Accuse the Toff (21 page)

‘I am a police officer from Scotland Yard,' said Grice, ‘and I am charging you with the wilful murder of Mr. Lancelot Brett. Anything you say may be used in evidence.' He finished and the plain clothes men ranged themselves on either side of Paterson who stood quite still without speaking, as if stunned. ‘Well, Rollison,' Grice went on in the same lifeless voice, ‘you've made one of your major mistakes this time.'

‘Did you say the murder of
Brett?'
demanded the Toff.

‘Yes,' said Grice, and went on: ‘Brett did not leave for America. He was to have done so but was detained and I was not informed. He was killed outside a shop in Green Street, Chiswick, three nights ago, by a man dressed as a Commando sergeant. I needn't tell you much about that but you may not know that two years ago Brett's private secretary was killed on the same premises.' He turned abruptly to Paterson. ‘Where did you put the Commando uniform, Paterson?'

 

 

Paterson made no reply but tightened his lips and then looked at Rollison. Rollison brushed a hand over his forehead then automatically sought for his cigarette-case. He lit a cigarette while Grice's words echoed in his mind; and the first thing that occurred to him was that Paterson had every motive for the murder of Brett and every opportunity also. He resisted a temptation to declare that the charge was nonsensical: that was his reaction to it, in spite of what he knew, but Grice would not make an accusation of murder without good evidence.

Paterson was eyeing him, ignoring the others.

‘You're quite right, Paterson,' said the Toff in an easier voice. ‘Say nothing, absolutely nothing at all until you've seen a solicitor. I promised June that I'd see her through, with you, and I will.' He smiled a little and flicked the ash from his cigarette. ‘I'd feel better about it, Grice, if I'd had a good night's sleep.'

‘You weren't alone in missing one,' said Grice abruptly. ‘You should have told me where you were going.'

‘Oh, no,' said Rollison. ‘Then I could only have seen Paterson with the police bias clearly defined; as it was I saw him untrammelled by suspicions.' His smile widened. ‘Don't worry too much, Paterson.'

Grice nodded to the plain clothes men and Paterson turned with them and went to the nearest of the three waiting cars. Members of the aerodrome staff were standing nearby, staring at the party. The pilot and crew of the machine which had carried them remained inside the ‘plane, staring down at Grice and Rollison and then across at the star pilot of Bedloe Station. It was easy to imagine the news flashing around the aerodromes, astounding those who knew Paterson well.

Rollison looked at Grice.

‘Have you a spare seat for me or aren't we on speaking terms?'

‘There's room,' said Grice abruptly. ‘Come along.'

Rollison waited long enough to offer thanks for the pilot and crew, wished that there was time for some tea or coffee at the mess and then followed the Superintendent to a police car with a sergeant at the wheel. Another police car was just swinging after the first, in which Paterson was being taken away. Rollison joined Grice in the back of the third car, saying as he sank down: ‘Why the bodyguard?'

‘It might be necessary,' said Grice shortly. ‘Paterson is one of many, he's not alone by a long way.'

‘Oh,' said the Toff. ‘A diffusion of guilt, that's something. Now do you think you could stop regarding me as a leper and tell me what's caused the brainstorm? We've turned the full circle and we're back at the Jameson case but whether you've got the right angle or not is a different matter. I'm going to be surprised if you can prove your case against Paterson but that's by the way.'

‘You're going to be surprised,' said Grice acidly. ‘This is the first time I've really been angered by you, Rollison. I've known that you've often worked on your own in the past and be damned to the police but I thought you were prepared to work with me. The Lord knows I've given you enough breaks in this case.'

‘You've been good,' acknowledged the Toff slowly, ‘but you haven't given me many breaks. They haven't been yours to give. I didn't know everything that had happened and I'm sure you didn't but don't run away with the idea that I've been keeping back relevant facts. I haven't. I've worked on some ideas and only once on definite information. That was when I went to see Paterson.'

Grice drew a deep breath, sounding impatient.

‘I hope you're not going to insist that the first you knew about the case was in the papers,' he said. ‘Peveril's made a full confession.' He uttered that statement sharply and there was a note of accusation in his voice as he turned to look into Rollison's eyes. He saw a blank expression first and then the slow birth of a sardonic humour which riled him; Rollison saw his lips tighten.

‘If Peveril has confessed and involved me prior to the newspaper stories of the man amok, he's found you pretty credulous. Are you telling me that you've arrested Paterson on Peveril's verbal evidence?'

‘Once Brett was identified and we had the girl's story—I saw her soon after you did—it was easy. Paterson's told her that he killed Brett's secretary, Ryson. His motive for killing Brett is obvious.'

‘Not altogether,' said Rollison slowly. Grice frowned, took out his cigarette-case and proffered it; Rollison stubbed out the end of his first cigarette and lit a second. ‘So you're going to pretend ignorance, are you?'

‘Not ignorance, innocence,' corrected Rollison absently. ‘But defending and proving my part isn't going to lead us far, too many urgent matters demand action. Peveril, now—I've formed ideas about Peveril, who has presumably accused me. He was the first man to give me the faintest suspicion that Brett might not be alive. I pretended to Peveril that I knew everything there was to know about the case and made a comment about Brett going overseas. His attitude changed then and when I brooded over it I wondered if he knew better. Apparently he knew that Brett was dead. Peveril tried several other little deceptions, too,' he added. ‘He was quite sure that he had me fooled. He told me that Ibbetson and company were working for Sir Gregory Lancaster, he even talked about that to Ibbetson himself. But he knew that I was listening in; I think that was just to register the fact that there was a man named Lancaster and that he, Peveril, wanted it to be thought that Lancaster was going all out to get the black case.' Rollison paused and then added, apparently
apropos
of nothing: ‘Have you had the analysis of a cigarette which I sent through to you?'

Grice had been about to make a comment on the Toff's musing but changed the topic abruptly.

‘Yes, I have.'

‘Was it free from drugs?'

‘It was not. It contained enough powdered arsenic to have made the smoker ill for a week, if nothing worse. Why?'

‘Well, well,' said Rollison gently. ‘Peveril was very anxious to get me off the stage, wasn't he? Yes, Peveril tried to give it to me,' he added as Grice exclaimed. ‘Was that included in his confession? It wasn't? The man's memory must be really bad! Confound it, he should be fair when he's telling the police everything! What other pretty story has he bamboozled you with?' Again he went on before Grice could interrupt. ‘It wouldn't surprise me if he hasn't told you that Paterson and June Lancing were working with Ibbetson for Lancaster. That would sabotage Paterson's story, and the girl's, and put them both in the ranks of the villains. The snag is that when you get Ibbetson he might not confirm Peveril's story. I'd say that there was danger in the offing for Ibbetson and his friends. Of course,' went on the Toff, his voice rising sharply, ‘
of course
,
we're getting places.'

‘A complete denial of Peveril's statement won't cut much ice,' said Grice. ‘It's too circumstantial.'

‘It would be, he's a clever customer. I don't know what Peveril's told you. Remember, I'm working up the story I would present in his position from what little knowledge I have of his attitude in general. I assumed that Ibbetson or one of his men had killed Fred in the bath, to prevent the possibility of a squeal, but it could easily have been one of Peveril's
aides.
It doesn't do to assume that Peveril's the lone agent he makes out to be. Supposing he was working on the lines of pushing all the blame on to Ibbetson? He started doing it with me, most impressively. He'd know that in a showdown the Ibbetson evidence would be too strong for him, so he'd have to get rid of all support of it. Fred goes first, the others will follow when he or his
aides
have a chance. Unless, of course, the police do some arresting first. They're good at arrests.'

‘The last defence of a man outwitted is sarcasm,' said Grice coldly. ‘We've picked up one of Ibbetson's men, a Charley Day. He doesn't know a lot and he's neither confirmed nor denied Peveril's story or any part of it. He doesn't know for whom Ibbetson is working but Peveril does. Sir Gregory Lancaster,' added Grice slowly, ‘is under arrest. He hasn't talked: he's like you, careful enough to send for a solicitor. But the outlines of the case are clear enough, Rollison. Brett and Lancaster were business associates who fell out. Brett kept powerful evidence against Lancaster in the little black case—as well as evidence against Paterson, the girl's father—who was involved years ago in Company frauds—and a lot of other people.' Lancaster employed Ibbetson to get that evidence. Ibbetson succeeded but the girl stole the case from him.

‘Meanwhile Brett, who was to have gone to America, heard of what was happening and stayed behind. He was, as we've gathered from June Lancing, a blackmailer and swindler on a large scale and he had his unofficial headquarters above a furniture shop in Chiswick. Paterson had an appointment to see him outside the shop at six o'clock in the evening, three days ago. Paterson dressed himself up as a commando in Jameson's clothes—borrowing them because Jameson was playing with the idea of deserting. They were borrowed with the help of the girl, who looks on the Jamesons as old family servants who will do anything for her. She was a party to the attempt to frame young Jameson. She and Paterson between them arranged for the car to be stranded near the canal and the evidence to lead to Jameson. You swallowed that whole,' said Grice, still unbending.

‘Hook, line, and sinker,' admitted the Toff. ‘Go on, it's quite a story.'

‘I'll go on,' said Grice coldly. ‘Ibbetson was at hand as an accomplice—you did suggest that. All of them were working for Lancaster. There may or may not be some truth in the fact that both Paterson and June Lancing believed Brett had blackmailed and/or swindled them or their parents. That's probably the motive for them linking up with Lancaster but behind it all is the fact that Lancaster was afraid of the information Brett could lodge against him, and wanted Brett killed—he was one source of the information—and the evidence destroyed. He used Paterson, knowing Paterson's hatred for Brett. We haven't yet found what roguery Lancaster was involved in but we will now that he's under arrest. His offices and flat are being searched.'

Rollison pursed his lips before saying: ‘You didn't arrest Lancaster just on Peveril's evidence. I know that for a policeman you're inclined to take chances but you wouldn't take one like that. So far you've grounds for suspicion, nothing more, and you've too many motives.'

‘Peveril had letters, signed by Lancaster, addressed to Ibbetson and giving him instructions to get the case from Brett at all costs. Lancaster was confronted with the letters and his reaction was such that a detention on suspicion was justified,' Grice told him shortly. ‘I have been in the police force long enough to know what is strong enough evidence for arrest and what isn't.'

‘Oh, of course,' said the Toff off-handedly. ‘I know you're quite a policeman. Odd, I haven't met either Brett or Lancaster. These things get out of hand when you're dealing in names and not personalities. So that's the best you can do?'

‘Can you do better?' demanded Grice tartly?

‘No-o,' admitted the Toff. ‘Not yet, at all events. But one thing and its corollary stick out a mile, old man.' He was mild-voiced, friendly and earnest. ‘What is Peveril's part in this affair? How has he whitewashed himself? And the corollary—in order to save himself and those for whom he's working, he must get rid of all witnesses who can break his story. I mean Ibbetson and the others. They're not a nice bunch and I'd gladly see them dead but they're important witnesses.'

‘Peveril's story doesn't exclude himself,' said Grice. ‘He has mishandled some clients' money—I suppose I needn't remind you that he's a solicitor?—and Brett knew of it. Peveril wanted the case to destroy the evidence against him. His story to you of having an offer of five thousand pounds for it was all my-eye-and-Betty-Martin.'

‘I wonder,' said Rollison gently. ‘I wonder a lot. By the way, since Paterson and June Lancing were working with Ibbetson,' – he made the words sound sardonic and absurd – ‘why did Ibbetson dump her into the canal? Or didn't Peveril know about that?'

‘She met Ibbetson at the cottage by arrangement, sent the older Jamesons out for the evening and then, I imagine, quarrelled with Ibbetson, who was the only man who knew that Paterson had flown down from his Yorkshire station on the afternoon of the murders and back the same night—using the same means of transport as you. I've checked up with the authorities. Paterson was away that day. Jameson has been released,' added Grice. ‘He's going back to his unit at once. You were right about him, anyhow.'

‘I see,'said the Toff gently. ‘I
see.
You think that Ibbetson and the girl quarrelled, the girl lost her head and started threatening and Ibbetson thought what a good idea it would be to drop her into the cold waters. It's plausible but the operative word you used is “imagine.” You shouldn't imagine so much, it's bad for a policeman. Anyhow, as far as you're concerned everything in the garden is lovely?'

‘It is,' said Grice; and then sharply: ‘There's a lot to be discovered yet but we have all the people who matter, apart from Ibbetson and he'll be picked up soon.'

‘I wonder,' said the Toff, as the car slowed down outside Scotland Yard, ‘I wonder if I'm just a damned fool or whether the evidence has been neatly planted against Paterson and his girl? I wonder if those two aren't victims of circumstantial and
prima facie
evidence, suffering the tortures of damnation after years of the agony of suspense? I wonder if Peveril isn't going to get away on a negligible charge of embezzling and then come out to enjoy all the proceeds of the job, the
real
job that's been done? Grice, if you've got a conscience and want it to rest easy in your dotage, be careful now. Spread yourself as you've never done in the past
and pull Ibbetson in before Peveril's other men get him.
'