John Creasey - Inspector West At Home

“West, stop this !” Cartier shouted.

“Be quiet!” snapped Roger, and he was surprised when the man subsided. “Mrs Cartier, you knew all that was being done. Your husband — as well as you yourself — had friends all over the Continent. You probably started the Society to help those friends who escaped, but I don’t think you had any desire to extend the scope of it. It was extended however, and then you became afraid of it. You would not take any direct action until you were sure. You heard that I was being framed, and so you came to see me, hoping that I would add two and two together. Well, here’s your answer. Your husband was in it.”

“There is not a scrap of truth in anything you say,” declared Oliphant.

“I’m waiting here for the proof,” Roger said. “You’ve worked through one of the officials at Scotland Yard, that is definitely established. He will move, he’s bound to because he is afraid that when you are arrested you will betray him. He will come to warn Cartier to get away. He will be told that you, Oliphant, left Chelsea and came here and he’ll be equally anxious to warn you. He’ll know that in handling the matter I made a significant omission. I didn’t have police protection at Bonnock House. He will probably think that I can’t handle it on my own.”

“Perhaps he does,” murmured Oliphant, but Roger ignored him.

“He’ll be fairly confident because he has the authority to remove any police who might come to the flats,” Roger continued, “that is one of his advantages, isn’t it?”

Oliphant said in a queer voice :

“Is it, West?”

“Oh, yes.”

“And do you think you know this individual?” asked Oliphant.

“I do,” said Roger.

“Perhaps,” said Oliphant. “Perhaps you’re right, West.” He looked at Cartier and said with a twisted smile : “You were certainly right, Sylvester. The 13th undid us.”

“Don’t be —” began Cartier.

“There’s no need to worry,” Oliphant said, slowly. “West came alone. He was so anxious to make sure that his colleague didn’t become suspicious, and has grandiose ideas about bringing off a coup by himself. He’s here alone. We can handle him. If he has a warrant for me, it will be exe-cuted, either by him or someone else.” There was a curious smile on his face. “West is no fool. He knows that I have been a party to more than one murder — don’t you, West? The police have a case for murder against me — as an accessory. There’s no hope for me.”

“I’m glad you realise it,” Roger said.

“But I may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb,” said Oliphant. He put his hand to his pocket and drew out an automatic, levelling it casually at Roger. “If I shoot him,” he said dispassionately, “it will put the finishing touches to the case, but you and Antoinette need not suffer. You can tell the whole story — how West thought you were in it, how he accused me, but I confessed to being the leader and how I shot myself after shooting him. It will be quite convincing, won’t it?” He looked at Mrs Cartier, and in spite of his tension, Roger understood why Oliphant should behave like this.

Oliphant was in love with the woman!

“Well, West, what do you think of your scheme now?” Oliphant said.

Roger said slowly : “You told me that I wasn’t sane.”

“Meaning that I’m not? Oh, I don’t know,” said Oliphant. “I have been feeling the strain lately. Nothing has worked out as I expected, and this will be the most satisfactory end. Don’t imagine that I am sacrificing myself for Cartier. I think it is the only way in which —” he drew a deep breath — “ everyone can be happy?”

The woman was looking at him.

“Don’t make such admissions !” Cartier cried.

“It can’t do any harm,” said Oliphant. “Only West is listening and he won’t be able to talk — but his men will come before long.” He stood up and backed towards the window. “Don’t try to stop me, Sylvester. Curious,” he added. “I wonder if it would have worked out differently but for your inhibitions? The unlucky 13th — it always frightened you, didn’t it? And it seemed so easy to divert suspicion to West, and satisfy you. With West in jail, our real informant would have been quite safe, which was much more important than easing your mind about the 13th ! But we don’t need to tell West everything, he can fill in the details himself — in the next world!” Oliphant laughed, softly. “When our man comes from the Yard to warn us, he’ll find West and me dead. You can tell him what has happened, and he will be able to wind up the case most satisfactorily. You’ll say that West came here alone to try to extort more money. You’ll make it plain that he is the renegade after all, the tape was a trick. Then you can start all over again.”

He smiled and levelled the gun.

Roger thought: “Hurry, Tennant, hurry!” He fancied that he had seen a shadow at the window, but was not sure. He wondered whether he had relied too much on ‘unarmed combat’ and the remarkable agility of Bill Tennant. Then he saw the shape at the window, of Tennant standing on the ledge.

Cartier gasped : “Oliphant, look!”

Tennant launched himself against the window, smashing the glass with his elbows and knees, keeping his chin tucked well down; he wore a crash-helmet. The crash made Oliphant swing round, and Roger jumped to his feet and overturned the table. At the same time there was a banging at the door, then footsteps in the hall. Tennant, with a scratch on his right cheek and another on his hand, fell upon Oliphant. They hit the ground together.

The gun flew from Oliphant’s hand. Cartier made a movement towards it, but his wife held his wrist.

“No,” she said in a tense voice. “No, not that!”

Roger watched this tense drama of human emotions as if he were standing a long way off. It made no difference to the issue, all but one thing was over, now — yet there was a fascination in the relationship between the man and his wife.

Cartier said : “You started this, you bitch ! If it hadn’t been for you this would never have happened.”

The door opened and the maid, frightened and trembling, admitted Mark.

Mrs Cartier said : “I couldn’t let it go on, I simply couldn’t. But you’ll be free one day. Don’t do anything to

Jet them hang you. You know nothing about the murders.”

Cartier struck her savagely across the face. She turned away and Roger put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

Tennant was brushing himself down. Oliphant was sitting on the floor, looking up stupidly.

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Tennant said, almost wistfully. “Anyone else coming, West?”

“Soon, I hope,” Roger said.

Neither Oliphant nor Cartier spoke again. Roger handcuffed them to each other in another room, with Mark and Tennant to watch them. He gave the maid careful instructions, then returned to the lounge. Mrs Cartier was standing by the window, her face expressionless and her cheeks colourless. Roger looked out and saw one of Morgan’s men at the street corner, just walking out of sight.

He wondered whether Abbott would come. He did not feel like talking, although he wished the woman would break the silence. Suddenly, she turned and took a cigarette from a box on the table. She looked at him levelly as he lit it for her.

“How long have you known that my husband was involved in the crimes?”

“Not very long,” Roger said.

“Did I so much as hint at it?”

“You did not,” Roger assured her. “You did all you could, Mrs Cartier, to hide that. I wish —”

“Please!” she said, then went on slowly. “I have always been afraid of it, but what could I do, what could I do? He — is my husband. I could not bring myself to believe it. Gradually, I learned what was happening, how they worked, what Pickerell did, what poor Lois Randall was forced to do. But for the agonising fear that Sylvester was concerned, I would have told the police much earlier. When I learned about you —” she drew a deep breath. “You know what I did. I told him, also, to warn him. When he did not show any resentment I thought, I prayed, that I was wrong. But that record — the 13th — I knew how superstitious he was, how everything worried him — spilled salt, ladders — a hundred things.”

Roger said : “How much more do you know, Mrs Cartier?”

“Not much more than you must know already,” she said. “Oliphant arranged most of it, I think. My — my husband knew the people whose goods were sent here. He was always friendly with those in authority on the Continent, but so were many others. I knew a little of Malone. I learned much from tapes which you have not heard; I hid them, but you will be able to use them now.” She went on tonelessly. “They showed up everything, Inspector. One says that the man Leech was to be killed, the ‘Chief’ had ordered it — always they talked of the “Chief”, never did they give him a name. I tried to pretend that there was hope even if it were my husband. I should have known better. I knew that Malone and his men were employed sometimes, that there was a policeman who gave information away — he had done so for several years. When it appeared that some policeman suspected it, it was decided to make out that you were the man. That satisfied — superstition, as well. Malone introduced this policeman to Pickerell. I do not know who it is.”

“Do you know where Pickerell is hiding?” Roger asked.

“No,” said Mrs Cartier.

“You’re sure you’ve not heard the name of the policeman ?”

“I have not,” said Mrs Cartier. She drew a deep breath. “Do you think he will come?”

“Yes.”

The woman fell silent. Roger stepped to the window and looked out — and, after a few minutes, saw a taxi draw up. Close behind it .there came a private car. He saw Sam and another of Morgan’s men approaching, closing in as he had instructed. His jaw stiffened when he saw Abbott climb out of the second car with Tiny Martin. He could not see who was in the taxi, it drew up too close to the building. Abbott and Martin disappeared from his sight, another car, doubtless with Sloan inside, came down the street.

Morgan’s men waited.

Roger turned and looked towards the door. The waiting seemed unending but at last there was a tap on the passage door; the maid opened it and a man stepped through.

“Is Mr Cartier in?” he asked.

“No,” said the maid, repeating a lesson, “but Madam is in.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the man said and Roger’s mouth dropped. He could not really believe the evidence of that voice. He knew it well, but it was not Abbott ’ s. “As soon as your master returns, tell him to go north, as arranged. Do you understand? Tell him to go north. And tell him there is the possibility that someone will have to travel from Chelsea, also.”

The maid said : “I will tell him.”

“All right,” said the man; his voice was unmistakable — it was Cornish !

Seeing him through a gap in the door Roger hardly recognised him, for Cornish had dyed his hair, was wearing a mackintosh with the collar turned up and looked disreputable. Only the voice condemned him. “Tell him to hurry,” Cornish repeated.

There was a pause followed by a gasp.

“Look out, Martin !” Abbott called out. . Cornish pushed his way into this room, slammed the door, and demanded :

“Where’s the back door?”

“It’s no good, Cornish,” said Roger.

The man swung round. His mouth gaped open, his hand seemed to sag in his pocket. There was a moment of utter silence before Cornish stiffened. Roger moved swiftly to one side, but he had never been more glad to see Tennant launch himself forward with his bewildering speed. Cornish fired once from his pocket, but the bullet hit the floor. Then he went down underneath Tennant, who kept his balance and stood over his victim. He put his heel on Cornish’s wrist, forcing the gun away. Roger kicked it aside.