The Savage Gorge (31 page)

'Wait here,' Tweed ordered. 'Your job - guard Lord
Bullerton.'

'So we haven't seen the last of Mr Guile,' Paula
mused.

'Never mind. We're about to learn the secret of
Black Gorse Moor.'

TWENTY THREE

Alighting from the Audi inside the garage they met Marler, just emerging from the hotel. He gave them
both a mock salute.

'I've been on the prowl, as Harry would say.
Checking on the suspects,' he drawled. 'Falkirk,
famous private detective, is in his room. On same
floor as yours, Tweed. Archie AlacBlade is having a
drink in the Silver Room. See you.'

'The Silver Room?' queried Tweed. 'How many
bars in this place?'

'In order of low to high -' Paula counted on her fin
gers - 'a saloon bar, only really patronized in the
evening. Public bar, more popular with local work
men. Top of the tree, the luxurious Silver Room with
prices to match.'

'I see. Let's get up to my suite. I need to think about

what happened at Hobart House. May ask you to take
notes . . .'

He was on the landing, heading for his suite, when
Falkirk walked towards them on his way out. He nodded to Paula. She had sensed that Tweed's normally exceptional energy had reached a ferocious pitch. He was in no mood to put up with nonsense
from anyone. He stood in front of Falkirk, blocking
his exit.

'A word with you, Falkirk. In my suite.'

'Not convenient, old boy. I am just
—'

'I mean
now!
'

'Not convenient.'

Tweed grabbed him tightly by the collar with one
hand, with the other he handed Paula the key to his
suite. She ran to open his door. He was pushing
Falkirk backwards along the corridor, into his suite
and across the room, where he threw him bodily into an armchair backed against the wall. Falkirk leapt up
instantly, grabbed Tweed's throat and started to
strangle him. Paula stood by. She knew Tweed would
want to sort this out himself. With both hands he
grasped Falkirk's arms above the elbows, pressed
both hands against certain nerves. Pain appeared on
Falkirk's face. He released his hands from Tweed's throat and was hurled back into the armchair. Again he leapt up, right legs raised to kick his opponent in
the crotch. Tweed avoided the vicious kick, moved to
one side, grasped Falkirk by the shoulders and threw
him with some force against the wall. Paula heard his

head contact the wall. Falkirk's eyes glazed over as he
slid down.

Tweed bent down. He checked the carotid artery,
then his pulse. He spoke to Paula over his shoulder.

'Conscious, just stunned. Could you get me a glass
of water?'

Paula ran to the fridge. From a carafe she poured a
large glass, handed it to Tweed. By now he had
hoisted Falkirk off the floor and dropped him back
into the armchair. He handed the glass to Falkirk,
who was sagged against the chair's back.

'You sip this slowly,' Tweed ordered. 'After six sips
you can drink a modest amount.'

Falkirk smiled wanly after drinking most of the
glass, gazing at Tweed.

'They said you were tough. By George, they were right. What's now?' he asked in a normal voice.

Tweed carried a hard-backed chair close to Falkirk.
He turned it round, sat with both arms resting on the
top in front of him, his voice harsh during the inter
rogation.

'Who hired you?'

'Lizbeth Mandeville, younger sister of the two mur
dered women.'

'You were the first person she approached?'

'No, she'd called the Yard.'

'Where from?'

'She's smart. From a public phone box.'

'What did Lizbeth say to them?'

'That there were two murdered mutilated women

lying outside on the steps of a house at the end of
Lynton Avenue.'

'What was their reaction?'

'Bloody terrible. The very rough policeman who
answered asked for her name, address and where she
was calling from.'

She got Reedbeck,
Paula said to herself.

'She was furious, demanded when they were sending
a patrol car. The rough-mannered policeman simply repeated his questions. She slammed the phone down
on him. In the box she noticed a booklet someone had
left listing private detectives. She took it home. For
some weird reason she liked the name of my firm, called
me. I buzzed straight over to her, middle of the night.'

'First you checked the corpses?'

'I did not. Lizbeth sounded scared out of her wits.
We had an arrangement - at her suggestion. I wore a
red tie and had a folded newspaper under my left arm.
Lizbeth is smart. Re. corpses, I did see the one on the
steps of the next-door house. Horrible. Her face was
destroyed. Must be a sadist. . .'

'Or there could be another motive,' Tweed said. 'Go
on. What happened next?'

'Rolls-Royce turns up, hardly moving when it
passes the corpse. Checked the plate number later.
Private car owned by Neville Guile, the billionaire. Bit
weird. He had the tinted window down, was peering
out towards the corpse. Then he cruises off round the
corner where later I found the other sister mangled.'

'Then what?'

'Two police cars turn up. One with the technicians,
the other with Speedy Reedbeck - only two hours
after Lizbeth's call.'

'After that?'

'You know. I was falsely arrested by Reedbeck.'

'What I don't yet know,' Tweed continued in the
same aggressive manner, 'is how you knew about
Hobartshire.'

'Lizbeth told me all about where she had been
brought up. She refused point blank to go up here
with me. The prospect made her tremble. She thinks
the murderer lives there.'

'All your story -' Tweed stood up - 'can be checked
out with Lizbeth, who is now travelling north to
Hobartshire under armed guard.'

'Is that wise?' queried Falkirk prior to leaving.

Til decide what is wise. I may have to see you later.'

'Can't decide what I need first,' their visitor
remarked as Paula opened the door. 'A good hot bath or a really strong Scotch.'

'The bath first,' Paula told him firmly. 'His story
appeared to fit the facts precisely,' she remarked after
relocking the door.

'I've decided we'll have our planned supper with Archie MacBlade in the dining room. It's claustro
phobic up here.'

Paula phoned the dining room for a quiet table. Then she got through to Archie, who accepted with enthusiasm. As she put down the phone she noticed
Tweed was staring into the distance.

'What is it?' she asked.

'Your remark about Falkirk. To my mind, his story fitted just a little too precisely. Almost as though he'd
rehearsed it in advance.'

TWENTY FOUR

The dining room was quiet. Few tables were occu
pied. Archie was at a table inside a secluded alcove.
He waved. As they sat on either side of him he took a
package nicely wrapped out of a pocket of his tropical
drill jacket, handed it to Paula.

'I have never thanked you for saving my life up on
the moor. Otherwise I wouldn't be here tonight. Just a
small gift.'

She opened it below the table, peeled off gold
paper, removed green paper below, exposing an
expensive leather case. Taking a deep breath, she unfastened the case and gasped.

Inside was a watch, its band and the watch itself
studded with diamonds. Keeping it below the table
she showed it to Tweed, turning to Archie.

'This is so beautiful - but it's far too much . . .'

'No more than you deserve,' Tweed commented
with a smile.

'Thank you so much,' she said to Archie, 'but I
can't accept it.'

'Yes, you can,' Archie responded. "The diamonds
are fake. But don't consult it in the streets of London.'

He waved to a waiter he had told to come over only
when he summoned him. By this time Tweed had
helped Paula fasten the present to her slim wrist and she had pushed it up her sleeve out of sight. Menus were studied, orders placed.

'I'm still stunned,' Paula said as she studied the
menu.

She looked at Archie. He really was a big man with a wide chest, a large head, a neat moustache and long thick hair. In some ways he reminded her of pictures
she'd seen of prophets of the Old Testament. This
impression was countered by the frequent warm smile
of his thick lips. He looked back.

'You'll know me next time, won't you?' He chuck
led.