“That’s all right.”
“You know Vernon’s a very clever man,” Craig said. “He handled himself superbly. Made an excellent impression on the jury.”
“And the girl helped, don’t forget that,” Miller said.
“Yes, she lied, didn’t she?”
“Too true she did, probably under extreme coercion.” Miller hesitated and then went on. “It wasn’t her fault, you know. She’s just as much a victim of circumstances as Joanna was. Actually, she’s quite a nice girl.”
Craig swirled the brandy around in his glass and drank some. “You know I’ve been finding out a few things about our Mr. Vernon. He’s quite a character.”
“Is that so?” Miller said carefully.
“Come off it, sergeant, you know what I mean.” Craig swallowed the rest of his brandy and waved to the waiter for another. “You’ve heard of Pedlar Palmer, I suppose?”
“Detective Superintendent Palmer of the Special Branch at Scotland Yard?”
“That’s right. We did some soldiering together in the Middle East back in ’43. I gave him a ring yesterday, just to ask him what he could tell me about Vernon. He owes me a favour or two. That’s in confidence, mind you.”
“Naturally.”
“Quite a boy, Max Vernon. Do you think he’s getting up to the same sort of capers in these parts as he did in London?”
“Leopards don’t change their spots.”
“That’s what I thought.” Craig nodded, a slight, abstracted smile on his face. “What is it they say about justice, sergeant? It must not only be done, it must be seen to be done? But what happens when society falls down on the job? What happens when the law isn’t adequate? Wouldn’t you say the individual was entitled to take matters into his own hands?”
“I know one thing,” Miller said. “It wouldn’t be the law he was taking.”
“You’ve got a good point there.” Craig glanced at his watch. “Good heavens, is that the time? I must go. Can you get a taxi, Harriet?”
Miller cut in quickly before she could reply. “I’ll see she gets home all right. I have my own car.”
“Thanks a lot. I’ll see you later then, my dear.” He squeezed Harriet’s shoulder briefly and was gone.
“Another drink, Miss Craig?”
“No, I don’t think so. I’d like to go if you don’t mind. I’m feeling rather tired. These past few days have been something of a strain.”
The Mini-Cooper was in for servicing and he was using his brother’s E-type Jaguar that day. She was suitably impressed. “I didn’t know police pay had improved quite this much.”
“It hasn’t,” he said as he handed her in and closed the door. “This belongs to my brother. He has more money than he knows what to do with and he worries about me.”
He took the car out into the main traffic stream expertly. “You’re a teacher, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “That’s right. Dock Street Secondary Modern. I took the day off.”
“A pretty rough neighbourhood.”
“Good experience. They’re pulling the school down soon. There’ll be a new Comprehensive opening about half a mile away.”
They drove in silence for a while and then he said, “You don’t think your father will try to do anything silly, do you?”
She frowned. “What on earth do you mean?”
“I wasn’t too happy about that conversation we had back at the pub. All that stuff about taking the law into one’s own hands when society falls down on the job.”
“It’s worth a thought, isn’t it?”
Miller shook his head. “Not if he wants to stay alive. Max Vernon’s a powerful, ruthless criminal without the slightest scruples about who he hurts or how he does it. He’d crush your father like an ant under his foot.”
She turned on him, her mouth slack with amazement. “Crush Duncan Craig — that worm?” She laughed wildly. “Don’t you know who my father is? If he’s made the decision I think he has, then Maxwell Vernon is a dead man walking.”
CHAPTER 7
When Monica Grey opened her door and found Duncan Craig standing there, she tried to close it quickly, but he was inside before she could stop him.
She backed away, her throat going dry, and he shook his head slowly. “I’m not going to hurt you, I’m not going to harm you in any way. Just sit down like a good girl and listen to me.”
Suddenly she was no longer afraid. In fact for some strange reason she felt like crying and she did as she was told and slumped down on the bed.
“You lied at the inquest, didn’t you?”
“I had to. God knows what would have happened to me if I hadn’t done as I was told.”
“Then your original statement to Sergeant Miller was true? It was Max Vernon who first gave my daughter heroin?”
“It had to be him,” she said. “It couldn’t have been anyone else.”
“And Vernon who continued to supply her.”
She nodded. “One of his little sidelines.”
“You know a great deal about him, don’t you?”
“Plenty,” she said, “but you needn’t think I’m going to sing out in open court for you or anyone else.”
“You won’t have to. Have you got a passport?”
She nodded. “Somewhere around the place. Why?”
He took a large buff envelope from his inside breast pocket. “You’ll find traveller’s cheques in here for one thousand pounds plus a ticket on the four-thirty flight to London Airport.”
“And just how long do you think it would take Max Vernon to catch up with me?”
“At least a couple of days. Long enough for you to complete any formalities, have any necessary inoculations and so on. You’ll find another plane ticket in the envelope — a first-class single to Sydney. You could be on your way by Wednesday.”
“You mean Sydney, Australia?”
“That’s right. You’ll also find a letter to a business friend of mine out there. He’ll fix you up with a job and help you get started. You’ll be all right. He owes me a favour.”
Her eyes were shining and the lines had been wiped clean from her forehead. Colonel Craig laid the envelope down on the bed beside her.
“In return I want you to tell me everything there is to know about Max Vernon.”
She didn’t hesitate. “It’s a deal. You talk and I’ll pack.”
“They tell me he was the brains behind one or two big jobs in the London area. The Knavesmire Airport bullion robbery for instance. Has he pulled anything like that up here?”
“Not as far as I know, but I think there’s something in the wind. There’s been some funny customers in and out of the place lately.”
“What about the Flamingo? Is the game honest?”
“It has to be.” She pulled a suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe. “It caters for the most exclusive clientele in town.”
“You wouldn’t have a key to the place by any chance?”
“Sure — to the back door.” She opened her handbag, produced a Yale key and threw it across. “My pleasure.”
