Chapter Fifteen

Crystal was saying, “You may think it odd I should have married such a wreck, but he didn’t always look like that. When we first met, he was almost handsome.”

I opened my eyes, found I could scarcely see, stared up at the ceiling. There was a smell of antiseptics and flowers in the room. I felt as if I’d been run over by a steam-roller, but the bed felt fine.

A woman’s voice said, “You may sit with him for a little while, Mrs. Harmas. He should recover consciousness any moment now, but please don’t excite him.”

Crystal said airily, “Oh, we’re old married folk now. He doesn’t get excited when he sees me, worse luck.”

A door shut, and Crystal, looking cute in a blue and white check frock and a white turban, moved into my vision. She drew up a chair, began to put her bag on the bedside-table.

I reached out, pinched her. She gave a sharp squeal, jumped, turned.

“I’ve recovered consciousness,” I announced.

“Oh, darling, you gave me such a fright,” she exclaimed, furtively rubbed the spot where I’d pinched her, “and you really shouldn’t do a thing like that. It’s very uncouth.” She took my hand, fondled it, looked down at me with adoring eyes. “I’ve been so worried about you, precious. You’ve no idea. I’ve been simply frantic.”

“That makes two of us,” I said, squeezing her hand. “I’ve been simply frantic, too.”

“Oh, Steve, I do seem to love you,” she said, kneeling beside me, and rubbing her cheek against my hand. “Whatever’s happened to your poor face?” She blinked back tears.

I struggled up in bed, grimaced as pain rode through me, looked around the room. It was obviously a private ward in a hospital. I sank back with a grunt of disgust.

“How did I get here?” I demanded, “and how did you find me?”

“Now, you mustn’t excite yourself, darling,” she said, patting my pillow. “A very kind, thoughtful man telephoned me. He found you on Wimbledon Common, discovered my telephone number in your wallet, called me and an ambulance, and here you are. But, please, Steve, what happened? Whoever did this to you?”

I ran my fingers tenderly over my face, grimaced.

“I had a fight,” I said. “Some thugs picked on me and this is the result.”

“But why should they pick on you?” Crystal asked, her eyes opening. “You’re such a nice boy. Did you say something to annoy them?”

“I guess I must have done,” I said, deciding that it wouldn’t add to her peace of mind if she knew Bradley was at the back of this. “What was that you were saying about being Mrs. Harmas?”

She looked embarrassed. “Oh, dear, did you hear me?” she returned. “Well, it was the only way I could get in to see you. You’re not angry, are you, precious? We can always get divorced when you’re better, can’t we?”

I patted her hand, tried to smile, but my muscles were too stiff.

“That’s okay with me,” I said. “If I was the marrying type, I couldn’t think of anyone I’d like to marry better than you — if I was the marrying type.”

She nodded, looked bitter. “That kills me — if you’re the marrying type! Maybe, you’ll have to marry me.”

“Don’t let’s get sordid,” I said hurriedly. “Tell me, how long have I been here?”

“Two days.”

I moved my legs and arms. After the first twinge of pain, they moved easily enough.

“Well, I’m not staying here any longer. I must get up and out of this.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Crystal said firmly. “There’s no question of you getting up until you’re quite well.”

“Well, okay. That’s something we can argue about when we run out of conversation,” I said. “Do the police know what’s happened to me?”

She nodded. “I’m afraid they do. You see the hospital reported your arrival. There’s been a great, hulking policeman sitting by your bed since you came. I managed to persuade him to wait outside this time. He’s out there now.”

“Wants a statement, I suppose,” I said. “Well, maybe you’d better send him in. We can’t keep the Law waiting, can we?”

She looked uneasy. “He worries me. I don’t think he believes we’re married.”

“That shows he’s a good cop, but I’ll convince him. Tell him to come in, honey, and stick around. You do me good.”

“Do I really?” Her face brightened. “I’m so glad. I was beginning to think I was bad for you.” She bent over and kissed me tenderly.

I patted her.

“Get the cop, sweetheart, or I’ll be dragging you into bed.”

“You wouldn’t have to drag me,” she returned, went to the door.

I heard men’s voices, then Corridan entered, followed by Crystal who looked scared.

“I didn’t ask him in,” she said, hurriedly. “He was outside with the other man.”

Corridan came over and stood looking down at me. A fatuous smile lit his dour face. It was the first time I’d ever seen him look really happy.

“Well, well,” he said, rubbing his hands. “They certainly made a mess of you, didn’t they?”

I scowled at him.

“What do you want?” I asked irritably. “You’re the last person I hoped to see.”

He drew up a chair, sat down, positively beamed at me.

“I heard the news,” he said, “and couldn’t resist coming to gloat. You’ve turned up enough times when I’ve been in trouble, you vulture, now it’s my turn.” He was oozing with happiness and geniality. “Who’s the young lady?”

Crystal made frantic signs to me behind his back, but I pretended to ignore them.

“She’s my cousin twice removed,” I said. “Maybe, it’s three times removed. I’ve never stopped to work it out. Crystal, my dear, this handsome looking lug is Inspector Corridan. He works at Scotland Yard, and you know what I mean by the word ‘works’.”

Corridan lost a little of his sunny smile.

“The last time I saw her,” he said tartly, “was in your room at the Savoy. You told me then she was the floor waiter’s daughter.”

“That could still make her my second or third cousin,” I pointed out, smiled at Crystal, who was looking bewildered. “Don’t let the Inspector make you nervous. Without his wig and false teeth, he’s really quite a kindly old thing.”

Corridan lost his smile, fixed me with a cold stare.

“You take your idea of a joke a little too far, Harmas,” he said with asperity.

“Don’t get annoyed, pal,” I said. “I’m not in a fit state to be bullied.”

Crystal sat in a corner away from us, folded her hands in her lap, tried to look demure.

Corridan leaned forward. “Let’s cut out this fooling,” he said. “Who’s been knocking you about?”

I sighed, hung my head. “I was teasing a midget, and he lost his temper,” I said, closed my eyes.

Crystal sniggered, coughed, cleared her throat. Corridan looked annoyed.

“Now look, Harmas, that sort of thing won’t do. You’ve caused a lot of trouble, and we want to know what’s behind it.”

“I’ve told you,” I said, patiently. “At least, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. I have no complaints to make. I shall pay the hospital fees. I really don’t see why a flock of flatfeet should come barging in here to know why and what.”

Corridan breathed heavily, shifted in his chair.

“You’ve been assaulted,” he explained. “That is a police matter. It is your duty to file a complaint.”

“I’m most certainly not going to provide police with work,” I said crossly. “I stuck my neck out, and I got what was coming to me. This is a personal matter, and I don’t want you or your pals horning in. So forget it.”

Corridan studied me for a moment, shrugged. “All right,” he said, “if you’re still suffering from I’ll-steer-my-own-boat complex, there’s nothing more to be said. If you’re not going to file a complaint that lets me out.” He pushed back his chair, stood up. “I think I warned you to keep out of this business, didn’t I? It would seem someone else is also trying to persuade you. If this has anything to do with the Kennitt murder, you must tell me who did it or take the consequences.”

“I’ll take the consequences,” I said flippantly.

Corridan snorted. “Has this or has this not anything to do with the Kennitt murder?”

“I wouldn’t know. The thugs who beat me up didn’t leave their names and addresses.”

“So it’s thugs now?”

“That’s right. I was kidding about a midget. You know me: I’m tough. Takes more than a midget to beat me up. Those guys were twice as big as Joe Louis. Twelve of them set on me and I fought them for two or three hours. And what a tight I gave them! I laid eight of them out-crying for mercy they were. The other four kept coming and I kept hitting them. The siege of Stalingrad was nothing to it.” Finally paused as Corridan, giving me an awful look, stamped out of the room.

Crystal ran over to me.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have annoyed him like that,” she said, shocked. “He might get you into trouble.”

I reached out, pulled her down beside me.

“That wouldn’t worry me, honey,” I said. “The guy’s harmless enough, but dumb.”

“I don’t like him,” Crystal said, putting her head on my shoulder. She hurt me, but it was worth it. “I don’t like the way he looks at me.”

“And just how does he look at you?”

“That’s something a girl could only tell her mother,” she replied primly.

A few minutes later a nurse came in. Crystal had heard her coming and was standing by the window, trying to look unruffled and not succeeding very well. The nurse shooed her away, then took my pulse, dabbed something on my bruises and told me to go to sleep.

Oddly enough, I didn’t seem to need much encouragement, and I didn’t awaken until dusk was falling. I felt better, got out of bed, walked stiffly across to the mirror on the wall, examined my features with mixed feelings.

I certainly looked a great deal worse than I felt. I had two black eyes, the end of my nose was red and swollen, two livid bruises showed on my cheek-bones, my right ear was puffy. My chest and arms were black with bruises. The three thugs had certainly done a good job on me.

I returned to my bed, stretched out, decided I wasn’t quite fit enough to start any trouble for the time being. In a day or so I should be ready for Bradley. I was going to surprise that rat.

I heard footsteps, followed by a knock on the door. I called; “Come in,” hopefully, half sat up.

The door opened and a sad looking little man wandered in. I gaped at him, scarcely believing my eyes. It was Henry Littlejohns.

“For the love of mike!” I exclaimed, struggling upright. “What brings you here.”

“Good evening, Mr. Harmas,” he said, in his sad voice. He looked around for somewhere to park his bowler hat, laid it down on the chest of drawers, came farther into the room. “I’m indeed sorry to find you in this unhappy state, sir,” he went on, visibly shocked at my appearance. “I trust you are making a good recovery?”

“Never mind all that stuff,” I said, impatiently. “I’m fine. Sit down. Make yourself at home. I thought you were in Lakeham.”

“So I was, sir,” he said, drawing up a chair and sitting down. He pulled up his trousers so they shouldn’t bag at the knees, fidgeted with his feet. “At least, I was until this afternoon.”

I saw he wasn’t at ease, offered my carton of cigarettes.

“No, thank you, sir,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t smoke.” He regarded me with his sad eyes, chewed the end of his moustache.

“Something to report?” I asked, wondering what was coming.

“Not exactly, sir,” he said, drumming on his knees. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Mr. Merryweather yet?”

“I’ve heard nothing from Merryweather,” I said, puzzled.

“Anything wrong?”

Littlejohns stroked his greying hair, looked self-conscious. “The fact of the matter is, sir, Mr. Merryweather has withdrawn from your case.”

“The hell he has,” I said, sitting bolt-upright, and wishing I hadn’t.

“What’s the idea?”

“You see, sir, Mr. Merryweather at no time thought the investigation within our usual terms of reference,” Littlejohns explained. “The... er... pecuniary aspect of the case interested him — tempted him, you might say, but he now has been threatened — well, he thinks there’ll be no useful purpose served in continuing the investigation.”

I pricked up my ears. “Threatened?”

Littlejohns nodded gravely. “Apparently two men visited him yesterday morning. They were rough characters, and they made it clear that if he did not immediately stop working for you, they would settle his hash, I believe was the phrase used.”

I lit a cigarette, scowled. It seemed Bradley was working overtime.

“You mean Merryweather allowed these two guys to throw a scare into him?”

“They were exceptionally rough characters,” Littlejohns said hurriedly, as if anxious to excuse Merryweather’s lack of courage. “They smashed his desk, said they had beaten you up and would beat Merryweather up too. He isn’t exactly young, and he has a wife to consider. I can’t say I blame him for withdrawing, and I hope, sir, you’ll take the same view.”

He looked so solemn that I burst out laughing.

“That’s okay,” I said, lay back on my pillow and grinned at him. “I bet they scared the daylight out of the poor old geyser. I don’t blame him in the least. They nearly, but not quite, scared the daylight out of me.” I looked at him, suddenly puzzled. “But why did you come here to tell me all this? What’s it to do with you?”

Littlejohns pulled at his moustache. “I’m very sorry to be taken off this case, sir,” he said. “Very sorry. You see, sir, I liked the excitement. You may not believe it, but I’ve always wanted to be a detective ever since I was a nipper. I’ve been disappointed with the work up to now. Mr. Merryweather doesn’t get much business. The cases that do come our way are the usual divorce cases. Not, as you will appreciate, very congenial work: very dull, if I may say so. I dislike spying on married couples. But I have to do the work. I’m not getting any younger; jobs are difficult to come by. I thought I’d explain my position, sir. I hope you’ll forgive me taking up your time. What I was going to suggest...” He paused, looked embarrassed. “If you’ll excuse the liberty, what I was going to suggest was that I should continue with the case. I’d be very happy to take reduced fees, and Mr. Merryweather has nothing for me at the moment. He pays me only when I’m working for him. So I thought I’d offer my services, not that you’d want to continue the arrangement, but I thought there’d be no harm in mentioning it.”

I gaped at him. “But, look, if they’re threatening Merryweather, that’ll also include you.”

“I don’t believe in being intimidated by threats,” he said quietly. “I assure you I wouldn’t be put off by that kind of thing. I’m at your service if you still require me.”

I grinned at him, suddenly liking him immensely. “Sure, you go ahead. The same terms suit you?”

He gaped, stuttered. “Oh, but surely, Mr. Harmas, they were rather excessive. I would be prepared...”

“No, you’ll have what Merryweather got, so dry up,” I said firmly. “Don’t make any mistake: you’ll earn the money. There are a number of things to do with this case that I haven’t told your boss. I’m going to tell you, and you can then decide if you still want the job.”

“Thank you, sir,” Littlejohns said, his face lighting up. “There is one thing I must report first. I’ve seen the young lady with the red hair. She came out of the cottage late last night. The black-and-yellow Bentley called for her. I saw her distinctly. She got into the car which drove away along the London road; I was unfortunately too late to follow it.”

“Okay,” I said. “Perhaps she’s decided to come to London. Well, keep an eye on the cottage for a little while. Now, listen to what I have to say.”

I told him the whole story without pulling my punches down to Madge Kennitt’s murder and the attack on myself. I told him about Jacobi, Selma, his wife, about Bradley and Julius Cole going to the club.

“That’s about the lot,” I said. “These guys are a tough bunch. You’ll have to watch your step.”

He scarcely seemed to hear me.

“I’m glad you’ve taken me into your confidence, sir,” he said, getting to his feet. “I think I’ll have something for you in a day or so. I would rather not discuss it now, but something you said just now has given me the clue I’ve been looking for. I’ll get in touch with you very soon.”

“Hey!” I called as he picked up his hat and made for the door. “What about Julius Cole? Has he arrived at Lakeham?”

“He arrived three nights ago, and is staying with Mrs. Brambee,” Littlejohns said, opening the door. “I’ll have something for you in a day or so.”

He didn’t wait for me to tell him again to be careful.

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