Colin Forbes - Cell

'Just got a hot pot of coffee ready,' He said. 'You won't refuse. Not after walking through that fog. Do sit down after I've taken your jacket.'

He was the perfect host, acting as though he had expected her. The chair he led her to had an Oriental look, large and with comfortable arms. As she sat he was placing soft cushions behind her.

'Now, I'll get the coffee…'

She had kept her shoulder-bag, and while alone looked at her strange surroundings. The diameter of the room was enormous. High up the ceiling was masked by a cloth canopy with a peculiar design. The furniture had an Eastern look. Her eyes followed the endless circle of the walls. If you'd had a few drinks you'd soon feel dizzy. By the side of the wall furthest from her climbed a wide massive oak staircase with a banister, disappearing above the canopy. Palfry returned, served the coffee, sat on a throne-like chair.

'What do you think of it?' he asked, waving his hand.

'It's very Oriental. A unique house I'd say. Large enough to house a small army.'

'Excuse me?' His normally gentle eyes sharpened.

'I just said it was large enough to house a small army.'

'Oh, sorry. I didn't quite catch what you said. I suppose it is.' He chuckled. 'Don't let the MoD know!'

'And very tastefully Oriental.'

'So glad you approve. My girlfriend doesn't. Came here once and said from now on she'd meet me in London.'

'You've been to the Middle East?' she pressed on.

'Pardon?' The eyes sharpened again.

'I asked if you'd been to the Middle East.'

'Oh, yes. For a short time. Posted to the Cairo Embassy. I didn't like Cairo. Got out one weekend on a huge barge going down the Nile. It was motorized but a team of Egyptians rowed us up. Strong chaps. Pulled giant oars. Chap who came back recently said they now use a steamer if you leave from Cairo. More luxurious, I gathered.'

'Turning to another subject, Mr Palfry…'

'Perry, please.'

'Is there any news about Mrs Warner? Have you any theory as to what happened to her?'

'No, to both questions, I fear.'

'Someone said there was a rumour she'd run off with another man.'

'I'm sure she hasn't. She was a real lady, the perfect consort for the Minister. The kind you don't often see any more.' His smile glowed. 'Present company excluded, of course.'

Paula had drunk her coffee and refused a refill. 'Thank you, all the same. Before I came over here I visited Mrs Gobble's shop. The door was open. The place had been searched.'

'By the police. I rushed over when I realized what was going on. Told them she had asked me to keep an eye on the shop if she was ever out. A fib. They don't know how to put anything back properly. I was annoyed.'

'Did they take anything with them? A high-powered telescope, for example?'

'No they didn't. They made a mess taking fingerprints. Left that all brown dust they use. I spent hours cleaning it up. A telescope? Didn't know she had one. Why would she?'

'A woman on her own needs something to occupy her. She did mention to me she was fed up with motor-cyclists arriving at all hours.'

'Can't say I've ever heard them, but this place is insulated against outside noises.'

'Well, Perry, I really came to see if you had heard any news about Mrs Warner. I must go now. Oh yes, I have a car parked nearby. You have been most hospitable. Thank you.'

'The pleasure has been all mine.'

He disappeared to fetch her windcheater. She was standing up by the chair she'd occupied when she heard the sound of a motor-cycle engine clearly. It had gone when her host returned.

'Do come again,' he urged, helping her on with the windcheater. 'You have livened up what would have been a boring evening for me.. .'

He was smiling as he opened the door. A wave of icy fog drifted in. Palfry closed the door quickly. Frowning, Paula turned to her right, walking slowly towards the next house occupied by Margesson. She was recalling her conversation with Palfry. Something wasn't right.

Her visit to Margesson's Georgian mansion, which was a blaze of lights, was very different. It was also much shorter.

The bearded giant, who, more than ever, reminded her of an Old Testament prophet, made his point without any attempt to soften his words, to be polite. She was holding up her SIS folder, open so he could see it.

'I'm Paula Grey, assistant to Mr Tweed, whom you've met

'The Lord warns us against temptation,' he thundered. 'I would never have a woman in my house after dark. Take your wiles and yourself elsewhere.'

The door slammed shut in her face with a heavy thud. Paula shrugged, put away her folder. A religious fanatic. A man it would be a waste of time to attempt to talk to. Especially after dark! She smiled to herself.

She walked slowly along the road to Billy Hogarth's bungalow. The team which had dragged the lake had cleaned up with care. Mud still clung to the grass verge at the edge of the lake but they had done everything they could to leave Carp Lake as they had found it.

Lights were on in the bungalow behind closed shutters. She took a deep breath, hoping Billy was sober, pressed the bell. She was taken aback when the door opened.

Silhouetted in lights behind him stood a tall handsome man. Clean-shaven, tall, in his forties, he was smartly dressed in country garb.

'I know it's late,' she began, 'but I was hoping to have a word with Mr Billy Hogarth.'

'Better come in. It's beastly out there. I'm Martin, Billy's brother. He's had a few drinks. You are?'

'Sorry. Paula Grey…'

'Tweed's legendary assistant. No need to show me your ID. Care for a drink? What's your tipple?'

She was inside a narrow hall and Martin had closed the door quickly. He gave her a charming smile, a shade too charming. She mistrusted men with that kind of smile. He took her arm, led her into a large comfortable living-room. A heavily built man with a white moustache and fringe beard stood up out of an armchair. His hair was thick and white, his movements agile as he came forward, hand extended.

'You're an improvement on my boring brother.' The hand he extended was large, like the rest of Billy. She braced herself for a crushing grip. Instead, he pressed her hand gently as Martin called over his shoulder.

'To drink?'

'Just coffee, if it isn't a nuisance.'

'It's a pleasure,' Martin assured her with a smile before disappearing into another room.'

'I'm Paula Grey of the SIS,' she told the brother.

Close up to him she could smell beer. Could see his face was dripping with moisture about to fall on his shirt. Taking out a handkerchief she said, 'Excuse me,' and wiped his face. Not a gesture she would normally have dreamt of performing but she had taken an instant liking to this powerfully built man. He grinned, thanked her, said something about the heating being too high, ushered her to an armchair. Behind his back as he returned to his own chair she sniffed at the handkerchief. Beer fumes. Billy had rubbed beer on his face, pretending to be drunk. Why?

With his strong frame and his appearance she could imagine that, born in the right time, he'd have made an impressive pirate. He lifted his glass off a table, sipped a small quantity of beer, then held the glass in his hand.

'How can I help you, Miss Grey? I'm Billy, to people I like.'

'I was hoping you could tell me something about Mrs Warner. It's over three weeks since she disappeared. There are rumours that she's gone off with another man. I don't believe them.'

'You never know,' interjected Martin who had returned with a Meissen cup of coffee, a jug of milk, sugar. 'Shall I pour? How do you like it?'

'Black, please.'

'And ignore that foul implication Martin has just made,' Billy growled. 'Linda Warner is a lady, something Martin wouldn't recognize. I helped her out with one or two problems. One evening her key wouldn't work in the front door. She came over and I went back with her. Tried kicking the brute of a door and the key worked fine.'