Sue for Mercy Page 12

  “Ronald!” said Charles, threateningly, “I thought I told you to see that nothing happened to Sue while I took the car out of sight. She might have been killed.”

  “Sorry about that,” Ronald apologised to me. “I was helping Uncle John out of the study window, and by the time I’d done that, you were in the freezer.”

  “Don’t fuss!” said J.B., patting Charles on the shoulder. “You can see she’s going to be all right.”

  “No thanks to you two!” growled Charles.

  “You should have heard what she had to say about you, when she thought you were dead,” volunteered J.B., trying to soften Charles’ mood.

  “Thank you,” snapped Charles. “I’ll hear it later from Sue, if she wishes to repeat it.”

  Ronald offered me a handkerchief. “Would you like to borrow this? Jane never has a handkerchief on her in moments of crisis.”

  I took the handkerchief and blew my nose, understanding that only by showing signs of returning to normal would Charles be able to calm down.

  J.B. gave me another anxious smile, rather as one offers a strange dog a hand to sniff at. “You were quite taken in by our little quarrel, then? You didn’t guess we had it all worked out beforehand?”

  “It did cross my mind that you recovered from that heart attack rather quickly,” I said, trying to smile back. “Am I to understand that you knew what was going to happen all along? And about the cheques?”

  “Of course. Charles couldn’t have slipped that trick across me even if he’d tried, and naturally he was sensible enough not to try. As for the injection which I gave myself after lunch, that was insulin, as usual. The bottle which Julian gave Charles has been sent to an analyst.”

  “I’m sorry about Julian,” said Charles. “I thought he’d crack, right up to the last.”

  “He was inadequate from birth; as Sue said — a smudged carbon copy of the real thing. He was given every chance to back out, both by me and by you. Now he must take his punishment with the others.”

  “Punishment?” I sat upright, but didn’t try to get off Charles’ knees. “The Fraud Squad were coming. That’s why they had...”

  All three men were smiling at me, as one smiled indulgently at a small child for committing a solecism.

  “Didn’t you guess?” asked Charles. “It’s really so very simple...”

  “...to one of your devious turn of mind!” barked J.B.

  “Well, it was dicey in parts,” admitted Ronald. “But I don’t think any of us can actually be charged with an offence, the way we’ve handled it.”

  He approached the door to the living-room, and set it ajar so that we could overhear the conversation there. A strange man was talking.

  “...at your office yesterday morning, and what we found there seems to confirm the claim made...”

  “Of course, Inspector,” Robert was talking. “I gathered you had some query to raise with me, but I was busy with a client, and unfortunately Mr. Brenner was unable to be at the office yesterday. Naturally, anything we can do to help... I’ll be happy to meet you at the office tomorrow morning, so that we can clear this matter... as you can see, we are just having a coffee after lunch, and...”

  “I must apologise for breaking in on you on a Sunday, but the nature of our information...”

  “You wanted to see me?” That was Julian’s voice. “Otherwise why come here, to my home?”

  “If there is somewhere we could go for a quiet chat? If the ladies will excuse us?”

  “Not on my account,” stated Bianca. “Please sit down, Inspector.”

  “I used to work for my husband.” That was Ruth. “I was Miss James, before. Perhaps you remember me, from the Ashton fraud case? I would prefer to stay, too.”

  “Well, now. A couple of days ago we received a formal complaint from a client of yours that over a period of several months he has been sending you cheques for various sums, on the understanding that you were to invest it for him. On checking through his records, he finds that although the cheques have been cashed, he doesn’t appear to have received any share certificates. At first he thought you might just have been holding them for him. He wrote to you a week ago, asking whether this was the case; remembering the Ashton fraud, he added that he must have a satisfactory explanation from you within four days, or he would go to the police. He has not heard from you, and accordingly asked us to investigate.”

  “What nonsense!” That was Robert’s voice. “He’s a nut, obviously. Our books are perfectly in order. You know that they are, because you checked them at the time of old man Ashton’s frauds.”

  “You don’t understand. The cheques concerned were sent to you within the last five months — since Oliver Ashton was convicted of fraud.”

  “That’s just not possible!”

  “I’m afraid it is. His letters are all on file at your office, to prove it.”

  “Inspector!” This was Bianca. “What is the name of this client?”

  “Mr. John Brenner, of Whitestones.”

  There was a tense silence next door. I peeped at J.B. and Ronald. J.B. was smiling, and Ronald’s finger was poised over the dish of syllabub which I had left on the kitchen table. As I watched, he dipped his finger in, licked it, and registered pleased surprise. His eye started to wander round the kitchen, looking for a spoon. Charles was concentrating on the conversation next door; he was very tense.

  “John Brenner... my father?” Julian sounded hoarse. “But he’s never been a client of Robert’s. He’s always made his own investments through a London... The idea of his putting business through us is absurd.”

  “Your records show that he sent you a total of...” Charles’ lips moved in concert, detailing the amount, “...twenty thousand, two hundred and thirty-seven pounds, for which Mr. Brenner has received neither acknowledgement nor Share Certificates.”

  “There’s no proof...”

  “I have been shown copies of Mr. John Brenner’s bank statements for the last six months, which prove that the cheques have been cashed on his account. I have also seen the covering letters he wrote you, which are in a file under his name in your office.”

  “It just can’t be!” wailed Ruth. “There’s no such file for him!”

  “I’ve seen it!” said the Inspector tonelessly. “Yesterday morning.”

  “Charles!” This was Bianca. “This is Charles’ doing! I can feel it! Inspector, you know that Oliver Ashton had... has a son, a very bright rogue. He was forced to resign his job in London after the fraud case, and went to John Brenner for a job. This is Charles’ way of getting back at Robert and Julian for taking over his father’s firm — oh, quite legitimately! I mean, Robert bought the firm quite legitimately from Oliver Ashton, when... I see it all! Charles has put the cheques in front of J.B. when he’s signing a lot and won’t notice... then he’s made them out himself afterwards. Of course they’ve passed through J.B.’s account! You’ll find the money in Charles’ bank account, unless he’s managed to get it out of the country already.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t do. You see, Mr. Brenner is one of the few people I know who insist on the bank’s returning all cancelled cheques to him. He started doing this some while back. He has isolated the relevant cheques, and handed them over to me. They are made out either to Mr. Robert Maudsley, or to Mr. Julian Brenner. I have also received photographic copies of Mr. and Mrs. Julian Brenner’s joint bank account statements for the last two years.”

  “How on earth? Charles couldn’t have...”

  “I don’t know how, Mrs. Brenner. They were dropped through my letterbox at home in the early hours of the morning. There don’t appear to be any fingerprints on them. They were in a plain business-type envelope, of the type you can buy anywhere, and there was no address or superscription of any kind on the envelope. My wife opened it, in fact, thinking it was a bill from the newsagent’s.”

  “Well, what if you do have a copy of our bank statements?” asked Julian. “I still don’t see why you
come here...”

  “At regular intervals over the last five months you seem to have paid in either the full amount of one of the cheques sent to you by Mr. John Brenner, and then reimbursed some party or parties unknown with half the amount, or have paid in exactly one half of the amount yourself. It looks as though the money sent you by Mr. John Brenner was shared out between you and someone else, don’t you think? I assume that the other person is Mr. Maudsley here, which is why, when I couldn’t find Mr. Maudsley at home this morning, I came on here. Now do either of you have any comment to make?”

  So that’s why David had taken such a risk! He’d come over from Ireland specially to photograph the bank statements so as to link Julian with receipt of the cheques; then he’d handed the negatives in at Whitestones. Charles had developed and printed them up overnight, and delivered them to the Inspector’s home at precisely the right moment. No wonder he hadn’t slept last night.

  Ronald set down his spoon with a sigh of satisfaction, having reduced the level of the syllabub in the bowl considerably. J.B. was brushing pastry flakes from his finger tips; he’d been at a tin of jam tarts I’d made yesterday.

  “That money,” said Bianca, “was a gift from John Brenner to Julian and Robert. It can’t have anything to do with — nothing to do with the purchase of shares. The money we paid into our bank account was to purchase a partnership in the Maudsley firm for my husband. You see, my father-in-law has been very pleased with the way Julian has been settling down at the firm, and he thought it would be a nice gesture to buy him a partnership. Charles brought us the cheques personally, because...”

  “I saw Mr. Charles Ashton yesterday and he told me he and his boss were to lunch here today with you. Perhaps we might ask them to join us — just to confirm what you say.”

  Robert began to wheeze; I could hear him from the kitchen. Charles sighed softly, and bent his head to rest against mine. J.B. reached out to pick a strand of turkey from the carcass.

  “Charles left early,” said Julian. “He quarrelled with my father and left. He said there was something the matter with his car, and that he wanted to take it to a garage on his way home. As a matter of fact, we heard a loud bang just after he left, and wondered if he’d come to grief. We were just discussing whether we ought to go and have a look when you arrived.”

  “That’s right,” said Ruth. “Almost like an explosion.”

  “Something leaking from the engine? He said he smelt something.”

  “I saw nothing like that on the way,” said the Inspector stolidly. “No crashed cars, or explosions, or any other such nonsense. So Mr. Ashton was here, but isn’t now and can’t confirm your story. He had a quarrel with Mr. John Brenner, you say? What about? Well, I don’t suppose it’s relevant. What we have to do now is ask Mr. John Brenner whether he meant those cheques as a personal gift or not. Where is he?”

  “He wasn’t feeling too good after lunch,” said Bianca. “He had this quarrel, and somehow... he went to lie down in Julian’s den. Shall I go and ask him if he’s feeling well enough to join us?”

  “I’ll go,” said the Inspector. “This door?” There was a pause, and then the Inspector’s voice came back, angry. “There isn’t anyone here. Is this supposed to be a joke?”

  “He must be!” screamed Ruth, as usual losing her cool.

  “Let me see...”

  “Where could he have gone? He was lying down when I last saw him.” That was Julian. “He couldn’t have moved, I tell you! He was in a coma...”

  “A coma?” repeated the Inspector. “That’s not what you said before. Sergeant, I think we’d better call for reinforcements.”

  A new voice overrode agitated protests. “The phone cord’s been cut clean through, sir!”

  “So I see. Now precisely what is going on here, may I ask? There’s money turning up here, there and everywhere, and two people missing... no, wait a minute! There’s seven cups of coffee poured out; four on the tray here — that’s for you lot — and three more I can see hiding in that big cupboard over there. You four, Mr. John Brenner and Mr. Charles Ashton make six. Whose was the seventh cup?”

  “Someone who came to cook lunch for us,” said Bianca. “She left after lunch.”

  “Do you normally invite a cook to sit down and have coffee with you after a meal? I’d like to meet this paragon. Where does she live?”

  “She...”

  “...she might be home by now, or she might...”

  “She was going off somewhere for the afternoon, I think. To see her parents. I don’t know where they live.”

  “I think,” said the Inspector, “that it’s more than time that we adjourned to the Station. Sergeant, phone from the car outside, will you, and...”

  “Our cue,” said Charles, sliding me off his knee and recovering his jacket. Ronald and J.B. filed through into the sitting-room behind us. Ruth saw us first. She rammed her fingers into her mouth and shrieked. Robert went a peculiar shade of purplish-red, and reached for his inhaler. Bianca whirled round, her eyes dilated. I saw that she at least now understood everything.

  “May I ask...?” This was the Inspector, a heavy-faced, dark man, squat and powerful. “Mr. John Brenner, Mr. Charles Ashton and Mr. Ronald Ashton, Interesting. And the young lady?”

  “Allow me to explain!” said J.B. He took the Inspector by the arm, and led him into Julian’s den. The Sergeant had disappeared, presumably to phone in for reinforcements.

  “We’ve been conned!” said Bianca, in a surprised voice. Julian sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. I think, although I can’t be quite sure, that he was crying.

  Ronald advanced to inspect the electrical device on the table. He opened his briefcase, eased on a pair of gloves, produced a large plastic bag, wrapped it round the lethal box of tricks and put it into his bag. After that he removed his gloves, sat down, and began to sort some documents on to the table.

  “Shall we recap for you?” asked Charles. “Three attempted murders, one kidnapping, one case of torture and one of assault...”

  “We’ll all get life!” gasped Ruth, crying as usual.

  Bianca raised one hand wearily, and smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, it showed her gums. “I don’t think that’s the point, is it Charles? What you really want is to get your father out of jail. Am I right? That’s why you gave us the cheques, to frame us into a situation similar to the one for which we got your father. And I suppose it was Ronald, with his knowledge of office routine, who did a little breaking and entering to plant that incriminating file of letters from J.B. in the right filing cabinet at the right time.”

  “Not breaking and entering,” said Ronald apologetically. “Nobody asked me for my keys when I was thrown out of the firm. Merely trespass.”

  “So who got the photographs of our bank statements... Sue? No, it couldn’t have been Sue. She hasn’t got a camera, and...”

  “David. He was the telephone engineer who called to rectify a fault on your line yesterday morning; a fault created by Sue, acting on my instructions. But you won’t be able to prove it, I’m afraid.”

  “No, I’m quite sure we won’t,” agreed Bianca. “So — how much?”

  “You sign these,” said Charles, as Ronald adjusted his glasses and handed out some typed documents. “They’re identical — just read them through and sign at the bottom. Ronald and Sue can witness them.”

  “Just what are we supposed to be confessing to?” asked Bianca, taking her copy with a steady hand.

  “The original fraud, that’s all.”

  “No mention of attempted murder, or grievous bodily harm or anything like that?”

  “Certainly not. Neither J.B. nor I believe that the present system of locking people away for decades is a good one. You’ll be punished in other ways; by loss of status, income and reputation. I don’t know what you’ll get for fixing the fraud case on my father, but I don’t suppose it will be more than the seven years he was given, and it may be less. Of course, you’l
l have to refund the money you stole as well...”

  “You know we can’t do that! It’s nearly all...”

  “That’s where this second document comes in,” said Charles. He took a legal-looking wodge of paper from Ronald and handed it to Robert. “Now the twenty thousand which I gave you by way of J.B...”

  “By way of...? You mean that the money was yours all the time? Where did you get it from?”

  “You set me next to J.B. to break me; all you succeeded in doing was giving me the chance of a lifetime to make money on the ‘Change by keeping my ears and eyes open and apeing his methods. As I earned it, I gave it to him and he gave me a cheque in return... which I paid over to you. Don’t worry about that last cheque for three thousand, by the way. You may not have been able to pay it in yet, but I assure you it will be honoured. Now I suggest we regularise the position in the manner suggested by J.B. Robert sells the firm back to me, for the amount he paid for it. For twenty thousand pounds, which he has already received. Robert?”

  The sound of Robert’s wheezes filled the room. Then he lunged forward, took the contract and signed it. His hand shook. Ronald and I witnessed his signature while Charles stood over us like an avenging angel.

  Just as we finished, the Sergeant, a boyish, red-faced lad, came back into the house, gave us a puzzled look and asked for the Inspector.

  “In that room,” said Charles, pointing. “These good people here are just on the point of signing statements for you, and will be ready to accompany you to the Station in a moment.” The Sergeant went into the den and closed the door behind him.

  “Because if you don’t sign,” said Charles, speaking in a thread of a voice, “then we might start remembering all sorts of things which might prove difficult for you to explain away. Like the matter of a forged Will, and a bottle of digitalin with Julian’s fingerprints on it...”

  “My God!” screamed Ruth. “He wore gloves when he took them! He never touched them with his bare hands himself, and that means...”

  “Precisely! Your fingerprints, my dear Ruth, are delightfully clear on the Will, but I believe the others’ are also well represented. Then there is that little piece of apparatus which Ronald has just confiscated, and the matter of where I was and what happened to me before I landed in hospital. Our memories will be conveniently faulty on the subject of all these things, if you clear my father and accept what’s coming to you.”