trick, looking at the door in the mirror.
“Lissa said a doctor’s coming,” he declared.
“He should be here,” said Roger. “Did Mrs Meredith tell you that I am —”
“The man from Scotland Yard.” Shawn finished combing his hair, and turned round. His expression was blank, his lips were tightly set, betraying the way his teeth clenched, and his eyes still seemed to burn. He took his coat off the back of a chair, and began to put it on. “The police are out,” he declared flatly. “This is a private matter.”
“Keep it that way,” Roger said.
Shawn stopped moving, in surprise.
“If you don’t care whether you see your son again or not,” Roger went on, “keep it private.”
Shawn finished adjusting his coat, then moved slowly towards Roger. He was like a bear, massively powerful, but there was no clumsiness in his movements. His shoulders were bent, but he was still inches taller than Roger. His features seemed to grow bigger as he drew nearer. He moved his arms slowly, his great hands settled on Roger’s shoulders. His fingers gripped, firmly, then gripped more tightly, as if he could crush the flesh and the bone. It hurt, but Roger didn’t move, didn’t flinch.
“You mean well,” Shawn said with great deliberation. “But don’t get in the way. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what anyone says. This is not official. It isn’t going to be official I sent the boy away, understand. I sent him away.
I know where he is. I drugged his mother and myself, so that she couldn’t prevent me, because I knew the boy was in danger. Understand that, Mr Scotland Yard? No one’s been kidnapped, everything is just fine.”
5
THE OBSERVANT POLICEMAN
BUT for his eyes, Shawn could have been just a piece of sculpture hewn out of dark sandstone. His large features seemed more than life-size, and only his eyes were alive, telling of a man in anguish. The pressure of his fingers biting into Roger’s shoulders grew stronger; like a killer’s grip.
Roger said: “So everything is fine.”
“You heard me.”
“All right,” said Roger. He tensed himself, then wrenched his shoulders free and backed away. Shawn didn’t move after him. It came to his mind that Shawn would squeeze the life out of anyone who got in his way. Now, the man was in the grip of fierce passion roused by deadly hurt and deadlier fears; but he must always have the capacity for passion. “All right,” repeated Roger. “Now make your wife believe what you’ve told me.”
“Keep my wife out of this.”
“I’m not bringing her into it,” Roger retorted. “She’s already in. She wants her son back.”
Shawn raised his right hand, the fist clenched; he wanted to hit and to hurt.
“I’ll look after my wife and my son,” he growled. “You get out.”
The difficulty was for Roger to turn his back on the man, to overcome the fear that Shawn would strike at him when he did so. Roger stared into the stormy eyes, then turned slowly. Shawn didn’t move. Roger reached the door, and for the first time since Shawn had started to speak, thought of other things; he realized for instance that while he had been in the bedroom, a car had drawn up outside. He opened the door.
Lissa Meredith stood at the head of the stairs. Her face was in shadow, but he caught the warning in her eyes; she didn’t want Shawn to know that she was there. Probably she had overheard their conversation, returning quickly, anxious to know what he said to Shawn. Why should she be so anxious? Roger joined her, and they went downstairs together. A youthful-looking man with thin fair hair and a bulgy forehead stood in the hall. In his hand was a pigskin case. Lissa led the way to the dining-room, and they went in. She closed the door.
“Speak quietly,” she said. “Mr West, this is Dr Fischer, Carl Fischer. Carl, you must handle David very carefully. Say I told you that Belle had collapsed, but you don’t know another thing. Don’t mention Ricky, don’t let him think you know about that yet, just let him talk. And don’t forget any-thing he says.”
Fischer gave a quick smile, splitting his face in two.
“As you say, honey. I’ll go up.”
“Don’t forget Fig Mayo,” Lissa said.
Fischer nodded and went out. Lissa turned to Roger and put a hand on his arm, lightly, naturally.
“You didn’t go far,” Roger said heavily.
“I went to the nearest telephone and talked to Tony, and Carl arrived just after I got back. I heard everything David said, and I’m not surprised. I’ve always known that David would insist on doing what he believed best, whatever Belle thought. Until we get Ricky back, we can write David off.” The intensity of her manner much more than her words, affected Roger. “Do you want to do anything else here?”
“Not yet.”
They went to the front door and into the street. Roger’s car was drawn up at the end of the cul-de-sac.
“Who is Fig Mayo?” Roger asked.
“Just a man who made David see red,” answered Lissa. He made a pass at Belle. He was drunk, or he wouldn’t have asked for a suicide ticket David threw him out of a fifth-floor window. Only a canvas canopy saved his life, all he broke was an arm and a leg. It was covered up as an accident, but it’s the kind of accident that could happen again with David in certain moods.” She paused, and as they reached Roger’s car she stated flatly: “Fig Mayo is as big a man as you.”
“If Shawn threw me out of a fifth-floor window or even out of a door, we could put him in a cell and let him cool his heels,” Roger said. “Think about that.”
