John Creasey - Stars For The Toff

It was as if everyone in the street went mad, the waving, the cheering, were so furious. Even when he had spoken to them five times, another roar for him came as fast as he could shut the window; but gradually the crowd grew silent, and the police filtered in and took complete control.

“Now what can I do to help you?” Rollison asked Chief Inspector Clay.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Friend Into Foe

Rollison looked blankly into Clay’s eyes, silently echoing “arrest.” Clay was hostile and in a way defiant. Slowly, Rollison began to relax; suddenly, he realised how lucky it was that he had left the stolen papers in the station locker; that was a break in a thousand. He saw the puzzlement in the Yard man’s eyes as he grinned.

“Well, well,” he said. “It’s quite a time since the Yard made that mistake. All right, officer, I’ll come quietly—but I’d like a couple of hours’ grace.”

“You’ll come with me, now. ”

Rollison’s eyes were still laughing.

“Why not ask Grice for my grace?”

“Mr Grice is not concerned in this case.”

“He will be,” Rollison said. “Believe me, he will be. You know, this is the most remarkable tribute to Madam Melinska. She said my friends would become my foes, or words to that effect, but that I would get help from unexpected sources. I wonder where it will come from next. Chief Inspector—”

“I’m not here to talk,” Clay growled.

“No,” Rollison said. “Nor to slow down your rate of promotion.”

“If you’re threatening me—” Clay’s eyes flashed.

“Don’t be a fool, man,” Rollison said lightly. “Of course I’m not threatening you. But if you arrest me and the Court dismisses the case in the morning, won’t it count against you?” When Clay didn’t answer, Rollison went on: “You know damn well it would take years to live down. Yes, I realise you wouldn’t have got a warrant unless you thought it was justified, but events can make a clever man look foolish. What’s the charge?”

“Illegal entry.”

“ What? ”

“I needn’t keep saying it—the charge is illegal entry.”

“At Mrs Abbott’s?”

“Where else have you forced entry?” demanded Clay, sharply.

Rollison thought: “He certainly isn’t a fool.” He said: “So you’ll hold me on that for twenty-four hours and hope you can prove I murdered Mrs Abbott. Tell me, do you really believe I murdered her?”

Clay drew a deep breath.

“Mr Richard Rollison, it is my duty to—”

Rollison rasped: “Do you think I murdered Mrs Abbott?”

“That’s nothing to do with the matter in hand.”

Rollison thought: I can’t shift him, he’s as stubborn as a mule. They were staring at each other, hostility mutual now, until Rollison said abruptly: “May I make one telephone call?”

“Provided I know whom you’re calling.”

“My solicitor,” Rollison said shortly.

“Well—”

Clay was interrupted by a commotion at the front door, as Jolly came inside, ushering the stranger who had threatened Rollison on the stairs. Two detectives turned to Clay, not knowing what to do, as Jolly said in vexed tones:

“I’m sorry, sir, but this is Jones, who applied for the post as valet. Shall I interview him sir?”

Rollison nodded. “Yes, will you do that, Jolly? I may be out for a while.”

“Very well, sir. This way, Jones—” Jolly led the way to his quarters, the stranger followed bemusedly, and Clay appeared to be completely unsuspicious.

Rollison picked up the telephone and dialled a Temple Bar number. He could think of only one man who might be able to help him in this situation, a member of a firm of London solicitors with a big practice in criminal law. There was always the risk that the man he wanted would be out, but he concealed his uncertainty when a girl answered.

“Kemp, Davidson, Kemp and Davis.”

“Mr Roger Kemp, please—this is Richard Rollison.”

“Who— who , sir?” The girl’s voice rose. “Mr Rollison, the—the Toff?”

“That’s what they call me.”

“I’ll put you through, Mr Rollison, but I would like to say how wonderful it was of you to help Madam Melinska this morning. She is a remarkable woman, and no more guilty than I am, if you’ll forgive me saying so, sir . . . Here’s Mr Roger . . . Oh, Mr Roger, it’s the To—it’s Mr Rollison: A man with a very deep voice said: “That’s the first time in ten years I’ve ever known Betty say a word out of place, Rolly. What influence did you exert?”

“Astrological,” Rollison answered. “What—oh!” Kemp chuckled. “She’s a star-gazer too, is she? I didn’t know until this morning how many women were fooled by that nonsense. Want some help with the Madam Melinska case? You obviously need it.”

“Roger,” Rollison said, “I’m likely to be at Cannon Row in an hour or less on a charge of illegal entry. I want a hearing tonight—within the hour if possible. I’ve a lot to do and I can’t do it with this charge hanging over my head . . . Did I force entry? My dear fellow—you know damn well I didn’t . . . Well, there was a strong smell of burning and someone had to get into that place pretty quickly . . . My dear chap, the magistrate will dismiss the charge in sixty seconds flat—” Rollison did not so much as glance at Clay, but he was aware of the detective’s fixed, tense stare. “All I need is a quick hearing . . . You will? Good man! If I’m not at Cannon Row, presumably I’ll be at the Yard . . . Well, until I’m actually charged I suppose it’s no use getting the magistrate . . . hold on a minute, have a word with Chief Inspector Clay.”

He handed the telephone to Clay, who took it with obvious reluctance and hesitated. Then he covered the mouthpiece with the palm of his hand.

“Will you undertake to stay here while I refer to my superiors, Mr Rollison?”

“Provided I’m free to go out in a couple of hours,” Rollison agreed. Inwardly he exulted, outwardly he showed no sign at all of triumph. “Nothing I need more than a couple of hours rest, and I can see that chap Jones. I—”

Clay was saying to Kemp: “No, sir, there was a misunderstanding, I have not yet made the arrest, I’m going to refer to my superiors, sir . . . Yes, I fully understand.” He put down the receiver and looked at Rollison with some resentment. “I shall leave men outside, back and front,” he said warningly.

Rollison said quietly: “My word on it, I won’t leave here until I’ve heard from you. Will you do something for me at the Yard?”

“ For you?” Clay was taken aback.

“I need to know all I can about Mrs Abbott, her late husband, their family, business and background. Now she’s been murdered you’ll have to check these points, and I think they might help me to clear Madam Melinska. Normally, Mr Grice would let me know anything which had no direct bearing on the case. Will you do so?”

Clay still looked startled. “I need to get permission.”

“I’ll be grateful if you will,” Rollison said.

Clay nodded, and turned away. Two minutes later he and his men had left the flat, Jolly appearing as if by magic as soon as the front door had closed on them.

“Is the man quite mad?” he demanded.

“Just over-zealous and convinced I’ve been treated too leniently for too long,” Rollison said. “They’ll hold off unless they get something much more specific. What’s your man got to say for himself?”

Jolly answered: “Not a word, sir.”

“Let me have a good look at him,” Rollison said, and added: “that valet idea was very clever.”