by John Creasey
At last, he was able to ring off.
He dialled as Alicia called out the next number.
“Hallo, Mrs. Harrison … Yes, fine, thanks … Oh, that’s good; we’re having a very good yield this year, too … well I’d certainly like to think they’re the best tomatoes in the district … We wondered if Hester …”
In all, he made five calls; after each, his tension and Alicia’s grew. It was now a quarter to eleven. That wasn’t late. It was ridiculous to think that it was late, but this kind of thing had never happened before.
Michael replaced the receiver slowly.
“I don’t like it,” he said. “She can’t have run away, can she? Ally, don’t misunderstand me, but what kind of a row did you have with her?”
“It wasn’t really a row.”
“Exactly what did you say?”
“I’ve told you,” Alicia said.
It was strange how emotions could vary, minute by minute. Of course, he did not blame her with his mind and whatever happened he would not; but emotionally he was beginning to wonder whether she could have prevented this; whether it was her fault in any way. All the evening she had been asking herself the same question, but now that it was in his mind, she resented it. The reassurance he had given her was gone, and it was the kind of comfort she needed badly.
A light appeared in the roadway, and the beam of a lamp turned towards the bungalow and shone on the window for a moment, then vanished.
“That’s Guy,” Michael said. “Do you think Hester would confide in him?”
“He might have a message,” Alicia said, and jumped up. They went together into the kitchen, where Guy would come. Michael squeezed Alicia’s hand, but it was a considered gesture, not spontaneous. He was frightened, of course; as she was. They put on the light as they heard Guy slamming the office, door; he always kept his bicycle in there at night. He came hurrying, not whistling. Usually he whistled gaily to announce his coming, and anything that was even slightly out of the ordinary tonight seemed to hold a special significance.
Michael opened the door as he approached, and the kitchen light fell on his bright eyes and eager face.
“Hallo, Dad!”
“Hallo, Guy. Have you—”
“Gosh, what a night!” Guy interrupted, as if he hadn’t heard his father’s comment. “You’d never believe it—I’ve been questioned by the police.”
Michael exclaimed: “What?” in a voice which startled Guy; and Alicia felt as if someone was clutching her with cold hands.
“Damn it, I’m not under suspicion,” Guy said, staring at them in bewilderment. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“It’s all right, Guy,” Alicia said.
“We’re a bit worried because Hester isn’t home,” Michael reported.
“Isn’t she?” Guy asked almost carelessly; obviously he couldn’t keep his mind on a minor domestic problem. “It was terrific. A chap was killed sitting in his car.”
Alicia winced.
“Where?” asked Michael.
Alicia wanted to cry: What car? What man?
“As a matter of fact, just inside the grounds of the Hall, in that copse—you know,” Guy went on, and his parents had never seen him more excited. “Heaven knows what he was doing there, unless he was with a girl. You know.” Guy was young and naive enough to glance at his mother as if she would be shocked. “Anyhow, he’s as dead as a doornail. I didn’t actually see him, but I did see the sheet covering the body as they put him into an ambulance. There must be twenty policemen down at the Hall gates.” He gave an explosive little laugh. “It won’t be long before Mannering’s on the spot, I’ll bet.”
What car? Alicia wanted to scream.
“What did the police want with you?” Michael asked. It was clear that he was forcing himself to be calm, that he wondered if there was any association between this and the fact that Hester was missing. But he did not know of Mrs. Glee’s gossip; he did not know of the man with whom Hester talked every Friday morning; the theft mornings.
“Oh, I’d cycled past on the way to the club and they wanted to know if I’d seen anything, that’s all,” Guy answered. “I wish I had, it would really be something to be witness in a case like that, and if Mannering does get called in, he’d make a beeline for me. No such luck! Mum, can I make myself a welsh rarebit?”
“Guy,” Alicia began, and stopped, making both husband and son turn to look at her intently. She knew that she had lost colour, and they would hardly fail to notice it. “Guy, what was the car like?”
“Eh?”
“What was the car like?”
“The one this man was murdered in,” Michael explained.
“Oh, a little sports model. Not a bad jalopy at all. I’ve seen it about several times. Saw it today, as a matter of fact, and the police wanted to know if I got a good look at the driver.”
Alicia didn’t speak. Michael glanced at her, obviously puzzled and more worried.
“Did you?” Michael asked.
“Well, fair, but you know how it is when you’re interested in a car, you don’t take much notice of the driver unless she happens to be young and pretty.” He grinned and turned towards the larder. “Grey-haired chap about forty-five, I suppose. Oldish, anyhow.”
Oldish.
“You get what you want to eat, and come into the living-room when you’ve finished,” Michael said.
“Right-ho. I say, Mum, what’s the matter?” He could be such a boy.
“I’m a bit over-tired,” Alicia answered, and was glad that she could turn away, cross the hall and go into the sitting-room. She wanted to sit down. Michael went straight to the corner cupboard where they kept their small store of wines and spirits, took out a whisky bottle and a syphon, and mixed her a drink. He didn’t speak until he handed it to her. She drank. He hadn’t put in much soda, and it made her gasp.
After a moment or two, he asked: “What is it? Alicia?”
She told him.
He looked at her intently, and she could tell what thoughts were passing through his mind; knew that he shared the horror of what this might imply. This was the man whom Hester had seen, of course – and he might have been with a girl just before he had been murdered.
Suddenly, the door opened wider, and Guy came in.
“I don’t know what’s going on but I mean to,” he said. “What is it, Dad? Hester’s all right, isn’t she?” When neither of them answered, he went on more sharply. “For heaven’s sake don’t just stand there looking at me as if I’m a little boy. I’m grown up. Remember me? What’s scaring you like this?”
“It’s all right, Guy,” Michael said. “We’re probably making a lot of fuss about nothing. But Hester’s not back, and we’ve discovered that she’d been seeing rather a lot of a middle-aged man who runs a sports car.”
Guy actually backed away from them.
“Hester can’t have been with him tonight,” Alicia said, sharply. “It’s impossible, she couldn’t have been.”
“I know one thing, I’m going to find out,” declared Guy grimly. “Mr. Hennessy was down at the Hall gates. If he knows anything about Hester, he’d tell us.” Guy seemed to have matured several years in a few seconds. “And it’s no use saying you’ll go, Dad, they’d wonder what was worrying you, but they won’t be surprised that curiosity took me back. I—”
He broke off, for a car sounded outside, the engine very loud; and then the headlights shone past the window, and the car slowed down. A moment later a man got out, and in the light of the street lamp they all recognised Ted Hennessy.
Chapter Four
Ugly Facts
“I’ll talk to Ted,” Michael said, commandingly. “Ally, you go into the kitchen with Guy, and get him some supper – Ted won’t be surprised if I see him alone.” He gave Alicia no time to argue, but hustled them both into the kitchen. All the time, footsteps sounded on the approach to the front door. That was unusual; Ted Hennessy, the family friend, usually came round to the back door. Th
ere were two sets of footsteps. Alicia actually went to the gas stove, where the grill was glowing red; and then as the front door bell rang, she swung round and went back to the hall.
“It’s no use, Mike, I can’t stay there. I’ve got to know what’s happened.”
“We don’t want Ted to think—”
“He’ll soon know that we’re worried, and it won’t help to pretend we’re not.”
Michael might try to insist, but he hadn’t much time, and certainly couldn’t raise his voice, for the two men at the front door would hear anything above a normal speaking tone. There was a moment’s hesitation, before Michael seemed to relax, and said: “You’re right, I’m sorry. What about Guy?”
“I think he ought to be in on this, too.”
“All right, get him.”
Alicia hurried into the kitchen as Michael went to open the front door. The kitchen door was wide open, and a cold wind cut in. The light was on in the office. Alicia hurried to the back step as Guy appeared, hat on, wheeling his racing bicycle.
“I’m going to poke around and see what I can find out,” he said. “I know two of the policemen who’re down there, they’re in the soccer team. I can probably get them to tell me more than Mr. Hennessy will tell Dad. Don’t worry.” He cocked a leg over his bicycle and waved to his mother. She did not try to stop him, but went back into the house. She hesitated by the door of the kitchen, closed it, and then went into the living-room.
Hennessy was a big man, much more massive than Michael, a countryman with a slow, deliberate voice, blue eyes, a kind of solidity which seemed to come only from the country. He wore a heavy belted coat and carried a trilby hat; as always, he looked immaculate, for his wife made sure that he was the best-dressed policeman in Gilston. With him was a smaller grey-clad man, whom Alicia had seen about in the town; a sharp-featured man whom she disliked on sight.
“Hallo, Ted,” she greeted.
“Hallo, Alicia.” He came forward and shook hands. “This is Detective Sergeant Winterton.”
Alicia said: “How are you?”
“Evening, ma’am,” Winterton responded more in the tone of an anxious-to-please shopkeeper than a policeman investigating a serious crime.
“What’s the matter?” Alicia asked.
“I’ve just been telling Mike that there may be nothing to this,” Hennessy said, “but I don’t mind admitting I’m sorry to hear that Hester’s not been home this evening.” He was very blunt; as she had expected, and he did not look away from her. Winterton stood by the door, giving the absurd impression that he meant to make sure that she didn’t go out. “I gather Guy’s told you about the murder?”
“It can’t have anything to do with Hester,” Alicia said, and the words sounded hollow even in her own ears.
“Last thing I’d expect,” Hennessy agreed, and Alicia noticed that he did not really commit himself very far. He had never seemed so broad-shouldered, and to her had never seemed so formal. “The fact is, Alicia, that the dead man is known to have been with a young woman earlier this evening, and they were heard quarrelling. The young woman wasn’t seen clearly, but the man was. It’s known that he drove away with the young woman, and they were seen near the spot where the man was found at about half-past nine. The man was found at about a quarter-past ten, with a knife wound in his neck.”
Alicia found herself echoing: “A knife wound.”
“Yes.” Hennessey went on quickly, as if glad that this part of his duty was past. “Of course there’s not the slightest reason to assume that the young woman was Hester.”
He stopped.
Winterton shuffled his feet a little.
Michael asked quietly: “Then why did you come straight to us, Ted?”
“We have to examine every aspect,” Hennessy answered; he was now being almost absurdly formal. “I was very anxious to establish the fact that Hester hadn’t been out this evening. If she’d been at home, then—”
“For goodness’ sake tell us what brought you?” exclaimed Alicia.
Hennessy looked uneasy and embarrassed.
“All right, I won’t beat about the bush,” he said. “Hester’s been seen with this man on several occasions. She was seen talking to him this morning, on her way to work. What was she wearing when she went this morning?”
“Her green duffle coat and scarf.”
“H’m, yes,” said Hennessy, and looked even more ill-at-ease. “The witness who saw the man and the young woman together said that the woman was wearing a green or blue duffle coat. H’m.” He was now acutely embarrassed, which wasn’t surprising, for the finger of suspicion seemed to be pointing straight at Hester. “I had a quick check made, and found that Hester’s motor-scooter is parked in the market place, where it’s been all day. She hasn’t been home, has she?”
Alicia snapped: “Of course she hasn’t!”
Michael said: “No, Ted, she hasn’t. Don’t make the situation any worse.”
“Sorry,” mumbled Hennessy, “but it wouldn’t be surprising if a mother and father tried to shelter their daughter if she was in trouble.”
“We’d do that all right,” Michael assured him.
“Sure you would – and why not?” Hennessy glanced at Winterton, and all the time Alicia was aware of the thin-faced sergeant standing there and looking at her, and still on unofficial guard at the door. “Mike, don’t misunderstand me when I say this: if Hester comes back, let us know at once. Don’t try to hide her, or anything like that. It would only make the situation worse.”
“Ted, do you seriously mean to suggest that you think our Hester could be involved in a crime like this?” Alicia heard herself asking. They were only words but difficult to utter; and riding over her distress and anxiety there was anger with Ted – with the family friend who could behave like this. “It’s absolutely ludicrous.”
“Ted knows it is,” Michael said.
“He isn’t behaving as if he thinks that.”
“Ally, don’t take this wrong,” Hennessy begged, almost pleadingly. “I’ve got a job to do. I don’t know what’s happened – I can only tell you what I know. The man was seen with Hester today, and he’s been killed in a way which a woman could do. I’ve got to sift the facts, that’s all. I don’t for a moment believe that Hester is involved, but I’ve got to find her and talk to her. I’ve been put in charge of the case, and if we can solve it quickly it will be better for all concerned. All I’m asking is that you let us know at once if Hester gets in touch with you, or when she comes home.”
“We will,” Michael promised.
“That’s all that matters,” Hennessy said. He gulped, and added: “I hate worrying Ally.”
“You seem to relish it,” Alicia said icily.
“Confound it, Ally “
“Excuse me, sir,” said Winterton, speaking for the first time since he had greeted Alicia, “but you asked me to remind you to inquire whether Miss Vane had told her parents about her association with the deceased.”
Alicia swung round on him, angrily, might have snapped at him had Michael not gripped her arm. She knew that he was right to restrain her and that she was behaving badly. Deep down, she knew the reason: she was terrified of the picture drawn by these ugly facts.
“Did Hester know a middle-aged man who owned a sports car?” Hennessy asked.
“Not to my knowledge,” said Michael.
“Did she talk about a middle-aged acquaintance?”
“No.”
“Was she having a—er—a romance?” Alicia was sure Hennessy had been going to say: “… having an affair?”
“Was she, darling?” Michael turned and asked.
“Not that I know of, but she didn’t tell me about every time she and a boy held hands.”
“Has she been herself lately?”
“Of course.”
“How do you mean, Ted?” Michael was fighting hard to keep this as informal and as unhurtful as he could. He still held Alicia’s hand tightly, warning her not
to lose her head.
“I mean, has she been worried, or stayed out later than usual at night, or been more secretive, short of money, anything like that.”
“I don’t think so,” Michael said. “Has she, darling?”
Alicia answered tartly: “No.”
“Any reason why you should think so?” demanded Michael.
Hennessy hesitated, looked at Winterton, obviously wishing that the sergeant wasn’t here, and then said that there was no special reason, he just wanted to know. He hesitated before moving towards the door, having to pass Alicia on the way. He started to speak, but stopped himself, made a helpless and rather touching little gesture, and then went out. Detective Sergeant Winterton had already opened the door, and Michael was going along the passage with them when the telephone bell rang.
Alicia caught her breath.
Michael swung round, but suddenly she realised that she was nearest the telephone, and that she could answer it first. She almost ran across the room and snatched up the receiver, and then she saw Michael just inside the room and the two policemen in the doorway, looking rather as if each wanted to get in ahead of the other.
“Hallo,” Alicia said, tautly. “Hallo—hallo, there. Hester, is that you?” She heard nothing. “Hester, is that you?”
Then she heard a sound like the pressing of a button at a prepayment call box, and she waited, her expression keeping Michael and the other men away.
Chapter Five
Guy
Any moment, Alicia felt sure, she would hear Hester’s voice. She took it for granted that it would be her daughter, and was telling herself that she must speak calmly, must not do anything to alarm or worry her; somehow, she had to help – and the best chance was now.
Then, Guy spoke.
“That you, Mum?”
“Guy!”
Michael relaxed, and she saw him put a hand to his forehead.
“Mum, is that—”