John Creasey: Inspector West Alone

“He was planning wholesale blackmail and corruption. At the Board of Trade, the Treasury—any Government Departments that would be profitable. He wanted a good cover, and didn’t want to show himself much. A man named Rayner, who worked with him for some years, backed out and went to Africa, where he made a packet in diamonds. He——”

“Who’s told you this? It isn’t in those documents, is it?” Chatworth was abrupt.

Peel grinned. “No, sir, but Myers and Briggs have let a lot come out. I’ve just had a word with the Yard, sir. This man Rayner died some years ago. When Kennedy planned to corrupt West and turn him into a big cover for the whole job, he gave West Rayner’s name, passport, background—-everything. I’ve got some other details, too. Kennedy himself—that’s his real name—first thought of getting at men at the Yard, and incidentally he did get at one, sir, more of that later.” Chatworth opened his mouth, closed it again. Peel went on eagerly: “Then Kennedy had his big notion, of having a prominent Yard man to work for him. He plumped for West. He probed a bit, and discovered that Mrs. West had a cousin who lived in Surrey, and worked out the whole frame-up from there.”

“That French girl——” began Sloan.

Peel said: “Yes, Briggs has talked about her, too. She was in love with Kennedy. He went to see her, in Paris, calling himself Arthur King, to find out whether she knew anything about her father, Kyle. He fascinated her. and he was always after beautiful women. Ginger Kyle knew more about Kennedy than anyone else alive, and Kennedy was just checking up and fell for her. But he didn’t bargain on her following him to England. Kennedy thought that she was really probing into his plans, and she fell in nicely with the plot to frame Mr. West. Kennedy took over Copse Cottage, and arranged for her to meet him there It was he who actually killed her and attacked West.” Peel was hoarse from talking and from excitement now. “Of course, there are a lot more details to come, but the general scheme’s pretty obvious. Percy Briggs can’t talk fast enough, he knows it’s the only way to save his neck. When Kennedy wanted a job done—murder or any job—he knew exactly whom to use. He was born in the East End, according to Briggs. The real Hemmingway— the man he’s supposed to be here—lived and died abroad. Kennedy took his place. As Hemmingway had no close friends in England, Kennedy got away with it.

“We’ve enough to charge Kennedy and the women with now—shall I take them to the Yard?”

“Do that,” said Chatworth.

* * * *

Chatworth said slowly: “I can’t take it all in, Roger. It’s too much for me.” He pulled his lips. “Never heard me say that before, and you never will again. How any man kept the truth away from his wife for that time— and knowing you and your wife——”

“And knowing what Kennedy had fixed against me,” Roger said.

“Yes, yes. Well—it’s nearly five o’clock. Er—what about your wife? You can’t spring yourself on her. She—damn it, she won’t recognize you! The boys won’t——”

“I’ll ask Mark Lessing to go and see her,” said Roger. “I’ll see Lessing right away, if that’s all right with you.”

Chatworth said: “Do what you like.” He shook his head, wonderingly. “When this breaks—oh, never mind. Never mind. Go and see Lessing.”

* * * *

Sloan drew up in his car and waved as Roger stepped out of Hemmingway’s house.

“They’re under lock and key, Roger. Briggs is still talking. Man, of ideas, this Kennedy. He had a trick of putting drops in his eyes—not bella donna, but something like it. It changed his whole appearance. Very few people would have thought them the same man, when with Kennedy, you would be so fascinated by his eyes you wouldn’t take much notice of his features.”

“You’re telling me!” Roger said.

Sloan grinned; he was a happy man.

“He thought you were safe when he fixed that body. Remember I told you?”

Roger said: “Yes, Bill. You’ve been——”

“Forget it!”

“Never.”

* * * *

Later, Roger sat in Mark Lessing’s car, outside the Bell Street house. It was a little after six o’clock. Some traffic was on the road, and two or three people walked past the end of it. In Bell Street, there was sleepy quiet—even the boys were still asleep.

Mark was gone a long time. Cigarette after cigarette stub joined others on the kerb by the car.

Then Mark appeared, and beckoned.

He didn’t speak when Roger passed him at the gate.

Janet stood in the doorway.

The early morning light fell on Roger’s face. He approached her slowly, his heart beat furiously and breath bated.

It was more than two months since they had met, and Roger saw all the evidence of strain; and he also saw the light in her eyes. She watched him, studying every feature. Slowly, she stretched out her hands, and they were trembling. He took them; they were hot. He drew her gently towards him, and then suddenly she began to cry.

Janet sat on a pouf in front of him, head back, radiance in her eyes again. She held his hand tightly, as if she were afraid that if she let it go, she would never touch it again.

Upstairs, Scoopy called: “Richard. Richard!”

There was no answer. . “Richard!” Scoopy’s voice grew louder. “I’m awake. Wake up, I’m awake.”

Roger felt as if the fierceness of his thumping heart would suffocate him.

He said: “What will they say? I’ve thought about it a million times. They won’t know me, they——”

“They’ll know you. Just talk to them.” Janet’s voice broke. “I’ll tell them—you’ve—oh, I’ll tell them anything, it doesn’t matter, they’ve got you back, I’ve got you back! Roger, it was terrible, I just hadn’t any hope. I——”

“I daren’t——”

“Of course you daren’t. Don’t blame yourself, don’t worry.” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t really cry as she went on chokily: “It’s not a bad face. Roger, I think I like it better, in some ways it——”

She couldn’t keep the tears back; but a moment later she was laughing loudly.

There was sudden silence upstairs, and then Richard said in his clear voice: “Mummy’s downstairs.”

“Grace isn’t in her room,” said Scoopy.

“Mummy!”

“Mummy!”

“I’ll be up soon, boys. You can go into—Richard’s room, Scoopy. Don’t make too much noise.”

They laughed, delighted.

Roger said hoarsely: “He was in Richard’s room already. Nothing’s changed. God! I’ve got to see them, Jan. I must see them. I——”

“I’ll go and talk to them,” said Janet. “I won’t be long.” She stood up, then leaned over him and kissed him, and he felt her damp cheek on his. She swung round and hurried out of the room.

Mark was in the garden, hands in pocket, back towards the window, shoulders squared; cheerful again.

Janet said clearly: “Now listen, boys, I’ve a surprise for you.”

“You’ve been crying,” accused Scoopy.

“I didn’t do anything,” said Richard, defensively.

“No. No.” She could hardly get the words out. “Now— listen, boys. I’ve a big surprise. I’m not really crying, I—I’m laughing. Something wonderful—wonderful has——”

Scoopy cried: “Daddy’s back! Daddy’s come back!”

“Daddy!” shrieked Richard.

“Boys! Just a moment, it is Daddy, but——”

They were tumbling about on the landing as she tried to tell them what to expect.

* * * *

It would be all right; everything would be all right. He was alive again.

THE END