Here Comes the Toff (16 page)

Ritzy was smiling; he was always smiling, and just then his voice was more pleasant than ever, for he did not recognise the Toff.

“Good evening, sir. What can I do for you?”

The Toff hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then he smiled genially enough to compete with Ritzy. He first put his foot against the door, and then said: “I've come for the salt, Mr. Martin.”

He had never seen such a transformation in his life.

One moment Ritzy's face was set in that wide smile; the next it was twisted in an expression of positive alarm. His face turned pale as he stared at the Toff.

“Tongue-tied?” murmured Rollison. “A little chat will help you and I, Ritzy. Step back.”

Ritzy obeyed, still dumbstruck, persuaded by the gun in the Toff's hand, as the door closed gently behind him.

“You seem off colour,” he said gently. “Lead me to the parlour, son, where we can talk.”

Not until then did Ritzy speak. He made a big effort, and even found a vestige of his smile.

“I—I don't quite know …”

“So few do,” said the Toff, who did not propose to allow his initial advantage to slip away. “I can give you your victim's name, Ritzy, I can tell you where you met her, where you took her, and how you killed her. The game's up, you see. But” – the Toff dropped his voice, and spoke almost as if he was afraid that someone would be listening – “I'm not a policeman. Does that suggest anything to you?”

Obviously, it did.

Ritzy's colour did not return, but he forced a sickly grin and turned towards a room leading from the left of the passage and pushed the door open. The Toff made no comment as the man took a decanter from the sideboard and poured himself out a stiff whisky. He did not even reproach him for forgetting his visitor.

“I—I don't know what to say,” said Ritzy, and the Toff told himself that this fellow was not going to be much of a handful, that he would be as easy as Benson.

“You can say just enough to answer my questions,” said the Toff. “Benson's squealed. Did you know that?”

“Benson! The ruddy …”

“No hard names,” implored the Toff. “He's squealed, and you're going to do the same. Don't forget, Martin, what a word from me to the police could do.”

He did not need to finish. Ritzy's capitulation proved to be as complete as Benson's, and the Toff gave an inward sigh of relief.

“Go—go on,” muttered Ritzy.

“First,” said the Toff, “Irma Cardew and Leo Kohn are backing this thing. Renway's in it, as the mug. But just what's the game, Ritzy?”

“I—I don't know …”

“The same old parrot cry,” murmured the Toff. “I don't want to have to hurt you, but …”

“I don't know.” Ritzy almost squealed. “I worked for Renway, and I've given Kohn information, but I don't know why!”

The Toff's eyes were hard.

“You worked for Kohn as a spy, did you? And what information have you given him?”

He made a mental note as he spoke of the fact that Ritzy knew Kohn's real name – or what passed at the Marble Arch flats for his real name – and saw yet another link in the chain of evidence.

“Figures and—and cheques,” Martin muttered.

Ritzy's face was working, as though he realised that if Kohn discovered he had talked his life was worth nothing, but the Toff continued to pound him with relentless questions.

“Cheques. Renway's account books. Recent ones?”

“Ye-es. I …”

“You what?”

“I—I worked for Renway until a couple of months ago, clearing up his accounts. He was retiring …”

“I know,” said the Toff. “Now answer promptly.”

It was so easy that it seemed too easy. Martin did not show any kind of serious fight, and it was hard to believe that he was one of Kohn's henchmen.

A few questions elicited the fact that Martin had been double-crossing his employer for several months, and that Kohn's interest in Renway had started in the July of that year. In that time Ritzy had slipped seven new cheques from Renway's current books, and later they had been forged and passed through safely. The total amount to date was about seven thousand pounds, with no individual cheque big enough to raise the bank's queries in an account of Renway's importance.

Interesting, though not vital, but it offered a theory.

Kohn was swindling the millionaire, without taking too much at a time, and meanwhile Irma was twisting the man round her little finger. The time would come when Kohn would make a really big haul, and Irma would persuade Renway to keep quiet.

But there was also the new business venture, which puzzled the Toff.

If Kohn was reckoning to cash in in a big way on the new venture, he was being a fool to take small amounts and risk the millionaire's reaction if it was discovered. The motives remained very vague, and the Toff had much to learn yet. But he was convinced that he had learned all he could from Ritzy.

He was deliberating on what to do with the man when he heard a car draw up outside.

The Toff, although he did not know it then, had made yet another error of judgment. And Ritzy, who knew this, had made a smaller one. He had shown the Toff into a room at the front of the house, where it was possible to hear the arrival of the car. On such small things depended the fortunes of the day.

For a split second the Toff saw the expression in Ritzy's eyes and he knew he had been tricked, or very close to it, knew why the man had raised so little protest. He did not let Ritzy see what he suspected, as he leaned back in his chair.

“Visitors?”

“I didn't expect them,” said Ritzy quickly.

“Now they're here,” said the Toff, “you'd better let them in.”

“Sure, I …” Ritzy jumped up.

“No, not so fast! I'm coming with you.”

The man's face paled as the Toff put his hand to his pocket, where a gun bulged.

“I'm coming as far as this door,” he said, “and I'll have you under my eye all the time. You get the idea? A false move from Ritzy and he earns a beautiful coffin. Get going.”

Ritzy obeyed, but although the Toff knew he was on edge he was not sure that the man was really as scared as he made out.

The front door opened, and the Toff had a surprise.

Irma –
and
Kohn!

Irma was snuggled in furs which made her look even lovelier than ever, while Kohn was wearing a heavy coat with an astrakhan collar of immense proportions.

They could not see him, and the door closed on them.

Ritzy was one problem, Irma and Kohn together were quite another. It was a bad moment. The Toff was glad to remember that he had telephoned the Yard.

The thought was hardly in his mind, Irma and Kohn had not reached the door, nor seen him, when the cry came from upstairs. A woman's voice, high-pitched.

“Jim! Jim!”

The Toff went very still.

Kohn swore, Ritzy's face paled, although the Toff did not see it, and Irma's lips twisted.

“Keep that girl quiet, Martin!”

And then Irma saw the Toff, who had stepped out from his cover and whose automatic was now showing. He was smiling, and yet he looked a long way from being amused. For he had attacked, and thus precipitated a crisis, perhaps
the
crisis.

In the very house where Phyllis Bailey was a prisoner.

 

 

It was as bad a moment in its way for the Toff as it was for Irma and Kohn. He had come to see Ritzy, to forge the chain of evidence against Kohn, to build a case on which the police could act swiftly and without any doubt of a successful issue. He had enough to connect Kohn with Sidey's murder, for he believed he could force both Martin and Benson to testify once Kohn was under lock and key.

Kohn's arrival, with Irma's, had presented fresh difficulties, but none which were insuperable, however, so long as he had only himself to worry about.

It was very different now that he knew Wrightson's girl was upstairs, and in all probability Wrightson with her.

But he had the initial advantage, for both Irma and Kohn were startled by the sight of him, by the gun which he held so nonchalantly in his hand, and the smile which covered his true feelings.

The Toff broke the silence.

“Hallo,” he said. “You've come just at the right moment, Leo, keep your hand away from your pocket. Irma, you can talk nicely now and tell me everything little Ritzy has forgotten. But first—
why
desert dear Paul today?”

Irma smiled.

The Toff gave her credit for having a nerve as cool as his own, although he saw the glitter in her eyes.

“How you do talk,” she said. “Put that gun away, Rollison, and be sensible.”

“I'm sorry,” said the Toff. “Congenital inability prevents me. Ritzy, don't slink behind Leo—this really is a gun.”

He was talking quickly, and he seemed absolutely in control of the situation, but all the time he was wondering how he was going to squeeze out of it and yet learn all there was to learn.

And
how to get upstairs, free the girl, and get away. The big trouble was that there might be others in the house besides the three in front of him.

And then Ritzy gave him an opportunity he had not expected.

Ritzy's face was very pale, and Kohn's expression as he looked at the man was malevolent beyond words.

“So you've been talking.”

“I haven't!” cried Ritzy. “I lied to him!”

On the ‘him' he jumped forward. Perhaps because he wanted to prove to Kohn that he was no squealer; perhaps because his nerves let him down. In any case, he jumped, but before he had covered three feet the Toff's gun spoke. Ritzy uttered a cry as a bullet bit through his calf, and he dropped to the ground.

“Any more for the buggy ride?” asked the Toff.

Kohn raised his right foot and kicked Ritzy savagely on the side of the head. The crack echoed along the passage, and Ritzy uttered a single cry, and then went very still.

The expression in the Toff's eyes was hard.

“What a nice man you are, Leo. Get upstairs, both of you.”

Neither moved.

The Toff forced an issue the best way he knew.

He fired again, and the bullet nicked Kohn's left leg. Kohn flinched, and his eyes blazed, but he stepped towards the stairs. Irma followed him, walking backwards so that her eyes were matching the Toff's all the time.

“Up,” murmured the Toff, “or, if you prefer it, excelsior. So you invented the elopement as well as the new company, did you? Almost clever.”

“Rollison …”

“Let him talk,” Kohn snapped. “He won't be able to for long.”

“I've finished taking orders,” snapped Irma, and the hostility between her and Kohn seemed about to flare up. “I've a proposition, Rollison.”

“Propose as you climb, my pet.”

“You're smart, but when you've got the girl and Wrightson you'll have them to look after as well as yourself. You'll have a handful, and you won't be able to get away.”

“So the state of their health is as bad as that, is it?”

“They're temporarily out of action, and there are more of our men upstairs. But I'll give you a fifty-fifty chance.”

They had reached the top of the stairs now and were standing on a small landing from which led two passages. The only light was from a dim yellow lamp, and there was no sound. One man might be there, or half a dozen – or none at all. The Toff was in no two minds about the possible danger, and he did not like the look of the situation which might develop. Kohn's manner was not that of a man afraid for his life.

“Fifty-fifty what?” said the Toff.

“You can take Wrightson and the girl,” said Irma. “We won't stop you. But you'll keep out of this business from now until …”

Rollison shrugged.

“No deal, Irma.”

“You're so impatient,” said Irma, easily; “let me finish. Until tomorrow. Just for tonight.”

The Toff confounded the gloom, for he could not see her expression. As it was, he had to judge from the inflection of her voice just why the suggestion was put forward. He imagined that she was worrying most about her own safety. Certainly it would be a big thing if he could get away with the girl and Wrightson.

“I might take you,” he said, “up to midnight.”

“That will do.”

“Oh, no,” said Kohn, and the Toff knew from the concentrated fury in his voice that he would gladly have strangled his accomplice. “Rollison's found his own way in; he can find his own way out.”

“You'll change your mind,” said Irma. She spoke under her breath, and the Toff didn't catch her words. Kohn did, and grunted. Irma said: “It's a deal, Rollison?”

“It's a deal,” said the Toff, “as soon as the others are out in the street.”

“I'll arrange it,” said Irma.

In the darkness of the landing he could just see her as she moved. Kohn turned, too, but the Toff warned him to stay. A door opened softly, and Irma's voice came clearly: “Take her downstairs, Tike.”

Who Tike was the Toff did not know; he did know the roughneck, who had certainly drunk Charlie Wray's beer, and who came out of the room carrying the girl over his shoulder, fireman fashion. He stopped for a moment when he saw the Toff.

“Hurry!” snapped Irma.

The Toff let the man pass, and heard him go down the stairs to return for Wrightson. The Toff recognised Wrightson's fair, crisp hair, as Tike half carried, half dragged him.

“There you are,” Irma said. There was mockery and yet relief in her voice. “A truce until midnight, Rollison. I shall probably be in bad with Leo over this, but I'll risk it.”

“Nice of you,” said the Toff. “Can Tike drive a car?”

“He can.”

“Tell him to go a hundred yards along the street and bring my Frazer-Nash,” said the Toff. “He can put the youngsters in, and that will be enough for tonight.”

There was a chance that someone would see what happened in the street unless things were done quickly; he grinned when Kohn helped the roughneck to load the car. Irma was standing near the Toff, who had pocketed his gun. It was an odd fact that he knew he could take Irma's word for it that she would not cause trouble – nor let anyone else cause it – until midnight. He was relieved up to a point.

There had been one reason only, of course, why he had taken the offer, and allowed them some three hours in which to work. Wrightson and the girl would have been in poor shape had he insisted on fighting, and even had Tike been the only other man in the house, the odds would have been heavy enough to make the situation ugly.

Irma, of course, had realised that in a shooting match she or Kohn, and perhaps both of them, would have been put out of action. She was thinking of herself; the undercurrent of enmity between her and Kohn was becoming more obvious with every encounter. But in her whisper to the man she had persuaded him to withdraw his objections to the bargain she had struck.

Odd that the Toff could trust her.

There were times when he was almost fond of Irma, others when he hated her, when he wanted nothing better than to see her in the dock.

She had wanted that margin of safety, and he had accepted for one good reason; but there was another thing which had been in his mind all the time. In three hours Irma and Kohn could do little. They had wanted breathing space, and the Toff could also do with it.

There was another factor; Wrightson and the girl were unimportant in their scheme, or Irma would not have let them go so easily.

 

“You were wrong,” said Kohn coldly, “and you'll pay for it.”

“I sometimes wonder,” said Irma sharply, “whether you really are the fool you often look. What do you think Rollison is? You saw him shoot Ritzy, and he took the skin off your leg. If he'd wanted to force things then, he would have done. He needed time, and so did we.”

“He should never have been allowed to go.”

“But you might have been dead, and certainly you wouldn't have been able to walk. In any case, we haven't lost much. The mistake was in taking them.”

Kohn shrugged his shoulders, and turned to a sideboard in the downstairs room. He served himself a drink, and raised it.

“All right, have it your own way. But we'll have to move fast, now, and we want Renway.”

“Not for a few days,” said Irma. “We do want to learn what Ritzy told the Toff – if you haven't killed him.” Her tone was conciliatory; how that she had gained her point, she allowed her enmity to sink out of sight.

Kohn had not killed Ritzy, but that handsome man was unconscious and likely to be so for some time. They moved him from Abbott Road to a bide-out nearer Wapping, and Tike went with him. Kohn superintended the removal, while Irma took a taxi to St. John's Wood.

Renway was in, and his face brightened when he saw her.

“I didn't expect you tonight, my dear, but you're always welcome.”

Irma laughed, and took a cigarette from her case.

“I felt fed-up, Paul. And I'm worried in case this thing doesn't go through.”

Renway smiled. He looked younger, and moved more easily about the room.

“Nothing I back is a failure, Irma. The company is to be floated in two days, and the money will pour in. The directorate will do very well, I can assure you, very well indeed. A gin and Italian, my dear, or something stronger?”

“Gin and It, thanks,” Irma said.

She felt tired. The affair at Abbott Road had taken a lot out of her, and the task of persuading Kohn had taken, more. But in two days the new company would be on the market, the shares subscribed. Within forty-eight hours of that, she and Kohn would have their rake-off.

It was so easy. Even the Toff would be able to do nothing to stop the getaway, for until the money was gone there was nothing illegal, everything was fair and above-board.

Afterwards, Renway would be the scapegoat. He would be accused of the swindle, and when his finances were examined they would be found in a chaotic state of disorder. With the help of Ritzy and Kohn, Irma had seen to that.

It was surprising how easy it was – while Kohn, by forcing the issue with Rollison that night, might have smashed the whole plot.

The other directors of the company were unimportant, and would never be directly involved. The verdict of the City would be that Renway had suffered heavily, and had resorted to a fraudulent promotion in an attempt to recoup his losses.

Of course, Renway must die – by natural causes; a slight overdose of the drug he took for his weak heart would be easy to administer, and there would be no trouble with the medical certificate.

She would be suspected, of course, if only because of Rollison; but there would be no proof. She and Kohn would cash in and disappear. He was not officially associated with Renway; no one would suspect him. Kohn had planned well, Irma had superintended most of the execution, and in a few days they would see results.

She thought of Renway again, without remorse, pleased that the boredom of his presence would soon be over. Renway raised his head.

“Something amusing you, my dear?”

“Odd thoughts,” she said evasively. He could not see her expression, for she was bending over the fire. “I shall be glad when it's finished.”

Renway leaned forward and patted her hand.

“Don't forget it's for you, Irma. For you and me.”

She looked up, and in her eyes was a veiled promise, while her smile was sleepy and provocative.

“Of course,” she said, “for you and me, Paul.”

 

Ritzy had never particularly liked Leopold Kohn, and when he recovered consciousness his thoughts were vitriolic. He had little regard for the sanctity of human life, and he felt like murder.

He was very deep in this affair.

He was hoping to get a lot out of it, for the murder of Minnie Sidey had been cleverly managed. He had killed her because he realised Kohn was right when he had said the woman might squeal on Benson. He knew he was in Kohn's hands, knew now that while Kohn lived he would never be safe. He felt the ugly bruise where Kohn had kicked him, and before he left the Wapping house he put an automatic, fully loaded, in his pocket.

The Toff learned two things soon after he left Abbott Road. One of them gave him considerable satisfaction, and the other he found baffling.

Wrightson and the girl were not badly injured, and Wrightson was able to talk, even during the journey to the Toff's flat.

The girl was still under the influence of drugs, and Wrightson told the Toff that her cry had been uttered while unconscious. Wrightson had been in the room with her, tied hand and foot. The man Tike had been there, and had simply stepped across the room and struck her. In her near coma she had whimpered, and kept quiet.

But Wrightson did not know why he had been attacked. He could offer no explanation, even when they reached the flat. Soon the girl was in bed and resting, and Wrightson and the Toff were sitting opposite each other, strengthened by whiskies-and-sodas and cigarettes. Wrightson looked worn out.

“There must be a reason,” said the Toff, “but it seems that they think you have served your purpose, or there would have been more trouble about letting you go. I suppose your uncle isn't aware of being swindled?”