The Lily-White Boys (15 page)

She nodded, satisfied.

‘I'm very grateful for your help, Miss Tovey,' he added as he took his leave. ‘Especially since you're under the weather. I hope your headache clears up soon.'

‘Thank you; I think the worst is over now. I'll be interested to know what happens tomorrow.'

‘So shall I!' His sudden smile lit his face, surprising her by its attractiveness. ‘Don't worry, I'll keep you informed.'

A man of many parts, Chief Inspector Webb. As Monica went back to her room, her earlier euphoric relief settled into comforting reality. It was over; the frightening memory of the man's face beneath her window, the worry about the unknown caller, the shadows in the mews that were suddenly so menacing. Her life as it had been a week ago had been handed back to her, and she was inordinately grateful.

It was only as she was falling asleep that she remembered her visit to church that morning. The Almighty had fulfilled his part of the bargain; it was now up to her to stick to hers.

Webb was at his desk by 8.30 the next morning, and at 8.45 the tail he had put on Frank Andrews reported a man answering his description had just left the house. He was being followed, and was driving in the direction of Carrington Street.

‘John Baker's still being hassled about that plane,' Crombie remarked, breaking into Webb's musings. ‘The Badderleys mentioned it when they collected their property. You remember they reported it at the time of the break-in.'

Webb had a mental picture of the unpleasant woman with red toenails. ‘So you said.'

‘They wondered if we'd found out any more.'

‘What time did they see it?'

‘Just before eleven. It gave them quite a fright – they thought it was going to come down on top of them. Of course, it landed only a mile or two down the road.'

‘Yes,' Webb said slowly. ‘I wonder –'

The phone interrupted him. ‘Someone at the desk asking for you, sir,' reported the station sergeant. ‘Name of Andrews.'

‘I'll be right down.'

He dropped the phone, strode rapidly through the outer office and ran down the stairs. Frank Andrews had proved so elusive, he wouldn't feel he had him till he was sitting across the table from him.

The man who turned warily to face him was just as he'd imagined – a tribute to Miss Tovey's description. Medium height, red hair, probably the same jeans and jacket. Add to that the white face that frequently goes with red hair, and pale blue, apprehensive eyes.

‘Mr Andrews?'

‘That's right.'

‘Chief Inspector Webb. If you'd like to come through?'

Andrews cast one longing look back at the front entrance, then meekly preceded Webb into the interview room where Jackson was already waiting. So far, so good.

The man was clearly nervous; sweat lined his upper lip and his shoulders were tense. So should he bloody well be nervous, after all the trouble he'd caused. Nevertheless, he'd be more use if he relaxed. ‘Tea? Coffee?' Webb asked pleasantly.

‘Oh – tea. Ta very much.' Webb nodded to Jackson, who went in search of it. They sat in silence till he returned with a tin tray and three mugs.

‘Now, Mr Andrews,' Webb began, when the mugs had been distributed, ‘we're hoping you'll be able to clear up a few things for us. It's a pity you weren't able to come in earlier.'

Andrews flicked him a wary glance. ‘I've been abroad,' he said. Webb let that pass for the moment, and the man's full name and address were duly noted. He gave the latter reluctantly.

‘You won't be going round there, will you? Only the wife doesn't know anything about all this.'

‘We'll be discreet,' Webb said. ‘Right, then; we'd like you to tell us exactly what happened. From the beginning.'

Andrews licked his lips, took a gulp of tea, and began. ‘Well, it was like I told the lady. My car was in for service, so I took the bus. I wasn't watching the time –'

‘Where had you gone?'

The man hesitated. ‘To visit a friend.'

‘Name and address?'

Andrews threw him an agonized look. ‘Do I have to?'

‘I'm afraid so.'

‘Miss Jennifer Stevens, three-four-seven Chipping Claydon Road.'

‘Go on.'

‘Well, as I say, I didn't realize the time and the upshot was I left it too late and missed the last bus. And I
had
to get back. The wife was expecting me – she thought I was at the pub – and I had to be at the depot for five the next morning.'

The name and address of the transport firm were written down.

‘I tried hitching a lift,' Andrews continued, ‘but the miserable buggers wouldn't stop so I started walking. And as I was passing the lay-by this lorry went by and its headlights picked up the van. Well, I thought my luck was in; if someone had stopped for a break, I reckoned I could cadge a lift. I went over, but the van was empty. Then I saw the keys in the ignition, which seemed odd.'

Andrews took another drink of tea. ‘I expected the driver any minute so I hung around but no one came. Time was going on, and after a while I began to wonder if it had been abandoned. That'd account for the keys being left in it. I was pretty het up by this time, so I decided to get in and try to start it. If it went OK, I'd borrow it to get home, and run it back next day. Honest to God, I'd have done that. What use is a clapped-out old van to me, anyway?'

Presumably it was a rhetorical question. At any rate Webb treated it as such, and after a moment Andrews went on, wiping the sweat off his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

‘But half way back the bloody thing started playing up, and it finally ground to a halt outside that house.'

‘If you were making for the far side of Shillingham,' Webb interrupted, ‘what were you doing in North Park? The main road runs straight into town.'

Andrews flushed. ‘Yeah, but as I was going under the motorway I saw one of your lot just ahead, blue lights and all. I wasn't going near him in my borrowed van, now was I? So when he kept on along the main road I veered off to the right, which took me up the hill by the park. I reckoned by the time I'd filtered back to the main road, I'd have lost him.'

As simple as that. ‘Go on.'

‘That's about it. I tried to get the van going, but it wouldn't budge so I got out. And then I looked up and saw this face at the window staring down at me. Fair gave me a turn, I can tell you. So I legged it off down the hill.'

‘And your good intentions of returning the van went by the board?'

‘I wasn't going up there in broad daylight with a can of petrol in my hand. Not to a posh area like that. I reckoned if the owner wanted it back, he'd keep an eye open for reports of abandoned vehicles.

‘But then –' he swallowed convulsively – ‘on Wednesday night it said in the
News
two bodies had been found in it. Strewth, that was all I needed! I swear I never slept a wink. All I could think of was that woman watching me – and she'd a good view, because I was under the lamp – and her thinking it was me that had done it. There'd be a photo-fit in the paper, and the wife would see it.'

‘How did you find out who the lady was?'

‘Checked the house in the register at the library. Simple enough. And the name was the same as the shop. I tried to phone her a couple of times, but I had to go to Belgium first thing Friday, so yesterday was the next chance I got.'

‘You realize you put her through a very worrying time?'

‘Well, I'm sorry, but I had to choose my time, with the wife in the house.'

‘Right, Mr Andrews, thank you. If you'll read through and sign the statement Sergeant Jackson's taken down, that'll be all for the moment.'

‘Back to square one, eh, Guv?' Jackson commented, following Webb upstairs after seeing Andrews out.

‘Yes, the field's wide open again. All we've got now is that car parked under the trees.' But at least one point had been cleared up; the murderer had not after all been so foolhardy as to drive off in his victim's van. That had worried him all along.

‘Come into my office, Ken, and let's talk this through.' He pushed open the door, and Crombie looked up from his desk.

‘Here's that list of the Whites' customers, Dave. Those known to have business dealings with Miss Tovey have been highlighted, but no doubt she knows a lot of the others as well.'

‘I doubt if it's relevant now, Alan; we've established that the van stopping outside her house was pure chance. By the way –' he sat down at his desk – ‘before Andrews arrived, we were talking about that plane and I think it's time we gave it a bit more thought.'

‘Don't tell me you're considering a connection after all?' Webb's original reaction to the idea still rankled.

‘There could be a tenuous one. We now know it was the Whites who did the Badderley house, and that the plane landed nearby at about the same time. Also, we suspect the lads met their death through a blackmail attempt that went wrong. Why else all that excitement about keeping a rendezvous in a lay-by?'

‘So?' Crombie still wasn't sticking his neck out.

‘So, Alan,' Webb said deliberately, ‘it could well be you were on to something after all. Suppose the twins saw the plane land and stopped to investigate? And spotted something – or someone – they considered worth following up?'

Jackson, who'd silently taken a seat alongside Webb's desk during this exchange, gave a small cough, and as the two senior officers glanced at him, said diffidently, ‘I was talking to Joe Casey the other day. Another consignment of heroin's hit the streets; he narrowly missed a transaction at the Whistle Stop.'

‘You mean the plane probably landed it? I know that's what the Drug Squad have been working on, but –'

‘Yes, Guv, but I was reading Bob Dawson's interview with the Hargreaves. One of the reasons they threw the lads out was that they were smoking pot.'

Webb's eyes narrowed. ‘Go on.'

‘I know there was no evidence of the habit at the PM, but because they'd kicked it themselves doesn't mean they weren't pushing it.'

‘You've a point there, Ken. Come to that, even if they weren't involved, they might have recognized someone who supplied them in the old days. His name could even be here, among their customers. Let's have a quick run-through.'

He glanced down at the list. ‘We'll start with the ones who know Miss Tovey: Carruthers, France and Studley, dental surgeons, 24 Kimberley Road; Alexander's Hairdressing Salon, 42 East Parade; National Bank, King Street branch, Manager Mr G. A. Latimer (personal and business accounts); Rayner & Teal, wine importers, 39 Duke Street.' He looked up with a grin. ‘Mr Teal's another magistrate, isn't he? Not a promising bunch for international drug-smugglers, you must admit.'

‘Randall Tovey's on the list too,' Crombie reminded him. ‘How about Miss Tovey herself?'

Ignoring both Webbb's and Jackson's surprise, he went on, warming to his theme. ‘Andrews came upon the deserted van about eleven-thirty and didn't reach North Park with it till midnight. If the murder took place at eleven, the killer could have been safely tucked up in bed by then.

Webb looked at him disbelievingly. ‘You're not seriously suggesting Miss Tovey's running a dope ring?'

‘It's feasible. She's plenty of wealthy contacts; the habit's not limited to the down-and-outs, as we know only too well. And if she
had
met the plane, the Whites would certainly have recognized her; they'd been up before her often enough.'

‘But if Miss Tovey topped them, she'd have recognized their van when it appeared outside her house.'

‘Perhaps she did,' Jackson said, entering into the spirit of the argument. ‘But she wouldn't have let on, would she? Not a clever lady like that. She'd have done exactly what an innocent person would do; wait to see if someone was coming back for it, and when they didn't, get on to us.'

‘It'd have given her one hell of a shock, turning up on her doorstep,' Crombie said reflectively.

‘Come to that,' put in Webb, ‘whoever the killer is, he'd have had one hell of a shock when the van appeared in North Park. Must have done his nut wondering how and why it arrived there from the lay-by. Anyway, back to the list: what other customers had they got?'

He ran his eye down the page, reading out names at random. ‘Punjabi Gardens Restaurant – Hong Kong Restaurant – Carlton Gallery –'

‘They've got an exhibition there this week,' Crombie cut in. ‘I saw a notice in the newsagent's. Wednesday to Saturday, I think.'

‘I know, I intend to look in if I get the chance.' Webb, an amateur artist and cartoonist, was quite familiar with the Carlton. In fact, he'd an eye on a print he hoped to buy for Hannah's birthday.

‘Well, we'll have to see the whole lot. What'll be interesting is to find out how many of them knew the Whites were their window-cleaners.'

‘Surely they all did, Guv,' Jackson interpolated. ‘You can hardly miss a face at your window!'

‘Oh, they probably knew them by sight,' Crombie agreed, ‘but could they have put a name to them? I've no idea what
our
window-cleaner is called. I bet half the Whites' customers still don't realize that the “bodies in the van”, as the press call them, are the same lads that did their windows.' ‘No harm in telling them, then,' Webb said, putting the list in his desk drawer and getting to his feet. ‘I promised Miss Tovey I'd let her know if Andrews turned up. Instead of phoning, I'll go in and see her, and ask about the Whites at the same time. Not to mention the current price for cocaine. Ready, Ken?'

In the car on the way to East Parade, Jackson said tentatively, ‘The DI wasn't serious about Miss Tovey, was he, Guv? I mean, I know I joined in, but it was only for the sake of argument. I didn't really believe it.'