Dover’s attempts to speak up for truth and justice were speedily thwarted by his colleagues and he had been removed bodily from the well of the court before he got himself booked for gross contempt. The rank injustice of the whole episode had left him with a burning resentment against women J.P.s and a fierce determination to get John Perking by hook or by crook.
‘He’ll rue the day he was born,’ threatened Dover, licking the last of the custard off his spoon. ‘I’ll teach him it doesn’t pay to start crossing swords with me.’
MacGregor fetched the cheese and biscuits. During the past forty-eight hours he had been trying to persuade the Chief Inspector that he could now safely retire from the case with honour. His wounds alone entitled him to that. The murderer had been found and any loose ends which still needed tying up could be tied up by MacGregor himself. But, in spite of a lifelong devotion to lead-swinging, Dover wasn’t having any, For the moment he was now as vehement as Daniel Wibbley himself that Perking should be made to suffer the full rigours of the law. Nothing was too bad for that little rat.
‘He’s not going to wriggle out of this one,’ snarled Dover, spattering crumbs all over the sheets. ‘He’s going to rot behind bars for the rest of his life — and I hope he lives to be a hundred. I’ll fix him, the bastard! Now, you’ve got it all clear, have you, MacGregor? Tomorrow morning we’ll go and see this Topping-Wibbley chap and get him out of the way. Once we’ve established his innocence for good and all we’ll start on uncovering Perking’s motive for the murder. It shouldn’t be too difficult if we put our backs into it. And no mucking about with kid gloves, either, this time. This time I mean business. Where’s my coffee?’
‘Here you are, sir.’
‘You’ve ordered the Rolls-Royce for ten o’clock, have you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And fixed up about the chair?’
‘Yes, sir. We’re borrowing one from the local hospital.’
‘Good. Well, you can push off now. I don’t want to see you again till dinner-time. I’ve got to try and preserve my strength. And tell ’em not to be so skinny with the spuds tonight.’
Dover in a wheelchair was a sight to reduce strong men to tears. He clung terrified to the arms and shouted curses and instructions over his shoulder at MacGregor who was entrusted with the task of pushing. Since all Dover’s injuries were superficial and restricted to his head and shoulders there was really no reason why he couldn’t have walked perfectly well, but the Chief Inspector believed in getting his money’s worth.
Mr and Mrs Topping-Wibbley lived well outside Pott Winckle, and up wind of it, in a large and expensive house standing in its own grounds. MacGregor was favourably impressed as he wheeled Dover up to the front door.
‘Don’t go so damned fast!’ squawked Dover. ‘You’ll be tipping me over if you don’t look out. You’d think people’d have enough consideration to keep their paths smooth, wouldn’t you? And when we get in there, you ask the questions. I’ll only chip in if I feel like it. Get it?’
Mr and Mrs Topping-Wibbley, having been warned of the visit by telephone, were awaiting their guests in the drawingroom. Dover was wheeled across to a cosy position by the fire.
The Topping-Wibbleys sat side by side on an enormous, zebra-striped settee and stared in some amazement at their august visitor. They were overawed by this devotion beyond and above the call of duty.
MacGregor cleared his throat loudly. The Topping- Wibbleys dragged their eyes away and looked at him.
‘Well,’ began MacGregor, snapping open his notebook, ‘I expect you know why we’re here?’
Mrs Topping-Wibbley answered. She usually did. ‘If it’s about that dreadful Perking man, I’m afraid we can’t help you. If I’d answered the telephone when you rang I could have told you that and saved you the trouble of the journey. We had nothing to do with Perking at all. In fact, I’ve never actually spoken to him in my life. We’ve had nothing to do with Cynthia either since she married him. I quite liked Cynthia, but the way she treated poor Uncle Daniel — well, we thought that was quite unforgivable. All but broke his heart, she did. Only people who are close to him, like Hereward and I, know what her behaviour did to poor Uncle Daniel. That’s right, isn’t it, darling?’
‘Yes, darling,’ said Mr Topping-Wibbley.
‘One doesn’t like to speak ill of the dead, sergeant, but one can’t help feeling that this was a judgment on Cynthia. I know it’s supposed to be old-fashioned but it does tell you in the Bible to honour your father and mother, doesn’t it? I can’t think what came over Cynthia. Uncle Daniel was devoted to her and she had a lovely home and everything. And now look where she is! Poor Uncle Daniel — it’s him I feel sorry for. We’ve been doing our best, Hereward and I, to try and make it up to him. He relies very heavily on my husband — doesn’t he, darling? Of course they work very closely together in the business and that makes an additional bond. They have their little disagreements, naturally, but whatever you’ve heard you can take my word for it — they’re just storms in teacups. Even business partners can’t be expected to see eye-to-eye over every tiny detail, can they?’
‘Business partners?’ queried MacGregor. ‘I didn’t know you were Mr Wibbley’s business partner, sir.’
‘Well, not in name, of course,’ said Mrs Topping-Wibbley smoothly. ‘Naturally a young man like Hereward doesn’t jump in right at the top of a big concern like that, even if he is the boss’s nephew. People get so stupidly jealous, you know. No, Hereward started right at the bottom, just like any other bright young man with a brilliant future ahead of him. And we think it’s the only fair
