John Creasey - The Toff and the Fallen Angels

“The mothers are afraid they might be.”

“But why?”

“That’s exactly what I want you to find out,” said Naomi simply. She finished the strawberry flan on her plate, and looked at him again with that frank, penetrating expression he was becoming used to. “In one way that’s what most hurts and worries me. At one time they trusted me implicitly. They don’t now. They don’t come and confide or ask my help as they used to. They are as suspicious of me as they are of one another. I believe most of them would leave if they had anywhere to go, but they haven’t.”

“Naomi,” said Rollison. “Answer me another question. Do you really think that Smith Hall is in danger of being ruined—or are you afraid that you, personally, might be forced to leave and be replaced?”

She did not avert her gaze.

“I don’t think it would be continued without me. I don’t mean that I am indispensable in the actual work, but I don’t think the sponsors would go on paying the cost if I were to leave. I can’t be sure, of course, but Professor Nimmo assures me he would withdraw his support—and if he were to withdraw I’m sure the others would, too.”

“So you’ve discussed this with them?”

“Of course,” answered Naomi.

“Who are they, apart from Professor Nimmo?”

“There are four others,” she said, looking about her. “Did you notice where I put my handbag? Ah, there—” she moved to get up, seeing the bag on the table by her chair in the big room, but Rollison, moving with almost startling speed, fetched it for her. “Thank you.” She opened it, and took out a small, printed brochure. “All the details are in there. We use that to show the girls whom we think could benefit.” She watched him glance down the list. “Do you recognise any of. them?”

He read :

Professor George Brown — Chair of Philosophy.

Dr. William C. Carfax — Chair of English Literature.

Professor Keith Webberson — Chair of European Languages.

Dr. O. J. Offenberger — Chair of Advanced Mathematics.

“I know Keith Webberson,” Rollison remarked, and reflected that he could get a completely objective report from a man with whom he had been both at school and at Oxford. “And I’ve heard of Brown and Carfax by reputation—Offenberger is a new one on me. And these all give tuition free?”

“Yes.”

“Do any others?”

“There is a consultant staff of twenty-one.”

“Good lord!” exclaimed Rollison. “You really go for it in a big way. And do all of these know all you’ve told me?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Naomi Smith. “And much more—I’ve confided with them as the trouble has developed. And I know you know Keith Webberson—he suggested that I should get in touch with you. In fact he offered to approach you himself but I thought you might help for his sake and I wanted you to decide on—on the merits of the case as far as I could present them to you. And you really will help?” She seemed only half-convinced.

“I’ve no second thoughts,” Rollison said. “I gather you’ve room for one or two more angels.”

They both smiled.

“Three, in fact—one of them left to get married last week, as well as the two I have mentioned.”

“If I happen to know of a young woman—”

“Oh, no!” cried Naomi Smith. “You haven’t—” Rollison, pouring coffee, found himself spilling it as he spluttered with laughter.

“No, I haven’t qualified a young woman to enter Smith Hall!” he said. “But I have in mind one who is an angel aloft, as it were, and who is pretty bright at Social Science and has a good inquiring mind. By freak of chance, her name is Angela, and if I know Angela, she’ll jump at the chance of joining you. As one of the girls themselves, she might win their confidence.”

“A new girl might, I suppose,” conceded Naomi. “Of course—it’s an excellent idea—my goodness! You believe in acting quickly.”

“But not fast enough,” said Rollison.

“I don’t understand you.”

He covered her hand with his.

“The thought of waiting for another angel to come and settle in and then start investigating casts you down,” he said. “You’re so deeply worried about it that you can’t wait to start. Isn’t that how you feel?”

After another of her pauses, she said slowly : “You really are a man of remarkable perception, Mr. Rollison.”

“Or Richard. Or Rolly—as you prefer. Angela apart, I won’t be idle.”

“You mean you’ve other ideas already?”

“No ideas, but some experience,” answered Rollison. “Have you a list of the names of the residents, their home and backgrounds and history?”

“Yes,” she said at once. “It’s wholly confidential, of course.” She opened her bag again. “I can rely on you keeping it to yourself, can’t I?”

“Yes,” said Rollison. “Unless it reveals crimes which the police have to know about. If it does, I’ll tell you first.”

This time, the envelope she handed to him was much bigger and bulkier. Inside were sheets of thin but glossy surfaced paper, and he drew them out. On the top left hand corner of the first was a photograph of a girl with a wide smile—a brunette with shortish hair and particularly big and attractive eyes. The sheet itself was a copy made from an original typewritten document. There were entries under a variety of headings.

NAME : Elspeth Jones

AGE: 22

SUBJECT: Languages

NEXT OF KIN: Father (Estranged)

NEXT OF KIN

ADDRESS : 41 Senneker Street, Birmingham, 15.

OTHER RELATIONS: See list attached. MARRIED OR

SINGLE: Single—(1 child)—father unknown,

Elspeth will not name him.

INCOME : Nil.

There followed a brief case history of Elspeth Jones, who had been disowned by her widowed father when he had been told that she was pregnant. Rollison did not read it all , but skipped to the bottom paragraph, under the heading:

PERSONALITY AND TALENTS A very pleasant and straightforward person with exceptional sense of loyalty. Without bitterness either towards lover or father. Lively, a good sense of fun, a good sense of colour and decor. Wholly trustworthy and likeable with a well developed sense of integrity.

Rollison looked up.

“Do you ever take in young women without being sure they are trustworthy and likeable?” he asked.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Naomi said : “Yes, of course. Smith Hall is not a place where people are prejudged. Some very unusual individuals are quite brilliant —all we do is create the conditions for them to study in their own specialised field. You would hardly complain if a man with a most unpleasant personality helped to find a cure for cancer would you? We have had some very off-putting girls, but as I said, until two months ago they all got along very well. Newcomers sometimes take some time to settle in, and are not always accepted quickly—that is one reason why I had momentary doubts about your Angela. Do you really think she will be prepared to help?”

“I’ll know before the day’s out,” said Rollison. “And as soon as I know, I’ll telephone you. That’s a promise.”

CHAPTER 4

Angela

ANGELA’S rosy cheeks were glowing, her blue eyes were bright, her plump and bouncy body seemed to quiver with excitement. She was short, only just five feet, but no one ever thought her small. Some called her a roly-poly and that, though old-fashioned, was very much on the ball. She wore a mini-skirt which rode high above her stalwart calves and trim ankles, and a loose-fitting scarlet jumper with a polo neck. Her hair, golden in colour, had a silken lustre.

“Gorgeous!” she gurgled. “Absolutely gorgeous, Rolly. Bless you for thinking of me.”

“Knowing you, could I have thought of anyone else?” asked Rollison.

“I’d have hated you for life if you had. I’ve always wondered how it would feel to live branded by one’s own indiscretions. The incredible thing is that it happens so much today. Anyone would think that reasonably educated angels would know this was the Pill Age.”

The Toff evaded that challenge neatly.

“So you’ll do it,” he remarked.

“Rolly, darling, when can I start?”

“Very soon, I imagine. Tomorrow say?”

“Tomorrow is the day! Rolly, bless you! At long last I’m going to see how the other half lives.” She bounced out of her chair, opposite his in the Gresham Terrace flat, and kissed him on either cheek. “Does Old Glory know about this?”

“Not yet,” said Rollison.

“I daresay that’s wise.” Angela, suddenly even more ecstatic, sat on his knee and flung an arm round his neck. He needed no reminding that she was a very feminine young woman and fleetingly thought of his morning talk with Jolly. Angela simply regarded him as an uncle; masculine certainly, but hardly male in the exciting sense. She hugged him. “You’re the absolute pet,” she told him. “Now I can have two of my life-long dreams fulfilled—to see the seamy side of life, and to play detective.”

“Angela,” said Rollison, regarding her severely, “This is not a game.”

“Roily, don’t be silly, I know it’s not.” She stiffened theatrically, holding him at arm’s length. “Richard,” she said in the tone all the family used when about to disapprove of him. “Don’t tell me you think I’m incapable of being serious !”

“You’re quite capable,” Rollison assured her. “The point is, that this is one of those occasions to use that capability, and not indulge in the light-hearted frivolity you semi-intellectual young people find so necessary.”

“Of course, I gather that, and the fact that the wrong timing is the very snag over which your semi-intellectual angels have fallen.”

Rollison chuckled.

“Your point,” he conceded. “Will you have another drink?”

“You mean, won’t I get off your knee and allow you to breathe more freely.” She kissed him on the forehead. “No, I won’t have another drink and I won’t play the fool any more. I’m absolutely thrilled at the chance, and truly grateful. And—” she hesitated for a studied effect, then went on : “I won’t let you down.” She was suddenly all movement again, as she sprang off his knee like an indiarubber ball. She neither looked nor behaved like her twenty-four years. “There’s just one thing. What will happen when the others find that I’m not really qualified?”

Rollison looked at her solemnly,

“With a turn like that, no one would suspect you were cheating.” Before she recovered, he moved towards the telephone. It was five minutes to seven, and he was alone but for Angela, this being Jolly’s evening off. He dialled the number of Smith Hall, and Naomi Smith answered in that unmistakable voice which attracted Rollison in a way he had seldom been attracted before.

“This is Smith Hall.”

“This is Richard Rollison, to tell you that Angela is prepared to fall.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved,” said Naomi in a tone which was evident proof of her words. “The more I think of it the more I like this idea. How soon can she come?”

“Tomorrow.”

There was a long pause, before Naomi said in a huskier voice :

“I don’t really believe in you, Richard. You’re like something spirited out of Aladdin’s lamp.”

Angela, close to Rollison, was mouthing and touching her lips and her right ear, in imitation telephoning. Rollison held on for a moment, relishing what Naomi had said, and then asked :