The Nine Bright Shiners (19 page)

The furniture, in fumed oak, had a silvery sheen and the old bed in which she had opened her Christmas stockings had given way to elegant twins, each with its cream-flowered duvet. Only the fitted wardrobe down the left-hand wall struck a chord in her memory, and it was this she had come to examine.

Julie ran across and pulled at the door, which folded back on itself to display a row of suits and dresses. As the children had said, a light came on automatically, illuminating the clothes.

With a feeling of guilt, Jan made a space between them, and her heart started thumping. Normally, a fitted wardrobe had as its back the wall against which it was built; here, a smooth sheet of wood met her eyes – surely an unnecessary refinement.

Watched breathlessly by the children, she stepped inside the cupboard and pressed her hands against the wood. Nothing happened. Working methodically from left to right, pushing and pressing, she covered the entire width of the backing, with no effect.

She said over her shoulder, ‘You are sure you didn't dream this?'

‘Perhaps you have to say a magic word,' Julie suggested.

Ben snorted. ‘And what did you say? “I can't walk in these things”? Doesn't sound magic to me.'

‘Where exactly were you standing, Julie?'

The child took up a position outside the cupboard. ‘Then the heels went over and I fell forward. I tried to cling on to the clothes, but they gave way and I crashed against the back.'

‘But where?'

Julie looked doubtful. ‘About here, I think.'

‘Then why won't it open now?'

‘I don't know. We couldn't get it to, either, the next time we tried.'

‘Well, have another go now. If it opened once, it'll do it again.'

But despite their efforts, twenty minutes later the back remained implacably in position. Jan stepped out of the cupboard, face flushed and hair untidy from brushing against the clothes.

‘It's not going to work,' she said briskly, ‘and we've wasted quite enough time on it. If we don't hurry and collect our things, we'll be late for lunch.'

‘But I wanted to see the jewels,' whined Julie.

‘We'll come back and try again.'

‘But you do believe us, don't you, Mum?' Ben asked anxiously.

Jan hesitated. The wooden back gave weight to their story, but how could Julie's chance push have succeeded while all their concerted efforts failed? ‘I believe you think you saw something,' she compromised. ‘What or how I don't know. In the meantime, just in
case
that was what interested the burglar, we won't mention this to anyone.'

They nodded solemnly and followed her out of the room. It was with a sense of relief that she closed the door behind them.

That morning, Wood Street's report on Sinclair had been on Webb's desk, and after a quick glance at it, he buzzed for Jackson.

‘Highly organized, by the look of it,' he said. ‘He's built up a nice little circle of contacts – bank managers and suchlike – through whose services he can line his pockets.'

‘But how does it work, Guv?'

‘I imagine Rollo and the others get a list of investments Sinclair wants to push, and when their clients come for advice, they're gently nudged in the right direction. In return for which, Rollo and Co. get a handsome backhander. But his days are numbered; a report's gone to his Head Office – no doubt he'll be hearing from them.'

‘It sounds very dodgy. I thought bank managers were a cautious lot.'

‘There are exceptions to any rule, but I'd guess it seems fairly innocuous at first. They get a percentage of commission – something like that. But then it escalates. If they bring in the big fish, they're suitably rewarded – lunch or dinner in the Big City, with optional extras.'

‘Like at the Commodore?'

‘Precisely. And once they're in that deep, it's added protection against belated stirrings of conscience. Anyway, Marriott smelt a rat and started sniffing around.'

‘You reckon that's why he died?'

Webb sighed. ‘Could have been. At very least, it's another line of inquiry to be followed through. God, Ken, I wish Stan Bates was mobile. We need all the help we can get on this one.'

‘Have you heard how he's going on, Guv?'

‘Not since Thursday. Which reminds me, I promised to look in again. In the meantime, though, I've prevailed on Court Lane to root out the other solicitors. We'll see what that brings forth. Oh, and permission from the Home Office is through on Peru. Evening flight from Heathrow tomorrow, so bring your case in to work. Just the bare essentials – we'll be issued with specialist gear on arrival. We'll check with Doc Pringle what jabs we should have. In the meantime, phone Mrs Coverdale, will you, Ken, and see if there's anything else we ought to know.'

Jan returned from the phone and resumed her seat by the fire. Miles, who'd been invited for Sunday lunch, regarded her quizzically.

‘You're looking very pensive. Not bad news, I hope?'

‘No, just the police with last-minute queries on Peru. They're flying out tomorrow.'

‘Will they be able to contact them?' Lady Peel asked.

‘They could be deep in the jungle.'

Miles laughed. ‘Believe me, if Webb's interested enough to go all that way, a bit of jungle's not going to stop him.'

‘But how can Edward help?' Jan demanded. ‘He's been away the whole time.'

‘We don't even know,' Lady Peel said, ‘that it's Edward they wish to question.'

‘Rowena?' Jan stared at her. ‘I never thought of that. You think they might want to ask her about the letter?'

‘What letter?' Miles's voice was sharp, and they looked at him in surprise. Lady Peel explained about Sir Reginald's withdrawal.

‘Ah, that explains it. Webb asked if I'd had one.'

‘But you haven't?'

Miles bent and stroked the cat on the rug. Her fur twitched in protest and she flicked her tail.

‘No.'

‘He also mentioned a book your father might have written.'

‘That's right. Some nonsense about a schoolgirl magazine.'

‘They seem to believe it existed,' Jan said.

‘Then he must have destroyed it later.' He stood up suddenly. ‘God, I'm sick of all this ferreting into our affairs. I'll be glad when it's over and they leave us in peace.' He looked down at Jan. ‘You're not having much of a holiday, are you? Let me take you out to dinner, to make up for it. Mario's in Gloucester Street have a decent menu.'

Jan said quickly, ‘That's kind of you, but I don't think –'

‘Why not, my dear?' Lady Peel interrupted. ‘It's an excellent idea. Miles is right, this has been a most trying trip for you. Why not take the chance to relax for an evening? The children will be quite safe with Edith and me.'

Any further protest would be embarrassing. Jan was aware of the amusement in Miles's gaze. Damn him! she thought impotently. Aloud, she said, ‘Then thank you. I'd enjoy that.'

‘Tomorrow suit you? I'll call for you at eight. Mondays are fairly quiet, there should be no problem getting a table.'

Ken Jackson said, ‘I haven't any option, love. The Guv says “Jump”, and I jump. That's the way it is.'

Millie shivered, and the baby she was holding stirred sleepily. She was in her dressing-gown, and the warm, domestic picture they presented emphasized the point she was making. ‘All the times we've sat here by the telly, me with my knitting and you in your slippers, watching people pitting themselves against the elements and taking terrible risks. And I've sipped my cocoa, thinking how lovely it was to be safe and snug at home. And now you'll be out there with them. Oh, Ken!'

‘I shan't be in danger, love,' he reassured her. ‘No more than going after a villain here in Shillingham. And as far as we know, Mr Langley's not a villain anyway.'

‘He might have killed that man,' Millie pointed out.

‘Aye, and he might not, which is what we've got to find out. But he won't kill us, never fear. There'll be other people about, anyway, the lads who fly us out, and – and the Indians,' he ended less certainly.

‘Indians?' Millie's round eyes widened still further, and Jackson made a hasty substitution.

‘Peruvians, then. The guides and people. And it will only take a few days anyway. Then I'll be back, and we can watch telly to our hearts' content.'

She smiled, resting her cheek on the baby's fluffy red head. He smelt of warm milk and talcum powder. ‘Yes, of course. I know I'm being silly – it's just that it's so far away. Peru might as well be the moon, for all I know about it.'

Jackson grinned. ‘I don't think even the Governor will send me to the moon. Not till it gets its quota of criminals, anyway.' He nodded towards the drowsy child. ‘Shall I take him back to his cot?'

‘We'll give him another five minutes. We don't want him waking Tessa.'

‘It's some time since Mr Webb saw his godson,' Jackson commented. ‘We could ask him round one Sunday, when the case is wrapped up.'

‘That'd be lovely. Paul and Vicky'd enjoy it, too – Mr Webb's very good with them. Pity he's no children of his own.'

‘I doubt if he misses them,' Jackson said.

‘My God!' exclaimed Alec Pringle the next morning. ‘What the hell are you going out there for?'

Webb grinned and winked at Jackson. ‘An exotic holiday, and to hell with crime? That what you're thinking? Not true, unfortunately. The sergeant and I have to penetrate the impenetrable, and we want to know what jabs are called for.'

The police surgeon leant back in his chair. ‘This evening, you say? Left it a bit late, haven't you?' He was a tall, expatriate Scot, known for unfailing cheerfulness whatever the occasion. It was a trait which new recruits, initially shocked, quickly came to appreciate in a tough and stomach-turning world.

‘No option, I'm afraid. The Home Office didn't pronounce till yesterday.'

‘Right, we'll see what we can do. Peru, you say. From what I remember, there are no required inoculations, but I'll check the chart. “The King of Peru, who was Emperor too – ” I always think of that.
Christopher Robin
, isn't it?' He was running his finger down the chart. ‘Aye, here we are. Nothing required, but I'd advise some protection. Your polio boosters are up to date, and I can give you one for typhoid. Hepatitis is easy – immediate protection on that one – and you'll need malaria tablets if you're going into the jungle. It's a bit late to start, but carry on taking them for six weeks. And that, my lads, is the best I can do for you. You'll have to get your yellow fever jab at Heathrow, so allow time before your flight.'

‘Ye gods! We'll be like a couple of pin-cushions!'

‘This still the Chedbury case? Casting your nets wide, aren't you?'

Webb grinned. ‘The long arm of the law,' he said.

It was as he was leaving his office en route to the airport that a phone call came through from Broadminster.

‘Spider? Foggy Horn. Regarding that solicitor inquiry, I've got my lads' report here. Want me to summarize?'

Webb reached for paper and pen. ‘Please, Foggy.'

‘Here goes, then. First William Langley. You were right – he left letters for both his son and daughter. They're holding Edward Langley's till his return from Peru, but they didn't know Mrs Coverdale was here, so hers was sent to Oz.'

Webb whistled softly. ‘Now, that
is
interesting. They didn't happen to say what was in them, I suppose?'

‘They haven't a clue. They were simply asked to deliver the sealed envelopes at the required time, and that's what they're doing.'

‘Three months after the survivor's death?'

‘That's it.'

‘And the date they were deposited?'

‘February, nineteen fifty-six.'

‘That figures. And Laurence Cody?'

‘Even more interesting. He deposited a letter for his son at the same time, i.e. February 'fifty-six. But a year or so later, he also left a parcel with the same instructions. Again, they don't know what it contained, but it felt like a bundle of papers.'

‘His manuscript! So it
did
exist! And what happened to it?'

‘Both it and the letter were delivered to Cody last week, by registered post. The GPO confirmed it.'

‘Did they, by Jove?' Webb said softly.

‘You've already questioned him, I presume?'

‘Oh yes, and naturally he denied all knowledge.'

‘Want us to have another word?'

Webb hesitated. He would have preferred to go back to Cody himself, but he'd be away for a week or more, and the man could be a killer. ‘Thanks, Foggy, I'd be grateful if you would.'

Mario's restaurant went in for low lights and soft music, both of which Jan would willingly have dispensed with in Miles's company. They were seated with many flourishes at a corner table that was screened by plants from its nearest neighbours. Menus were produced, their selections made, and Miles ordered wine. Then he leant back in his chair, smiling across at her.

‘Well, this is very pleasant. I'm glad of a chance to relax, myself; I've been burning the midnight oil for the last week or so.'

‘On Buckhurst Grange?'

‘Yes. It's coming along quite well. If you like, I'll drive you over one day, and you can have a look round. It's not officially open till Easter, but I can go whenever I want.'

‘That would be lovely, having seen your sketches.'

‘Which reminds me,' he said casually, ‘on our day out, you mentioned a book of Sir Reginald's.'

‘Oh yes.' Jan was not sure that she wanted to talk about it.

‘You hinted there was something odd in it.'

‘It was probably nothing.' She looked up at him, and came to a decision. Lately, there'd been so many things that puzzled her; perhaps Miles could provide some answers. In any case, it would be a relief to discuss them.