Chapter Eighteen

Mannering Proposes

“And that’s everything,” Mannering said to Geoffrey Lloyd.

“I’m afraid so, John.”

“And Toby won’t make it for at least another twenty-four hours,” remarked Mannering, quite mildly. “Last night that would have made me want to hit the roof. Brixton must have a soothing effect.” His smile was taut, in spite of what he said. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got in the bag. This coloured chap who picked up the messages at the Overseas Club – will you see that your inquiry people and Chitty keep at that?”

“Of course.”

“And the fact that Laker left his unspecified everything to his brother-in-law,” said Mannering, intently. “Was Samuel Blest quite the innocent that we’re told? Or did he know much more than he told his daughter? Why should Laker leave to a guileless brother-inlaw an estate which might prove to be worth a fortune, unless he was sure that he could make the brother-in-law do whatever he wanted?” Mannering gave a brief smile. “Count that out, but the key question remains. Why did Laker leave the estate, including jewels which were not specified to—?”

He broke off, and his eyes brightened.

“Got something?” asked Lloyd.

“Could be an answer,” Mannering said, softly. “If Samuel Blest was all his daughter thinks he was, then he would be the last man to be suspected of having these jewels. If Laker alias Klein had an accomplice, and there’s no doubt he had, then they might have been anxious to have the estate in the hands of someone who could easily be handled. So—” he broke off. “Leave that one, for now. This broken glass at Josh Larraby’s.”

“Yes?”

“There was a picture behind that door all right. It was a water-colour by Wimperis, a nice little meadow scene which a client gave to Josh for buying for him at a sale. It was in a black frame with a white border, and glazed. Hasn’t it turned up?”

“No. But the glass fragments have been examined – it’s ordinary window glass which is often used for glazing pictures.”

“I could understand it being broken, but not why it should have been taken away,” mused Mannering. “It would be worth thirty or forty pounds, at the most, and even then the buyer would have to want it keenly. So we’ve got a missing coloured man and a missing water-colour, and the puzzle of the inheritance. This man Farmer, whom they think I killed – you say Bristow admits that he had a note of my telephone number, and that he may have used a phone box at Hyde Park Corner?”

“Yes.”

“Any friends, associates, that kind of angle?”

“The police say he isn’t known to them, and no one’s turned up to identify him, except a landlady who owns the house in Whitechapel where he had a couple of rooms. She says he kept himself to himself, and thinks he made his money by betting. Our people can’t find anything much about him.”

“No apparent association with Laker?”

“No.”

“Any with a coloured man?”

“I don’t know,” said Lloyd. “It’s a possibility – I’ll check.” “Thanks. And no news of anyone who saw a car in Green Street?”

“No,” answered Lloyd, unhappily. “Nothing at all. The police have combed Green Street itself, so has Guttering, and this evening I’m told that Lorna has been visiting all the neighbours. But it isn’t very likely that she would find out anything which the others have missed.”

“I suppose not,” said Mannering. “Except for one thing.” “What’s that?”

“She’d give her right hand to find that witness,” said Mannering. “Will you be seeing her tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Geoffrey,” Mannering said.

“Yes.”

“Put an idea into her head, will you?”

“Yes.”

“We need that witness more than we need anything else,” Mannering went on, very softly, “and we need something to make anyone who did see anything, recall it. Also, the murderer must have accomplices, and crooks are notoriously greedy. Tell Lorna that it might be a good idea to offer a reward for anyone able to give information about what happened in Green Street on Tuesday night. A large reward. Let’s say, ten thousand pounds.”

Lloyd caught his breath.

“Not enough?” inquired Mannering.

“John,” Lloyd said, with great deliberation, “if you offer a reward like that, and someone comes forward with the information, the police and the Public Prosecutor will say that you bribed the witness into making the statement. Prosecuting counsel will want to know why the witness didn’t come forward until this large reward was offered.” When Mannering didn’t respond at once, he went on: “You can see that, surely?”

Mannering said: “Yes, I can see it. You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You’re playing the police game.”

“Now, John—”

“But you are,” insisted Mannering. “Whether you know it or not, you’re playing right into their hands. Don’t escape, you say – don’t try to do anything yourself, don’t offer a sensational reward, don’t do anything which might possibly give the prosecution a weaker hand if it comes to trial. Isn’t that true?”

“Yes.”

“Geoff,” said Mannering, “you’re making a big mistake.”

“What mistake?”

“I didn’t kill Farmer.”

“I’ve never suggested—”

“You’re working on the assumption that a trial is inevitable, because no evidence can be turned up to make it unnecessary. Nine times out of ten, ninety-nine times out of a hundred, you could be right – but this time you’re wrong. I don’t want to spend the next six or eight weeks in a remand cell waiting for trial. In six or eight weeks, before the Assizes could hear the case, Quinns would be virtually destroyed. Dealers all over the world would stop ordering from me. I’d lose nearly everything I possess, and most of what I’ve got is sunk in Quinns. Even if I were acquitted, the time lag between this moment and the acquittal would do the business serious damage. This isn’t a job that we can sit on, and we don’t have to worry about what prosecuting counsel might say to a jury. Everything we do must help to make sure that when I come up next Wednesday there is no case to answer.”

“But it’s a gambler’s throw!”

“That’s right,” Mannering agreed. “I was always a gambler. Tell Lorna to put that reward out. Take a column in all the national newspapers, to advertise it. Say precisely what we need: evidence of anyone who saw a car stop outside any place in Green Street on Tuesday night between eight-thirty and nine-thirty in the evening. And make that reward very big, because it might bring a squeak from someone who’s working for the murderer but won’t get much of a cut in the profits.”

Lloyd didn’t respond, but backed slowly away from Mannering. He thrust one hand in his trousers pocket, frowned, and stared into Mannering’s eyes. He looked as if he might be ready at any moment to plunge into a Rugby scrum.

“If Lorna does this, it will be against my advice,” he said flatly.

“I don’t care what it’s against, but tell Lorna.”

“John, I can’t speak for Toby Pleydell, but I can tell you in advance that in the opinion of my other partners such a move would be a very grave mistake. If you do it, I doubt whether they would agree to continuing with the defence.”

After a long pause, Mannering said levelly: “Just tell Lorna what I want her to do, will you?”

“The more I think about it,” said Rebecca Blest to Terry McKay, “the more I wonder if those jewels the police showed me this afternoon were the same. I thought they were, but – well, I was nervous while I was with that Superintendent Bristow, and wanted to get away.”

“The jewels you saw today looked better, perhaps,” said Terry McKay.

“The police had probably given them a clean up,” said Ruth Ashton.

“That’s a thought,” McKay said. “Forget it, Becky. Ruth, my pet, I’ll look after Becky while I’m here. I promise not to be a naughty boy.”

“What Becky does about you is up to her,” the other girl said tartly. “All I want to be sure is that she’s safe. We don’t want any more murders.”