Inspector West Takes Charge by John Creasey Page A

affair. Three accidental deaths in a row. A solicitor who doesn’t keep a client fully informed. A wife Claude’s who told her husband that he would be wiser to leave the Dreem tobacco business to a business man, presumably you. Have you been approached to take any active part in the company’s affairs?’
    ‘No.’ Harrington was vehement. ‘I should have turned it down if I had been, anyhow. I’m not interested in Dreem. The company stinks.’ That was his second denunciatory reference to Prendergast, Blight & Company. Harrington lit a cigarette, flicked the match into the fire, and said: ‘I came here because I was puzzled by several, things. I had no idea that the Prendergasts even knew I existed, but they dug me out somehow. I had a letter from this woman Claude’s married, and one from Potter. The implication of their conversation when I saw them was that I could expect to play a large part in Prendergast, Blight & Company.’
    ‘Did you talk as bluntly to them as to me?’
    ‘No,’ Harrington admitted. ‘I stone-walled. It was no business of theirs, anyhow, but I was intrigued. Why should a solicitor and a woman just married into the family approach me, but not Claude? I decided to see Claude.’
    ‘Natural enough,’ said Roger. ‘Did you see Potter and Mrs Prendergast together?’
    ‘Yes. At the solicitor’s office. The woman was like a tart with an expensive clientele.’
    ‘Who did the talking?’
    ‘Mrs Prendergast. Potter nodded a lot and looked like a cold fish. Is he always like that?’
    ‘When he wants to be,’ Roger said. ‘Was anything in the way of a clear-cut proposition put to you?’
    ‘No.’ Harrington threw the half-smoked cigarette into the fire. ‘That’s what intrigued me most. They hinted at my taking an interest in Dreem, pointing out that Claude was the only member of the family left, and that he had no head for business as well as no desire to enter it. I had a feeling that some kind of bribe was round the corner, but they didn’t get round to it.’
    ‘When was this meeting?’
    ‘Yesterday morning.’
    ‘How did you know where to find Claude?’
    ‘I’m working at Kingston,’ said Harrington. ‘I rang up the London house, thinking I could go there to see him. He wasn’t there, but they gave me this as his address. It’s not far from Kingston, so I decided to come on the off chance. I found Claude and your friend Lessing, who was very amiable but not informative, and they told me that you’d be able to explain more than they could. I was getting pretty tired of the mystery business before you arrived. It looked to me like another attempt to involve me.’
    It all sounded reasonable, and Harrington mode it seem convincing.
    The door opened, and the old servant announced Dr Tenby. Tenby was a short and stocky man, florid of face and abrupt in manner. He nodded to Roger and Harrington, bowed to Janet, and went upstairs. Soon afterwards, Mark came down.
    As he came into the room, a scream broke the near silence. It went through Roger like a knife, and Janet jumped wildly.
    It was high-pitched; obviously from a woman; and came from above their heads. Roger broke into a run for the door. Harrington beat Mark to it by a foot. Janet stayed by the fire, white-faced, fearful of a repetition.
    There was none, but someone was crying near the landing. Hurried footsteps thudded. Roger was halfway up the stairs when he saw one of the servants, her hands over her face.
    ‘What is it?’ he demanded. ‘What’s the matter?’
    She took her hands away, and stared at him, so pale that she looked bloodless.
    ‘A man,’ she gasped. ‘The study –’
    ‘Come on!’ said Harrington.
    He was ahead of Roger when they reached the landing, then turned and hesitated.
    ‘Second door on the right,’ Mark called.
    Claude’s room was to the left. From it Dr Tenby showed himself. He disappeared from sight again when he saw the others. The old servant hovered about the landing as