Читать книгу Another Woman’s Shoes: Based on Paul Temple and the Gilbert Case - Francis Durbridge, Francis Durbridge - Страница 9

Linda was the first to speak as they swung out on to the Hog’s Back and headed for Guildford.

‘As Mine Host with the elephantine memory so aptly put it, not her type at all. What on earth do you suppose old Staines was up to – living it up with someone scarcely old enough to be his daughter?’

‘But the whole thing’s impossible. He was the one who drew our attention in the first place to the Lord Fairfax. If he knew the significance of the entry in his daughter’s diary why send me on this wild-goose chase? It just doesn’t add up. Turner has probably got his wires crossed, though I must say those beady little eyes of his struck me as being phenomenally accurate. I swear he’ll remember what shade of lipstick you used today if we go back in a year’s time.’

Linda laughed. ‘He probably will. But not so fast in dismissing Staines from the picture, darling. Do you remember his curious embarrassment when he had to bring out the name Peggy Bedford – almost as if it were a name never mentioned in polite company? I commented on it at the time, if you remember. Secondly, what was the address on his business card, the one with the name of the refrigerator firm on it?’

Mike thought for a second, then replied, ‘Keane Brothers, Guildford. You’re right! That’s only a few miles from here. Therefore it’s not out of the question that Staines should find his way to Westerdale; it’s also a remote enough village if he was seeking a bit of privacy – look at the trouble we had finding it. But it still doesn’t add up. Staines went out of his way to draw my attention to that diary entry; he’s the one who started all this.’

Linda was silent for a while, then she asked, ‘Mike, you remember the hotel where we had lunch with the Battsons last month?’

‘Yes, the White Hart, wasn’t it?’

‘No, it was called the White Angel. What’s the name of the inn near Hammersmith Bridge we sometimes visit on our walks by the river?’

‘Darned if I know. But I don’t quite see—’

‘You had a drink with John last week, in Whitehall you told me. Which pub was it?’

‘Darling, I don’t gape at inn signs every time … Oh, I see what you’re getting at! Maybe you have a point there.’

‘I’m darn sure I have. Unless you are a confirmed pubcrawler or a collector of ancient inn signs I don’t think more than one person in ten actually looks at the name of a pub before going inside it.’

‘Brilliant, so far. But where does it get us? There are fifty-seven different varieties of reasons why Staines should be enjoying the company of a Bond Street model – the sugar-daddy angle sticks out a mile, but don’t forget Peggy was a friend of his daughter’s. It’s not so unnatural after all.’

‘Mike, sometimes you’re too charitable to be real. I’m quite sure I’ve got Miss Peggy Bedford weighed up properly – call it feminine instinct. Anyway, now that we’ve found the Fairfax pub, with all its interesting associations, maybe there’s also some implication in the Fairfax letter that has escaped us so far.’

‘One might be forgiven for suspecting that it’s a fake.’

Linda laughed. ‘You are in a cautious mood tonight, aren’t you, darling? Assuming one might be forgiven for assuming it might be a fake, what might one assume was the reason for Sanders coming to see you?’

Mike shook his head in bewilderment. After a while he ventured, ‘Perhaps he’s cut from the same cloth as Staines – his conscience is driving him to take action on Harold Weldon’s behalf, but his private life won’t allow of too close an inspection, especially by the police. I don’t know, Linda darling, I just don’t know at this stage of things. But I shall certainly spend a little time probing into the private lives of both those gentlemen. Maybe Harold Weldon will be able to enlighten us. He must have known them both pretty well. John Goldway’s arranged for me to go down to Pentonville tomorrow morning.’

Linda shuddered dramatically. ‘That’s one little trip you can count me out on … I mean of.’

‘Your grammar is appalling, and anyway you haven’t been invited,’ said Mike with a chuckle. ‘Woman’s place is in the home.’

Linda’s retort was brief but forcible.

Before leaving for the prison the following morning Mike decided to telephone Hector Staines. He dialled the Guildford number and Keane Brothers referred him to a London exchange. Staines, it seemed, looked after the City end of the firm and lived in Bayswater.