John Creasey - Triumph For Inspector West Страница 16

“That’s right—plenty more where that came from,” agreed Joe. “Brown, why did you go to Raeburn’s flat?”

Brown licked his lips. “I was going to beat him up.”

“Why?”

“That’s my business.”

“We’ll see about that,” Joe said.

He went for Brown with a rain of blows which made even Deaken cry out in muffled protest. Brown was pushed round the room, trying desperately to defend himself. He kept banging his arm against the wall. His knees felt weak, and now and again he stumbled, but Andy reached forward and hauled him to his feet. By the time Joe stopped, Bill’s face was puffy and swollen and streaked with blood; he could hardly get his breath.

“Why did you want to beat Raeburn up?” asked Joe.

Brown muttered: “He murdered my brother.”

“So you think he murdered your brother. What made you think so, Brown? Don’t waste time.”

Brown muttered: “Try and find out.”

“Bill, he’ll bash you again!” cried Deaken. “Andy,” said Joe in a menacing voice, “you have a

At the third blow from the giant, Brown began to talk.

He was talking or answering questions for over twenty minutes. Joe learned that Tony had been with Eve on the night of Halliwell’s death, and learned exactly what Katie Brown had told Roger. He pressed for more, probing to find out whether Brown could give evidence or whether all he had was hearsay, until Brown was half stupid with pain and fatigue.

“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Joe said, when it was finished. “If you’d told me all that before, you wouldn’t have got hurt. Not so much, anyway.” He grinned. “But it’s a pity you’ve seen me and my friends, isn’t it? Because you’d talk to the narks, wouldn’t you? You’d—”

A man shouted from downstairs.

Joe swung round. “What’s that?”

His answer was a thud and a gasp, then footsteps sounded on the stairs. Joe moved swiftly toward the door, taking out an automatic. Andy pulled the door open.

A man at the top of the stairs shouted: “Get out of my way, or—”

He broke off, as Joe appeared.

From behind Joe, Andy called: “West!”

Joe had kept completely cool during the moments of crisis, and now he said, quite evenly: “You’ve had it, copper.”

He fired.

Roger fired from his pocket as he jumped aside. The other man’s bullet smacked into the wall near his head. Joe staggered back, clutching his chest, and his gun dropped from his fingers.

“The cops, armed,” breathed Andy. “Gawd!”

CHAPTER XVIII

SILENT JOE

“BROWN’S IN hospital but he confirmed his wife’s story,”

D said Roger to Chatworth, an hour later. “Deaken’s all right, as scared as a rabbit, but not hurt. We’ve another dish of hearsay evidence, as far as Eve Franklin is concerned, but nothing that leads direct to Raeburn.”

“What about this man Joe?” asked Chatworth.

“He’s badly hurt. I didn’t have time to take aim,” said Roger. “He’s being operated on now. The other men seem dumb. They say they only know Joe’s Christian name, and I haven’t been able to find out anything about the man. But I will.”

“You’d better. The Home Secretary thinks your resignation would clear the air a lot.”

Roger caught his breath. “Are you making me              ?”

“I told him if you were suspended, I’d quit,” Chatworth said bluffly. “But we want results soon. Yesterday —well, go on.”

Roger said, slowly: “Thank you, sir. I think we can get Raeburn eventually, but if you feel that I ought——”

“I said, go on.”

Roger said: “Brown says that the man Joe told him he was after Raeburn, but I don’t pay much attention to that. We might find a Joe-Tenby connection, and I’m also working on that angle. I don’t think we can complain about today’s progress.”

“No, but this campaign against you must stop soon,” Chatworth said.

Roger leaned back in his chair, and drew at his cigarette. He was hungry, his eyes were tired from the strain of driving through the fog, and Chatworth had given him a nasty shock.

“It won’t stop until we’ve dropped the case or got Raeburn,” he said. “It’s shrewd and very clever— Raeburn flaunting himself as a champion of the rights of the people, and winning a lot of sympathy. But there’s a sharp contrast between the newspaper campaign and Raeburn’s usual tactics against us, and this violence,” Roger went on. “It’s almost as if two different people were behind it. Raeburn’s completely lost his head, or else he can’t control the forces he’s let loose. Either way, I think it will give us a break.” It had to. “I hope we’ll get something out of Joe soon. I’ve left a man by his side.”

Chatworth nodded dismissal.

At half past three, Roger heard that the bullet had been removed, and that Joe was making reasonable progress. He had not yet spoken a word, but if he had a good night he might be questioned the following day.

Tenby was interviewed, but when shown a photograph, professed not to know any Joe. He said that he had been in his rooms all the morning, and certainly he could not be linked up with the attack on Bill Brown on the present evidence. Efforts to identify Joe went on all that day and the following morning, but without result. He seemed to have no history. The other three men, Army deserters, had been staying at a doss house; according to Andy, they had met Joe in a pub.

Joe had paid Andy fifty pounds, and the other two men twenty each for the job.

Roger saw Joe the following afternoon. The wounded man was out of danger, and conscious, but would not say a word. After twenty minutes, Roger gave up, left instructions with the detective on duty in the private ward, and had a talk with the sister in charge.

“There’s no reason why he should behave like this,” she said, “and he’s spoken rationally enough to the nurses, sir. He’s had a nasty wound, of course, but—”

“You think he’s acting dumb?” asked Roger.

“I do rather think so.”

“Silent Joe,” mused Roger. “Well, thanks very much.”

He was very thoughtful as he drove away from the hospital.

When Roger reached the Yard, Turnbull and Peel were waiting for him. The two had returned from Brighton in the wake of Raeburn and Eve. Eve had gone to her rooms in Battersea, and Raeburn to the Park Lane flat; both were being kept under observation. They had no idea why Raeburn had changed his plans; he had simply paid his bill after lunch, and driven back. The fog had cleared except in the heart of London, and the journey had been uneventful.

“And you’ve nothing special to report?” Roger asked.

“There’s nothing new at all,” admitted Turnbull.

“Well, we’ve had some luck here,” Roger told him, and explained.

“If you ask me, Raeburn’s seen the red lights,” Turnbull said, with satisfaction.

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“But we haven’t really set them at danger,” Turnbull argued. “We haven’t done anything to make him rush back to town, anyway.”

“No,” agreed Roger. “See much of him and Eve?”

“Too much.”

“Cooing doves?”

“Coo!” Turnbull grinned. “What’s on your mind?”

“You know, apart from Tenby, there’s just one known possible witness against Raeburn,” Roger said, slowly.

“Yes—our Evie,” Turnbull agreed, “but I tell you that pair neck so much they make me heave. Your pal Lessing agrees, too. Eve isn’t on any danger list from Raeburn, take it from me.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure,” said Roger. “Well, I’d better get home. How’s Lessing?”

“He looks a bit raw,” said Turnbull,” but he’ll survive.”

He went off.

Roger tidied up his desk, and was outside by his car when a messenger came hurrying down the steps after him.

“What’s on?” Roger asked, and his tension rose. “A report from Division, sir,” the messenger reported. “It says that Mrs Beesley’s just gone into Eve Franklin’s flat, and the Super thought you ought to know.”

CHAPTER XIX

MA BEESLEY TALKS

A BEESlEY sat on the divan in Eve’s bedroom; it was the only thing in the room large enough for her to sit on with comfort. She was dressed in shiny black, which showed up the pasty whiteness of her skin. All the time she talked she smiled, showing her ugly wide-spaced teeth. Now and again, she touched her plaited hair, but not once did she shift her gaze from Eve. Her eyes were wary, half- hidden in fat, and her voice was smooth and gentle.

“Now I’m only telling you this for your own good, my dear,” she said. “I know Paul Raeburn better than anyone living. You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last—you can take that from me. If you’re sensible, you’ll accept my offer and go away for a few weeks. You’ll soon forget him.”

Eve did not speak.

“It stands to reason that he’s only playing with you, or he wouldn’t let you stay in this place,” went on Ma, looking about the room. “If he were serious, he’d see that you had a really nice apartment. Haven’t you ever thought of that?”

“It’s wiser for me to stay here,” Eve answered, sullenly.

“Is that what he says?” Ma grinned, knowingly. “He’s got an answer for everything, Paul has. I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself, my dear, but I’m advising you for your own good. You know the things that have been happening, you know he had to leave Brighton suddenly. Did he consider you then?”

“He has to attend to business, hasn’t he?”

Eve was dressed for out-of-doors, In a two-piece suit of wine red with green braid at the edges and on the sleeves. When Ma Beesley had called, she had been ready to keep an appointment with Paul, but he had sent a message cancelling it; the note had been all that she could have desired. Now this fat harridan was trying to poison her mind. She hated Ma Beesley.

“That’s just the point, my dear,” wheezed Ma. “Paul has to attend to business, and business always comes first with him. Now you’ve got a wonderful chance, right here. Five thousand pounds is a lot of money. If you’re careful, you can live comfortably on that for a long time. And a pretty girl like you oughtn’t to have any difficulty in catching another man. What you want, my dear, is a man who’ll marry you.”

“That’s what you think.”

Ma leaned forward. “Now don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes. You think you can make Paul marry you? Well, you couldn’t in a thousand years. If you go away with this money in the bank, you’ll be much happier than if you hang on to Paul. I’ve brought the cash with me.” She touched a bulging handbag. “Have a look at it.” She opened the bag, peering at Eve as she did so. A thick wad of bank notes rustled in her fingers.

“See those, dear? Take a good look.”

“Put the damned money away!” cried Eve. “I’m not going to walk out on Paul, see? You’ve only come because you know he wants to marry me. What the hell’s it got to do with you? I’ll show you whether I’m good enough. I’ll tell him that you’ve been here; then you’ll see how the land lies.”

“Will you?” asked Ma, softly. “I wonder if that would be wise, Eve. I don’t want to be unkind, but Paul has a hasty temper, you know—”

“That’s what I mean!’?

“He won’t vent it on me,” said Ma, confidently. “You see, he relies on me for everything, duck—for everything. He knows that anything I do is always in his interest. I can handle Paul, but you can’t. I don’t ask you to decide too quickly, but think about it.”

“I don’t need to think about it!”

“I see,” said Ma. She stood up, putting the money back in her bag. “You’re very silly, Eve. I’ve told you what’s good for you, and I’m right. The further you keep from Paul in the next few weeks, the better for you. He’s very worried, and he isn’t interested in anything but business, and in keeping quite clear of the police. People who might do him harm get hurt, my dear. Don’t forget your Tony. He was murdered—”

Eve cried: “That’s a lie!”

“Well, lie died in very mysterious circumstances,” murmured Ma. “Don’t you think—”

The ringing of the front-door bell cut across her words, and they stared toward the little hall. Eve’s hands were tightly clenched, and the fat woman was frowning.

“Who do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” muttered Eve. “I don’t want to see anyone. You—you’ve been lying to me, you needn’t deny it. You just want to separate us; you don’t care how you do it. Paul wouldn’t—”

Ma raised a hand, and snapped her fingers beneath the girl’s nose. “Anyone out there can hear what we say, you fool,” Ma whispered. “Open the door, quick, and don’t let them know I’m here.” When Eve hesitated she pushed her toward the door. “Don’t keep them waiting.”

The bell rang again. Eve went into the hall, feeling weak and listless; the old beast had shocked her so. She could only think of one word: murder. She had always been sure that Tony had committed suicide, had never believed in the accident theory, but murder!

She opened the door.

“Good evening, Miss Franklin,” said Roger West.

It was obvious to Roger that something had happened to upset Eve Franklin badly. Her hands were unsteady, and her eyes were feverishly bright. It was not the shock of seeing him; in fact, she peered at him for a moment without recognition. Then she drew back.

Roger saw a big shadow against the door of the inner room; Ma Beesley probably did not want it known that she was here. He smiled as he stepped into the hall.

“I’m afraid I have to worry you again,” he said. “Come in, Peel.”

The girl backed toward the inner door, the colour draining from her face as the two men entered. “What-^what do you want?”

“I just want the truth out of you,” Roger said.

Then Eve was glad to see Ma Beesley, for the fat woman appeared in the doorway, all creases and double chins.

“I think we all realise that you would like to frighten the poor child,” she bleated. “Don’t take on, Eve, don’t let them bully you.”

She squeezed through the doorway and came to Eve’s side, smiling her set smile, but her little eyes were hostile. She touched Eve’s arm, and the girl shrank away. There was no time to lose, if Roger was to get any advantage; he sensed that there had been a quarrel; that the older woman had frightened the girl; working on that might give him the best chance of breaking Eve down.

“That’s enough from you,” he said. “I want to see Miss Franklin alone.”

“I daresay you do, but you can’t,” retorted Ma. “I know better than that. I’m not frightened of a policeman. I came here to try to help the poor child—”

“Help!” gasped Eve.

“We don’t see eye to eye, my dear, but I came with the best intentions,” said Ma Beesley. “You really ought to come in and sit down.” She looked at Roger insolently. “You’re not going to insist on seeing her alone, are you? Because if you are, I shall have to telephone her solicitor immediately. Mr. Warrender had to do that once before, remember?”