John Creasey - Inspector West At Home

“No, you didn’t slip up,” said Roger, smiling into the little man’s eyes. “Pep, I don’t know how to begin to thank you.”

“Oh, forget it. You’ve done me many a good turn, and I knew if they found that dough here you would have a taste of what you dish out to others, but I don’t believe you would take bribes.” He took out his cigarette-case but Janet stepped forward with a box. “Oh, ta,” he said. “Bit of a shock for you, Mrs West, I expect.”

“It certainly wasn’t a pleasure.”

“I’ll say it wasn’t! Well, I’ve told you all I know, Handsome. I needn’t say I know you won’t let me down.” He laughed and drew on his cigarette. “What a business it is, isn’t it?”

“Did Winnie Marchant tip you off?”

Morgan wrinkled his forehead and repeated :

“No names, no pack drill. Was she here ?”

Roger smiled.

“Yes. She gave Janet a piece of her mind !”

Morgan slid from the table and stood up, frowning, barely reaching Roger’s chin.

“Handsome, what’s it about?” he asked. “Who’d do the dirty on you like this?”

“I simply don’t know,” said Roger.

“You must have some idea,” protested Morgan.

“One day I will have.” Roger said softly. “I hope it won’t be long. Will you take a commission from me, Pep?”

Morgan’s little eyes glistened.

“I never thought I’d come to the day when a Chief Inspector would ask me that. Sure, sure. It’s all in the way of business, there’s no need for anyone to know how I came into it. You could have phoned me and asked me to try to find out whether anyone’s trying to put you on the spot. It would be a natural thing to do. What’s happened? Been suspended ?”

“Not yet,” said Roger.

“Nothing to prevent you from looking around yourself, then,” observed Morgan. “And Mr Lessing would lend a hand, as well as me. These fivers might help. Inspector West works from home, so to speak!” He laughed, quite gaily. “What do you want me to do for a start?”

“Make general inquiries, and try to find out whether anyone has a grudge against me. I suppose someone who’s just come out of stir might be behind it.”

“I thought of that,” said Morgan. “But it would have to be a big shot — I mean, a thousand quid isn’t chickenfeed. I’ve been thinking about those who’ve come out in the last month, and I don’t know of anyone who could lay his hands on a thousand. Still, I don’t mind trying, Handsome. There won’t be any secret about it, will there?”

“None at all.”

“Okay, then, I’m hired!” Morgan beamed, looked positively embarrassed when Janet came forward and kissed his cheeks. “He’d do the same for me,” he mumbled and hurried to the door.

Roger watched him disappear into the gloom, and followed. It was not quite dark, and he could make out Morgan’s shadowy figure. Suddenly he saw two others converge on the little man, and heard Detective Sergeant Martin:

“I want a word with you, Morgan.”

Morgan protested in a high-pitched squeak. Roger drew nearer.

CHAPTER 4

Information from Eddie

PERHAPS because he thought that Roger would be following, Morgan held his ground and complained at being frightened out of his wits. He talked to Tiny Martin and the other policeman luridly enough to cheer Roger as he drew nearer, keeping against the hedges of the small gardens of Bell Street so that he would not be noticeable if Martin looked round. Ten feet away, he stood still.

“There’s no need for you to behave like that,” growled Martin. “You’ve co-operated with us before, haven’t you?”

“I haven’t had anyone run out on me like that. What do you want?”

“Superintendent Abbott would like a word with you.”

“Well, he knows where I live. He seems to have gone off his rocker. So do you, Tiny.” Although still aggrieved he sounded mollified, a sensible reaction to ‘Superintendent Abbott would like a word with you’. “I’ve just been along to see Handsome West. You must be daft if you think he’s crooked.”

“Never mind that,” said Martin.

He led the way towards King’s Road. Roger stayed on the other side until a bus lumbered out of the gloom, stopped for the two men and went lurching onwards. Roger turned back to Bell Street. The other Yard man was still near the house and Roger caught a glimpse of him across the road.

Roger went into the house but did not return to the lounge. He took his raincoat out of a corner cupboard.

“What are you doing?” Janet asked.

“I’m going to the Yard,” Roger said.

“Do you think —” began Janet.

“Is it wise?” asked Mark, outlined against the light of the lounge.

“I’m not suspended yet,” said Roger. T might pick up a hint from someone. If Winnie Marchant was prepared to let Pep know, one of the others might give me a hint of what it’s all about;” He put his hands on Janet’s shoulders and kissed her. “I don’t expect I’ll be late,” he said. “Make Mark play backgammon with you.”

There were tears in Janet’s eyes.

Roger went out, and paused on the porch to light a cigarette.

The plainclothes man was near the gate.

Roger drew on his cigarette so that his features were illuminated, then shone his torch into the other’s face.

“I hope it keeps fine for you,” said Roger. He was ridiculously glad that it was raining and cold enough to make the vigil an ordeal.

He did not get his car out, but walked briskly once he had grown accustomed to the gloom. He kept his eyes open for a taxi but had reached Sloane Square before he saw one. He was not sure that the Yard man had kept up with him, but thought it likely.

As he waited on the kerb while the taxi turned in the road, footsteps, soft and stealthy, drew near him. He took it for granted that this was the plainclothes man and took no notice. The taxi pulled up and the driver expressed himself tersely on the weather.

“You going far ?”

“Scotland Yard,” said Roger. The shadowy figure behind him drew nearer and he wondered what the man was thinking. As he was climbing into the cab, the figure moved forward and a soft voice, certainly not belonging to the detective, broke the stillness.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Roger turned his head, when half-in and half-out of the cab.

“Yes?” He was in no mood for casual encounters.

“I hope you won’t think this an impertinence,” said the stranger, “but I am most anxious to get to Piccadilly and the buses appear to have stopped running. I wonder if you would mind if I shared your cab?”

“What abaht askin’ me?” demanded the driver.

“Oh, yes, indeed — if your fare wouldn’t mind.” The man looked towards the cabby. Roger noticed that he wore a trilby hat pulled low and had his coat collar turned up. As he saw the pale blur of his face he thought, impatiently, that it could not have happened at a worse time, but he said:

“Of course,” and hoped that he sounded cordial.

There was no sign of anyone else nearby.

“Thank you so much,” said the stranger, eagerly.

“Op in,” said the driver.

Roger shifted to the far corner and the newcomer sat back with a sigh. He murmured that taxi-drivers were getting far too independent, it was most embarrassing to ask favours of them; it was very good indeed of Roger to allow him to share the taxi. Had he overheard him say that he was going to Scotland Yard ?

That was an invitation to confide, but Roger made an evasive remark and sat back. The other continued to talk of the weather, the cold war situation, the possibility of the bank rate going up, the price of houses and income tax. Roger made an occasional comment.