The Silence of the Night Read online

  ‘Can you come?’

  Considering that I was doing no good where I was there was no reason to refuse. Anyway, I wanted to roust up French and Greene. ‘Yes, I can come.’

  ‘Today?’

  ‘This afternoon.’

  I hung up and wondered whether to invite Elsa along again, but I wasn’t sure of her attitude, and over lunch she concentrated on Sir Edmund Fisch, preserving a neutrality, so that no opportunity arose. Keane asked politely about the alarm systems, and when I said I’d go and hurry them up a bit I didn’t think she’d heard.

  But maybe she had, because when I wandered across the courtyard she was there already, though not expecting to come with me, it seemed, because she was chatting cosily with Vale. I got into the Oxford. She didn’t catch my eye.

  Vale leaned on my window. He said: ‘You didn’t manage it, then?’

  ‘Given time —’

  ‘I’ll run it in.’

  ‘There’s no need, Martin,’ said Elsa. ‘David will fix it.’

  Even though it sounded like a vote of confidence, there was something wrong with her voice. She watched the rooks circling over the tower of the old stables. I reached over for the door, wondering whether to say: ‘Are you coming along?’ or merely: ‘Hop in.’

  ‘He fixes everything,’ she said bitterly.

  So I simply drove away.

  The journey seemed longer. Birmingham seemed hotter. It was Saturday, I realised, Saturday afternoon, and blast it French and Greene were closed, so that was a waste of time.

  ‘Artie,’ I said, ‘it had better be good.’

  ‘It’s good,’ he said, and whipped a cloth from the vase.

  It was the same vase. Looked the same, anyway. He’d done a wonderful job on it, and how these experts could tell a fake from a genuine, I couldn’t guess. And this one, Artie had said, was a cheap fake, a soft paste one. He’d got it together so that you had to look close for the fine hair lines.

  ‘I didn’t mean a good job,’ I told him. ‘I meant a good reason for bringing me here.’ I was thinking of Elsa back there with that womaniser.

  He reached over and turned it round. Halfway down one side, on the outer portion of the bulge, there was a hole, maybe an inch across, triangular shaped.

  ‘You didn’t bring it all,’ he said.

  ‘But I did. I remember exactly how I swept it up. I covered every inch of that floor, Artie, and there’s a hell of a lot of ’em. I didn’t miss anything.’

  He waved his arms and grimaced. ‘These things fly. You drop a vase from around four feet on to a hard floor, and it flies. Did you search?’

  I said I’d searched.

  ‘Then you missed it.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Dave, you missed it. You’ll have to look again.’

  ‘I’ll look again.’

  ‘And there’s this,’ he said, picking it up. ‘The point of contact.’

  I looked. There was a star-shaped portion, a quarter of an inch across, where the bare porcelain showed through, a tiny, jagged gap.

  ‘That’s where it hit,’ he said. ‘You get a kind of dust, bits no more than a quarter of an inch — smaller than that — and they matter, Dave. There’s bits of glaze in there, bits I need.’

  ‘But I got it all.’

  He sighed. ‘People always say that.’

  ‘There were no dusty bits, there wasn’t anything under a quarter of an inch across.’

  He smiled, his eyes crinkling. ‘So you see why I had to show you. You’d never have believed me. Now Dave, you go back there and take another look. Huh? You look real close.’

  I said sure Artie, I’d do that. But I already knew.

  He was showing me out. ‘And Dave,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t carry that gun in your pocket like that. I’ve got a nice little shoulder harness ...’

  I grinned. ‘Never mind.’ I’d only wanted it around, and it was getting heavy anyway. So I put it in the glove compartment and drove back to Killington Towers. Or nearly there. They were open in the village. It was a soft, languorous evening, and I remembered the draught at The Stag. I parked out front. The Audi was still there. Beanie doesn’t frighten too easily. I went in and ordered a pint and turned my back to the bar, leaning on my elbows, just relaxing.

  Across in one corner, seated at a table with a short in front of him, Uncle Albert was talking earnestly to Beanie Sloan.

  There were several things I could have done; gone over there and broken it up, waited outside for Uncle Albert to come out and pounced on him. What I did do was bury my nose in the tankard, and turn back and take another look. Uncle Albert’s leg was thrust out, clearly visible, his turn-ups definitely fraying. I finished the pint and went out, and drove like mad to the Towers.

  I didn’t know whether he had a car — it was unlikely — and it was a long walk down to the village, so maybe he’d had a lift. Of the rows of cars a Humber Sceptre was missing, and I believed it to belong to Fisch, so maybe they’d gone in together. (The Porsche was still there, unfortunately.) But it did look as though I might have a bit of time. One of the guardians watched with interest as I ran across to the house.

  ‘Now listen, Elsa,’ I said. ‘We’re going to have a serious talk.’

  I’d found her alone with The Field in the drawing-room. She looked wary.

  ‘Not now, surely.’

  ‘It’s about Uncle Albert.’

  She allowed the magazine to fall to the floor. ‘Is it?’

  ‘What do you know of him, Elsa? What’s his background?’

  ‘Well really, David, what do you expect? He’s my mother’s brother, the only one in the family with brains. I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

  I drew up a chair. ‘Does he know any suspicious people? Has he ever been in trouble?’

  ‘Certainly not!’ She looked at me cautiously. ‘Financial, do you mean?’

  ‘Does he normally associate with crooks?’

  For a moment she stared at me disbelievingly, then she laughed lightly. ‘He normally associates with the custodians of the British Museum.’

  ‘Well, right now he’s chatting with one of the most vicious, low-down, versatile crooks in the country,’ I said. ‘Or was, a few minutes ago. Now don’t argue, please. I saw them together. And I want you to come with me and search his room.’

  ‘I shall do nothing of the kind. And I forbid you —’

  ‘Forbid as much as you like, but I’ve been sticking my neck out for your precious uncle, and I’m searching his room, alone or with you. I’d rather have you with me, Elsa ...’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Then you can see what I find and where I find it, so that there’ll be no arguing about it. But search it I must.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because nobody in this house other than your uncle wears trousers with turn-ups. And there’s a piece missing from that smashed vase, and that bit had to fly somewhere, and your uncle was prowling around at the time it was smashed, and says he didn’t hear it. Perhaps he’s pretending he didn’t hear it because he was the one who smashed it. And perhaps that bit of porcelain landed in a turn-up.’

  She slowly raised her hand and touched her lips, then lowered it again. ‘Then perhaps it would be best if you cleared your mind of such ridiculous thoughts.’ She came to her feet gracefully. ‘Though if you expect me to touch one item of my uncle’s possessions ...’

  She swept out of the room ahead of me.

  Uncle Albert’s room was smaller than mine; only a three-quarter sized four poster, and his poor, miserable suits crouching one end of the twelve foot wardrobe. You can be sure I gave that room a complete going-over, but got nothing from it but Elsa’s tapping, impatient foot, and her taut figure at the window, looking out with disdain.

  ‘So now perhaps you’re satisfied.’

  ‘Elsa, there’s another suit yet. The one he’s got on.’

  ‘But why do you persist?’

  ‘I’m being a good detective. Rem
ember?’

  She tossed her head. ‘David, you have some very old-fashioned ideas.’

  And she left me there to tidy and look round at defeat.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  A large country estate can be very lonely on a calm summer evening with the scent of roses drifting in from the gardens and the far-off hum of Henry and his motor mower. It was time to dress for dinner, if we were dressing now that we were without Frazer, though there was Uncle Albert, of course. What the hell! I went down in sports jacket and slacks, and of course we were dressing, and it just naturally threw Uncle Albert and myself together.

  To be linked with Elsa’s uncle so intimately was embarrassing, especially as he’d decided I was in some way his saviour, having freed his conscience for him without throwing him to Alwright. What he talked about I couldn’t understand, and how Dürer got in there I wouldn’t know. Uncle Albert had got his eye on engravings now. I wished he’d get back to First Folios.

  Then afterwards it was difficult to get him alone, and Elsa’s absorption with Martin Vale was even more exasperating, because it was no longer intended as an annoyance to me. She was actually enjoying his attention.

  I needed something desperately, something to rescue Uncle Albert. Or rescue Elsa. And I had to get Uncle Albert alone to see if he’d got anything he didn’t know about. When I looked round he’d gone. I wandered about and tried a few other rooms, and there he was, in the Grand Hall with Keane.

  They were far down the other end in a patch of light, where the narrower wall made a more appropriate background for Hillary’s etchings. He’d got some nice stuff there, including one of a pair of Dürers. I’d got the other, only mine was a Dolman-Dürer. I walked up behind them. Hillary was saying: ‘I would be immensely grateful, Albert. But I’m sure there’s not an artist’s signed copy in the country.’

  ‘But there is,’ said Uncle Albert, ‘and I know where to get it.’

  Then they heard me coming, turned, Hillary’s hand on Uncle Albert’s arm in a condescending sort of way.

  ‘This uncle of yours, he’s got the most wonderful imagination.’

  ‘Not mine,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, but he will be, you can be sure.’

  I wasn’t certain I wanted Uncle Albert in the family. But the inference was a happy thought.

  ‘He says he can get me the other one to match my Dürer,’ said Hillary. ‘Ridiculous.’

  ‘I can,’ I offered.

  ‘Signed?’

  ‘Half a dozen if you want ’em. And get them signed while I wait.’

  Hillary had a little laugh at that, but he wasn’t sure about it and covered by saying he’d leave us together. So I’d got Uncle Albert in a corner, the only trouble being that he didn’t appreciate it and seemed unaware of his danger.

  ‘Albert,’ I said, ‘let’s have those turn-ups down.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Is that the suit you had on this afternoon?’

  ‘I haven’t changed it.’

  ‘Then oblige me by pulling those turn-ups down.’

  Uncle Albert was an easy-going type, and made no more argument. Hopping about, because his sense of balance wasn’t too good, he managed to turn them both down, but apart from a certain amount of fluff there was nothing. Then we had to go through the act again while he turned them up.

  ‘I’m sure you know what you’re doing,’ he said encouragingly.

  ‘Thursday night,’ I said, ‘you came down here. It was dark, huh?’

  ‘Oh yes. Very.’

  ‘But you’d have to come through here to get to the library. You didn’t put on any lights?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You said: very dark. There was a moon, though.’

  ‘Yes. You could just see shapes.’

  ‘And did you see the shape of the vase on its pedestal?’

  He shook his head. ‘Why’d I look? I wasn’t heading that way. David, what was all that with the turn-ups?’

  ‘There’s a bit of the broken vase missing, and there was the chance that you smashed the vase ...’

  ‘But I said I didn’t.’

  ‘And a bit could have got in your turn-up. You see?’

  He smiled. ‘It isn’t likely. I was wearing pyjamas.’

  Well of course he’d have been. Good old stupid Dave. But there was the association with Beanie Sloan, the chance that Beanie had been the one to take the genuine T’ang away.

  ‘And how does it happen you’re a friend of Beanie Sloan?’ I asked. I tried to keep my voice level, but just at that time I was annoyed with myself, and some of it leaked through. He blinked.

  ‘I don’t know ... Who?’

  ‘The man you were talking to at The Stag.’

  ‘Oh yes. A very pleasant gentleman. He’s a dealer, on holiday here.’

  Dealer? Beanie’s only dealing was from the bottom of a pack.

  ‘Let me guess. He got into conversation with you.’

  ‘He’d heard of what was going on up here,’ said Uncle Albert proudly. ‘The word gets around — Sotheby’s, Christies, the top people.’

  ‘And Beanie Sloan. Oh sure, he’d know. So he got talking?’

  ‘And I just let it slip that Hillary’s only got one of a pair of Dürers, and d’you know, he said he knew where he could put his hand on the other.’

  ‘He would. How much?’

  ‘A hundred.’

  ‘And you could find that?’

  ‘Alton would lend it me — kind of an advance. And I did want to make some gesture to Hillary. He’s been so kind and helpful. Yes, I told him to go ahead.’

  I sighed. ‘You may not be aware of it, but probably, at this very moment, your friend Beanie Sloan is climbing through the back window of some city’s gallery, earning himself a bit of pocket money — from you.’

  ‘Stolen?’ he said, horrified. ‘You mean a stolen Dürer in Hillary’s exhibition?’

  ‘I mean just that. How else would you get one for a hundred quid? Which would make you an accessory. Albert, when will you be going to the States?’

  ‘Oh, a month yet.’

  ‘Time will pass awfully slowly.’

  ‘Do you feel that, too?’ he asked eagerly. ‘I can hardly wait.’

  We had been talking quietly at the bottom end of the Grand Hall with just a couple of minor lights on, close to one of the phones on an inlaid table that gave it the appearance of an exhibit: G.P.O. Pink, 1965. It was worth trying. I dialled enquiries because there was no phone book, then rang The Stag.

  ‘Is Mr Sloan around, please?’

  ‘I think he’s in the saloon. Just a moment, please.’

  It would be getting on for closing time. From the sound of it The Stag was jumping. I waited. Then, Beanie’s voice:

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘It’s Mallin. Beanie, I thought I’d save you a trip. Your friend’s no longer in the market for a Dürer. Save you digging out the jemmy.’

  ‘But that’d be illegal, Mr Mallin. This was a deal, a straight deal. A bit of profit for me. A chap I know in Birmingham —’

  I laughed. Artie sold them for a tenner. ‘You cheap crook. Ninety quid profit. You keep away from Artie Dolman. You hear me!’

  I hung up and slapped Uncle Albert on the shoulder. ‘You’re no longer an accessory. You were buying a fake, Uncle Albert. If you want one, you can have mine.’

  ‘Could I really. But a fake ... no, I don’t think so.’

  And then the line of chandeliers went on, one at a time, like the prom at Blackpool. But the effect was spoiled by the fact that it was Alwright’s hand on the switches, and Kenny’s face just behind his shoulder. Hillary was following them, with Elaine looking anxious, and with them Vale with a cigar in one hand and Elsa’s waist in the other. And there I’d been, assuming they’d gone home. And from the look of flabby amiability on Alwright’s face, he’d discovered something he liked.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, meaning Uncle Albert. ‘And our friend Mallin.’


  ‘You’re around late,’ I said.

  ‘We had a phone call. Interesting.’

  And anonymous, no doubt.

  ‘It seems,’ said Alwright, ‘that somebody was wandering around here on Thursday night, and hasn’t told me.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’ I asked.

  ‘So you knew?’

  ‘If you had a phone call, it must have been anonymous,’ I persisted.

  ‘If you knew, why haven’t you said?’ he demanded. ‘Now don’t try to be clever with me, Mallin. You’re trying to divert attention.’

  ‘But don’t you see, whoever phoned to tell you Uncle Albert was around here that night must have seen him. So who else would that be but the person who killed Cameron Frazer?’

  Alwright looked at me with amused admiration. ‘When I was at school they showed me how to prove one is equal to two. I never did see the trick in it, but I can see the tricks you toss at me, Mallin. Let him speak for himself. Now sir ...’ He turned to Uncle Albert. ‘Why were you down here that night?’

  ‘There was something he wanted to consult,’ I said quickly, hoping Uncle Albert wasn’t going to be so stupid as to tell the truth.

  But it seemed he was. ‘I was after the First Folio.’

  ‘First Folio what?’

  ‘Shakespeare. An original printing.’

  ‘At that time in the morning? What did you want to do, check on the soliloquy from Hamlet?’ Alwright glanced at Kenny, who inclined his head in acknowledgement of the wit.

  ‘Why would I want to do that? I know it.’

  ‘So you came down. What for?’

  ‘I wanted to take it —’

  ‘Lootenant,’ cut in Bloome, ‘there’s been a misunderstanding here.’ And I hadn’t even noticed him there.

  ‘Take it up to his room,’ I said desperately.

  ‘Will you keep out of this!’ Alwright shouted. He recovered his composure. ‘So you were going to take it up to your room?’

  ‘That is basically correct,’ Uncle Albert said carefully. ‘But when I got down here I found Frazer dead, and he’d got it out on the desk.’

  There was a silence. Alwright looked at Kenny. Vale smiled and whispered something to Elsa, but she’d got her eyes on me in a kind of searching agony. But I was doing my best. What else was there I could do?