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Authors: John Creasey
Tags: Crime
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smaller and smaller in his driving mirror. He turned a corner, and they were cut off from sight.
He drove through the defile, recently cut in brown sandstone rock. Beyond it, this road ran into the main LondonâHorsham Road, and there was much more traffic. He put on speed. No one took any interest in him and he had plenty of time to think.
In fact, he knew little more than heâd told the police, and the one thing he had kept to himself would not have helped them. Jimmy Garfield, who had been a frequent visitor to Quinns before the accident to his spine, had telephoned Quinns ten days earlier, with a simple story. He said that he was being threatened by telephone and by letter, and that he didnât want to ask the police for help. Would Mannering assist him?
Mannering had been out of the country, with his wife.
Garfield had telephoned his flat last night, when Mannering had been home only for a day. The story then wasnât greatly different, except: âIâve had a load on my conscience for twenty years, Mannering, and I think itâs catching up with me,â Garfield had said. âTime an old man like me made retribution, eh? Like your help. Could be dangerous. Come and see me, will you?â
âIâm really sorry,â Mannering had said, âbut Iâm too busy for a week or more. I will, when â¦â
âIf you leave it, youâll be in time for the inquest,â the old man had said cryptically.
Had he meant an inquest on himself?
Joanna Woburn would be a long time getting over the effect of what had happened; Garfield might never recover; the contents of the flat box might never be found.
Face facts.
Since the attack on Garfield last night, Garfieldâs enemies had acted with a violent ruthlessness as effective as it was rare. The police werenât keyed-up to cope. Mannering saw it as a desperate, daring attempt to get some major prize. It had been skilfully planned, too. The old car, recently stolen; the men to ward off traffic; and another, fast car at hand, to take the men out of immediate danger.
Only he and Joanna Woburn had seen them.
He didnât take the danger from that seriously, then, although he didnât ignore it.
If Garfield recovered, he might learn much more.
If Garfield died, he might never know anything else about the case.
He could only guess â
That Garfieldâs enemies had meant to get the flat box at all costs, and having failed at the house, had planned the attack on Joanna â
Guessing she would have the box?
Or knowing.
If anyone else at the house had been spying on her, word might have been sent through to her attackers. It was even possible that someone knew that Jimmy Garfield had taken her into his confidence, or had seen her take that box.
If so, who?
And where did he, Mannering, come in? If he had a commission, it was to ease Garfieldâs conscience; and that might be much easier already.
He didnât see that there was much else he could do; certainly not now. The police were in full cry after the box and the âminiaturesâ; he didnât know a thing about them, so it was useless making inquiries through the trade. Except that he had saved Joanna Woburnâs life â and he told himself that was an exaggeration, for the police had arrived only a few minutes later. They had been following the girl, not dreaming of trouble on the road, only interested in finding out where she went to.
An old man, dying.
A young man, crippled and out of action for weeks.
A strikingly attractive woman with a strong sense of loyalty, presumably as much in the air as Mannering.
It wasnât the first and it wouldnât be the last unsatisfactory job. He felt sorry for Joanna Woburn, but she wasnât the type to feel sorry for herself for long. He began to whistle softly. If he had half a chance to help any of the people involved, heâd take it. Probably it would just fade out.
Â
He
He drove through the defile, recently cut in brown sandstone rock. Beyond it, this road ran into the main LondonâHorsham Road, and there was much more traffic. He put on speed. No one took any interest in him and he had plenty of time to think.
In fact, he knew little more than heâd told the police, and the one thing he had kept to himself would not have helped them. Jimmy Garfield, who had been a frequent visitor to Quinns before the accident to his spine, had telephoned Quinns ten days earlier, with a simple story. He said that he was being threatened by telephone and by letter, and that he didnât want to ask the police for help. Would Mannering assist him?
Mannering had been out of the country, with his wife.
Garfield had telephoned his flat last night, when Mannering had been home only for a day. The story then wasnât greatly different, except: âIâve had a load on my conscience for twenty years, Mannering, and I think itâs catching up with me,â Garfield had said. âTime an old man like me made retribution, eh? Like your help. Could be dangerous. Come and see me, will you?â
âIâm really sorry,â Mannering had said, âbut Iâm too busy for a week or more. I will, when â¦â
âIf you leave it, youâll be in time for the inquest,â the old man had said cryptically.
Had he meant an inquest on himself?
Joanna Woburn would be a long time getting over the effect of what had happened; Garfield might never recover; the contents of the flat box might never be found.
Face facts.
Since the attack on Garfield last night, Garfieldâs enemies had acted with a violent ruthlessness as effective as it was rare. The police werenât keyed-up to cope. Mannering saw it as a desperate, daring attempt to get some major prize. It had been skilfully planned, too. The old car, recently stolen; the men to ward off traffic; and another, fast car at hand, to take the men out of immediate danger.
Only he and Joanna Woburn had seen them.
He didnât take the danger from that seriously, then, although he didnât ignore it.
If Garfield recovered, he might learn much more.
If Garfield died, he might never know anything else about the case.
He could only guess â
That Garfieldâs enemies had meant to get the flat box at all costs, and having failed at the house, had planned the attack on Joanna â
Guessing she would have the box?
Or knowing.
If anyone else at the house had been spying on her, word might have been sent through to her attackers. It was even possible that someone knew that Jimmy Garfield had taken her into his confidence, or had seen her take that box.
If so, who?
And where did he, Mannering, come in? If he had a commission, it was to ease Garfieldâs conscience; and that might be much easier already.
He didnât see that there was much else he could do; certainly not now. The police were in full cry after the box and the âminiaturesâ; he didnât know a thing about them, so it was useless making inquiries through the trade. Except that he had saved Joanna Woburnâs life â and he told himself that was an exaggeration, for the police had arrived only a few minutes later. They had been following the girl, not dreaming of trouble on the road, only interested in finding out where she went to.
An old man, dying.
A young man, crippled and out of action for weeks.
A strikingly attractive woman with a strong sense of loyalty, presumably as much in the air as Mannering.
It wasnât the first and it wouldnât be the last unsatisfactory job. He felt sorry for Joanna Woburn, but she wasnât the type to feel sorry for herself for long. He began to whistle softly. If he had half a chance to help any of the people involved, heâd take it. Probably it would just fade out.
Â
He
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