Murder on the Line, page 16
‘Look out for snags,’ Hardy warned.
Roger rang off, pondered Hardy’s advice, and then telephoned a grey-haired Southampton superintendent. The local men had always been good; now they were falling over themselves to be helpful.
‘… what I’d like is a man at the Dolphin to sit near Gillespie while he’s having lunch, in case he lets anything out,’ Roger said, ‘and another man outside the Dolphin, to follow Gillespie if he doesn’t go straight to his office.’
‘Any reason to think he won’t?’
‘We can’t keep a thing like this quiet,’ Roger reasoned. ‘Someone who saw us go into the Legge/Lee place, or else someone at the garage, is bound to spread it around that we’ve raided the house. Any of Legge’s accomplices would realise what we’ve found. If Gillespie knows we’re on to this, and if there is a direct connection between him and Legge, then Gillespie might run for cover in the same way as Capel.’
‘You’re probably right,’ the Southampton man said. ‘One other thing’s not so good, Handsome.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I’m pretty sure Capel caught the night ferry to Havre last night. Can’t be sure, but a man answering to his description certainly did. I’ve telephoned Havre and they’re trying to help, but he may have got into France, and it won’t be easy to pick him up if he has.’
‘He’s given us nearly all we want, and he can be extradited later if he did any of the killings,’ Roger said. ‘Go carefully with Gillespie, though. We don’t know for certain that he’s involved, and even if he is he may not think we’re watching Sperry’s, he may think that we’ve only got as far as the storage depot.’
‘We won’t scare him off, unless he’s been scared already,’ the other promised.
‘Thanks,’ said Roger and rang off.
It was then a little before one o’clock, and he realised that he had forgotten to check what time Doris Manning went to lunch. It certainly wouldn’t be much later than one, and he hadn’t a great deal of time to spare. He hurried, feeling on top of the world, and yet wary, because they might be only on the fringe of the affair, even now. It would still take a long time to finish, unless the girl could give a short cut to Gillespie.
Doris picked up her large brown leather handbag, with the leather shoulder strap, looked round the office, saw the sun glinting on the sea, and said aloud: ‘Don’t be silly,’ and stepped briskly towards the door. She had been in since half past nine, and the first two hours had been extremely busy; then Gillespie had had a telephone call on his private line and had gone out, saying that he did not know when he would be back, but could be found at the Dolphin between one o’clock and half past two. Since then she had briefed one of the younger girls on working for him, and, as far as she could judge, had everything shipshape. She would probably be in most of the afternoon, but after that she would not be back here for at least two weeks. Now and again her happiness in the future was clouded by anxiety because of Gillespie, but he had been so pleasant and friendly this morning, and it seemed almost absurd as well as disloyal to suspect him of any part in the attempts to murder her. She went into the street, and the sun struck very warm for October. One of the clerks was coming back from lunch, and he said: ‘Summer’s here at last, Doris.’ She smiled and nodded, and knew that he had turned to watch her, as if wondering whether she was going to her usual place. She found herself looking about rather nervously, and when she saw a Quick van on the other side of the road, she shivered, but the driver did not look at her as the lorry passed.
Soon, she was at her favourite spot. The old sailor was sitting on his stanchion, eating thick sandwiches, and his eyes lit up at the sight of her. They chatted for a few moments, and then Doris went to a seat not far along. The car which had nearly sent her to her death had been raised, and the water looked blue and calm and clean; almost a pleasure to dive into.
She was glad that it didn’t make her feel afraid.
She was eating some egg-and-cress sandwiches and almost purring in the warmth of the sun when a man came up, and stopped near her. She glanced up, and recognised the policeman named West who had visited her in the hospital. She wished he hadn’t come, wished that there was no need at all to talk to him or any other policeman, but there was room next to her on the narrow seat, and he drew nearer.
‘Mind if I sit down?’
‘No,’ she said, but obviously did not mean it.
He sat on the iron arm of the seat.
‘Miss Manning,’ he went on, in a pleasant voice, as if he simply wanted to reason with her, ‘I don’t know whether you realise what a dangerous game you’re playing.’
She stared out to sea.
‘I really don’t know what you mean.’
‘I think you do,’ West said. ‘Who do you think you’re protecting?’
She turned her head quickly.
‘Don’t be absurd! I’m not protecting anyone!’
‘Aren’t you?’ asked the Yard man mildly. ‘I wonder what made you go so red just now, Miss Manning. It suits you, but—’
‘Don’t be impertinent!’
‘Miss Manning,’ went on the Yard man, easily, ‘I don’t think you realise the full seriousness of the situation. At least three people have been murdered in cold blood. More innocent people might be.’ Doris didn’t respond to that, and she was furious with herself because she could feel her cheeks going redder and redder. ‘If you don’t tell me everything you know, you’ll share the responsibility for other killings,’ West went on.
That stung her into looking round at him.
‘You can’t pass on responsibility that way,’ she said. ‘I’ve told you everything.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘You’ve no right to call me a liar!’
‘I’ve a right to try to find murderers and to try to make sure that other murders aren’t committed. Why did you keep away from the police for so long?’ When she didn’t answer, West went on in a sharper voice: ‘You’re going to have to tell me. Why not start now, instead of forcing me to take you along to the station for questioning.’
‘You can’t do that.’
‘Of course I can do it,’ said West, almost roughly. ‘And I can hold you as a material witness, making it impossible for you to leave Southampton until you’ve given evidence.’ She could not keep the alarm out of her eyes, as he added: ‘That could spoil a lot of your plans. Why did you stay away from the police?’
‘I’ve told you! And there was hardly any time, I—’
‘There was plenty of time. Who are you trying to protect, Miss Manning?’ West paused, and then asked the next question almost viciously: ‘Mr King?’
‘No!’ she cried.
‘Then who?’
‘You’ve no right—’ she began, but broke off, because she had raised her voice and saw several people turn and stare, while the old sailor approached as if he did not like what he saw, and was going to interrupt. Abruptly, she went on: ‘It’s nothing to do with Mr King. If–if I tell you what it is, will you promise not to divulge the fact that I told you?’
‘Yes, and I’ll also promise you all possible protection,’ West said promptly.
‘It—it’s not as if we know anything for certain, it’s only guesswork,’ Doris said, and felt herself go pale. ‘But, Mr Gillespie, my office manager, did his best to make sure that neither Abel nor I came to tell you what we’d seen in the forest that night. He explained it away by saying …’
The old sailor did not come any nearer. The other people turned back to their newspapers, to contemplation of the harbour, or to their sandwiches. Doris talked very quickly, astonished at the depth of her feeling and her comparative certainty; and then she went on: ‘… and both Abel and I think that he might have given us his blessing, so to speak, to make sure that we’re out of the district, and can’t be questioned so easily. He changed his attitude so quickly that there must be some explanation. You—you will make absolutely sure that he never knows that I’ve told you, won’t you?’
‘Absolutely sure,’ Roger promised her.
She leaned forward, and touched his hand, an impulsive gesture which made it clear that she had lost her dread of him as a policeman, and that she had some measure of confidence in him.
‘What is going to happen now, Mr West? Need this interfere with our plans? With—with our marriage, and our going to Birmingham?’
Her clear eyes seemed to plead.
Chapter Twenty
More Advice
She had the most lovely clear eyes, Roger found himself thinking. She wasn’t exactly beautiful, and didn’t dress to show off her figure, but the man who married her was probably going to be lucky. Now, cool fingers touching his hand, and clear eyes looking earnestly into his face waiting for advice, he had an odd feeling; that he hoped that she would be both happy and free from fear.
‘You won’t have to delay anything, will you?’ she asked intently.
Roger found himself smiling.
‘I don’t think so, Miss Manning. I can’t be sure what your firm will do, but unless something quite unexpected happens, I needn’t keep you down here.’
‘And you think we’ll be free to travel on Monday?’
‘I don’t see any reason why not.’
She said: ‘Thank you,’ in a rather husky voice.
Roger took out photographs of Lee alias Legge, and Capel, and held them towards her, watching her intently. She recognised Legge at once, of course, and he watched her take his photograph away from the other, and look at Capel’s.
She sprang up.
‘That’s the man I saw in the signal box!’ she cried.
‘I shall be calling on Mr Gillespie this afternoon,’ Roger said, when the girl had recovered from her excitement. ‘Do you know what time he is expected at the office?’
‘About half past two,’ she answered. ‘He’s having lunch at the Dolphin.’
‘Don’t be surprised when you see me,’ Roger said, and gave a flash of a smile, and asked: ‘Does he have much to do with the Quick haulage service?’
‘He always prefers to use it, because its contract rates are slightly lower than the others.’
‘Has he any particular friend with Quick?’
‘I don’t think so,’ Doris said.
Roger smiled with real warmth, said, ‘Goodbye for now,’ and went off briskly. He felt good with a kind of exhilaration because he was almost sure that he was near the truth. The vital thing was to find any indication that Sperry’s branches up and down the country were involved. He went back to the Southampton police headquarters, and put in a call to the Yard.
Hardy wasn’t back.
‘Is Sergeant Pratt there?’ Roger inquired.
‘I think so, sir, hold on.’ He had to wait a long time, before Pratt came on the line with his deep voice, and a note of satisfaction rumbled through it. ‘Anything showing up on these Sperry’s directors and managers?’ Roger asked.
Pratt answered: ‘Plenty.’
‘What?’
‘They’ve expanded a lot in the past three years,’ Pratt answered. ‘It’s a private limited liability company, no shares are on the market. Also, there’s a new chain store, Golden Shops, with branches mushrooming over the Midlands and the North—they haven’t started in London yet. Golden Shops have three of the Sperry directors on the board. So Sperry’s can not only distribute to ordinary wholesalers and retailers, but are building up their own outlets for retail sales. Add that to the fact that they’re represented on the board of Quick and several other road transport firms, and we’re really making things hum.’
Roger’s grin was almost fatuous.
‘Couldn’t be better! Anything turned up that I could use on the Southampton manager?’
‘Gillespie? Half a mo’.’ There was a sound as of turning papers. ‘Here’s what I’ve got,’ said Pratt. ‘He was in the general office of Sperry’s original firm, in Birmingham, then he went on the road as a salesman, and then he got the Southampton manager’s job, just three years ago. As far as we can judge the general reorganization started about then. Salary—hum, fifteen hundred a year plus a 1% commission on the Southampton branch’s turnover. Haven’t been able to get any figures about that yet, but it’s bound to be big–say the better part of a quarter of a million pounds a year, or over three thousand for Gillespie. Runs a Jaguar. Lives in the New Forest, has a little farm there—an income tax get-out, if you ask me—rides—his wife owns a yacht which is usually at Lymington, but they do a lot of sailing—wife owns a Sunbeam Rapier—three children, one girl aged three, boys aged fourteen and sixteen, both at Rockburn College.’
Roger asked sharply: ‘Rockburn?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s one of the most expensive schools in the country,’ Roger reminded him. ‘Even on three and a half thousand a year, after paying tax you can’t send two boys to that kind of school, run two cars, a yacht—has the wife got any money in her own right?’
‘Before they moved to Southampton they had a little flat in Solihull.’
‘Dig deeper,’ urged Roger. ‘Put the directors on one side for a bit. Send someone to the Record Office or go there yourself and find out if either of the Gillespies have come into money. Find out more about Gillespie’s habits—’
‘Got one thing,’ Pratt interrupted. ‘Mrs Gillespie and the daughter spend a lot of time in the South of France. They have a housekeeper – half a mo’.’ There was a long pause, and he went on almost excitedly: ‘They have a small flat in town—Mount Street. A report’s just come in.’
‘Well, well!’ exclaimed Roger. ‘Call me at Southampton if you get anything else, and if I’m not there, try Gillespie’s office. You heard we’d found that boot, and a local distributing centre for stolen goods?’
‘No!’
‘Yes!’ Roger chuckled. ‘It looks ten to one on a quick finish. Keep at it.’ He rang off, pushed his fingers through his hair, then picked up the telephone again. He put in a call to his Chelsea home, and Janet was on the line almost at once.
‘Hallo, darling!’
‘Hallo, sweet.’
‘Don’t tell me you won’t be coming home for Sunday,’ Janet said immediately. ‘I can stand weekdays, but I hate it when you’re not home on Sundays.’
‘Not a hope,’ answered Roger. He heard her little gasp of disappointment, and went on. ‘But why should I do all the rushing about? What’s the matter with you and the boys hopping on a train and coming down here? You can go back on Monday.’
‘No, Roger. The boys—’
‘They could have a morning off for once,’ Roger argued. ‘It isn’t often we keep ’em away, and their father has one of these peculiar jobs which prevents him from running his home life in orderly fashion. Sweet, I think I can take quite a bit of time off tomorrow afternoon and Sunday, and if you catch the Forest Express on Monday, you can be home by mid-day. Be a devil.’
‘I almost think I will.’ Janet was obviously half-persuaded.
‘Tell the boys that, and they’ll want to carry you down!’
‘Darling—’
‘Yes, I’m serious,’ Roger insisted. ‘Unless something unexpected happens I’m not going to have a lot on my hands for the weekend, as I told you–but even if I do, you and the boys will have had a few days while the weather’s good. The forecast is fine.’
‘I’m coming!’ Janet declared.
‘Tonight or tomorrow?’
‘It would be silly just to come down and go straight to bed,’ Janet said. ‘Book us—’
‘It certainly wouldn’t,’ Roger denied, and his tone first made Janet pause, then made her laugh. ‘I’ll book a hotel for tomorrow night and Sunday,’ he went on. ‘Somewhere in the New Forest, or by the coast. Any preference?’
‘I think I’d like the sea.’
‘The sea you shall have! You come down on the first fast train in the morning—the ten-thirty from Waterloo—and I’ll be at Southampton to meet you. Love to the boys!’
‘Bless you!’ Janet said.
Roger rang off, clapped his hands together with satisfaction, then looked at his watch; it was half past two. Gillespie should be back at his office, and one brisk interview, without anyone else with him, was the best tactics to adopt. He drove slowly through the crowded streets, going over everything that Doris Manning had told him, and everything Pratt had unearthed about Gillespie. Poor old Pratt! He was doomed to spend the rest of his working life doing this kind of routine job, because he had almost an accountant’s eye for detail, and the ability to get results much more quickly than most men amassing specific facts and building up dossiers. He was almost too massive a man for such a job.
Roger pulled up outside the square block of offices, with the granite walls and the small windows, then saw that parking was going to be difficult; what he thought was an empty space was a bus stop. He drove a hundred yards away, found a spot, and was coming back when the sprightly man who had rushed after him with the message that morning now pulled up alongside him on a motor-scooter. This time he wasn’t smiling.
‘Excuse me, sir.’
Roger swung round. ‘What—oh, hallo.’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ the man repeated, and bad news was evident in his expression and his voice, ‘but Gillespie’s given us the slip.’
Roger stood absolutely still.
‘No doubt about it, sir,’ the man said miserably. ‘I was watching the outside, and mucked it up. There are several different ways out of the Dolphin, but I thought all I had to do was watch his Jag. He slipped out by another door, and apparently got a taxi. And Detective Sergeant Jameson, who was in the dining-room, says that he had a quarrel with the man he had lunch with. The station super would like to know if you want a call out for Gillespie?’
Roger said: ‘Yes. For questioning. But use my radio, and we’ll get out to Gillespie’s place at the double. He might have gone there.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The man scrambled into the car, and as Roger took the road to the New Forest, the other talked to his headquarters. When he’d finished, Roger said: ‘If he’s on the run, it means that we’re right on the ball.’
