Colin Forbes - The Main chance

The front door of the house had a brightly polished handle, which Tweed had to rap on several times before it was opened. A scrawny woman with an unpleasant expression appeared. `Yes?' she said sharply, arms crossed. `We're looking for Baron's Walk, a Mrs Carlyle,' Tweed said. `Are you now?' the woman sneered. 'So why is the girl with you?' `Sorry, I don't understand. `Well, the elegant Mrs Mandy Carlyle normally receives only single male visitors. She never talks to any of us, but then we'd never talk to her.' She stared at Paula. 'Maybe she's taken to having a voyeur watch the show.' She was shutting the door when she looked out again, speaking venomously. 'That big house at the top of the road. You're disgusting.' With this final verbal shot she slammed her door shut.

Tweed shrugged. 'Sorry about that,' he said as they got back into the car. `Don't be. She's probably the biggest voyeur in Kent herself.'

Reaching the larger house they found the only way in was to drive up a wide area of concrete which led them inside a garage. Paula heard the automatic door closing behind them and grasped the butt of her Walther.

A side door opened, lights came on. A tall woman in her late forties stood in the doorway. Her long hair was bottle blonde, her tight low-cut jumper revealed a good figure. Her face was attractive but showing signs of becoming gaunt. `Who the hell are you?' she greeted them.

Tweed and Paula had climbed out of the car and showed her their identity folders. The woman's earlier challenging confidence changed. `Well..' She cleared her throat. `We are investigating the murder of Mrs Bella Main,' Tweed said grimly. 'I believe you've had some friendship with one of that family.' `I suppose we'd better go into the sitting room.' She led the way up a staircase with an expensive carpet, yellow with purple stripes. Expensive but tasteless. They went into a large living room at the front of the house. Heavy net curtains were half-closed. The main furniture was two long and wide sofas, piled with cushions, also purple. `Do sit down,' she suggested. 'I'm going to have a brandy, my favourite tipple. How about you two?'

They both refused, sat down in armchairs close to each other while she poured a large amount of brandy into a glass. She was about to recline on one of the sofas when Tweed pointed to an armchair close to them. `This is an interrogation. Please be good enough to sit there. Thank you. Now, your relationship with Marshal Main. I have been told you became pregnant and conceived a child. Is this true?' `So Marshal has blown the bleedin' gaff. Much good it will do him ' `So it is true? We are talking about a murder case.' `Yes, it is true. I'll tell you how it happened. Then I'll phone Lavinia, bring her over here, blow the whole story.' `You do a cruel thing like that and I'll see you're charged with blackmail. Judges hate that crime, sentence heavily. Marshal has been paying you twenty thousand pounds a month. That's getting on for a quarter of a million a year. Tax free. So it amounts to Heaven knows how much over the years.'

Tweed knew he was walking a tightrope. He hoped to heaven Crystal had told the truth, had seen the monthly withdrawals in Marshal's secret chequebooks.

Mrs Carlyle had, up to now, been sitting upright in her armchair. She suddenly sagged back, her face crumpled, she spilt brandy from the glass she had been sipping, hastily perched it on a table with a trembling hand Tweed felt relieved. He had summed her up as a hard case on first seeing her. `I'll tell you,' Mrs Carlyle said in a broken voice, 'if you'll promise to forget about blackmail charges.' `I promise nothing,' Tweed said remorselessly. 'Just tell your story. The whole truth.' `At that time, years ago, the doctor told Marshal's late wife she could no longer have the baby she desperately wanted. They didn't want to adopt. Mrs Main worried about what they might get. When he told her about his affair with me, that I was pregnant, she agreed to take it over secretly as her baby. I didn't want the damned thing. We had separate rooms at a crooked clinic. Doesn't exist any more. When the baby was born it was brought to Mrs Main. She loved it. Cost Marshal a fortune, but he's got loads. The birth certificate was faked somehow. Mrs Main arrived back at Hengistbury and everyone was happy. When Lavinia was four her mother was killed in a car crash. I felt relieved.' `I'd already sensed what a sympathetic person you are,' said Tweed. 'Why were you relieved?' `Obvious, I'd have thought. I worried that when Lavinia was older she might blow the gaff to her. And how did you find out about me?' `There's been a murder, in case you'd forgotten. The manor is being searched from top to bottom. I found a hidden drawer with Marshal's secret chequebooks and a diary with your address,' Tweed fibbed. `Are you telling Marshal?' she said nervously. `No, it would be pointless. But there is a condition.' `Which is?' she asked. `You sit down and write a letter to Marshal. You tell him he is to send you no more gifts – ever. You've met a man who is wealthy. You promise never to reveal what happened years ago. I shall know if you've sent that letter. I examine all mail before handing it to the addressee.' `I'll do that as soon as you've gone,' she said hastily. `And don't forget the penalty for blackmail,' Tweed said grimly as he stood up. 'One wrong move and I'll be harder than you are, if that's possible…' `Sneaky is peering from behind her curtain,' Paula remarked as they passed the house where they'd asked the woman the way to Baron's Walk.

She was relieved to leave Dodd's End and soon they were driving well away from the hamlet with open country on both sides. She had her window open and revelled in the fresh air. `One thing puzzles me about poor Bella's murder,' she mused. 'How was anyone able to get behind her chair to drop that hideous murder weapon over her head and neck? It's close to a corner of a panelled wall.' `Been puzzling that myself.' `And,' she went on as they approached the manor, the dark sinister canopy of black fir branches pressing down on them, 'you keep asking suspects where they were on the fatal night between 7 p.m. and 10 p.m. But we know Bella called down to Marshal at 8 p.m. to come and see her at 10 p.m. That is, if she did.' `She did. I went up on my own to her study and played with that communications box. It's very sophisticated. You can play back what she said and his reply. More than that, it records the exact time. She made the call at 8 p.m. I add on one hour, saying 7 p.m. to find out where people were earlier in the evening.' `Don't miss a trick, do you?' `I'm sure that so far I've missed several tricks. Here we are, and the gates are opening.'

Some time earlier, as Tweed and Paula were approaching Dodd's End, Calouste and Jacques were driving west. Ahead they could see the Dorset heights. Jacques was looking forward to a view of the sea. The mobile buzzed. Calouste grabbed it. `Yes?' `Orion here. The line is clearer now.' `Get on with why you called me.' `Tweed and Paula in the Mercedes were going to Seacove.' `Are you sure?You mean today? Now?' `If you will just let me finish. They were going with Marshal Main-' `Marshal was in the Mercedes with them?' `I'll have to hang up in a moment, so shut up! Marshal was in his Rolls. Tweed appeared to change his mind. So he is going to London. I'm sure he'll be back at Hengistbury this evening. Maybe earlier.'

The line had gone dead. Calouste hated the way his informer suddenly ended a call. It had been the same distorted voice. Man or woman? Calouste had no bloody idea.

Coming to a roundabout Calouste drove round it and went back the way they had come. Jacques looked at him, kept his mouth shut. He was still shaken by the extraordinary behaviour of Calouste dancing like a devil in the field of rape. `Tweed will be back at Hengistbury tonight,' Calouste said viciously. 'You have your rifle in the boot?' `Yes, I have.' `He won't expect another attempt on his life so soon. You will shoot him dead. I have a lodge close to that manor. That will be our base. You are the best marksman in all Europe.' `Not quite,' Jacques admitted, 'the star turn is a member of Tweed's team. Man called Mader.'