No Mercy (21 page)

Read No Mercy Online

Authors: Colin Forbes

Tags: #Suspense, #Fiction

BOOK: No Mercy
7.26Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

'Paula,' Tweed snapped, annoyed at her earlier
interruption, 'you'll come with me tomorrow morning while I interrogate Aubrey Greystoke, finance director of Gantia,'
he added for the benefit of everyone. 'And one discovery you
don't reveal to anyone. I'm sure the woman's body found in
the Dartmoor mine shaft is that of Lee, Greystoke's missing
wife.'

'I'd sooner have my own target. . .' Paula began.

'There's one more aid for you all,' Tweed drove on,
ignoring Paula's second attempt to intervene. 'As I said
earlier, you all have a photocopy of my detailed report to
Buchanan. But the amazing Professor Saafeld has provided
me with a description of the probable age, height and weight
of the skeletons he's examined. Monica will give you a
photocopy of that report before you leave.'

Newman opened his mouth to ask 'when?' but Tweed
guessed he was going to say that. He was behind his desk in
a whirl, remained standing up.

'Why are you all still here? You've got an urgent job to do.'

After the scurry of people leaving, collecting from Monica a
photocopy of Saafeld's report, Paula made up her mind to
say what she thought. Tweed's whole posture and mood had
changed. The swift movements, the tension, the grimness of
his expression were transformed as he relaxed in his chair
behind the desk.

'Permission to speak?' Paula asked sharply.

'Don't be silly. Come and talk to me. I always find your company soothing.'

She lifted the hard-backed chair opposite Tweed's side of the desk, carried it round, turned it at an angle and sat down facing him.

'Can I assume the targets chosen for interrogation include
all the suspects?'

'Not necessarily. It's information I'm after. Quickly, too.'

'I'm not sure you've always chosen the right person to go out and meet these people. Is Harry right for Anne Barton?'

'Perfect. First, she's apparently reserved. Also I gathered she hasn't got much money. If that's true, Harry also comes
from a poor background, plus the fact he's already met her.
I think she might open out to him.'

'You know what,' she said ruefully, 'I think I'd better enrol in some psychology class.'

'You're the shrewdest woman I've ever known. So forget
any classes, unless you want to lecture at them.'

'I'll keep quiet when we meet Greystoke tomorrow.'

'Not if you want to ask him a question, challenge him. He
has a weakness for attractive women. Since his wife, Lee, disappeared — again, three to four months ago - he's been playing the field.'

'Could be a motive.'

'For murdering Lee, but what about all the others?'

'Sending Marler to roast Gallagher was smart. That
brute's going to get the surprise of his life if he tries it on with Marler. And Newman was a good choice for Larry,
from what I've seen of him. On second thoughts I think you got it right. Sorry if I was aggressive.'

'Don't ever lose your aggression.'

An hour later the phone rang. It was Nield.

'How did you get on?' Tweed asked. 'You've been quick.'

'Because I didn't get on. Lucinda wouldn't let me in her
flat. Said if you needed more information you'd better damn
well come yourself. I couldn't shift her.'

'Don't worry. Where's your car parked?'

'In the underground garage below Lucinda's place. It's left
open during the day. I'm there now.'

'Does she know your car? Have you any way of disguising yourself in case she comes down if you stay where you
are?'

'A ridiculous pork-pie hat, pair of glasses with plain lenses,
a yellow scarf. Why?'

'I'm coming over to see her myself. If she leaves I want
you to follow her. You know Paula's number? Good. Stay
there unless she comes out. That's it.'

He turned to Paula, who was holding out her phone for him. 'I'm going over to Lucinda's,' he said.

'Time you got your own phone,' she told him.

'Thanks. I'll see you later. You and Monica hold the fort.'

When Tweed drove down inside the underground garage
most of the slots were empty. Didn't anyone else live here?
Probably most were away at their workplaces. He found Pete's blue Ford, checked the number plate to be sure. No sign of Pete. What had happened?

He parked, got out, approached the Ford cautiously.
Pete had pushed back his driving seat. He was sprawled in it out of sight. The pork-pie hat
did
look ridiculous but, combined with the glasses and the scarf, he was hardly
recognizable even to Tweed. He sat up, lowered the
window.

'She hasn't come down so must still be up there. Alone, I'd imagine.'

'Hold tight. I'm going up.'

He entered the open elevator, pressed the button for the
third floor, where it had stopped the time she had left him after the dinner at Santorini's. No, where
he
had left
her.

The third-floor hall he stepped into was luxuriously
furnished. Wall-to-wall carpet, mirrored walls, a Regency
half-table against the wall outside her door. He caught sight
of himself in a mirror, looked away. Never had liked seeing
his reflection. He pressed the bell, the heavy door swung
inward immediately, so swiftly he was startled. She stood in
the doorway, waved him inside.

He immediately thought he'd made a mistake coming.
Lucinda wore a white sweater and white trousers, a gold belt
round her slim waist, a pair of gold slippers on her feet. She
closed the door once he was inside and locked it.

'I'll take your coat,' she said in her soft voice, which Tweed
found so appealing. 'And don't send a boy over again. You
come yourself, whatever you want,' she went on with a slow
smile. 'How about a brandy?'

'A glass of Chardonnay would be acceptable.'

'Coming up. That's your chair by the couch.'

Chair? He saw she had prepared the furniture for his visit.
The seat of the chair was very long with a sloping back. It had been placed close to the wide couch. More like a bed.
She was bringing the drinks when he tried to sit on the chair
with his feet on the floor. Impossible. Placing the drinks on
a table by
his side, she slid on to the couch, her back
alongside his, sloping against a large cushion. He handed her
the brandy. They clinked glasses.

'Here's to us,' she said with a ravishing smile. 'We should
do this more often.'

'Lucinda,' he began firmly, 'I've come to ask you
questions concerning my murder investigation.'

'Time you relaxed. Good for that fertile brain of yours.'

'You knew Lee Greystoke quite well, I gather. Can you
describe her? Height, weight, that sort of thing. Hair
colour.'

'Don't like the sound of this. Well, here goes. Height five
feet six, I'd say. Weight about eight stone. Hair a lovely brown.'

Tweed almost gulped on his Chardonnay. The statistics
she'd given matched those suggested by Saafeld for the
skeleton of the woman found down the mine shaft on Dartmoor. She pushed a lock of her blonde hair from her
face, laid the hand on his lap.

'Why?' she asked.

'It's an exercise we're conducting about everyone
concerned in any way in the case. For our records.'

'I hope Lee's OK,' she said slowly.

'Well, Aubrey should know about that. When did she do
a moonlight flit on him?'

'Thought I'd told you that. Three to four months ago. At
a guess. She could have gone to the States. She had a woman
friend in Richmond, Virginia.'

'What was her connection with Gantia?' he persisted.

'You're a beaver. You know that?' She used her index
finger to stroke down the side of his face. 'Nice clean
shave. For me? Lee's connection with Gantia? She was
close to Drago. For some reason he liked and trusted her
implicitly.'

'In what way?' Tweed asked.

'Apart from the main directors — myself, Michael, Larry and her not loved husband, Aubrey - Lee was the only other person who had a master key to the plant. She'd arrive in the
middle of the night, tell the guard to stay at his post, then
check the executive offices to make sure they were locked.'

'She'd hardly come at that hour just to do that.'
- 'I know. She'd stay awhile. Maybe she was searching her
husband's office - looking for evidence of his numerous
infidelities. That's a guess.'

'But what was she like? Her personality?'

'Lively. Highly intelligent. Maybe a bit nosy, but I liked her. Full of life.'

Not now, if I'm right, Tweed thought grimly. His
expression must have changed briefly. Lucinda laid her hand
on his sleeve. He waited.

'You look worried. You're here to enjoy yourself. I'm sure
you don't get enough fun out of life.'

'I've never really thought about it.' He jumped up,
checked his watch. 'You'll excuse me but I have to be going.'

Now, the look on her face was not pleasant. He wanted to
get out of the room. He wanted to stay.
But he had no
intention of becoming involved with someone, however
attractive, who was on his list of suspects. He walked quickly
towards the door, grabbed his overcoat, put it on swiftly, opened the door and walked into the hall, closing the door
behind him.

He'd pressed the button and the elevator seemed to take
forever to arrive. He was half expecting to hear the apart
ment door behind him open. Lucinda was a determined
woman. The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside,
jamming his finger on the button. With a sense of relief he felt it descending.

The doors opened and he was stepping into the
underground garage. Pete was sitting in his parked car,
staring at the elevator. He waved.

'Get what you wanted?' Nield asked him.

Tweed nodded, told Pete he was driving back to Park
Crescent. Pete followed him out. Tweed was driving along Park Lane when a large brown Volvo with tinted windows
cut straight in front of him. He swung out of its way but
found he was heading for a pavement full of pedestrians.

Pure horror. A woman pushing a pushchair with a baby
inside. Three teenage girls, transfixed. An elderly couple,
gazing at him in terror. Tweed had a vision of bodies
sprawled on the pavement. Blood everywhere. He swung his
wheel way over to his right, signalling. He'd slam into the
Volvo. He hoped.

Other books

Yankee Mail Order Bride by Susan Leigh Carlton
Living the Significant Life by Peter L. Hirsch, Robert Shemin
Dick by Scott Hildreth
Cursed by Gorman, Cheryl
The Downstairs Maid by Rosie Clarke
Midnight Betrayal by Melinda Leigh