That and Victoria, of course.
He smiled to himself as he thought of her. Her laughter, the scent of her warm body as he held her in his arms. The past they shared, the fun they had together. If only she would agree to marry him he would be a very happy man. He frowned. He could understand that she was enamoured with her new venture. After all, she’d worked hard to get the Club Valletta up and running and its success was mainly due to her personality and business acumen and he admired her for that, but he wanted more. How could he persuade her she could have both? If he was to be away, she’d need something to keep her occupied. Victoria had a restless spirit and being a stay-at-home wife would drive her crazy, until she had a family, of course, then it would be different, but was she ready for that yet? He didn’t think so. Well, there was no rush, she was young; they could wait a while if that’s what she wanted.
He walked back into his office and picked up the telephone, dialled a number and waited for a reply.
‘Can I speak to Miss Teglia, please, it’s Captain Chapman calling.’ He waited.
‘Hello, darling! Listen I’m going round the bend here, how about I drive over to Southampton this evening and we go out to dinner somewhere, then back to your place. I’m in need of comfort! Being in the navy is a lonely existence and I need nurturing.’ He heard her chuckle on the end of the line.