John Creasey - Triumph For Inspector West

“I’ll see to that in future,” Warrender promised.

“You say that very smoothly,” said Raeburn. He stood lap and walked toward the little man, staring down at him. I” You’re going to look after everything, aren’t you, George? You aren’t going to make any mistakes, now that you’re doing everything yourself. I should make sure it’s done extremely w^ll.”

“It will be,” Warrender said, flatly. “Listen to me, Paul. Eve will be killed, so she can’t talk, and Tenby will fall over himself to get out of the country. It just can’t go wrong.”

Raeburn thrust his hands into his pockets, and did not look away.

“I don’t think we ought to take any risk that Tenby might be caught,” he said. “Now that we’ve gone so far, I think we ought to make a clean sweep of it. Tenby’s got to be killed.”

“But the whole thing turns on Tenby being framed!” Warrender protested. “If they’re both killed, we’re bound to be suspected. We must have a scapegoat, Paul. You’re worrying about nothing, anyway. Tenby couldn’t do us any real harm, only Eve can. He killed Tony Brown; we’ve never been directly involved. He says he saw you kill Halliwell, but his evidence wouldn’t stand up on its own. He introduced Eve to us—why, Melville could prepare a case which could get Tenby hanged, and leave us clear. There isn’t any doubt about it, Paul, don’t make another mistake now.”

“Another mistake?” murmured Raeburn.

Warrender flashed: “Yes, another! If you hadn’t lost your head and killed Halliwell, none of this would have happened. And you wouldn’t let me stop Tenby when I saw he was going too far.”

He broke off, shocked by the glitter which appeared in Raeburn’s eyes.

“So you haven’t much confidence left in me,” said Raeburn, very thinly.

“I don’t trust your judgment over this.”

“I’m beginning to doubt whether I can trust yours in anything,” Raeburn said, softly. “We’ll talk about it again, later. I’ll see you at the flat at half past three.”

He made a gesture of dismissal as he went back to his desk, while Warrender looked at him intently. Raeburn ignored that protracted stare, and telephoned the Editor of the Evening Cry. He began to give details of the story he wanted to appear in that evening issue concerning his coming marriage to Eve Franklin.

Warrender went out, and closed the door softly.

It was obvious at a glance that Eve was nervous. She was wearing two great silver fox furs over a smart two-piece dress as she walked quickly up and down the lounge of the Grosvenor. When she saw Raeburn, she caught her breath; then she went toward him with her hands outstretched.

“You look—wonderful,” he greeted her.

So all was well!

“Do I, Paul?”

“Too wonderful to remain single,” Raeburn said, his eyes brimming over as if with good humour. “I’ve decided to tell the newspapers, darling, but we’ll fool them one way. I’ve a special licence in my pocket—”

“Paul!”

“Hush,” said Raeburn, squeezing her hand. “We’ll get married this afternoon.”

“Oh, Paul!”

“And you’ll go straight home; no one will be likely to follow you except the police, and it doesn’t matter about them,” Raeburn said. “Tomorrow afternoon I’ll send the Rolls round to you, and you can drive to the cottage. I’ll come later in the evening. Happy, darling?”

“It’s like—it’s like a dream.”

“It will be a dream! We won’t leave here together, my sweet. Go straight to Caxton Hall, and I’ll be there at two o’clock.”

A clerk and a porter were the witnesses.

When Raeburn reached his flat after the ceremony, the policeman who was watching outside looked at him long and hard. The porter suspected of being a detective was in the hall, but avoided his eye. Raeburn turned to the lift, and a man darted out of the shadows toward him.

“Mr Raeburn!”

Raeburn swung round, for the voice was familiar, and die face only too familiar: it was Tenby.

“What the devil are you doing here?” Raeburn felt a surge of violent rage as he spoke.

“I’ve got to ‘ave a word with you,” muttered Tenby. “It’s important or I wouldn’t ‘ave come. I’ve just got to. It won’t take long.”

CHAPTER XXII

TENBY ACCUSES

THE DAMAGE was done, Raeburn thought savagely; “Tenby had been seen coming here, and the police would guess whom he had come to see. Raeburn fought to control his feelings. “All right, come along.”

He walked to the lift, with Tenby following at his heels, meekly. They did not say a word in the lift because of the porter. Raeburn thought he saw the suspect porter hurrying up the stairs, but could not be sure. There was no sign of the man when they reached the flat.

Raeburn opened the door with a key, and ushered Tenby in. Ma Beesley popped her head out of the room; at sight of Tenby, she raised her hands in shocked dismay. When her smile came back, it looked as if it were glued on.

“Is George in?” Raeburn demanded.

“Why, yes, in the study.” Ma actually gaped at Tenby.

Warrender was sitting at the desk, pretending to look through account books. He stared, poker-faced, until he saw Tenby. Then he sprang up. “Good God!”

“It shook me, too,” Raeburn said. He slammed the door, then gripped Tenby by the coat, and drew him close. “Why the hell did you come here? You know you’re paid to keep away. I’d like to—”

Tenby cringed. “It was the only thing to do, Mr Raeburn. I couldn’t stay away—nor would you, if you thought what I think.”

“Think? You haven’t enough brain to think, you drunken swine.”

“Maybe I can think better than you imagine,” Tenby retorted, with nervous defiance. “I’m not going to be double-crossed by anyone, not even you, Mr Raeburn. It wasn’t any use asking you to come to see me, and I mean to get things straight.”

Raeburn released him, and Tenby shrugged his coat into position.

“That’s a fine way to treat a man who’s worked for you like I ‘ave,” he muttered. “Anyone would think I was i bit of dirt.”

Raeburn looked as if he had difficulty keeping his hands off the man. “Let’s hear what you’ve got to say, now you’re here.”

Tenby took a newspaper from his pocket, unfolded it, and pointed to a single-column headline, an account in the Evening Cry of the attack on Peel. “See that?”

“It’s in every evening paper,” Warrender barked.

“I dessay it is,” said Tenby. “But here’s something that ain’t. West nearly pulled me for that job.”

“I’ve told you West will catch up with you one day,” said Warrender.

“West won’t ever catch up with me if I’m not double- crossed,” retorted Tenby, softly. “You think I don’t know what happened, don’t you? Well, I’ll tell you something. I was called to Algit last night by a man who said he was a friend of mine. I didn’t know who it was, and thought it might be you. When I reached the Pump, no one was there to see me. I hung about waiting for a bit, and that’s the time when Peel was bashed. I’ve got no alibi, see ?”

Raeburn said: “Well?”

H “I couldn’t understand it until I read that story,” Tenby went on. “Then I knew it was a frame-up, Mr Raeburn. Someone made sure I’d got no alibi, too. It looks to me as if you and your pal George think I’m too dangerous, and want me inside. Let me tell you this, I’ve got plenty to say if I get caught. If West catches up with mc on his own, I won’t open my trap, but if you fix me— then you’ll see what happens.”

He stopped, and moistened his lips.

Warrender said: “You’re a fool, Tenby,” but Tenby was staring at Raeburn, who had been bleak-faced during the first part of the story. Toward the end, he began to smile in a curious fashion, not one that Tenby could dislike.