by Andrew Garve
He waited tensely, watching Mellanby, while Sally went to the door.
Chapter Thirteen
There was the sound of a man’s voice in the hall. Mellanby listened, straining his ears. Suddenly his heart began to pound. Surely he knew that voice …? It must be … It was …! As recognition came, a great wave of relief flooded over him. Whatever happened now, he had an ally – he and Sally were no longer alone … Then alarm returned. He needed no telling why Sherston had come. Neither, clearly, did Roscoe, who was backing defensively towards the wall. There was going to be a frightful explosion – nothing could stop it The voice in the hall was thick with anger, scarcely articulate. Mellanby could distinguish only one word – ‘Roscoe!’ Then the sitting-room door flew back with a crash and Sherston came in like a cyclone. His face was apoplectic, his eyes popping, his big fists clenched. He looked completely beside himself, a man obsessed. He didn’t even glance at Mellanby. His gaze was riveted on Roscoe. ‘So there you are …! Man, I’m going to break your bloody neck! I’ll teach you to come pawing at my wife, you filthy goat!’
Roscoe said softly, ‘Don’t force me, Sherston.’ He was holding his hands low in front of him, like a watchful wrestler. ‘Don’t try to start anything with me. You’ll only wish you …’
The final words were lost as Sherston hurled his fifteen stone on Roscoe-in reckless fury. A wild mêlèe followed. The impetus of Sherston’s assault had carried Roscoe to the ground and for a moment or two they fought there savagely, their arms and legs and bodies in constant, violent movement. Then they were half on their feet again, smashing and crashing round the room. Mellanby moved towards the phone. Before he could reach it Roscoe, breaking free, landed a jolting punch at Sherston’s weakest point, his stomach, and Sherston fell back, writhing in agony.
‘I warned you,’ Roscoe said contemptuously. He seemed to have suffered little damage himself. He was cool, inhuman – a one-man gangster without a gun. He caught sight of Mellanby and took a light step towards him. ‘Put that phone down …!’
Mellanby put it down.
Sherston was bent double, holding his stomach. Sally cried in a distraught voice, ‘John, oh John … What are we going to do?’
Mellanby stood as though in a trance, not answering, scarcely aware of her. He seemed paralysed by Roscoe’s ferocity and his own utter impotence.
Abruptly, Sherston straightened up and grabbed a wooden chair and flung himself on Roscoe again. Roscoe side-stepped and punched him twice with scientific strength. Sherston sagged under the blows. Sally gave a gasping cry. Roscoe was going in again. It would be a massacre … Suddenly, Mellanby grabbed a chair, too. Sherston, from the floor, cried, ‘Hit him, John – hit him!’ Roscoe swung round. ‘What, you too, little man …?’
The diversion was brief, but it gave Sherston his chance. Now he was on his feet again. ‘Both together!’ he yelled. For a split second Roscoe seemed uncertain what to do. Then he turned on Sherston. Mellanby, in a red mist of fear and anger, raised the chair above his head and struck at Roscoe with all his strength. He felt the blow land. Under its impact, Roscoe staggered back. For a moment he stood swaying. Then, with a groan, he fell heavily to the floor against the fireplace.
Sherston went after him in a frenzy, his own chair raised … But even he could see there was no need to do anything more. Roscoe was lying in a motionless heap where he’d fallen. The fight was over.
Sherston set the chair down and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. ‘Thanks, John …!’ he said. He was still breathing hard from his efforts. ‘Thanks a lot … You just about saved the day … He was too much for me …’
Mellanby had dropped to the floor beside Roscoe. He could scarcely believe, now, that he’d done what he had. ‘Do you think he’s all right?’ he asked anxiously.
Sherston looked at Roscoe with grim satisfaction. ‘He will be – he’s only knocked out … He’ll be round, soon.’
‘I’ll get some water,’ Mellanby said. He went off rather unsteadily to the kitchen.
Sherston gazed around at the shambles of the room. ‘God, what a mess …! I’m sorry, Sally …’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. She had sunk down on the settee, drained and exhausted by the brutal struggle. She still couldn’t look at Roscoe without revulsion. ‘We’ll clear it up later.’
‘I had to come,’ Sherston said. ‘I just couldn’t wait to get my hands on him … Do you know what he did? He came to the caravan and tried to attack Eve …!’
‘I know …’ Sally said. ‘Is she all right?’
‘I think so … He’d have raped her, but she fought him off …’
‘He told us he’d been there.’
‘He told you!’
‘Yes, he boasted about it … It’s been dreadful here, George, too – we’ve had an absolutely ghastly time … Thank heaven you did come, that’s all – I don’t know what would have happened … He’s been holding us prisoner – threatening us – hitting John …’
‘No …!’
‘It’s true … He was trying to get money out of us – all sorts of things …’
‘Why – the god-damned thug …!’ Sherston looked as though he’d like to set about Roscoe all over again.
At that point Mellanby returned with water and a towel and began to dash cold drops into the unconscious man’s face. Roscoe moaned a little, but he still showed no sign of coming round. After a moment or two, Mellanby said, ‘We’ll have to do something about him, Sally … Kira will be in soon.’
‘Why don’t we take him upstairs?’ Sherston suggested.
Sally shuddered. ‘No, no – he can’t stay here … I don’t want the children to see him again. I don’t want anything more to do with him.’
‘I’ll ring the police,’ Mellanby said. ‘They’ll take him away.’
Sherston nodded. ‘I guess that’s the best thing …’ He broke off, frowning down at the prostrate man. Roscoe’s breathing was stertorous. He still hadn’t moved. ‘You don’t think we ought to wait till he comes round, maybe? – after all, we did go for him with a couple of chairs.’
Sally said suddenly, ‘John, he couldn’t have meant what he said, could he – about the razor …? If we told the police, I mean?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mellanby said. ‘But we’ll have to tell them in any case … We’ll just have to put ourselves in their hands.’
Sherston was staring at Sally as though he hadn’t heard properly. ‘Did you say a razor?’
‘Yes – he threatened to use a razor on the children if we didn’t let him stay here, and give him money, and keep quiet about him … He said he had a long memory.’
‘Oh – he was bluffing.’
‘I’m not sure that he was … I think he’s mad. I think he might do anything. He said he’d used a razor on some other people … John – I’m scared.’
‘He’s harmless enough at the moment, anyway,’ Sherston said.
Sally looked at Roscoe, and quickly away again. ‘Yes, but what about later …?’
‘Darling,’ Mellanby said, ‘we’ve either got to keep him here for the night or call the police – one or the other … I think the best thing is to hand him over now.’
‘I suppose so …’ She looked very distressed. ‘But, John, if anything happened to the children …! Oh, I’m so tired I can hardly think …’
‘If you ask me,’ Sherston said, ‘you folks aren’t in a state to make any decision right now … Look, what about me taking him along to the caravan for the night? – and we can decide what to do about him in the morning. You’ll feel different then, I reckon.’
‘Oh, if only you would …!’ Sally began – and stopped. ‘What about Eve, though?’
‘It won’t worry her if I sit over him with a spanner …! Anyway, I don’t think he’ll be giving any more trouble – he must have taken quite a crack.’
Mellanby looked at Sally. Her face was pale and drawn she was just about all in. ‘Well, if you r
eally don’t mind having him …’ he said hesitantly to Sherston.
‘I’m sure it’s the best way,’ Sherston said.
‘Then we’d better hurry – Kira’s due back any minute …’
Once they’d made the decision, it didn’t take them long to get Roscoe to the Chrysler, Mellanby took his legs. Sherston heaved up his shoulders. Sally held the door for them. In a few moments they were out in the drive and easing him on to the back seat. Mellanby’s water treatment had begun to revive him at last. He still hadn’t recovered full consciousness, but he was groaning.
‘Perhaps I’d better come with you,’ Mellanby said.
‘Oh, there’s no need to do that – you stay and look after Sally … I’ll manage.’ Sherston went round to the boot and found a spanner and put it on a ledge under the dash. ‘If he gives any trouble I’ll be only too happy to take care of him!’
‘Will you be able to get him into the caravan?’
‘We’ll drag him in somehow, if he hasn’t come round. Eve will help.’
Sally said, ‘Is she really all right?’
‘Yes – thank God …! A bit bruised and shocked, but I reckon she gave almost as good as she got. She’s a tough girl – he didn’t get far. What a swine! Men like that oughtn’t to be allowed to live …’ Sherston pressed the starter. ‘Well …’
‘It’s decent of you to take him off our hands, Sherston,’ Mellanby said. ‘I do appreciate it … We’ve had a shocking night.’
‘That’s all right,’ Sherston said. ‘Don’t worry – I’ll see to everything … Come over in the morning some time, and we’ll fix up about Mr Roscoe’s future!’
Mellanby nodded. Sherston slipped the gear in, and the Chrysler moved quickly out of the drive and roared away up the road.
Mellanby put his arm round Sally’s shoulder. ‘Well – he’s gone, darling.’
‘Yes,’ Sally said in a low voice. ‘I only hope I never see him again.’
Chapter Fourteen
A sort of peace descended on the house after that – the peace of exhaustion. Neither Sally nor Mellanby wanted to talk about Roscoe any more that night Sally put away the cold meal she’d prepared and heated some soup, which was all either of them felt like eating. Mellanby straightened up the furniture in the sitting-room and removed a broken chair and some other bits of debris to the loft. By the time Kira returned, rather later than they’d expected, all traces of the fight had been cleared away. Sally asked her if she’d enjoyed the film and chatted to her for a moment or two, and then said ‘Goodnight’ without telling her anything. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
She was on the point of going to bed when the phone rang. It was Eve Sherston, in a voluble post-crisis mood. ‘My dear,’ she exclaimed, as soon as she heard Sally’s voice, ‘what an absolutely fantastic day …! George has just told me the whole story. Heavens, I thought I’d had enough to put up with, but from what George says it must have been far worse for you … That man …! Are you all right …? George says John rallied round splendidly – practically saved his life … you must feel quite proud of him … Of course, George was crazy, trying to take on a great hunk of muscle like Roscoe at his age … he might have been really hurt, but I think he’s only bruised. He’s much too impulsive – I did my best to stop him but there wasn’t a hope … Anyway, it seems to be all over now … I can still hardly believe it …’
‘I know,’ Sally said, ‘it’s like some horrible nightmare … How are you, Eve – have you really got over your mauling?’
‘More or less – though I feel absolutely worn out, of course …’
‘It must have been frightful.’
‘It was pretty awful … He took me completely by surprise – I never thought for a moment he’d turn up again after George had warned him off or I wouldn’t have let George leave me … It wasn’t even as though he were trying to make a mild pass, either – it’s a bit much when a practically complete stranger starts chasing you round the bushes as though you’re a Sabine woman or something … I think he’s one of those psychopaths, but George won’t have it – he says he’s just plain vicious … George thinks hell get at least five years when all the things are totted up …’
‘I think a man like that should be shut away for good,’ Sally said. ‘I’m terribly grateful to you for having him, Eve … Has he given any more trouble?’
‘No – we had rather a job getting him into the van, but that’s all …’
‘How is he now?’
‘Well, that’s actually what I’m ringing you about – George is a little bit worried about him … He came round all right, but he keeps going off again. His pulse seems quite good and his colour isn’t bad but he is behaving in a rather odd way … George did wonder if we ought to get a doctor at once, but he thinks now it’ll be all right to wait till morning – and Roscoe will probably be quite normal again by then. Anyway, he wanted John to know the position – so will you tell him …?’
Of course – he’s in the bath at the moment …’ Sally frowned into the phone. ‘I do hope there’s nothing seriously wrong.’
‘So does George – he says it might be a bit awkward explaining … But I’m sure there isn’t – you could hardly have anybody tougher than Roscoe … Anyway, there’s the message.’
‘All right, Eve – thanks for ringing … I’ll tell John – and of course he’ll be over first thing in the morning … I hope you manage to get some sleep.’
‘Me, I’m going to take two little pills and make sure! Goodnight, Sally.’
‘Goodnight, Eve.’ Sally hung up, and went along to the bathroom to tell Mellanby.
He looked very concerned. ‘I don’t much like the sound of it,’ he said. ‘Do people usually go off again once they’ve come round?’
‘I don’t know – I don’t see anything surprising about it …? Anyway, John, there can’t be much wrong with him if his pulse and colour are good, can there?’
‘I suppose not – but it’s rather disturbing … I wonder if I ought to ring Hamley and take him round there right away?’
‘Oh, darling, surely it’s better to leave things to George he’s the man on the spot, after all. It’ll mean you’ll be up all night, probably for absolutely nothing, and so will Dr Hamley. You’ll have to barge in on George and Eve, who won’t be expecting you – and think of the explanations! Honestly, I should wait till morning.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ Mellanby said.
Chapter Fifteen
It seemed as though he had been in bed for only a few minutes when the telephone shrilled again in the hall. He shot up in alarm, his nerves jangling, and switched on the light above his head. The time by his watch was a quarter to three! Sally, in her own bed, was dead to the world and hadn’t stirred. Mellanby slipped on his dressing gown, switched the light off again, and went quickly downstairs to take the call there. His heart was thumping. A ring at that hour could only mean trouble.
He snatched up the receiver in the sitting-room, cutting off the devilish din. ‘John Mellanby here,’ he said.
‘John – this is George Sherston.’ The familiar voice was rough with agitation. ‘I’m afraid I’ve got bad news for you?
‘Roscoe …’
‘Yes … Something frightful’s happened – you’d better brace yourself … John – he’s dead!’
‘No …!’ The word was a long-drawn-out whisper of horror.
‘I’m afraid so …’
Mellanby fought the choking constriction in his throat. ‘But – how …? You said he was all right …’
‘I thought he was … It’s one hell of a thing, isn’t it?’
‘I just can’t believe it …’
‘I couldn’t believe it at first – I thought he must be in a coma …’
Mellanby clutched at the straw. ‘Couldn’t he be?’
‘No, he’s dead as a duck … No doubt about it.’
‘God …’ Mellanby took the phone and slumped into a chair with it. ‘What happened
…? When did you find out?’
‘About half an hour ago. I’d been for a bit of a stroll round the van – couldn’t rest. He seemed all right when I left him – he was breathing lightly, but I didn’t think there was anything to worry about Then when I got back and took another look he didn’t seem to be breathing at all. And he wasn’t … That knock must have smashed his skull in.’
Mellanby groaned. ‘George – why didn’t we get a doctor right away!’
‘I know, we ought to have done – but who the hell would have dreamt he’d go out like that? His skull must be as thin as paper … Probably a doctor couldn’t have done much for him, anyway … Well, there it is, John – we’ve been landed with this thing and now we’ve got to face it … We’re in a bit of a spot – but we can handle it all right … Listen, does anyone else know what happened at your house tonight? Did you tell Kira?’
‘No …’
‘Thank heaven for that! What about the children – did they hear anything?’
‘I don’t think so – they slept right through it …’
‘Fine … ! I’ve got things pretty well sorted out at this end – I’m taking care of everything. I’d like you to come round, though – we must talk.’
‘I’ll come straight away.’
‘Don’t make any more row than you can help when you leave … Okay, I’ll be seeing you. Keep your chin up.’ There was a click as Sherston rang off.
Mellanby put the receiver down in a kind of daze. For a moment or two he continued to sit there, staring in front of him. It was hard to grasp that Roscoe was dead. It was harder still to grasp that he – John Mellanby – had killed him. He, of all people …! But it had happened, and George was right – now it had got to be faced.
Presently he went upstairs to wake Sally.
Chapter Sixteen