Alibi

“If you don’t mind me saying so, sir,” said Danizon, “that was a wonderful job. I’ve talked to the secretary, Miss Noble, she says you were magnificent. Her very words, sir. And if you don’t mind me saying so, you look all in.

And you’ll have to see the commander and probably the commissioner very soon. Would it be a good idea if you rested for half an hour? There’s a bathroom next door, and a room next to that where you could put your feet up.”

They were going through papers in Artemeus’s desk.

They had already done a great deal since the shooting and the tragedy. Ambulances and police had arrived and Phillipson’s body had been taken away. An area of the Strand had been roped off and the police were busy there. Other police had been sent to Phillipson’s office, which had been sealed off, and members of the Board of the Globe as well as of Allsafe and other interested com-panies were being interviewed. Artemeus was now at the Yard. He had not spoken since Roger had arrested him, and was so blue in the face that he seemed likely to have a fatal attack at any moment. A police surgeon was standing by. Coppell had been interrupted at the European Police Conference, and he was believed to have told the commissioner about the situation.

There were at least two things Roger didn’t know.

First, who had killed Maisie? Second, what part had Rapelli really played in the murder of Verdi, and why had Verdi been killed?

The answers were somewhere in this mass of papers; they could even be in the evidence he had already discovered, but which he could not interpret properly.

These things went through his mind as he said, “Good idea, Tom. By the way, what brought you in person?”

“I took a chance after I’d ordered patrol cars to come here,” said Danizon, with refreshing honesty. “Just for once I wanted to be out on a job. I—oh, L forgot. Your wife telephoned twice this afternoon, and I thought she sounded anxious. When you’ve had a shower you might like to call her.”

“Yes,” Roger said, heavily. “I will.”

He went along to the bathroom, through a small and pleasantly furnished room where there were drinks, cocktail biscuits, glasses and some magazines—and a telephone. He thought he could guess what Janet had to say and he was in no mood, yet, to hear it. There was a lot to do, and soon he would have to report to Coppell—and quite possibly the commissioner as well.

Chapter Nineteen

INTERRUPTION

 

Roger soaked for a few minutes in the bath. The water was warm, too warm, but soothing to his over-tired body. Danizon was right, he thought. He must relax completely for ten minutes or so, must clear his mind of everything and forget the case entirely. He lay back and closed his eyes, but immediately he did so thoughts came crowding into his head—thoughts of Maisie, of Rachel Warrender, of Mario Rapelli, of Hamish Campbell, of everyone in-volved—each one forming a clear and living picture on the retina of his mind. Somewhere, in this maze of tangled evidence, were the clues he needed. Both Artemeus and Phillipson had obviously been involved in the campaign to discredit him in the Police Force and thus compel him to join Allsafe. But could that be simply to boost Allsafe against its competitors? Such a thought was inconceivable. And what in heaven’s name, Roger wondered, was the connection with the Verdi affair?

If he had to point a finger at the most astonishing development in this whole case it would be Rachel War- render’s visit, and her pleading for him to find out the truth. She had been in a desperate mood, had not slept all night; it was strange that she had felt so deeply at such a simple deception.

“My God!” Roger suddenly exclaimed aloud.

He looked round, and saw a telephone. He grabbed it, water dripping, instrument slipping from his fingers. An operator answered.

“Detective Sergeant Danizon, please. He’s in Mr. Art—”

“I know where he is, sir.”

There was only a moment’s pause before Danizon answered, but in this pause Roger’s thoughts were racing, and he spoke as Danizon came on the line.

“Have you come across any documents or files showing who represents Allsafe legally?”

“Well, yes, sir,” Danizon said. “I was struck by the coincidence. It’s Warrender, Clansel and Warrender, of Lincoln’s Inn.”

“So it is,” said Roger tautly. “Telephone Rachel War- render and ask her to meet me at the Yard in an hour. You’d better be there, too. I’ll be out of here in five minutes, and I’m going over to the Festival Hall, to see the commander.”

“But if you interrupt him at the conference, sir—” Alarm thickened Danizon’s voice.

“I’ll either be out on my neck or the next deputy commander,” Roger said drily. “I know.”

In ten minutes he was outside in the Strand, facing a battery of reporters and photographers. A large crowd had gathered, hundreds of people watching the police taking photographs and measurements of the spot where Phillipson had fallen. As West appeared, the crowd surged towards him.

“Just a moment, Super.”

“Hold it.”

“Is it true that you were in the room when Phillipson jumped out of the window?”

“What’s it all about, Handsome?”

One man said in a very deep voice, “Can you give us a statement, sir?”