Read Online Cast in Order of Disappearance by Simon Brett - Free Book Online Page B

two p into the coin box. A discreet, educated voice identified the number—nothing more.
    â€˜Ah, good evening.’ He plumped for the Glaswegian accent he’d used in a Thirty-Minute Theatre (‘Pointless’ — The Times ). ‘Is that Mr Marius Steen’s residence?’
    â€˜He does live here, yes, but—’
    â€˜It’s Detective-Sergeant McWhirter from Scotland Yard. I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night. Is it possible to speak to Mr Steen?’
    â€˜I’m afraid not. Mr Steen is at his home in the country. Can I help at all?’
    Charles hadn’t planned beyond finding out what he wanted to know and had to think quickly. ‘Ah yes, perhaps you can. It’s only a small thing. Um.’ Playing for time. Then a sudden flash of inspiration. ‘We’re just checking on various Rolls-Royce owners. There’s a number-plate racket going on at the moment. I wonder if you could give me Mr Steen’s registration.’
    The discreet voice did so. ‘Thank you very much. That’s all I wanted to know. I’m so sorry to have troubled you. Goodbye.’
    As Charles put the phone down, he tried to work out what on earth a number-plate racket might be. It was quite meaningless, but at least he’d got the required information.
    He tried the Berkshire number. The phone rang for about thirty seconds, then after a click, a voice gave the number and said, ‘This is Marius Steen speaking on one of these recorded answering contraptions. I am either out at the moment or busy working on some scripts and don’t want to talk right now. If your message is business ring the office—’ he gave the number ‘—on Monday, if it’s really urgent, you can leave a message on this machine, and if you want money, get lost.’ A pause. ‘Hello. Are you still there? Right then, after this whiney noise, tell me what it is.’ Then the tone, then silence.
    The voice was striking. Charles felt he must have heard Steen being interviewed at some stage on radio or television, because it was very familiar. And distinctive. The Polish origins had been almost eroded, but not quite; they had been overlaid with heavy Cockney, which, in turn, had been flattened into a classier accent as Steen climbed the social ladder. As an actor, Charles could feel all the elements in the voice and begin to feel something of the man. He dialled the number again, just to hear the voice and find out what else it could tell him.
    The message itself was odd. The first reaction to ‘if you want money, get lost’ was that Steen must be referring to potential blackmailers, but then Charles realised how unlikely that was. Any of Steen’s friends might ring him, so the message had to have a more general application. Most likely it was just a joke. After all, Steen was notorious for his success with money. And notoriously tight-fisted. Tight as a bottle-top, as Harry Chiltern had said. For him to make that sort of joke on the recording was in keeping with the impression Charles was beginning to form of his character.
    And in spite of everything, that impression was good. Somehow Steen’s voice seemed to confirm Jacqui’s view. It was rich with character and humour. The whole tone of the recording was of a man who was alive in the sense that mattered, the sort of man Charles felt he would like when he met him. And yet this was also the man who had recently shot a blackmailer through the head.
    Somehow even that seemed suddenly consistent. A man as big as Steen shouldn’t have to be involved with little second-rate crooks like Bill Sweet. Charles felt more hopeful about his mission, certain that when he actually got to Steen, he’d be able to talk to him and clear Jacqui from his suspicions.
    He tried Juliet and Miles’ phone-number in Pangbourne, but there was no reply. No doubt out for the evening talking insurance at some scampi