John Creasey - Triumph For Inspector West

She fell back on the pillows, looking at him through her lashes, and seemed to be laughing at him. Her lips were pursed provocatively; she held her head a little to one side. “Handsome,” she cooed.

“Yes?”

“You haven’t even top me why you came to see me.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I’ve been worried about you ever since Tony’s murder.”

“ Murder ?” she echoed, in a squeaky voice; the word seemed to have sobered her in a flash. “Did you say murder? ”

Roger said: “Well—”

“That’s what she said,” said Eve, deliberately, “but I don’t really believe it. Paul wouldn’t allow a wicked thing like that. Tony killed himself because I had turned him down, that’s what happened.” She straightened up. “Handsome, tell me he wasn’t murdered.”

Roger said carefully: “Officially, it was accidental death. I think he was murdered because he knew too much, and I think that anyone who knows the same thing is in danger. Tony’s brother knew, and he was attacked. Kate—you know Katie Brown—”

“Suddenly little piece,” muttered Eve, no longer on top of the world.

“You heard what happened to her, simply because of what she knew,” said Roger. “That’s why I come to see you so often. We want to look after you. You’re mixed up with a queer lot of people, Eve.”

“That’s not Paul’s fault! Paul’s all right, he’s wonderful! It’s that old woman and Warrender. I don’t trust either of them. Do you hear me, if anything happened it was their fault—not Paul’s. I—but I don’t believe it,” she added, abruptly. “I think you’re trying to scare me.” She glared. “I don’t want you bloody police coming and worrying me at all hours of the night, it’s not right. If I told Paul, he’d make you sit up!”

“Eve,” said Roger, in a voice which startled her. “I came to warn you that you might be in danger. Don’t take anything for granted. Don’t try to evade the men who are watching you—they’re looking after you, not trying to trap you. Don’t forget it.”

She was shocked into silence.

“Good night,” said Roger.

He turned and went out of the room. Allen, a stocky, plump man of forty, was standing in the hall, and obviously had heard every word of the conversation. He opened the front door for Roger, and then went downstairs. Allen made no comment until they reached the street. Then a car drew up, and Turnbull put his head out of the window. “We’ve found Peel,” he announced.

Roger forced his thoughts from Eve Franklin, and listened to Turnbull’s story.

A doctor at the City Hospital had seen Peel, and believed that he had been given a powerful narcotic; it was too early to say whether he was in a dangerous condition.

“As far as I can make out from the City chaps, Peel went into a damaged office to take a drink from his thermos flask,” explained Turnbull. “He probably found it a useful hiding place. It looks as if he had been watched, and someone was waiting in that passage and hit him when his back was turned.”

“And it also looks as if Tenby went to see Warrender, and didn’t want to be seen,” said Roger. “Past time we saw Tenby again.”

“Tonight?”

“Right now.”

“That’s better,” Turnbull said. “Let’s go.”

CHAPTER XXI

TENBY IS INDIGNANT

TENBY BLINKED at Roger and Turnbull in the bright light of his bedroom. His landlady, a small, tight- lipped woman, stood on the landing. She had protested against being awakened at half past twelve, complained bitterly about her lodger being disturbed, and argued all the time they walked up the long narrow flight of stairs to the third floor where Tenby had his room. The house was clean, but needed repainting and repapering. Tenby’s room was large and tidy. There was an old-fashioned iron bedstead with brass knobs at the corners, a huge Victorian dressing table, and a large wardrobe. On a bamboo bedside table was a broken slab of chocolate. Tenby himself was in faded blue-striped pyjamas which were too small for him, and showed that he had a potbelly.

He rubbed his eyes. “Yes, yes, I know,” he said. “Yes, o’ course. It’s all right, Mrs Reed, don’t worry.” He yawned, and stood back. “Come in, gentlemen. I’m sorry I’m not properly awake yet. ‘Ave a seat.”

“We’ll stand,” said Roger.

“All right, please yourself,” retorted Tenby. “I’m going to sit down.” He dropped into an old-fashioned armchair. “Now, what’s it all about? I didn’t want to kick up a stink wiv the old dragon about, but it’s a bit ‘ot, coming here at this time o’ night.”

“Where have you been tonight?” Roger demanded.

“Minding me own—the same as you oughter.”

“You were at The Lion, in Chelsea, until half past eight. Where did you go after that?”

“Oh, so you’ve been spying on me, ‘ave yer?” Tenby was truculent. “I’m going to lodge a complaint, that’s what I’m going to do. Where I go is me own business, and you needn’t think I’m going to tell you .”

Roger looked at Turnbull. “We’d better take him along.”

“And break his neck on the way.”

“You can flicking well think again,” snapped Tenby. “I’m staying here.”

“You’re coming to the Yard to make a statement about your movements tonight,” said Roger. “Put some clothes on.”

“I tell you—”

“If you won’t put some clothes on, we’ll wrap you up in a blanket and carry you downstairs. Don’t argue. You’ll tell us where you’ve been tonight, or you’ll come along with us to the Yard.”

Tenby looked at him, insolently. “Okay, I’ll come,” he said, “but you ‘aven’t ‘eard the last o’ this, Mr Ruddy West.”

He got up and began to dress.

Obviously, he was worried, and his truculence sprang from the effort to hide his anxiety. He dressed slowly and deliberately. Now and again, his gaze wandered to a corner cabinet, but it did not linger for long; obviously, he had not expected tonight’s visit. A search of the room might yield a stock of drugs, as Tenby had once been a chemist, but without a search warrant it wasn’t worth the risk. A man could stay outside, and make sure that no one else entered the room.

“Well, I ’m ready,” said Tenby, at last.

In his car Roger kept glancing at his passenger, but

Tenby stared haughtily ahead. This was the man who might be much cleverer than the police realised; he might have murdered Tony Brown, and been responsible for the attack on Bill Brown— if the police theory was right.

At the Yard, Turnbull went to Information, and Roger took Tenby along to his office, then sent for a shorthand writer. Tenby’s continued silence began to irritate him; he was suspicious of a trick, and watched his words carefully.

“Now, let’s have it. Where have you been tonight?”

“What’s the charge?” demanded Tenby.

“If I make a charge, you’ll soon find out.”

“I don’t want any more of your lip,” sneered Tenby. “I’m not going to make no statement, but I’m going to raise hell about being dragged out of bed at this time o’ night.”

Roger said: “So you formally refuse to tell us where you’ve been tonight?”

“And what are you going to do about it ? “sneered Tenby.

“Make a note of that,” Roger said to a sergeant. He leaned back in his chair, and looked at the man standing in front of him. “I want to know something else,” he went on. “Do you remember the night of October 31?”

“Why should I remember any particular night?” demanded Tenby. “You ruddy dicks are all the same, just because I had a bit of luck—”

“I’m not so sure that Odds-on Pools are as lucky for you as you think,” interrupted Roger. “October 31 was a Wednesday, the night that Tony Brown was gassed in his room at Battersea. Remember Brown?”

“Yes, and I knew a man named Smith once.”

“The day will come when you won’t feel so smart,” said Roger. “Let me remind you about the 31st of October again. You weren’t at The Lion all that evening. You weren’t at home. Your landlady has been questioned, and she knows you were out. None of your friends know where you were, but you were reported to be in Battersea Park.”

“That’s a lie!” Tenby’s voice rose.

“We’ll find out whether it’s true or not. If you weren’t in the park, where were you?”

“You don’t expect me to remember where I am every night, do you?”

“I think you remember that particular night,” said Roger. “You refuse to tell me that, too—that right?”

“I tell you I don’t remember!”

Roger glanced at the shorthand writer.

“Got that, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, Tenby, I shan’t hold you—yet. But you’re in big trouble, unless you remember where you were on the night of the 31st of October.”

Tenby’s little eyes were looking everywhere but at Roger, and his hands were working. The sergeant stood stolidly by.

“Get going,” Roger said, roughly.

Tenby hesitated.

“Well?” asked Roger, abruptly.

“I can’t remember what happened nearly three weeks ago,” Tenby muttered. “Tonight—”

“Yes?”

“I was out seeing some of me old friends. Just because I’ve ‘ad a bit o’ luck, it doesn’t mean that I drop me old friends like ‘ot cakes. Wouldn’t be fair.” Tenby became virtuous. “I got a Number 11 to the Bank, then picked up a 13 to Algit. That’s where I was, see? If you’d asked me decently, I would have told you right from the beginning.”

“Where did you go?” demanded Roger.

“The Three Bells.”

“What time did you arrive there?”

“Round about ten, I s’pose.”

“It doesn’t take an hour and a half to get from Chelsea to Aldgate.”

“I ‘ad to wait for a bus—”

“There’s a good bus service,” said Roger, coldly, leaning back in his chair. “Have you seen Warrender tonight, Tenby?”

“ Who? ”

“George Warrender. Raeburn’s secretary.”

“Now, listen,” said Tenby, earnestly. “I wouldn’t go to see that geezer if you was to offer me a five-pound note. I did a few jobs for them once, mind you. When Raeburn bought ‘is dog-racing tracks, I kept an eye open for them before the races, to see there wasn’t no funny business with , the dogs. But d’you know what? They wanted me to dope the dogs. Me! I soon sheered off them. Mind you, they didn’t come out in the open; a lot of ‘ints, that’s all there was, but it told me plenty. I don’t interfere with a man’s sport, Mr West, you can take that from me. Why, I ‘aven’t done a stroke of work for Warrender or Raeburn since then —you can ask them if you like. They can’t say no different.”

“And you haven’t seen Warrender tonight?”

“Of course I haven’t!” Tenby rubbed his hands together, nervously. “Listen, Mr West, I’ll tell you what did happen tonight, Gawd’s truth. I ‘ad a telephone message at The Lion, a man asked me to meet him at Algit Pump, see? ‘E said he was a friend of a friend. ‘E said he’d got a dead cert for me at Birmingham, so I said I’d go along. I was early and he was late, that’s how it was I was so long getting to The Three Bells. This bloke wanted me to lend ‘im some money—that was the truth of it. You’d be surprised the tricks they get up to. I’m sorry I can’t account for where I was every minute of the evening, but that’s the truth, Mr West.”