John Creasey - Stars For The Toff

“It’ s— impossible!”

“It isn’t, my dear. It’s grimly possible.”

Olivia was silent for a long time; then, suddenly, her face cleared and she gave a bright little laugh.

“It isn’t going to happen— you ’ re going to save her. Rolly, it’s all arranged, The Day ’ s sending a van and two men, you and Jolly won’t have to do a thing, and you can get the best counsel in all England with this money. My, what a story this is going to be! You needn’t worry, I know it’s going to be all right!” She flung her arms round him and gave him a hug.

“Excuse me, sir,” said Jolly.

“ More letters?”

“Telegrams, sir.”

Tele—good Lord!”

“Oh, they’ll come by the hundred,” Olivia declared. “I tell you, you’re only just beginning to understand what people think about Madam Melinska. And they’re right, Rolly, you’ll find out!” She hugged him again, and asked in the same breath: “What shall we do with the money? Open a Madam Melinska Defence Account with it?”

Rollison said slowly: “No. Just a Madam Melinska Account.”

“Rolly, she won’t touch the money.”

“That’s good,” said Rollison.

“You still doubt her, don’t you?” Olivia said. “I—what’s that?” She ran to the window and looked out. “It’s the van! I’ll go and let the men in!”

Before Jolly could open the door she reached it and went bounding down the stairs. As she did so, the unlisted telephone bell rang again.

Rollison lifted the receiver.

“It’s the telephone answering service, Mr Rollison,” a girl said. “There are several calls which I really think you ought to make—two to the B.B.C. about appearing on a news programme tonight, and three from Independent Television. I’ve a note of the people concerned, if—”

“Just tell them I’m very sorry,” Rollison said.

“You don’t want to appear on television?”

“Not tonight,” Rollison said. “How are the other calls coming in?”

“We’ve two operators doing nothing else,” the girl said. “And all except a few are wishing you luck.”

“What about the few?”

“Abusive, sir, but nothing to worry about— not everyone believes in Madam Melinska, I’m afraid.” The girl laughed. “You’re sure about the television?”

“Positive,” said Rollison firmly.

He rang off as Olivia and two youths came upstairs for the mailbags. As she went out, shooing the youths before her, she called:

“Rolly, I keep meaning to find out how Lucifer is. Do ring the hospital.”

He had completely forgotten Lucifer Stride.

* * *

“He is doing as well as can be expected, sir.”

“Is he out of danger?”

“No, but every hour improves his chances.”

“Good. Has he had any visitors?”

“The police are at his bedside, sir.”

“Ah, yes. They would be. Thank you.”

* * *

“Is Chief Inspector Clay in, please.”

“One moment, sir—”

“Clay speaking.”

“Rollison here. How are you this morning?”

“Very well, sir, thank you. How are you?”

“Coping with many thousands of gifts for Madam Melinska’s defence.”

“ Thousands? ”

“ Many thousands.”

“Really, sir—they always say there’s one born every minute!”

“Yes. Have the Webbs talked?”

“They haven’t changed their story in any degree at all.”

“Believe them?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“No, I suppose not. Clay.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you talked to Michael Fraser, Edward Jackson and Jane somebody at the Space Age Publishing offices?”

“I have, sir. And they confirm your story.”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” said Rollison drily. “Tell me—do you think they could have tried to run me down? And attacked Lucifer Stride?”

“Not as far as I know, sir. I’ve checked their movements very closely.”

“Could they have murdered Mrs Abbott?”

“The man Jackson admits he was in Mrs Abbott’s flat and that he took away the file on Madam Melinska, but what Fraser and the girl say is correct, then he was back at the office with the file before Mrs Abbott was killed.”

“He was, was he? Going to charge him?”

“No decision has been reached, sir.”

“You’re commendably cautious. Chief Inspector—”

“Yes, sir?”

“Have you found out whether Madam Melinska has in fact substantial funds?”

“Not yet, sir.”

“If you find that she has, this will be evidence against her, won’t it?”

“ Added evidence, sir.”

“Thank you, Clay, thank you very much; you’re being most helpful.”

“Thank you , sir.”

* * *

“Jolly.”

“Yes, sir.”

“ Could anyone have known that we were on the threshold of our fiftieth case?”

“I’ve found no evidence to show that they could, sir. I’ve checked with three of the most attentive newspapers and their files show under forty cases.”

“So no one could have known.”

“They could have guessed, sir.”

“Or “seen”?”

“I suppose it is conceivable, sir.”

* * *

“Richard?”

“Why, hello, Aunt Gloria.”

“It’s nearly lunch-time, and I’ve been expecting you to telephone all the morning.”

“I didn’t want to disturb you, Aunt.”

“There is no need for schoolboy sarcasm. I understand from Miss Cordman that a quite remarkable demonstration of public faith has been shown and that eleven thousand pounds have been subscribed for Madam Melinska’s defence. She is deeply touched.”

“It’s a lot of money, Aunt. Do you think she might now be persuaded to say a word in her own defence?”

“Precisely what do you mean, Richard?”

“I’d like her to meet counsel.”

“I do not believe she would refuse, but you must ask her yourself.”

“I’ll do that. How is Miss Lister?”

“The young woman appears to be greatly distressed.”

“I’m not surprised. Aunt Gloria.”

“Yes?”

“I noticed that she was wearing some nice-looking jewellery, a diamond brooch, ear-rings and bracelet.”

“Your powers of observation were always reasonably good, Richard.”

“Thank you, Aunt. How are yours?”

“Are you asking me whether the diamonds are real?”

“Yes.”

“They are.”

“Three thousand pounds’ worth of real, would you say?”

“Approximately, yes.”

“Well, well. Thank you very much, Aunt.”

* * *

“Mr Richard Rollison?”

“Speaking?”

“Your call to Bulawayo, Rhodesia, Mr Rollison.”

“Thank you . . . Hallo, Bill. How are you?”

“Very well, old boy. Suspicious of you, though. Why this sudden call from the dear old homeland?”

“A rich banker like you must be used to such calls. Could you do me an unlawful favour?”

“It depends.”

“You’ve doubtless heard of Miss Mona Lister.”

“I have indeed.”

“Is she rich? And have certain fairly substantial sums of money been credited to her account recently? . . . Wait a moment, Bill. I’ve air-mailed you a list of the amounts concerned. If you could check it or have it checked—”

“Quite impossible, old boy. No banker can divulge a client’s private affairs except to the police.”

“I know. But if you return my list with credits she hasn ’ t received crossed off, and those she has received in all their virgin freshness, I can deduce as necessary, can’t I?”