John Creasey - Inspector West At Home

“Don’t open it! Don’t open it!”

“Lois, you can’t —”

“I tell you not to open it!” she said urgently. “It might be —” she broke off.

In a low-pitched voice, the man said :

“Lois, if you won’t tell me what’s frightening you, how can I help?”

“You can’t,” she said. “Oh, Bill, please.”

Roger raised his voice.

“Don’t let her go out the back way. It might be dangerous for her.” The words sounded melodramatic but that didn’t matter. There was another short silence and then ‘Bill’s’ decisive voice.

“I’m going to see who it is.”

“Bill! If you do I’ll never —”

She did not finish, for ‘Bill’s’ footsteps sounded in the room and the door opened. A young man stood squarely in front of Roger. He was well-built with untidy hair and clear blue eyes. He wore a tweed coat which had seen better days, baggy flannels and an open-necked shirt; he looked as if he had just stepped out of a bath.

“Well?” he demanded. “What’s all this about?”

“It’s not him !” The girl cried.

“Do you mind if I come in?” Roger pushed past ‘Bill’, who seemed so startled by the girl’s reaction and the obvious relief in her voice that he made no protest. Roger closed the door and stood regarding the girl.

“Who are you?” demanded ‘Bill’ gruffly.

“He’s a policeman !” Lois exclaimed. “He came to the office to make inquiries. Bill, send him away! I won’t say anything.”

‘Bill’ growled : “You heard her.”

Roger said briskly : “Supposing we behave like sensible human beings. Miss Randall will be hysterical in a few minutes if you let her go on like this and you won’t help matters by threatening to punch my nose.” He took out his cigarette case and offered it to the startled ‘Bill’. The diamond ring on the girl’s finger caught his eye. “I am a policeman but I am not on duty and my inquiries this afternoon were private ones. Miss Randall can help me; I hope she will.”

“Send him away !” gasped Lois.

“Lois, surely you’re not afraid of the police?”

“Will you tell him to go?” she flared. “Or do you want to send me to jail ?”

“Nothing you have done under pressure will send you to prison,” Roger said. “I’ve made it clear that I’m here in a private capacity, nothing you say now will be used in evidence against you.”

He heard a sharp movement in the room behind them, as if something had been knocked over. The girl turned and stared at the other door, terrified. Roger stepped to the door while ‘Bill’ darted to the girl’s side.

Roger stretched out a hand, but before he touched the handle the door opened.

He did not know why he was quite so shocked, although at the first glimpse he identified the man standing in the doorway. The man had a twisted smile on his narrow face. His hands were deep in his pockets, and he was clad in a narrow-waisted suit with padded shoulders, a gaudy tie and wide trousers. He wore no hat and his hair was carefully marcelled.

Roger thought: “Malone, for a fortune!”

“What’s all the noise about?” demanded Masher Malone, swaggering .forward and eyeing first Roger, then ‘Bill’ and finally the girl. “Hallo, honey, aren’t you pleased to see me? I’ve just come to take you for a little ride.” He looked at the men again and his lips curled. “Beat it,” he said. “You’re in the way.”

He stared at them insolently and with astounding confidence.

CHAPTER 12

“ Why so Frightened? ”

MALONE EXPECTED them to go. It did not seem to occur to him that they would refuse. In his wide experience, Roger had met nothing quite like this swaggering confidence.

‘Bill’ stared open-mouthed at him, but the expression in his eyes suggested that his temper was rapidly coming to boiling point. The girl looked only at Malone; obviously she knew him, and was terrified.

‘Bill’ made the first move, stepping forward and speaking in a high-pitched, wondering voice :

“Who the devil do you think you are?”

“Bill, don’t argue with him!” exclaimed Lois. “Go away, please, both of you go away ! I shall be all right. He’s — he’s a friend of mine. Yes, a friend,” she repeated in a pitiful effort to sound convincing. “Don’t worry about me, Bill.”

“You heard her.” Malone cut across her words; he put his head on one side and peered at ‘Bill’. “I’m a friend of hers. Be on your way, boys.”

Roger watched the younger man and saw the slow metamorphosis. At first he had felt impatient with ‘Bill’, who seemed absurdly naive and young for his age, but the man’s eyes narrowed and his expression grew more shrewd. He closed his mouth and a wary expression filled his blue eyes. Then — the most surprising thing — he smiled faintly.

“So you’re a friend of hers.”

“You heard me the first time, I don’t want to get rough, so be on your way.”

“Bill’s’ smile widened.

“Come on, get rough,” he invited. “Lois isn’t leaving here with you, now or at any other time.”

“Bill!” cried the girl.

Malone’s eyes narrowed. He moved forward, sliding his feet over the carpet and taking his hands from his pockets slowly. ‘Bill’ stood without moving, body relaxed, hands loose by his sides. Roger felt as if he were outside the situation; the girl had obviously decided that she was helpless now.

Malone stopped in front of ‘Bill’, stared at him for an appreciable time, then moved his right hand swiftly and snapped his fingers under Bill’s nose. Bill blinked. He did not move, he did not back away hastily nor raise his hands. Then Malone moved his knee up sharply towards Bill’s groin.

Roger went forward, expecting ‘Bill’ to be taken by surprise and stagger away. He did nothing of the kind. He swerved to one side so that Malone’s knee caught him on the thick part of the thigh. At the same time he raised his hands and struck Malone on either cheek, flat-handed blows with the reports like pistol shots. Malone backed away, dumbfounded. Dark red marks showed on his cheeks and into his eyes there sprang an ugly glitter, the evil look which Roger had seen before.

Malone whipped his right hand to his waistcoat and drew out a knife.

The swift movement would have deceived most men, but ‘Bill’ moved his right hand and chopped Malone’s wrist. The knife dropped to the floor. ‘Bill’ seemed to move his arm negligently and Malone gasped and went flying against the wall. He came up against it with a thud which shook the room and made his oily Marcel waves fall over his eyes and face. ‘Bill’ stepped forward and trod on the knife; the blade broke into several pieces.

“Would you like some more?” he inquired.

Roger chuckled, but no one took the slightest notice of him.

Malone. straightened himself up, brushed his hair out of his eyes and shrugged his coat straight. More wary and with the evil glitter in his eyes enough to frighten most people, he approached, crouching, his hands outstretched and fingers crooked, like, a wrestler. ‘Bill’ kept quite still, relaxed and yet giving an impression of latent strength.

“Come on,” taunted ‘Bill’, “I’m waiting.”

Malone flew at him, relying on speed of the movement to carry him backwards. Bill swayed to one side, gripped the man’s arm again and repeated the first manoeuvre. This time he did not stand back after Malone hit the wall, but grabbed his left wrist and brought it behind him in a hammer-lock. He dragged Malone upright, and for the first time acknowledged Roger’s presence.

“Open the door, will you ?”

Roger hurried to obey.

“Thanks,” said Bill, politely. He ran Malone forward, and the man could not stop himself. Roger watched them go out, saw Malone stagger down the first steps. ‘Bill’ was clearly determined to make a thorough job of it, for he pushed the Masher down the stairs, their footsteps echoed clearly and the heavy breathing of Malone could be heard.