The Savage Gorge (29 page)

Bullerton turned sideways, saw his visitors, leapt up
and stomped steadily towards them. His hand was
outstretched, his tread normal.

'Welcome, Tweed, and you too, Paula. I couldn't
have expected two more interesting visitors at this
time of night. I suggest you both celebrate with me
over double Scotches.'

He indicated a large glass on the desk. It was
already half empty.

'Paula,' he continued vigorously, 'come and join me
on the couch. You're looking more beautiful than
ever.'

'I hear you've had a bad so-called accident,' said
Tweed, 'being tipped off your horse close to a high
hurdle.'

'When you ride a lot, as I do, these things happen.'
Bullerton finished off his Scotch, poured himself
another. 'No point in fussing.'

'This was a carefully planned attempt . . .' Tweed
paused, 'and I don't think you've grasped it yet - to murder you.'

'Oh, come off it, Tweed.'

'I've had a lot of experience with crime. Somebody
attempted to murder you,' he repeated in a harsh
voice, 'and make it look like an accident.'

At last it had hit home. Bullerton walked back and
sagged into his chair. Paula thought his earlier ruddy
complexion had turned pale. He lifted his refilled
glass, put it down without drinking.

'Who would want to do a thing like that?' he asked.

'I have several motives in mind - and several sus
pects . . .'

He stopped speaking as the door was pushed open
and Harry appeared. Paula had been wondering
where he was. He was holding on to a young man by twisting his arm behind his back. In his late teens or
very early twenties, Paula estimated. His thick black
hair was ruffled and he wore a well-worn dark suit.

'This is Jacko,' Harry announced. 'Found him very anxious to get away from the stable.'

'Going to see my girl friend,' Jacko burbled. 'She cuts up rough if I'm late.'

'You've heard about the so-called accident,' Tweed
interrupted grimly. 'Did you saddle the horse for Lord
Bullerton today as usual?'

'No, sir
...
I didn't . . . His Lordship had never
arrived so early before
...
I was appalled when I heard
what happened.'

'So appalled,' Harry rasped, still holding Jacko's
arm, 'you made your first priority scooting away from
here.'

'She's special. . .' the lean handler began.

'They all are. Until you meet
—'

'Harry,' Tweed intervened again, 'you can let go of his arm. Very roughly he addressed Jacko. 'Who else
was with you to confirm your story? Where were you?'

'No one, sir. I was in the adjoining barn, changing
into my working kit. And I didn't see anyone else. It
was very early.'

'Harry,' Tweed ordered, 'see him off the premises -
first get his address.'

Bullerton had a sip of his scotch. He appeared to
have calmed down as he spoke emphatically.

'I'd trust Jacko with my life.'

'Maybe you did,' Tweed said quietly. 'I think you
should see this instruction from a Yard commander. It
gives me full authority to search this house from roof
to cellar.'

'I don't need to see it - after what happened today.
Tear the place to pieces. Can't imagine what you'll
find. Oh, at the very back of the brush cupboard in
the kitchen there is a secret panel. You just push the

right-hand side. My personal documents are inside.
Read what you want.'

'Who in this house is a good rider?' Tweed
enquired.

'All of them. Lance, Sable, Margot and Mrs
Shipton. She is a wizard on a horse.'

'Where will I find Mrs Shipton now?'

'In her lair, in the kitchen . . .'

Tweed tapped lightly on the closed kitchen door.
Nothing. He tapped a little louder.

'Go drop off a cliff,' Mrs Shipton's strong voice
barked. 'I won't have anyone in here, whoever you are!'

Tweed opened the door quietly. Mrs Shipton stood
at the far end of her work table. She had a wide alu
minium bowl close to her together with a smaller
variety of dishes filled with different ingredients.

'Get out, both of you!' she stormed.

Tweed was holding a document he had unfolded.
He waved it at her. Wearing a spotless apron, Mrs Shipton glared at him.

'And what might that be?'

'An authority signed by a Yard commander giving
permission for us to search the whole house. Any
resistance is a criminal offence.'

'You mean you propose to search my bedroom?' she
demanded, her hands on her hips.

'If that becomes necessary I shall not venture inside.
Paula alone will enter.'

'You do realize why I'm working this late?' she
snapped.

'No idea.'

'Because at this hour His Lordship has decided he'd
like me to make his favourite dish. A souffle.'

'He's had a nasty shock today,' Paula said quietly.

'Were you here when it happened?' Tweed
demanded, seizing on the opening.

'I suppose I must have been.' Mrs Shipton sat down
in a wicker chair. 'He got up exceptionally early I
gather for a pre-breakfast ride. Never known him up
so early.'

'Anyone else about at that hour?'

'Only the hiker.'

'What was he doing here? Can you describe him,
please.'

'About five feet eight tall. Very well dressed, with a
pack on his back. Lean and agile. The odd thing was
his complexion - very pale. Had a slightly crooked
nose. Very polite. Needed a glass of water. I took him
through into here, he drank all the water.'

Paula turned her back on Mrs Shipton and
mouthed 'Lepard' to Tweed. The description per
fectly matched Harry's description of the villain.

'Which route did he follow when he left?' Tweed
asked.

'Very considerate. Said he didn't want to risk leav
ing mud from his boots on our beautiful carpets. Was there a more direct way out of the kitchen? I pointed
him through the back door along that footpath.'

'Does that lead anywhere near the barn where Lord
Bullerton mounted his horse before his accident?'

'Yes, it does. Can't see it from here.'

'Would this be a few minutes before Lord Bullerton
went to the barn?'

'I've no damned idea.' Her patience snapped as
Tweed, with latex gloves on, opened a tall door, real
ized it was the broom cupboard with neatly stacked
equipment hung by string from hooks on both side
walls. 'Don't you go messing that up,' shrieked Mrs
Shipton, 'I'm an organized woman and
—'

Tweed, shining a powerful torch and now deep
inside, heard her switching her tirade on Paula, who
was opening several wall cupboards containing
expensive crockery. He passed a five-foot-tall metal drum, from the top of which protruded a collection of
well-used brushes and mops. Reaching the back wall
of white panels, he pressed the right-hand side hard. It
swung inward on a central metal pivot. Inside was a
cardboard roll, which he extracted.

By the light of his torch he read the legal document
quickly. He raised his eyebrows in surprise, refolded
the document, slid it back inside the tube, replaced
the protective cap and tucked it under his arm.

On his way to the exit he noticed again the drum
crammed with used brushes and mops. It was then he
noticed a long green rod shoved between them. Its
handle was rusted. Still wearing the gloves, he eased
the whole handle out. At the working end were rem
nants of an ancient mop. His expression became grim.

Walking back into the kitchen, he closed the door.
Paula was just closing the last of the cupboards she

had searched. She smiled at Tweed, then noticed his
expression.

'Find any treasures?' she asked quietly.

'Have you a long enough evidence envelope for this
handle?'

'Might have. Let me look in my briefcase.'

In no time she hauled out an envelope folded sev
eral times. Extending it, she held it out to Tweed, who
slipped the green handle inside. She sealed the top, wrote the date and place on a card attached to the
envelope's mouth.

'What do you want that old thing for?' Mrs Shipton
demanded. 'Where did you get it?'

'I have never seen such a neat and well-organized
kitchen,' Paula told Mrs Shipton when Tweed didn't
reply. 'You are such a well-organized person. I know
I'm repeating myself but I'm so impressed.'

'Time we left,' Tweed said abruptly, heading for the
door leading to the hall. 'Sorry to disturb you, Mrs
Shipton.'