Delphi collected works o.., p.299
Delphi Collected Works of Peter Cheyney Illustrated, page 299
Callaghan said: ‘What about Gringall?’
‘Well, look...’ said Nikolls. ‘Gringall believes this is a murder job, so he puts this guy Maynes on to it. Well, what have they done? They haven’t done a goddam thing. Anybody would think they were sorta waitin’ around for you to pick some thin’ up.’
Callaghan said: ‘Maynes has dragged the lake at Chipley.’
‘That’s right,’ said Nikolls. ‘But he only done that after somebody had phoned through to Scotland Yard. Goddam it he had to drag that lake. Usually on a job like this they have plainclothes dicks around the neighbourhood makin’ inquiries about everybody and everythin’. Well, I can smell those boyos a mile off an’ there wasn’t any of them around Chipley.’ He finished the rye and poured out another one.
Callaghan said: ‘There’s something in that too. But there is an explanation for Gringall’s attitude.’
‘Yeah?’ said Nikolls. ‘You tell me the explanation.’
Callaghan said: ‘The worst thing the police can do is to bring a murder charge and fall down on it. Nothing makes the police look such boneheads as accusing somebody of murder and then falling down on the job.’
Nikolls said: ‘I still don’t get it. This is too deep for me.’
Callaghan said: ‘We don’t know what Gringall knows. We only think he doesn’t know as much as we do.’
Nikolls raised his eyebrows.
‘Maybe you got somethin’ there,’ he said. ‘It would be goddam funny if he did know.’
Callaghan said: ‘All we know is what people have told us. Take Vane, for instance. Supposing, for the sake of argument, that Vane had let it slip out when he was talking to Maynes that there was a phone call to Chipley Grange the night the Admiral died. Or supposing, for the sake of argument, that Gringall’s been able to check such a call through the telephone exchange. You see what I mean?’
Nikolls said: ‘Yeah! I think I do. What you mean is that Gringall is on to Desiray all right, but he can’t make it stick?’
‘Right,’ said Callaghan. ‘Supposing he knows what we know, then he knows this: He naturally concludes that the person he would be telephoning to would be Desirée. That’s the first point. The second point is that some anonymous person calls through to Maynes, and suggests that the lake at Chipley is dragged. Well, what would that suggest?’
Nikolls said: ‘I got it. It would suggest that if the gun was in that lake it was thrown there by somebody who wasn’t leavin’ Chipley. They gotta stay at Chipley so they can’t get rid of the gun very easily, an’ the easiest place for them to get rid of it is the lake. That looks like Desiray again.’
‘Correct,’ said Callaghan. ‘Well, supposing Gringall is thinking along those lines, then he’s got to suspect Desirée, but he can’t make anything stick because he’s got to prove his case. In a murder charge the prosecution has got to prove beyond any reasonable shadow of doubt that the accused actually did commit the murder. The fact that they might have committed it is no good. Murderers,’ continued Callaghan, ‘have been hanged on circumstantial evidence, but when a murderer in this country gets hanged on circumstantial evidence, that evidence is so tight that it’s practically as good as any factual evidence.’
He lit a cigarette.
‘Gringall’s trouble would be this,’ he went on: ‘Supposing he were foolish enough to make a charge on such evidence, he’d be in a bad jam, because the accused would have a good story.’
‘I got it,’ said Nikolls. ‘The story being that the Admiral was all odd an’ funny on the telephone; that he was in a state of mind in which it looked like he was goin’ to commit suicide. So when she hears the shot she goes rushin’ out an’ finds him. Then the next thing hits her. She thinks that if he’s committed suicide the Insurance Company aren’t goin’ to pay. She’s very fond of the old boy. She knew he was one of those old guys who was always burblin’ about payin’ debts of honour before anything else. Well, she’s all steamed up. She hasn’t got time to be logical. All she wants to do is to get that insurance claim paid. So he thinks if she makes it look like murder it’ll be O.K. and she’ll be able to carry out the old boy’s wishes. So she dumps the gun in the lake.’ Nikolls concluded: ‘It looks to me like it’s a damned good story.’
‘A very good story,’ agreed Callaghan, ‘and one that the prosecution couldn’t easily break down.’
Nikolls said: ‘You know. I’ve been thinkin’ maybe you oughta have left that gun in that lake.’
Callaghan said: ‘Maybe.’
Nikolls poured some more rye into Callaghan’s glass.
‘I wonder what this guy Mendes is goin’ to do,’ he said.
Callaghan shrugged his shoulders.
‘He’ll have cleared out by now,’ he said. ‘Mendes isn’t the type that sticks around and faces the music. Mendes has got an idea that he’s safe. Mendes is too clever to tell lies at the moment. He knows that anything he says will be checked on. He knows that his alibi is all right.’
Nikolls said: ‘What’s this alibi? I never heard that one.’
Callaghan said: ‘No, you don’t have to.’ He finished his drink. He said: ‘I’m going to bed. I shan’t be in the office a lot to-morrow. You’d better be around in case anything breaks,’
‘O.K.,’ said Nikolls. ‘I’ll be there. I think I’ll stay on a bit an’ have a drink,’ he said. ‘I wanna talk to the dame here.’ He looked towards Roberta. ‘I used to know a cousin of hers up in Leeds.’
Callaghan said: ‘Like hell you did. Any cousin of hers in Leeds that you knew you wouldn’t tell her about.’ He looked at Roberta. ‘I’m sorry for that girl,’ he said.
He walked towards the door.
Nikolls said: ‘Hey, what d’ya mean by that?’
Callaghan looked over his shoulder. He was grinning.
He said: ‘I give you two guesses.’
III.
Callaghan awoke with a jerk. He felt as if something in his brain had twitched suddenly, arousing him from a deep sleep. He lay in the darkness looking straight in front of him. He felt wide awake — rested. His mouth was dry. He came to the conclusion that he did not particularly like the whisky at the Back Lounge Club. Maybe they doctored it a little. For some unexpected reason a picture of Nikolls and Roberta, the barmaid, came to his mind. Callaghan grinned. Nikolls was an odd bird sometimes. He put his finger on a point — usually by accident. Sometimes he said something that really mattered, but, thought Callaghan with a yawn, Windy seldom realised the importance of what he was saying.
He switched on the bedside light, got up, went into the sitting-room. As he entered the room the Chinese clock on the mantelpiece struck three. Callaghan went to the sideboard. He poured himself out a long whisky and soda. He drank it, lit a cigarette.
There wasn’t anything to be done, he thought, except to tie off the ends of this business.
He went into the bathroom. He poured eau-de-cologne on to his hair, began to rub it into his scalp. It tingled. It was a pleasant sharp feeling.
He went back into the sitting-room, picked up the house telephone. He spoke to Wilkie. He said:
‘Get through to exchange and find the number of The Cottage, Valeston. It belongs to Miss Manon Gardell. When you’ve got the number keep on ringing until you get an answer.’
Wilkie said he would. Callaghan switched the telephone through to his bedroom extension. He went into the bedroom and began to dress.
It was ten minutes before the telephone jangled. Callaghan picked up the receiver. Manon’s voice said:
‘Hallo, Slim, I’m glad you telephoned.’
He said: ‘Are you? Why?’
She said: ‘I don’t know. I’ve been restless. I couldn’t sleep. I think I’ve been worrying about Desirée.’
Callaghan said: ‘So have I. What do you say to some coffee?’
She said: ‘Why not? Do I come to you, or do you come to me?’
He said: ‘I’ll be with you in an hour.’
She said: ‘Really! You’ll have to be quick, won’t you.’
Callaghan said: ‘It’s a fine night and the roads are clear. I’ll be seeing you, Manon.’
XII. SECONDARY LOVE SCENE
MANON STOOD WITH her back to the sideboard. She looked unutterably ravishing. She wore a long violet silk Chinese house-coat, embroidered with large dragons in gold and emerald green. Her blonde hair was caught over one shoulder with a violet ribbon. Her eyes were bright. There was an attractive flush on her cheekbones that heightened the deepness of her eyes.
She said: ‘This visit is quite delightful, Slim, even if it is unconventional. Would you like a drink while the coffee’s heating?’
Callaghan was sitting in the chintz-covered arm-chair by the electric fire. He drew on his cigarette. He looked at her.
He said: ‘No thanks.’ There was a pause. Then he said: ‘What happened about Mendes? Did he just get out quietly or did he come and see you first?’
Manon did not move. He saw her fingers grip at the edges of the sideboard.
She sighed. There was an air of finality in that sigh as if she had come to the conclusion that denial, expostulation or argument were useless. She said:
‘I haven’t seen him or heard of him. Who told you about him?’
Callaghan said: ‘I got his name from Desirée. Quite obviously there was only one person who could have told Desirée about Raoul Mendes.’
She nodded.
‘The Admiral?’ she queried.
‘No,’ said Callaghan. ‘Having regard to the fact that the Admiral took all that trouble in order to keep Mendes’s name out of the note that Vane certified — the note that was going to get Mendes that twenty thousand pounds — it would be ridiculous to suppose that your uncle would tell Desirée about Mendes.’
‘Very well,’ said Manon. ‘Then who told her?’
‘You did,’ said Callaghan. ‘Your friend Starata did the rest.’
Manon looked at the ground in front of her. Her shoulders drooped a little. Then she drew them back, raised her head as if she was marshalling her forces. She said:
‘Starata...?’
Callaghan said: ‘Unfortunately for both of you, Starata employed a fellow called Leon. Leon was stupid. When he burgled my office in order to find the statement that Willie Lagos had made he knew just where to look for it. That told me something.’
She said softly: ‘Yes, it told you something. What did it tell you?’
Callaghan said: ‘Only one person outside my secretary, Effie Thompson knew where that statement was. You were that person. You knew where it was. Quite by accident,’ Callaghan went on, ‘I told you at The Blue Cloud, after Starata appeared and you’d noticed him, after you’d mentioned the fact that he was a good-looking man, that I had something in my desk drawer that would blow him sky-high. Then you got your big idea, didn’t you — the idea of doing a deal with Starata?’
He inhaled, blew the cigarette smoke out slowly.
He continued: ‘Starata was the boyo you needed at that moment. When you drove away from The Blue Cloud you waited down the road, and after Starata had finished with me and left, you had a talk with him. You made a deal. You told Starata you could tell him exactly where he could lay his hands on that Lagos statement, and in return he was to look after Mendes, because Mendes was getting a little troublesome, wasn’t he?’
Callaghan drew on his cigarette.
‘That job must have appealed to Starata,’ he said. ‘He’s very fond of women. I don’t suppose that he has a chance very often of making friends, shall we say, with one like you.’
She said: ‘You’re damned clever, aren’t you, Mr. Callaghan? I wonder are you clever enough.’
Callaghan said: ‘I don’t know. I’m not trying to be clever, but I’ve got a certain amount of common sense and I watch points. The trouble is,’ he went on, ‘that people come to conclusions based on false premises. Those conclusions are difficult to get away from. That was my trouble all along. I believed that the Admiral had telephoned through to Chipley and spoken to Desirée. At least I believed that until I rang the Chipley Exchange and found that there were male operators on after midnight.’
Manon made a little hissing noise. She said:
‘You think of everything, don’t you, Slim?’
Callaghan said: ‘Not always, but I thought of that. Then I got it. The story you told me about your movements on the night of the Admiral’s death had just enough truth in it to make it look reasonable. In fact,’ he went on, ‘the first part of your story was true. You couldn’t sleep. You were restless. You knew the Admiral had gone up to town. You knew he was going to see me — that there was some trouble brewing. You drove over to Chipley. You stopped your car at the back of The Grange because you didn’t want to disturb any one by going in the front way through the drive. I imagine you were walking across the back lawn when you heard the telephone ringing.’
Callaghan smiled at her.
‘Your heart must have missed a beat then, Manon, because you guessed that call would be from the Admiral. You were wondering whether you could get to the telephone in the hall in time to take the call. I bet you ran. Well, you got there. You got there through the french window of the dining-room at the back. And you got to the telephone in the hall the second after the bell stopped ringing. You picked up the receiver just in time to hear Grant, the butler, speaking from the extension line in the library, saying: ‘Hallo, Exchange... do you want me?’
‘Then,’ said Callaghan, ‘you had a very bright idea. You said: ‘I don’t want you... Sorry you’ve been troubled.’ Poor old Grant put the receiver down in the library just as the Admiral came on the line.’
Manon said: ‘You know, really you’re rather wonderful. I wish I’d met you years ago, Slim.’
Callaghan said: ‘I don’t.’ He went on: ‘Naturally, the Admiral thought he was speaking to Desirée. He was excited and angry. He told you that he’d changed his mind about what he was going to do; that he wasn’t going to commit suicide, but that he was coming up to town to see me again; that he was going to see things through to the bitter end. He told you he was returning to Chipley right away. Then he hung up. I imagine you hardly spoke at all.’
Manon said; ‘That’s right. I didn’t have to speak. Uncle hung up directly he’d finished.’
Callaghan said: ‘I can imagine you standing in that dark hall, realising that the game was up, realising that the Admiral was wise to you and Mendes. Unfortunately for himself, he hadn’t realised he’d given himself away to you.
‘Something had to be done, hadn’t it, Manon?’
She said: ‘Yes, obviously, Slim. Something had to be done.’ Her voice was odd. She was trembling.
Callaghan went on: ‘You were pretty close to the Admiral. If anything, I imagine he preferred you to Desirée. You were much more amusing, more light-hearted than she was. I don’t wonder at it. She spent most of her time worrying about him, whereas you didn’t give a damn. You knew where the old boy kept that pistol of his. You went and got it. Then you left the house and waited for him in the coppice. You shot him as he passed within a foot or two of you, and that was that!
‘But having done so, a doubt assailed you — a terrible doubt. The Admiral didn’t mention on the telephone that the two years stated in the Insurance policy clause were up. You didn’t know that. If you put the gun in the Admiral’s hand and made it appear suicide and the two years weren’t up, there wouldn’t be any insurance money and there wouldn’t be any twenty thousand for you and Mendes. So you had to do something about that.
‘I imagine,’ said Callaghan, ‘you were pretty scared by this time. You didn’t want to leave the gun with him. You wanted to get rid of it. You dropped it in the lake. As you were moving away from the footbridge, you saw Desirée coming across the lawn. You told her what had happened. You told her that your uncle had committed suicide; that you’d heard the shot just as you were arriving; that as he’d committed suicide there wouldn’t be any money to pay off Mendes; that you’d dropped the gun in the lake. Naturally,’ said Callaghan, ‘she believed you. In any event, she didn’t think you were a murderess.’
Callaghan lit a fresh cigarette.
‘Well, that was that,’ he said. ‘Ten minutes afterwards Desirée “discovered” the body. Well... how wrong am I?’
Manon said: ‘It’s not too bad, Slim. You’re doing very well.’ She turned, poured a little brandy into a tumbler, drank it neat. The flush of her cheek-bones deepened a little.
Callaghan said: ‘Then you were so far in that you had to get a little farther in. I imagine it was your idea that you should ring up my office, meet me, try and discover whether the Admiral had seen me, how much I knew. You must have been very relieved to discover that I knew practically nothing.’
Manon said: ‘You’d be surprised. I was fearfully relieved. I thought everything would be all right then.’
‘Precisely,’ said Callaghan. ‘Now you had to take care of something else. You had to take care of Mendes. Mendes, with his twenty thousand pounds in sight, was likely to become more obnoxious than ever, and you didn’t want anybody to start anything. So you got your other boy friend — Starata — to take care of Mendes. I like the idea of Starata going for Raoul. But it worked out all right. Mendes agreed to play ball and say his piece as you wanted him to. He agreed to the story which would, in fact, provide you with a very good alibi.
‘The next thing was to tell me that it was Desirée who dropped the gun in the lake. Slowly and relentlessly you were working along the lines of the story that it was Desirée who had discovered the Admiral’s body; that it was she who had wanted the insurance paid so badly that it was she who had dropped the gun in the lake in order to make certain. If it came to a showdown, it was her word against yours. But you had Mendes to support you. He, if necessary, would supply you with your alibi.’
Callaghan stubbed out his cigarette.
‘Now some more trouble started,’ he went on. ‘The police produced the idea that the Admiral had been murdered. But by now you’ve discovered that the two years’ time limit was already up. Now you’re a little bit afraid of this murder idea, so the thing to do is to play up the suicide angle. The thing to do is to prove to the police that the gun was dropped in the lake by somebody — and of course that somebody must be Desirée because she discovered the body.’
