‘The Country Club, sir.’
Dover uncovered one eye and glared. ‘It’s all right for some,’ he observed sarcastically. ‘Push off! And put that damned light out before you go.’
Chapter Twelve
MacGregor returned to Dover’s bedroom at nine o’clock the following morning. The precise hour had been carefully selected. MacGregor combined his own refined instincts with the reports he received from the dining-room staff to the effect that that fat old bounder was having his breakfast in bed. MacGregor was also the unwilling recipient, via the manager, of complaints from a large number of the other residents about the noise Dover had been making throughout the night.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t hear him yourself,’ said the manager peevishly. ‘ Bang, crash, wallop it was for hours.’
‘I don’t know what you expect me to do about it,’ said MacGregor, although he did, only too well.
‘I thought you might have a tactful word with him; ask him to show a bit of consideration. He wouldn’t like it if it was somebody else, would he?’
‘No, he certainly wouldn’t,’ agreed MacGregor. ‘He’d be the first to complain. But,’ he added stoutly, ‘he’d do it himself and not expect somebody else to do it for him.’
‘Oh well, if that’s your attitude!’ said the manager and walked off in a huff.
Despondently MacGregor mounted the stairs to his Chief Inspector’s room. If the old fool had had a disturbed night he was likely to be even more obstreperous than usual. If his blasted stomach was as bad as he was always claiming it was, it was a pity they didn’t invalid him out with it.
Dover, propped up in bed and brooding over the remains of his breakfast, certainly didn’t look very bright. His eyes were bloodshot and his complexion even more pasty-coloured than usual.
‘I had a nasty bilious attack last night,’ he informed MacGregor pathetically. ‘It was you waking me up that brought it on.’
‘Perhaps it was something you ate, sir.’
‘Awful, it was,’ said Dover. ‘I was up half the blooming night.’
‘So I heard, sir.’
‘I ought to see a doctor, really,’ said Dover gloomily. ‘Not that they seem to be able to do much for me.’
‘Well, I could perhaps get the local police surgeon to call in, sir.’
Dover poked disconsolately around on his tray to see if there were any scraps of sustenance that had been overlooked. Suddenly his face cleared. ‘That’s a good idea, laddie! I could do with some expert advice. Yes, you tell him I’d like to have a word with him tomorrow morning. Round about ten o’clock’ll suit me. Tell him it’s urgent.’
‘Tomorrow morning, sir?’ MacGregor raised his elegantly shaped eyebrows.
‘That’s right.’ Dover nodded. ‘Tomorrow morning. You fix it. Now, what have you been up to lately, apart from just buggering around?’
‘Well, sir,’ – MacGregor drew up a chair – ‘I really think I may be on to something. I got this lead at the …’
‘Yes,’ said Dover, ‘well, never mind that now. Here, take this tray! Ooh, that’s better. I keep getting cramp in my legs. At least I hope it’s cramp. It may be something worse. You never know. Now then, there’s a few things I want you to do for me, if you can spare the time, of course.’ Dover’s irony was, as always, heavy-handed. ‘Now, did you go to that Country Club place last night?’
‘Oh yes, sir, that’s what I was trying to tell you. You see …’
‘Good,’ Dover went over MacGregor like a steamroller. ‘Well, you’re to go there again tonight. And tomorrow night and every night until I tell you to pack it in. Got it?’
‘But, I’d arranged to go to Galeford tonight, sir. I’m going to meet a man who …’
‘I do wish, just once in a while, laddie,’ said Dover injecting a note of world weariness in his voice, ‘you’d do what you’re told without arguing the toss every blasted inch of the way.’
‘Very good, sir,’ said MacGregor stiffly.
‘Right! It’s the Country Club every night for you until I tell you to stop. I want you to be the first in and the last out. Got it?’
‘What, exactly, am I supposed to be doing, sir?’
‘Enjoying yourself, laddie!’ leered Dover. ‘Just behave like the other customers. Have yourself a ball! Go gay! Start living a bit! But keep your expenses down because I’m damned if I’m going to countersign any great long claim just for you to go drinking yourself silly.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t exactly see …’
‘And the other thing,’ said Dover, gazing blankly at the ceiling, ‘is that animal doctor woman.’
‘Miss ffiske, sir?’ asked MacGregor frowning.
‘That’s right. Miss ffiske with two little f’s. Well, I want you to go and call on Miss f-f-ffiske th-th-this m-m-moming.’ He chuckled. He liked his little joke, Dover did.
MacGregor priggishly pretended not to have noticed. ‘What for, sir?’
‘Eh?’ said Dover, still obsessed with his own wit. ‘Oh, go and ask her about the night Hamilton k-k-kicked the b-b-bucket.’
MacGregor permitted himself a faintly patronizing smile. ‘I really think that would be rather a waste of time, sir. Miss ffiske has already told us all she knows, which in any case didn’t amount to much. I had several other things scheduled for this morning, sir, and I really do think …’
Dover went to the trouble of heaving himself up in bed so as to bring the full force of his personality to bear on the unfortunate MacGregor. The boot-button eyes narrowed, the snub nose wrinkled menacingly, the unshaven jowb quivered. It was an arresting sight. Even the debonair MacGregor involuntarily drew back. Dover said nothing. This was chiefly due to the fact that he couldn’t for the moment think of anything sufficiently intimidating to say, but it certainly heightened the impression he was trying to make.
‘Very well, sir,’ said MacGregor weakly.
Slowly Dover nodded his head. ‘That’s better, laddie. Now, you’re to stop there precisely half an hour. Not a minute more, not a minute less. Savvy?’
‘Half an hour, sir? With Miss ffiske? But why?’
Dover smiled in what he hoped
