The Best of British Crime omnibus (65 page)

‘That's what he told you?'

‘Yes. He said he'd fixed up the game some time ago and had forgotten all about it. We ended up by having a proper row. I said something about him being Tam Owen's following dog and he went nearly berserk. Slapped me on the face and told me I must never mention that name—either to him or anyone else.'

‘Tam Owen,' Harry repeated. ‘Do you know anything about him?'

‘Only that Peter used to be on the phone to him every day for about half an hour. I thought they were discussing property deals.'

In the telephone kiosk a hundred yards along the Mall, Marty Smith had just pushed in the coin which gave him his connection.

‘Tam? Marty here … Look, he hasn't taken her to the Yard. Not yet. He stopped the taxi along the Mall … Sitting there talking, they are … But I thought you wanted her nicked.'

He put a finger in his free ear to mask the noise of a passing motor-scooter, his weasel face concentrated on what he was hearing.

‘Linda said
what
? … Oh, suffering crows! … Yes, they're just down the road from me. You want me to bring her back?' He listened for a moment. His twitch had started again. ‘Okay, Tam. Okay, you're the boss.'

He hung up, left the booth, glanced all round him suspiciously, then set off along a path that led into the park. He did not follow it for long. He turned right, stepping over a barrier that was meant to keep people off the grass and slipped in amongst the shrubs which grew profusely at that part. The street lamp which he had noted near the park bench gave him a beacon to work towards. He put a hand against his pocket to prevent the hard metal instrument which reposed there from bumping against his skinny hip.

‘Well,' Judy was saying, ‘the next day Peter went off to play golf. He came back earlier than I had expected. He looked awful, obviously very shaken, white as a sheet. He announced that he'd killed a man, just like that. I shall never forget the shock it gave me. Then he went on to make out that it had been an accident, that he'd gone out to practise and one of his shots had hit this man on the head.'

‘I've heard that story, too,' Harry commented. ‘Did you believe it?'

‘Frankly, no. I could see he was lying. I asked him if he knew who the man was he'd killed and he told me Dawson. Well, I recognised the name at once as the one Arnold Conway had mentioned. But when I told Peter so he grabbed my arm so hard I've still got the bruises. He made me swear that I'd forget all about that conversation I'd overheard.'

Harry did not break the silence as she lit yet another cigarette and drew deeply on it. Her description had given him a vivid picture of what had happened in Peter Newton's flat. He could fill in the details for himself. No wonder the girl was frightened. If someone had found good reasons to murder Newton, doubtless to ensure his silence, there were just as good reasons to deal with Judy Black in the same way.

He cocked his head sideways. There was a rustling in the bushes behind them. Probably some small, timid animal which only dared to venture out of its hole at night.

‘When I read about the accident,' Judy went on, resuming the narrative of her own accord, ‘I was even more worried. I knew that Peter had not told the truth and I had a feeling, a horrible feeling, that your father's death was not an accident. Arnold Conway's words kept coming back to me.'

She was as nervy as a cat. Even the faint rustle of leaves in the thicket behind them made her turn her head fearfully.

‘The next morning – yesterday, in fact, though it seems forever – Peter received a phone call from Tam Owen. I was only half awake at the time and he took the call in the living-room. But I heard what he said.'

‘What did you hear?' Harry had to prompt her.

Her voice had sunk very low. ‘He said: “Tam, remember this! You're the one who killed Dawson. Not me. Now for God's sake leave me alone!” When he came back into the bedroom he was furious, almost trembling with rage. I kept my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep.'

‘This man, Tam Owen. Were he and Peter in business together?'

‘They may have been but Owen was certainly the boss.'

‘What makes you say that?'

‘It was obvious. If Tam said “Go to Birmingham or Leeds or Manchester” Peter went. There was never any argument about it.'

‘And Arnold Conway. How does he fit into the picture?'

‘Arnold was a friend of Peter's. It was through him that he met Tam Owen.'

‘Is that so?'

A couple of hundred yards away Harry could see the sentries on duty at Buckingham Palace being changed. A little party of three figures in scarlet tunics and busbies moved stiffly across the front of the floodlit building. The spectacle gave a sense of security and order to the whole scene.

‘Now then, Miss Black. Tell me about—'

‘Judy, please.' She made a brave attempt at a smile and put her hand on his arm. ‘I'm sorry I was rude to you in the taxi. I didn't know who you were and I was frightened.'

Her smile and her touch had affected Harry more than he wanted to show. He tried to keep his tone on a dispassionate, official level, but a part of his mind could not help speculating on what it would be like to take this very attractive girl in his arms.

‘Tell me about last night.'

‘Peter took me out to dinner and we had another—' Her face puckered in distress.

‘You had another row?'

‘Yes. A terrible row this time. That's why I left him.'

‘What time was this?'

‘About ten o'clock.'

‘Where did you leave him? In the restaurant?'

‘No. We left the restaurant at about half-past nine and drove into Hyde Park. We sat in his car near the Serpentine for about half an hour.'

‘And then what happened?'

‘I told you,' Judy said, slightly uneasy under the questioning. ‘I left him.'

‘And what did you do?'

‘I went for a walk.'

‘Alone?'

‘Yes. Of course.'

‘Where did you walk?'

‘In the park most of the time.'

‘Did you talk to anyone – anyone you knew?'

She stared at him, aware now of the reason for these questions. The period they were speaking of was the time when Peter must have been murdered.

‘No. No, I'm afraid I didn't.'

‘Go on. What happened?'

‘I – I stayed the night with a friend of mine. I wish to God I hadn't now. I wish I'd gone back to the flat. Perhaps if I'd done that—If only we hadn't had that bloody silly row.'

She was near to tears. Harry gave her a moment and then spoke in a more gentle tone.

‘What was the row about, Judy?'

‘Oh, it was nothing.'

‘Was it about my father – about what happened?'

‘No. It was the silliest thing.' She was fumbling in her handbag, this time for a handkerchief.

‘What was it, Judy?'

‘We had a row about the most ridiculous thing – a dog's collar.' She blew her nose and then gave a little laugh that was somehow more pathetic than tears. ‘I told you it wasn't important.'

Harry swung round on the seat and gripped her by the shoulders. She gave a little cry at the sudden urgency in his manner and the strength of his grip.

‘Judy, listen—'

He saw Judy's eyes suddenly widen and swing towards the bushes behind the seat. In the back of his mind he had heard the brush of a body against leaves, the crackle of a fallen branch breaking under a foot. Too late the sense of danger flooded over him. He began to rise and had half turned when Marty Smith's cosh caught him behind the ear.

He found himself falling into a gleaming whirlpool, its spinning sides reflecting Buckingham Palace, the dark trees of the park, Judy's mouth open in a silent scream, a pocked face contorted with hatred and violence …

‘I'm all right, I tell you. I've got to get out of here. Now, will you please tell that idiot of a nurse to bring me my clothes!

Harry had recovered consciousness to find himself in a bed in a hospital ward, surrounded by screens and naked except for a rather stiff kind of shift, not worthy of the name of nightgown. His protestations had cut no ice with the young and rather plain nurse who had been tucking the sheets in when he opened his eyes. Now, a somewhat formidable though not unattractive lady doctor had come to deal with this very difficult patient. She wore a white coat and the stethoscope dangled between her breasts.

‘It is quite out of the question. You may have severe concussion and should remain in a darkened room for several days. Besides, we wish to X-ray your skull. It could be cracked.'

‘It's not!' Harry said. ‘Look, I've been laid out before. You don't know how thick a skull I've got.'

It was no good. The doctor was adamant. The best that Harry could do was to persuade her to get a message through to Nat Fletcher at Scotland Yard, and he only achieved that by threatening to run naked down the corridor to the call box.

Nat was there in twenty minutes.

‘So it was you!' was his first remark.

‘It
is
me,' Harry corrected.

‘No. I was referring to a report that came in just before we got your message. A passing motorist saw you being mugged on a bench in the Mall. He stopped and went back but all he found was you. The mugger and the girl who was with you had disappeared into St. James's Park. He decided that the first thing was to call an ambulance for you.'

‘No sign of the girl?'

‘No.' Nat sat down on the edge of the bed and lowered his voice. ‘He said she was a blonde girl. Not Judy Black by any chance?'

Harry nodded. Even that slight movement intensified the pain in his head. ‘You've got to get me out of here, Nat. Those bitches have taken away my clothes—'

‘All right.' Nat rose. ‘Leave this to me.'

Harry never knew what story Nat told the doctor. She disassociated herself from the whole thing and did not appear again. A very disapproving nurse brought him his clothes and five minutes later he was climbing rather unsteadily into the passenger seat of the CID car which Nat was driving.

‘It's very easy to criticise, Nat,' Harry said, as the car eased into the stream of traffic going round Hyde Park Corner. ‘But what would you have done under the circumstances?'

‘You know damn well what I would have done. I'd have taken her straight to Scotland Yard.'

‘I wonder.'

‘Harry, you've been an idiot. What the hell are we going to tell Yardley?'

‘I'm not interested in Yardley.' Harry was stroking the back of his head where the lump raised by Marty's cosh was throbbing painfully. The moving traffic was not helping his feeling of nausea.

‘Well, I am, and I'm investigating this case. You might try and remember that. When the Superintendent hears about this he'll go up like a flaming rocket.'

‘Does he have to hear about it?'

For a moment Nat took his eyes off the traffic to glance at Harry.

‘What have you got in mind?'

‘If I can find Judy again. If I can find her before—'

‘If – if – if,' Nat interrupted. ‘Your only chance is another tip-off and you know it. You wouldn't have picked her up tonight if it hadn't been for that phone call. She knew the police were looking for her, so why the hell didn't she give herself up?'

‘You know perfectly well why she didn't give herself up. She was frightened.'

‘Frightened of what? If she didn't kill Newton what has she to be frightened of?'

The car was moving up Park Lane. There was some sort of big reception on at Grosvenor House and taxis were lining up at the entrance.

‘Nat, for Pete's sake! This girl was living with Newton, she'd had a row with him and her alibi wasn't worth a cup of cold tea. Can you blame her for not going to the police?'

‘Yes, well—' Nat was not going to let himself be influenced by what he regarded as Harry's sentimental attitude. ‘I still say you should have brought her to the Yard, let her do her talking there.'

‘All right, so I made a mistake.' Harry decided to concede the point. ‘I made a mistake. It isn't the first one I've made and I don't suppose it'll be the last.'

Nat did not speak for a minute. He was closely watching the antics of a Jaguar driver who was continually swapping lanes.

‘I'll tell you what I'll do, Harry,' he said, as Marble Arch loomed up ahead. ‘I'll keep my mouth shut about tonight.'

‘Thanks, chum.'

‘I'll say nothing for forty-eight hours.' He gave concentration to getting round Marble Arch without being shunted by the drivers who were determined to force their way past everything else. ‘But if you haven't found Judy Black by this time on Thursday, I'll tell Yardley what happened tonight. I shall have to.'

‘Okay,' Harry said with satisfaction. ‘Now you tell me something and be honest about it. Do you believe Judy Black's story? Do you believe what she told me?'

‘I believe part of it. I believe she was telling the truth about your father – about what happened the night before he was killed. But I don't think she was telling the truth about Newton.'

‘Why do you say that?'

‘Because he wasn't in the property racket at all. He was in a very different game. Judy told you he was working for that man – what's his name again?'

‘Owen. Tam Owen.'

Nat nodded confirmation. ‘The property business is just a cover. Owen runs a call-girl set-up, if you ask me. But it's a very special service he gives, very special girls for very special people – high executives, V.I.P.s, big businessmen visiting London. And I don't have to tell you what the possibilities of that line of business are.'

‘So you think Judy knew this?'

‘Of course she knew of it,' Nat said scornfully. ‘She must have done.'