Paul Temple and the Front Page Men. Francis Durbridge

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СКАЧАТЬ A woman was at the other end. She sounded young and quite pleasant. “We want eight thousand pounds,’ she said, ‘we want it in twenties. The notes must not be numbered consecutively. Put the money in a brown leather suitcase, and deposit it in the cloakroom of the Regal Palace Hotel. The case must be there by 12.30 tomorrow morning.” ’

      Sir Graham snatched up his pencil and made several notes. Then he nodded to his visitor to continue.

      ‘The next morning, I turned up at the Regal Palace Hotel complete with suitcase and money. At the cloak-room they gave me a ticket for the suitcase, which rather worried me. I couldn’t quite see how anybody could get the suitcase out without the ticket – and so far, at any rate, I’d received no instructions about sending the ticket on anywhere. I was still thinking about this when I arrived home.’

      He paused, took out a handkerchief, and rather nervously wiped his lips.

      ‘I opened the front door, and the first thing I heard, was Margaret’s voice. She had arrived just after I left the house with the money.’

      If this mystified Sir Graham, he did not betray the fact. He inquired if the child was in good health.

      ‘Perfectly normal, except for one thing,’ replied Brightman. ‘She couldn’t remember anything that had happened. I talked to her for hours, trying to bring back her memory, but it was no use at all. That weekend had just been erased from her consciousness.’

      ‘You made no attempt to retrieve the money?’

      ‘I did consider that point, I admit. I even got as far as starting out for the hotel, but at the last moment I turned back. It struck me that even if I did get the money, something terrible might happen to Margaret again.’

      Sir Graham re-read his notes with a worried frown before asking Brightman if there had been any callers at the house on the day his daughter disappeared, Brightman thought for a while, appeared to be about to reply in the negative, then recalled that the only visitor was a piano-tuner.

      Sir Graham looked up quickly.

      ‘A piano-tuner?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Do you know his name?’

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t,’ confessed Brightman. ‘Morgan did mention it, but—’

      ‘Was it Goldie, J.P. Goldie?’ broke in the Chief Commissioner, unable to repress a hint of eagerness in his voice.

      ‘Why, yes. I believe it was,’ replied Brightman in surprise. ‘But he’s quite a harmless old customer, he couldn’t have had anything to do with this awful business.’

      Sir Graham smiled. ‘That, like so many other things, Mr. Brightman, is a matter of opinion.’

      A rather awkward pause was suddenly interrupted by Sergeant Leopold, who entered with a large map, which he placed on the Chief Commissioner’s desk.

      ‘I think you’ve told me pretty well everything,’ said the Commissioner, ‘and if you’ll excuse me …’

      ‘Why, certainly, Sir Graham. And if I can be of further service, don’t hesitate to telephone.’

      ‘Thank you. Sergeant Leopold will show you the way out.’

      As soon as Brightman had gone, Sir Graham rang for Inspector Nelson, a dark, alert young man, and ordered him to telephone Floyds Bank in Manchester Street and find out whether their customer, Andrew Brightman, had cashed a cheque for eight thousand pounds on March the eighth.

      ‘And tell Reed and Hunter I want them,’ he added as an afterthought.

      ‘Well, Mac, did you check up on Brightman?’ Forbes demanded, as the stocky figure appeared in the doorway, closely followed by Hunter.

      ‘I did that. He’s a stockbroker – lives in Hampstead. Divorced his wife in 1928, and has the custody of the child.’

      ‘H’m, that seems to tally,’ agreed Sir Graham. ‘What else?’

      ‘Brightman and the piano-tuner were the only people who visited Sir Norman Blakeley on the day the boy disappeared.’

      ‘What about the piano-tuner?’

      ‘I checked up on him, sir. He used to be with Clapshaw and Thompson’s in Regent Street. Started on his own about six years ago. Lives at Northstream Cottages, Streatham.’

      ‘That sounds fair enough. Now I’ve some news for you, Mac. Sir Norman’s had a message. They want nine thousand pounds by four o’clock tomorrow afternoon.’

      Even Mac’s inscrutable poker face reacted to this information, and Hunter made no secret of his astonishment.

      There was a moment’s silence.

      ‘Nine thousand?’ repeated Reed. ‘Did he get any instructions?’

      ‘Yes, it must be left in twenties – inside the telephone-box at the corner of Eastwood Avenue, Mayfair.’

      ‘Eastwood Avenue! They’ve certainly got a nerve!’ exclaimed Hunter.

      Sir Graham pulled the map towards him, and they all bent over it. They traced the position of the telephone-booth without much difficulty, and the Commissioner began to formulate a plan.

      ‘Mac, I shall want six of your men here on the corner of Lenton Park Road,’ he said, ‘that will give you a clear view in both directions.’

      ‘We’ll be there, sir.’

      ‘And, Hunter, you’ll be on the other corner, opposite the booth. I want everybody there by three o’clock at the latest.’

      The two assistants acknowledged their instructions and made certain of their positions on the plan. Then another idea occurred to the Chief.

      ‘This block of flats here has a perfect view of the telephone-booth if this map’s accurate.’

      ‘That’s so, sir,’ agreed Hunter, who knew the district quite well.

      ‘See if you can arrange for me to be in the first floor flat. Ring the janitor, Hunter, and find out whom it belongs to. The address is Eastwood Mansions.’

      Hunter went out to make the call, passing Nelson in the doorway. He had returned to inform Sir Graham that Floyds Bank had turned up Brightman’s cheque, which corresponded in every detail with the Commissioner’s description.

      ‘Well, Mac, it looks as if things are moving,’ mused Sir Graham.

      ‘They always are moving, sir, in this business,’ was the non-committal reply.

      ‘By the way, here are two more cards for your collection. They were sent to Brightman.’

      Before Mac could ask any further questions, Hunter returned.

      ‘That flat, sir,’ he began.

      The Chief looked up.

      ‘Whose СКАЧАТЬ