Jacques was, in Calouste's opinion, a remarkably reliable personality. His shop was patronized by many of the upper-crust element in Parisian society. Normally servants would fetch what was required, but not infrequently the lady of the house would come herself. Certain ladies like to collect their own meat and flirt with him. He could be so amiable and humorous, and his brutal face could slip into a warm smile.
Jacques, habitually well dressed, had frequented bars and restaurants where he could listen to how the upper class spoke. Soon he was able to speak in the same way.
Once, a guest at a party of several senators and their wives, he had kept them all amused with the stories he related. At one party he had taken a risk, relying on the amount of alcohol that had been consumed. `There's nothing I enjoy more than slicing up meat,' he had remarked with a grin. 'Whether it's animal or human meat.'
The men had burst into laughter. The women had smiled at the joke. Reluctantly.
Calouste, who had heard of him, was half-hidden away in a dubious bar at a table in an alcove when the key incident happened. Jacques was caught up in a quarrel with a man twice his size and height. His opponent had drenched him with insults, had then walked up to him with an automatic in his hand. He had used the flat of the weapon to slap Jacques a hard blow on the face. Jacques had swiftly produced a wide-bladed knife and rammed it into the ape's chest. As the fatally injured man staggered back, collapsed, everyone in the restaurant had run out. Calouste, wearing his dark glasses, had caught up with Jacques. `If you work for me I will pay you fifty thousand dollars a year. If you agree to liquidate anyone who stands in my way I will pay you twenty thousand dollars per kill…'
That was how it had started, Calouste remembered as he gobbled down his breakfast.
His instinct told him it might be wise to move on soon. He had not had a word over Max's mobile and he was supposed to report regularly. Something must have happened. At that moment his own mobile buzzed. `Yes?' snapped Calouste. `Orion here. About half an hour ago Tweed and a large team drove off in the direction of Gladworth.' `Why not an earlier warning?' Calouste raged. `This was the first opportunity to call you' Reception was beginning to fade. 'Marshal Main has a second home at Sheebka.' `Where?' Calouste scribbled the name on a sheet of his notebook. `Sheebka. Why don't you listen?' There was a brief moment of clarity. `Seacove in Cornwall..
The phone had gone dead. Calouste didn't bother writing down Seacove. He tore out the sheet from the notebook, screwed it up, threw it on the table. He was so busy he didn't see the wind had blown the bit of paper onto the floor. Pierre, who had just come in, didn't see it either as his boot kicked it under the cooker.
Calouste picked up the Ordnance Survey atlas he had brought in. Turning to Cornwall, he circled it with his biro, tore out the sheet. It was the only sign of panic he had shown so far. He rushed into the front room to collect his packed bag. The wind which had blown up suddenly lifted the map sheet, floated it out of the window. `Pierre is almost losing his breakfast since I told him to stay behind and clear up,' Jacques reported. `We've all eaten only half our breakfast.' `What shall I tell him,' Jacques persisted, 'if Tweed arrives before he's finished?' `Tell him to motorcycle across the fields at the back, for God's sake. You and I leave now.'
Calouste was in such a hurry to get away he grabbed the Ordnance Survey atlas. He'd forgotten he'd torn out the map of Cornwall.
He ran across the front garden and up the road to where he'd parked his car. As he moved off Jacques was in his car behind him. They reached a roundabout with five possible routes. 'Which way now?' Calouste muttered to himself. Then he saw a signpost, West Country. Cornwall was somewhere down there. He swung the wheel along that route.
14
Tweed had a shock as he climbed out of the car now parked at the foot of the steps leading up to the entrance of Hengistbury Manor. Standing at the top of the steps, arms folded, a smirking expression of triumph on his ugly face, was Chief Inspector Hammer. He couldn't wait until Tweed with Paula, Marler, and Newman close behind him reached the terrace. `You can all go home now,' he gloated. 'I've solved the case. The murderer was Crystal Chance. Caught her red-handed.' `Be more specific,' Tweed suggested. `Come with me, then,' Hammer commanded.
He led them up the wide staircase, almost swaggering. They arrived at Crystal's apartment. The door was closed. Outside stood Sergeant Warden. `I've left another junior officer inside with her,' Hammer announced.
'Junior officer?' Tweed glanced at Warden, who raised his eyebrows. Warden was regarded as a highly experienced officer.
With a flourish Hammer opened the door, entered the apartment. They were in the bedroom. Crystal was seated on the bed, her green eyes glowing with fury as she combed her hair. Seated on a chair facing the bed was a uniformed policeman. Hammer turned to him. `Well, Parrish, has she moved from the bed since I left? To go to the lavatory, for example – or should I say the loo in these exalted circles?' `It's called the loo in most places these days,' Crystal snapped at him.
Not talking to you,' Hammer told her. 'Well, Parrish?' `Since you left she has remained where she is now… sir,' he added after a pause. `Then shove off. Join the others in searching. Although it's a waste of manpower after what I've discovered.' `So what have you discovered?' Tweed enquired when Parrish had left the room.
With another flourish Hammer opened the double doors of a wardrobe equipped with old enamel ball- shaped handles. `Stop!' Tweed ordered. 'Were you wearing gloves when you first opened those doors? You're not sure? Which means you didn't. So it will be useless checking for fingerprints. Yours will have smeared the original ones.' `He wasn't wearing gloves all the time he was in here,' Crystal said viciously. `No one was talking to you-' Hammer began, glaring at her. `Concentrate,' Tweed ordered. 'After you'd opened these doors, what did you do next?' `Bent down, removed that pile of stuff I've dropped on the left. Hey presto! Look at that.'
Tweed crouched down. He saw two collars of wire with savage-looking spikes protruding. They seemed to him to be replicas of the ghastly collar which had ripped Bella's throat open. Each was complete with a pair of wooden handles to jerk the wire tight. He looked to the left where a pile of blouses had presumably concealed the collars. The top blouse was badly torn and strips of it were attached to the wire of one collar. `Chief Inspector,' he said, to calm down the officer, `you were in quite a hurry when you searched this wardrobe.' `I'll say he was,' Crystal screamed. 'Those are pure silk, those blouses. I bought them in a sale at Harvey Nick's but they still cost a small fortune. I'm suing that policeman.' `From a police cell?' sneered Hammer as he stood up with Tweed. `Chief Inspector,' Tweed said grimly, 'I think it's time you joined the others and helped the search. Now! Please.'
Crystal calmed down the moment Hammer had left. She said with conviction, 'Isn't it obvious that someone planted those beastly things on me? Hammer had ordered all apartment doors should be left unlocked. I was working on accounts in the upstairs library when Hammer summoned me back here. Anyone could have slipped in.' `It's a possibility,' Tweed agreed. `Something I want to tell you,' she said, lowering her voice.
Would you sooner I was not here?' suggested Paula. `No, I want you to hear too. It's about my half- sister, Lavinia. I hate her, but that's not why I'm going to tell you about the secret scandal no one else will tell you.' `Sisters often don't get on,' Paula mused. 'Sounds as though that's the case with you and Lavinia.' `Lavinia is the chief accountant. I'm only her assistant. We're both forensic accountants and I could do the top job as well as she does.'
She brushed a curl of red hair away from her face and Paula studied her. She looked perfectly calm, perfectly normal. Perhaps more than Tweed, Paula could understand her fury when Hammer had torn and ruined her new silk blouses. `Maybe,' Crystal suggested, 'I could meet you both in the library downstairs and tell you what I know down there. I feel the police may come back to search again.'
Tweed knew Sergeant Warden would soon check Hammer's search. He opened the door. At the far end of the corridor Marler and Newman were staring at Pike's Peak. The summit was now covered in cloud. He walked along to them. `Bob,' he said to Newman, 'a long job for you. I think those fiendish collars – two more have been found in Crystal's room – could have been created from a length of wire taken from the top of the wall guarding this huge estate. Snape probably has a telescopic ladder which could reach the top. Could you check the whole wall?' `Snape has a cottage in The Forest,' Marler said. 'I'll join you. I know the way to his cottage now…'
Tweed and Paula arrived in the library to find Lavinia the only occupant. She greeted them cheerfully, pulling Newman's leg. `Well, did you climb Pike's Peak? I imagine you could hardly resist the challenge.'
