John Creasey - Inspector West At Home
A single slip had finished Malone. It was difficult to believe that the man was on his way to the police-cells, that the striking arm of the Pickerell-Oliphant organisation had been paralysed. The quicker he interviewed Malone the better; not that he expected the man to squeal, although probably some of his gang would. Roger forgot his anxieties and the disappointment awaiting Janet in a sudden burst of confidence. If anything puzzled him at the moment he opened the doors of the garage, it was that Tennant had behaved in a peculiar way, to say the least.
The garage doors were wide open when he looked inside. His car was there, bonnet towards him. Sitting at the wheel, eyas wide open and mouth hidden by a scarf tied very tightly, sat a man with a peaked cap pushed to the back of his head, and with his hands tied to the steering wheel.
CHAPTER 22
Interview With Chatworth
IT WAS Dixon, the missing taxi-driver.
He could not speak even when Roger removed the scarf, and his mouth would hardly close; great red ridges showed on either side. His hands were so stiff that Roger had to prise them from the steering wheel. He had called for help, and Mark and Cornish, Tennant and two other policemen were outside the garage.
Roger helped the man from the car. They carried him into the house, put him on a settee, then began to massage his lips and legs and wrists. Mark laced strong tea with brandy and spoon-fed the man. The tension, which had relaxed after the disappearance of the Black Maria, was more acute than ever. Roger was desperately anxious to find out what had happened to Dixon, and who had brought the man here.
It was half an hour before the man could speak, and then only in a voice a little above a whisper.
Dixon had followed the Daimler to Bonnock House. Soon after he had parked his cab at the end of the road, another had arrived, bearing Mrs Sylvester Cartier. With her had been a man whom the taxi-driver knew by sight because he had worked a great deal in the East End and had often been to the Old Bailey for a free entertainment. The man’s name, he said, was Oliphant.
“Oliphant!” Roger exclaimed.
“Sure — and the lady.” Dixon moistened his lips. “Maybe I got too curious, mister. I went too close. I was hanging around and Malone arrived — you know Malone? He’s poison, he—”
“He’s at Cannon Row,” Roger said.
Dixon’s eyes glittered. “I wish I could have had a go at ‘im first. Well, I just stayed around. Malone was watching. The toff who had been with the lady came out and got into the Daimler again and I started to follow but before I got far Malone came on the running board. Know Hampstead Heath, mister? Well, it’s lonely enough an’ I couldn’t do a thing about it. There was four of them. They — they” — his voice was hoarse with anger — “they tied me up an’ put me at the back of me own cab an’ drove it ‘ere!”
Roger said : “Have you been here ever since?”
“Every ruddy minnit,” said Dixon. “They never even give me a drink o’ water. They tied me ‘ere an’ told me I’d be lucky if anyone came before I was stiff.” He gulped. “I couldn’t move me ‘ead, Guv’nor. Wouldn’t I like—”
“Did they talk much?”
“Talk — they never did nothing else!” said Dixon. “They arst me ‘ow long I’d been a squealer, me — me, a perishing nose! They wanted to know if I’d been told to watch the lady, an’ whether you had said anything about her. I said you said I was to watch the toff, Guv’nor. I didn’t see no sense in giving them what they perishin’ well wanted!”
“Good man,” said Roger.
“That tickled Malone,” Dixon said. “He laughed as if it was the best joke in the world, Guv’nor — but I had the laugh on him, because he didn’t know you was really after the dame.”
“And is that the lot?” asked Roger.
“Seems plenty to me,” said Dixon. “If I don’t get some shut-eye soon I. shall drop dead, that’s what I shall do.”
“We’ll get you home,” Roger said.
“Guv’nor, if you’ve got a bed here, I’ll be asleep in a couple of jiffs.”
“Yes, of course.” Roger left Mark and Tennant to put the man to bed, smiled at the thought of Janet’s homecoming, then drove in his own car to the Yard. There seemed nothing to do but detain Mrs Cartier and Oliphant and hope that one or the other would make a true statement. The woman might break down. Some things continued to puzzle him. If Malone had known that the woman was implicated when Dixon had arrived, he must have known later that evening, yet there had been nothing phoney about the way he had assaulted her.
“To make me jump to the wrong conclusion,” Roger mused. “It couldn’t mean anything else.”
He reached the Yard and immediately gave instructions for Mrs Cartier and Oliphant to be shadowed. He learned from Eddie Day that Abbott had put a man on Oliphant after all; so Abbott was still capable of being two-faced. Until he saw Abbott, he thought that Mrs Cartier had no watcher, but he was wrong. The Superintendent was apologetic; Chatworth had ordered him to have Oliphant watched, as well as Mrs Cartier; the AC had not been prepared to leave it to Roger. And :
“I think he was right, West.”
“So do I, by hindsight,” admitted Roger. “Any sign of Pickerell?”
“No.”
“Have you heard about Malone?”
“I’ve just come from him,” said Abbott. “He will not talk — but then, he is hardly in a condition to talk, he will be in hospital for several days. Who dealt with him? Was it Cornish ?”
Roger smiled. “No. There was a bit of a scrap. I can’t say who hit who.”
He expected to be pressed on the point, but a buzzer rang on Abbott’s desk and the Superintendent stood up quickly.
“That will be Sir Guy. I told him you had arrived and he promised to ring for us as soon as he was ready.” Abbott led the way up to Chatworth’s office and they went in immediately.
“You’re having quite a week, aren’t you, West?” The question was almost aggressive.
Roger grimaced. “Yes, aren’t I ?”
“It looks as if the worst is over,” said Chatworth. “Abbott’s told you that we’re watching everyone?” Roger nodded. “All the people whom the Randall girl named have been interviewed except Oliphant,” Chatworth went on. “We’ve been very busy all through the night.”
Roger smiled with relief. He should have realised that the Yard would act swiftly and thoroughly. He had not yet got it out of his system that he was working this case on his own.
“And we have a very remarkable story,” Chatworth said. “You haven’t told him, Abbott, have you?”
“No, sir.”
Roger stared. “What is it, sir?” he asked.
“It is a combination of things. First, many of the stolen jewels have not been disposed of. Pickerell sold others to some of the people to whom Miss Randall took the packages — she actually took the stolen goods. The proceeds of many jewel thefts, here and on the Continent, passed through the hands of Pickerell and Lois Randall. Pickerell was the fence, always working from Welbeck Street.”
“Yes?” said Roger. Chatworth’s manner told him there was more to come.
Chatworth gave an almost smug smile.
“And then there was the real purpose of the Society of European Relief, West! Relief!” He threw back his head and uttered a short laugh. “Oh, it had its genuine side, but the chief angle was very clever indeed. Jewels were brought in from the Continent, sometimes by refugees, who owned them, others by thieves posing as refugees, and more — the largest proportion — jewels hidden away during the last war, and discovered. There’s been a lot of smuggling, we’ve known that for some time. Jewels flooded the Society from all sources and they were all handled at Welbeck Street.”
Roger thought: “Smuggled sparklers, so that’s it.” He felt annoyed with himself for being disappointed.
“Most of them came from Germany and Italy,” Chatworth said, gently.
Roger stared : “Germany?”
“You’ve heard of the fortunes which Goering, Goebbels, Himmler and the rest of them are supposed to have wafted away?” asked Chatworth. “Of course you have! But other well-placed Nazi officials and German business men weren’t able to do it. They wanted to save something from the wreckage, so they put their money in jewels — many of them pillaged from the occupied countries — and they sent them over here. The Society of European Relief became an organization” — Chatworth laboured over the words — “which relieved a great many people of their jewels, took jewels from others for services never fully rendered, and was a gigantic world-wide sales organisation. Some of its members, posing as refugees, travelled abroad and sold stolen jewels. Follow that, West? The Society of European Relief did all that.”
Roger said gruffly : “So it was as big as that.”
“Oh, yes,” said Chatworth. “And think how clever it was. They actually had a genuine organisation ready for distributing the jewels, which were never allowed to remain in one country for long. For every genuine applicant for relief there was one who was a party to this scheme. There were people with friends behind the Iron Curtain prepared to help when Mrs Cartier persuaded them — men who wouldn’t touch the jewels for themselves, but were prepared to hold them. I don’t know what precious argument the woman puts up — she probably told a lot of them that they were jewels belonging to refugees from Russia, Poland — all of Eastern Europe. There are some very big names on the list of patrons of the Society — oh, it will prove quite a scandal! Beginning to understand how important it was that you should not connect the murder of the woman Cox with this?”
Roger said : “I certainly do. But it’s doubtful whether I ever would have done.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Chatworth. “I think Oliphant must have been afraid that you had seen something. I’ve heard from some of the people concerned that they have been afraid of a raid for several months. They had the wind-up all right and” — he laughed —”Friday the 13th worried .someone !”
Roger said : “Ye-es. It couldn’t have been that alone. You’ve enough on Mrs Cartier and Oliphant to arrest them, I suppose ?”
“We can pick them up whenever we want to,” said Chatworth. “It is now established that Oliphant has been to see Malone on several occasions. Also — he was at Cox’s house with Malone just before you arrived on December 13th.”
Roger caught his breath.
“They assumed you’d seen or heard them together, and one day you were bound to realise the significance,” Chatworth went on. “Well — I’ve left Oliphant and Mrs Cartier to you ! It’s your job to charge them.”
Roger sat back in his chair and said after a pause:
“Thank you, sir. I wonder if we would be wise to defer arresting Mrs Cartier.”
“Now, West!”
“I see it this way,” said Roger. “She came to see me and first awoke my interest in the Society. If she hadn’t pretended that she wanted my wife’s help, I would probably never have gone to Welbeck Street. We might have traced Malone to Bonnock House, but even that’s doubtful. After a long time we might have realised that the Society was a cover for crime, but I’m not sure. But for Mrs Cartier we wouldn’t have been able to make a move and — I would still be under suspension.”
“Come, West, come! Grow up!” Chatworth’s sarcasm was heavy as a spade. “She has been a very smart — clever woman, no doubt about that.” He looked over the tops of his glasses. “Why, she even got five guineas out of me for her precious Society !” He hurried over that evil memory and went on, scowling : “She told you some things and she meant to be sure that whatever else, you would not suspect her.”
Roger said : “I don’t know about that. I saw Malone strike her. I saw the way her head went from side to side. That wasn’t faked — he hurt her. I can’t be wholly sure that she has told me everything,” he admitted, “but I can’t believe that she would have been fool enough to have given me quite such a direct lead if she were guilty. Then there are the tapes. If you’re asking me to believe that Malone went there to get one just to create effect and to distract attention from her — well, sir, I can’t believe it.”
“Oh,” said Chatworth. “Well, what do you think?”
“If she did lead me there and is a party to the crimes it would only be because the Society is no longer useful and that she has taken up the second line of defence — or the people who work with her did. On the other hand, if she were genuinely interested in the Society as a relief organisation and had reason to believe that it was being used for something else, she acted rationally.”
“I see your point,” Chatworth said.
“So do I,” said Abbott.
“I’m simply trying to imagine whether anyone else could be behind it,” Roger said. “If we have the list of the supporters of the Society we’ve plenty to choose from. We may only be at the fringe of the affair yet. Seriously, sir — I ask you to pull Oliphant in if you must, but leave Mrs Cartier.”
Chatworth said after a long pause :
“I’ll think about it. Have a couple of men ready to go with you to Chelsea, for Oliphant, in case we act at once. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
“Very good, sir,” said Roger, formally.
He wished he could hear what Abbott said to the AC as he went to his own office. It was empty, and he was glad that he could sit back at his desk and stare ahead of him without being harassed by curious officers. He hated the thought that had come to him, he wished that it had not.
Supposing a man at the Yard was taking bribes?
Supposing the whole thing had been built up so that suspicion, which would be inevitable, had fallen on him, not on the real culprit.
Abbott?
Malone had said the Yard couldn’t keep him if they got him. Was his confidence founded on the fact that he was sure of help from inside the Yard ?
The telephone rang and he answered it quickly, surprised to hear Chatworth so soon on the line — he had not yet even detailed the sergeants. Then Eddie Day came in breezily, his prominent teeth bared in a smile of welcome.
“Eddie, get two sergeants here for me — I’ll be back soon,” Roger said. “I’m going to see the Old Man.”
Mention of Chatworth was quite enough to prevent Eddie from trying to delay him. He walked quickly along the corridor and up the stairs, entering on Chatworth’s gruff ‘come in’.
Abbott had gone.
“Close the door, West,” said Chatworth. “Sit down and tell me what’s on your mind ?”
“I think I’ve told you ev—” Roger began.
“No you haven’t!” Chatworth barked. “Something is worrying you, I saw your change of expression. What is it?”
Reluctantly, Roger said : “I still can’t understand why I was framed. The Oliphant-Malone coincidence might bo enough and yet it doesn’t make sense.”
“Ah !” said Chatworth. He leaned forward, pressing the backs of his hands against the side of the desk. “Does anything else puzzle you? Or have you allowed yourself to be dazzled by your change of fortunes and forgotten to think?”
