John Creasey - Inspector West At Home

“You shouldn’t call me here,” he had rebuked the caller. “What is it you want, Mai—?”

That ‘Mai’ could have been short for Malone.

“Oliphant,” said Mark, quietly. “Didn’t you say that he handled Cox’s defence?”

Janet answered for Roger. “Yes.”

“You think—” Mark began, but his voice trailed off.

“I can’t think of anything else which might have made Malone and his leaders fear that I might have seen what was happening,” Roger said. “Oliphant doesn’t often visit the scene of the crime — he usually gets to the case when it’s too late — but he was very quick this time. Supposing he was briefed by Malone or whoever Malone is working for? Supposing he realised afterwards that his eagerness might have been suspect ? He would tell his client, of course. The client is superstitious. It happened on the 13th — “one of these days West is bound to see something funny in it, we’ll have to make sure that he can’t do any harm”. It would answer everything,” Roger said.

“Would Oliphant let anyone go for you, Roger?” Mark asked. He knew the solicitor well and found the suspicions hard to believe.

“He might,” said Roger. “He might even have thought that I was keeping something up my sleeve. I was feeling in a good mood that morning and made one or two cracks, the kind that come out when everything has gone well. Oliphant might have misread my attitude. He might have discussed it with his client. The framing was clever. Not too obvious, just enough to make sure that Chatworth would have to take notice of it. Whoever planned it knew Leech’s reputation with us. Malone might have known everything else, but he couldn’t have known that we relied so much on Leech. Oliphant would. I wonder—” he stood up slowly — “I wonder who the legal adviser to the Society of European Relief is? We’d better phone the Yard and find out.”

“I’ll do it,” said Mark, promptly.

Oliphant loomed so much in Roger’s mind that he did not notice the louder note of Tennant’s voice in the next room.

The door opened and Tennant strode out, holding Lois by the hand — and Lois seemed much more at peace.

“It’s all right!” declared Tennant.

“What’s all right?”

“I’ve fixed it — I mean, we’ve fixed it,” said Tennant. “She’s told me everything. There’s no need for you to question her again, I’ve got it all written down. You want the names of the people she went to see, don’t you?”

“I certainly do,” said Roger.

“I knew you would,” said Tennant. “She’s remembered a dozen — they’re all on the list, together with the gist of what she told you.” He put a small notebook in front of Roger and beamed widely. “All written in ink and Lois has signed it. But,” he added with a quick frown, “you’ve got to keep your side of the bargain. I don’t know much about the law but I do know there’s such a thing as Queen’s Evidence. If this isn’t Queen’s Evidence, I don’t know what is!”

Roger smiled. “Yes, you’re right.” He looked at Lois reassuringly. “It will all work out well. We’re far more interested in finding these people and stopping their crimes.”

Lois looked more rested.

Before he looked at the list, Roger said :

“There’s just one thing. While Malone is free—”

“I’ve talked to her about that,” Tennant said; “this afternoon you said the safest place for her would be a police- cell, didn’t you? Malone can’t get into one of those! Well, Lois agrees!”

Lois nodded.

“You couldn’t have made a wiser decision,” said Roger.

He did not know how Tennant had made the girl feel that it was safe to trust the police. She did not protest, nor did she try to stipulate any conditions.

Before going to Mark, who was still on the phone to the Yard, and taking over from him, he ran his eye down the list of names and addresses which Lois had dictated to Tennant, thinking that it would probably be enough to break the case wide open. The last entry but one made him start and look up eagerly into her eyes.

“Oliphant — Mortimer Oliphant, at Cheyne Walk, Chelsea?”

“Yes,” said Lois, quietly.

“Did you ever go there with stolen jewels?”

“No — only with messages about men whom Pickerell knew. He was the Society’s legal adviser, but these weren’t Society problems. Pickerell always saw him alone.” She hesitated. “I rather liked Mr Oliphant. He was always very friendly.”

“Oh, yes, he would be,” Roger said, “he would be very friendly indeed!”

Mark came back like a man with good tidings, but suddenly deflated when he learned that Lois had already given the information.

Roger felt on edge, in spite of the way the case was shaping. He wanted to see Oliphant, to report his discoveries, and to make sure that Lois was absolutely safe. He realised that few bad men had made such an impression on him as Malone. He did not feel sure that the short journey to the Yard could be negotiated safely and he went out, to see Pep Morgan’s men and the two police who were watching the hotel. They assured him that nothing suspicious had happened. He sent one of the police back to the Yard to get a car.

The policeman took the wheel.

Tennant had been persuaded, with some difficulty, to stay behind. Mark had accepted the inevitable with commendable fortitude, but Janet would have her hands full with the two men.

Lois was very quiet; at least she did not seem to share any of his fears.

As they turned into Parliament Square, he said :

“We won’t be long, now.”

Lois spoke quietly, unexpectedly using his first name.

“Roger, I — don’t know how to thank you. Those tablets were powerful.”

“Forget it,” Roger said. “I have.” As he spoke he realised what a fool he was, how the spectre of Malone and the dazzling prospect of outwitting Oliphant had driven other thoughts from his mind. “That is, I’d forgotten you were going to take them,” he amended hastily. “Where did you get them from, Lois ?”

“Pickerell,” she said.

“You know what’s in them ?”

“Yes,” she said. “Cyanide.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “Did he tell you what was in them?”

“No,” said Lois, “I took some from a bottle he kept in a cupboard. He always had them by him. I’ve heard him say that he would rather die than be caught. I felt the same, so I took them.”

“How did you know what was in them?” Roger asked.

“He once told Malone in my hearing.”

Roger wished he could understand why she had been quite so determined to keep silent. She must have realised the gravity of the situation. Time and time again she had been compelled to face up to it, and yet until almost the last she had refused to speak. Then, for the first time, he wondered whether she had told all the truth. He was going to assure Chatworth that she had, meant to use his influence to make sure that she was not victimised. But could there be something else?

He was uneasy when he walked up the steps of the Yard and yet he did and said nothing to give Lois an inkling of his doubts. Although it was late, he took her to Abbott’s office. He wished some other Superintendent were in charge. Surprisingly, however, Abbott greeted her without a fuss, listened to the story, and then spoke reassuringly. Perhaps Abbott understood something of the nervous strain on the girl, and the importance of what might come from it. At all events, the man did nothing to make Lois regret her decision. Less than an hour afterwards, Roger took her across the dark square and through the gates to Cannon Row, where she was housed in one of the rooms, not a cell. Roger saw her smile, and could not believe that she had deceived him, yet he still remained uneasy.