That Will Do Nicely (26 page)

The building was built of stone and crowned by a wisp of dirty grey smoke
spiraling lazily upwards from its chimney. He cut the motor of the car some way before reaching the farm and coasted to a stop. He got out of the car quietly, pushing the door to, behind him. He picked his way across the gravel in the yard, his progress sounding to him like a regiment of cavalry, but the door still remained closed. He knocked authoritively on the door and waited.

The door was opened by Sam, in a rough,
disheveled state, for she had been busy, tackling some of the decorating which needed doing.

"Oui monsieur?" s
he asked. Roberts, expecting his quarry to speak English, was temporarily thrown. He began to wonder if he'd found the right place or people after all.

"I was told I might find Tom Pascoe here." He continued. For a moment, the fish-wife appearance of the woman continued to deceive him, but when the same woman switched to English he knew he hadn't been mistaken.

"Oh, you want Pascoe," then called out aloud, "Tom, there's someone for you."

"What name should I give him?"

"Roberts, Detective Inspector Roberts, Serious Crimes Squad, New Scotland Yard."

"Tom, it's a policeman from London to see you," she called out loud, then turned back to Roberts, "Does he know you?" hoping that the grime of the decorating hid any blush which might betray her anxiety.

"I shouldn't think so, I'm just visiting. The people in the village said there were some English people living out here, so I thought I'd come and take a look."

"You'd better come in
... I'm afraid the place isn't very tidy, or even tidy at all, but we haven't been here very long ourselves.

"How long is that?"

"Less than a week ago…" Pascoe arrived from another part of the house. Roberts offered his hand to Pascoe, who shook it cautiously.

"What brings you all the way out here Mr. Roberts?"

"Detective Inspector Roberts, darling," corrected Sam.

"Curiosity
, really. They told me in the village that somebody by the name of Pascoe had bought this place out here, so I thought I'd be nosey and come and see for myself."

"What brought you to the village Mr. Roberts, the usual mystery?"

"No, not at all," said Roberts, unsure of what Pascoe was alluding to." I'm investigating a large fraud case and my inquiries led me to the village."

"You must have travelled a long way Mr. Roberts, you look shattered. It's a pity we can't offer you a bed for the night, but you see we don't even have a bed for ourselves yet."

"Thank you for the thought, but I shall find somewhere in the village."

"Perhaps we may offer you some refreshment. Would you prefer tea or coffee?"

"Tea would be fine."

"Would you mind doing the hono
rs darling," he said to Sam, pushing her gently in the direction of the kitchen.

"You must excuse me as well Inspector Roberts
... I'll go and get cleaned up - make yourself comfortable." Pascoe followed Sam out into the kitchen and embraced her, stopping her mouth with a kiss before she could say a word.

"Don't say a word darling, just listen to me." Pascoe whispered in her ear. "Just play along and be on your guard
... if he had any evidence, he wouldn't be here alone." He cleaned himself up at the sink before returning to the main room. Roberts continued from where he had left off.

"Your wife tells me you haven't been here long yourselves Mr. Pascoe
... is that right?"

"Yes, we've been here less than a week."

"What made you choose this part of the world?"

"It's beautiful a
nd peaceful and we'll be self-contained when we've finished it."

"What do you intend to do when it is finished?"

"We want to open a holiday center for artists... somewhere simple for people to come and paint the local countryside... that sort of thing." Sam entered with the tea and fussed around, serving everyone before the conversation continued.

"I would have thought you were a little young to retire, Mr. Pascoe?"

"Do you know who you are looking for, Inspector Roberts?" Sam enquired, quite naturally."

"I'm not sure of the name yet, Mrs. Pascoe, but I'm looking for a man in his late thirties or early forties and a woman, with a good figure, a few years younger. A couple, in fact, just like yourselves." Roberts smiled as he spoke, and then casually sipped his tea.

"And how many couples answering that description have you found so far, Inspector?"

"In this locality, just yourselves."

"You don't mean to say one of your enquiries brought you specifically to our door?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes."

"And to think darling, that we came all the way out here to escape from that sort of thing. What sort of villains are you after Inspector... what crime did they commit?"

"A unique, ingenious one as a matter of fact. The best I've come across in years."

"What did they do exactly?"

"They invented a bank in America, Mr. Pascoe and printed their own Travelers' Che
ques on it."

"How much did they get away with?" Asked Pascoe, trying to find out how much Roberts knew without showing his hand.

"Somewhere in excess of £2,000,000 quid."

"That sounds an awful lot of money, doesn't it darling."

"Yes, it does."

"And are these villains clean away with their loot?"

"It would appear so at the moment. All the leads have fizzled out except this one."

"That's a pity Inspector", commented Pascoe, "As you can see, if we had that type of money, we'd hardly be living and working like this. Tell me, Inspector, did anybody get hurt in the crime?"

"Not really... a few of the banks got their fingers burnt, but they'll only put up their interest rates to cover it."

"Even if you managed to find these criminals you're looking for, Inspector, how would you get them back to England
... it's not an extraditable offence, is it?" ventured Pascoe.

"No, you're quite right, it's not," replied Roberts.

"So, as long as they stayed put, they'd be quite safe." The news was a relief to Sam.

"And if they return
ed to England and got caught?" asked Sam.

"They'd get about 7 years, with remission for
good behavior - be out before they served four."

"Do you realiz
e, Inspector," added Pascoe," That what you've just described would almost make it worthwhile doing something like that.., £2,000,000 split up by the gang for five years in prison.., they'd still probably get more that way, than after a lifetime's hard work."

"I know Mr. Pascoe, it hardly seems fair to try and get by honestly and decently
.,. a mug's game really."

"What do you get Inspector, when you retire after, what, 35 years hard service?"

"32 actually. I suppose I'll get a gold watch and my pension, but I'll have to go carefully."

"I'm sure you will. Perhaps you'll join us in a glass of a rather fine Armagnac before you go."

"Yes, that could be just what I need to perk me up."

"You stay put, darling," said Pascoe, getting up." I'll do the
honors this time..." He crossed the room to an undistinguished old table by the window and poured the golden liquid into three glasses. When he had given Sam and Roberts each a glass, he proposed a toast,

"T
o the artists and artisans at 'les Boudous'.., may they thrive and prosper." Roberts barely managed not to choke over the words as he raised his glass in turn.

"You know Inspector, we could always find a place here for someone like yourself, when the
center’s running properly. If your wife can cook, she could do the meals for our guests and you could do some of the driving of the guests around to the locations. Do you know there are more beautiful places, each with its own mystery, within five miles of this humble farm, than you would discover at New Scotland Yard in a lifetime. Think about it. It's a serious offer and the pay would be twice what your pension would bring. Think it over.., we've plenty of land - space enough to build your own place and I'd let you have it at a fair price."

"It's certainly a most generous offer, Mr. Pascoe."

"Please, call me Tom and this is Sam.., so much nicer."

"Perhaps you'd be good enough to write your address down for me
..." Roberts suggested. As Pascoe and Sam went to look for pen and paper, he covered Pascoe's empty glass with his handkerchief and pocketed it. Neither Sam nor Pascoe seemed to have noticed and when they had written their address down and given it to him, he stood up and made to leave.

"Thanks very much for giving me your time, Tom. I'd best be making a move, otherwise I won't be able to get a hotel for tonight."

"Have a safe trip and think about my offer. If you decide to take us up on it, you know where to reach us."

"I'll let you know
.., bye... "

The game is up?

Pascoe and Sam stood at the door to the farm, in the gathering gloom and watched the policeman drive off up the track from the farm. They waited until he was quite out of sight, before going back inside.

"He knew, didn't he?" asked Sam.

"Yes darling, I think he probably did
.., but he can't prove it."

"Are you sure?”

"There's nothing to link us with it, nothing at all, except a curious coincidence."

"What coincidence?"

"On the day we bought this place - while I was with Terry waiting to see the mayor, you went to visit the church.., remember?"

"Sure."

"While you were away, one of the Americans from the conference came up and challenged me.., asked if I was Guyton."

"And
?"

"I told him he was mistaken, that my name was Pascoe and Terry backed me up."

"And you decided not to tell me…"

"I didn't want to worry you. It was a small chance and one I thought well worth taking."

"And now.., have you thought better of it?"

"You can't plan against luck Sam. That was a billion to one chance, that meeting."

"So he's followed the report up and now he'll go back and put the pieces together."

"It doesn't matter
. He's got nothing, except circumstantial evidence at best. So what if the American identified me as Guyton. It still doesn't make me and Guyton the same person and nobody's going to identify me like I am now, with Guyton in his pin-stripe suit. We're safe I tell you and when Detective Inspector Roberts gets home he's in for a shock, anyway."

"What kind of shock?"

"Didn't you notice he stole one of our best brandy glasses."

"He couldn't have done
. We were there the whole time."

"Except for when he asked for the address and we went to find pen and paper."

"What would he do that for?"

"The trick's as old as the hills darling. He wanted my fingerprints."

"And now he's got them."

"Don't be silly darling
. Why do you think I served the drinks on that awful round old tray we keep threatening to throw out."

"Yo
u switched the glasses round?" surmised Sam.

"It was the easiest thing in the world to do. I just waited until we'd all finished and then, when he asked for the address, I twisted the tray slightly around to the right
. He pocketed his own glass." Pascoe shuddered into laughter and as Sam realized the irony of the situation, she started to laugh as well. They laughed themselves to exhaustion and finally sank down onto the hearth, in front of the open fire, where they later drifted off to sleep.

The week following Roberts' visit, was a time of mixed feelings and decisions for Pascoe and Sam. Although Pascoe felt reasonably sure that Roberts could prove nothing, it was a difficult time waiting for nothing to happen.., a time when he had to constantly reassure Sam that everything would be all right. However, with each day that passed without further visits from the police, they relaxed a little more and by the end of the week, things were virtually back to normal between them.

They used the time to make safe the money brought with them from England, moving it from its temporary hiding place in an old water butt at the rear of the farmhouse, to several locations on the nearby hillside, carefully pacing out the distances from various landmarks, in order to be able to relocate their hidden hoards. In this respect, they repeated what the ancient Celts, Visigoths and Merovingian princes had probably done with their ancient treasures in the same area of the country. They had also, inadvertently, taken similar action to thousands of modern French people
.., by entrusting their gold and currency to the security of mother earth, rather than that of the banks, a peculiarly French trait, almost synonymous with the population's hatred of credit systems and plastic money.

"Whatever happened to the Swiss bearer bonds, darling?" Sam asked.

"I wondered when you'd ask about those. As a matter of fact, they should be nearly ready for collection. Remember when we were leaving the bank, I gave Herr Braun a package of envelopes."

"Yes, I remember only too well
.., something about a round-the-world cruise for my honeymoon, I believe."

"Well, I addressed each of the seven envelopes to ports that the ship was due to call at
... Buenos Aires, Rio de Janiero etc., and I left Braun to send the bonds there."

"So we've sent £80,000 across the other side of the world."

"Not really. I sent them to Mr. and Mrs. Robertson, Poste Restante at those places."

"You've lost me
."

"It's simple
... if you don't have an address in a town, you can have any mail sent to you poste restante and they will keep it for you until you collect it, but there is a fourteen day limit."

"What happens after that?"

"They send it back to the return address."

"Which in our case will be the bank in Geneva."

"Which in our case, is the Hotel Terminus in Carcassonne. I put that as the return address, care of you under your maiden name, which you still have in your passport and next week, if you feel like visiting the bright lights, we'll have an exotic weekend in the city and pick up whatever bonds have arrived." Sam reacted by throwing her arms around him, hugging him close. Whether it was the lure of the extra money, or the promise of the weekend in the bright lights of the city, he would never know.

"£
80,000 and you're anybody's, darling." He said, ducking instinctively.

Roberts returned to duty a few days after his return from France and handed over the brandy glass to the forensic department for finger-printing. Later that day, Heath took him to one side.

"Did you find him chief? Was it the right man?"

"I think so Pat
. I'll know for sure when the results come back from the fingerprint boys."

"What was he like?"

"Charming, absolutely charming; no nerves at all. When I told them who I was, they just carried on as though nothing extraordinary had happened."

"But you felt he was the one?"

"Deep inside, yes. They both fitted the descriptions in a vague sort of way and I could imagine him charming the pants off anyone and as for her.., efficiency personified."

"They didn't let anything slip then?"

"I didn't expect them to, Pat. Not when they'd put together an operation like that. I was lucky to have pinched the glass and when we find Chummy's prints from the office match those on the glass, I'll know for sure."

"Will you go for an arrest if they do match?"

"I don't know. I really don't know. The top floor couldn't care less and I'm certain Chummy's not going to do it again. He's not the type. Either way, we'd never see the money.., they're far too clever for that." The conversation was interrupted by the phone.

"It's for you chief
... fingerprints... Good luck... " Roberts picked up the receiver." D.I. Roberts here.., yes, that's right... you're sure... sorry to have troubled you... let me have it back and I'll see it gets returned." Roberts replaced the phone. Heath noticed the curious smile on his face."

"What's the verdict?"

"The prints did match Pat. They're actually on file and according to the computer they belong to one James Arthur Roberts, Detective Inspector, currently attached to the Serious Crimes Squad."

"What does that mean?"

"It's simple son. Chummy's won. "

That same evening, Roberts sat at the dining room table in his Chelsea home and wrote two letters. His wife, Mary, stood behind him, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. The first letter, was his resignation from the Police Service. The second, read as follows:-

‘Dear Tom, with reference to your kind offer on my recent visit. I have decided to take early retirement and we would like very much to make a new home in that beautiful countryside with you both. Please let me know when it will be convenient to start.

Yours sincerely,

Jim Roberts. (Detective Inspector, Metropolitan Police, Retired)

P.s. We never did get our man. The authorities decided in their wisdom that it would be too embarrassing to contemplate.

P.P.s I seem to have walked off with a brandy glass of yours. I'll return it when I see you.., it’s far too delicate to entrust to the post and I'm sure it will be far more use to you than it was to me... ’