Colin Forbes: The Savage Gorge

He called Hobart House. He had little hope of reaching Mrs Shipton, but felt he must try. She answered almost immediately.

'Tweed here -'

'That bulldog of yours stopped my car halfway along the lane. Quite frightening. So I drove to the end, turned round and came back to Hobart House.'

'Mrs Shipton, I really am so sorry. I would like to find a way of making it up to you…' Tweed, when he set out to do so, could charm the birds out of the trees. 'May I suggest we have dinner together, say tomorrow evening, at the Nag's Head? It would ease my conscience and I know I would enjoy your company, your exceptional intelligence.'

'Really?' There was a brief pause as though she had lost her breath. 'I accept your generous offer, of course. I shall indeed look forward to the occasion. I will drive over from here. Would eight o'clock be a suitable time? If not, please tell me the timing which would be convenient for you.'

'Eight would be perfect timing. I shall also warn the bulldog not to stop you. You drive a blue Renault, I believe. Then, until tomorrow evening. Goodnight to you, Mrs Shipton.'

He next called Harry and warned him not to stop a blue Renault on its way out the following evening.

And not to stop it whenever it returned. Paula ran up to him as he emerged from the garage.

'We're going to do the town. Marler's idea.'

'At this time of night!'

'The aristos have a different way of living from us. I rather like the sound of it.'

'You do?'

'And so will you. Lots of pretty women.'

Marler led the way out and Paula was astonished at the sight of the High Street, tastefully illuminated by 'Ancient Lights', the elegant Victorian lamp posts with their slanting glass panes, inside which a light glowed.

'Some of the shops are open,' she exclaimed.

'The locals, especially the aristos,' Marler explained, 'sleep late in the mornings, get up, have a light breakfast. Then they ride like mad over their great estates. In mid-afternoon they return home, have a shower, a quick snack and get some much-needed sleep. In late evening they get well dressed, come out, have a good dinner and then check out the shops. The general stores are closed – housekeepers buy the essentials during the morning.'

'Sounds like the ideal life of leisure,' Paula remarked.

'They're not idle,' Marler assured her. 'Soon they'll be hard at work, ploughing the fields, sowing the wheat. Some unusual shops. Tweed has just gone into one.'

Paula slipped into the shop: it had its name inscribed on its fascia. Edwin Cocker.

Tweed was gazing at a beautiful three-foot-high wooden model of a horse, painted black. The owner came forward. A tall thin man with a crooked walk, his head was long with warm eyes, his manner pleasant.

'Welcome, madame, and you, sir. I am Edwin Cocker.' He smiled again. 'I am the wood-carver of every item you see. You've seen the notice, "no obli gation whatsoever to buy".'

'You can carve just about anything,' said Tweed, looking round at the vast array.

He wandered over to a shelf where six beautiful chess pawns stood next to each other. He picked one up, turned to Cocker.

Paula sucked in her breath as she ran her fingers over its perfect smooth surface. Tweed was paying. Cocker opened a drawer and withdrew a polished mahogany box with a snap-shut lid. Opening it she saw it was lined with pink silk. Cocker very carefully placed the pawn inside, closed the lid, presented it to Paula with a brief bow.

'I can't thank you enough,' Paula began.

'There is something else, Mr Cocker,' Tweed said. 'I hope it won't spoil this very pleasant interlude, but I need to see your register of clients.'

He began to pull out his identity folder. Cocker stopped him with a smile.

'Mr Tweed, don't look so surprised, I should think everyone in Gunners Gorge knows you by now. I am sorry but no one can see my register. Clients know that is completely confidential. I am sorry, but no one can make me break my word.'

'If you were brought before a London court the judge could – and would – insist you produced that register. I apologize for having to say that.'

'I do understand.'

'One more question, if I may. Could you, with your extraordinary skill, produce a complete set of chess pieces?'

'Yes…' Cocker paused. 'It would take time.'

'It really has been a unique pleasure knowing you.' Tweed held out his hand and Cocker grasped it. Tweed lowered his voice. 'There will be no order for you to appear before any judge.'

'I was shocked by your threatening him with a court order,' Paula commented.

'On a murder investigation I use any method to get information.'

Marler met them outside. He seemed in an excep tionally good mood.

'Better get back to the hotel. Everyone, including Harry, has to be in the dining room for breakfast by 3.30 a.m. The landlord was very cooperative.'

'3.30 a. m!' echoed Paula. 'What on earth for?'

'I told you, breakfast. Then we drive along the High Street so you can see the battlefield. Harry has kindly let me drive his inconspicuous grey Fiat…'

Entering the deserted lobby, the buoyant Marler slapped Paula very gently on her rump.

'Sleep well,' he said. 'It will be a quiet day.' 'When someone predicts that,' she snapped back, 'the day turns out to be anything but quiet.'

The pallid grey dawn transformed Gunners Gorge as they drove slowly out of the garage. Marler was behind the wheel with Tweed alongside him. Paula shared the back with Harry.

'I don't know how you managed it,' Paula said.

'Managed what?' Harry growled.

'Breakfast. You had a three-egg omelette, crispy bacon and fried potatoes.' She chuckled. 'You'll put on weight.'

'No, he won't,' Tweed called back. 'Had his annual check at the beginning of the year. The doctor said he'd never seen a fitter man.'

Paula was peering out. The town looked weird as the dawn light spread over it: more like a frightening ghost town. The streets had recently been hosed down by night workers. Not a soul to be seen.

Halfway along the High Street, Marler dipped his head to gaze up through the windscreen. When they reached a layby he swung into it, stopped, turned off the engine.

'Someone is watching from the top of the ridge. Be back in a minute. Everyone stay in the car…'

Diving out, he began climbing rapidly up a steep gulley. He paused frequently to listen. Nothing. He continued climbing, avoiding beds of pebbles, which would make a noise, and made his way up to the summit over a grassy area. At the top he peered over. A short distance to his left stood a heavily built man peering through a large telescope mounted on a tripod. The telescope was aimed at the caves on the far side of the Falls.

Marler remained quite still as the man turned his head, then went back to staring through the telescope. Marler knew now who and what he was. Dangerous. Very slowly he eased his way across the grass on the summit. Then he hauled the Smith amp; Wesson revolver he had borrowed from Bob Newman out of his shoulder holster, tucked it down inside his belt.

He suddenly leapt up, ran, his long legs covering the ground swiftly. His target heard him coming, bent down to an open satchel on the ground, came up holding a stiletto-like knife. He swung round. By then Marler was behind him. The heavy barrel of the revolver crashed down on his head. As the target sagged, the barrel descended again with all Marler's force.

Checking the man as he lay crumpled on the ground, Marler found no sign of a pulse. A few yards beyond the telescope on its tripod was a steep, narrow gulch. Pebbles covered its entrance, then came smooth rock, ending abruptly where more rocks had blocked any exit.

Marler lifted the body, hands under its armpits, dragged it to the top of the gulch, shoved it down. The corpse slid rapidly down over the pebbles like a toboggan. It continued its journey until it hit the blocked exit and lay still.