Read Online Play to the End by Robert Goddard - Free Book Online Page B

back, a wallet of photographs in his hand. He sat down and carefully laid the contents out on the table next to the manuscript. A photograph, he'd said, but he'd actually used an entire roll of 24 on assorted middle-distance views of Wickhurst Manor.

    A red-brick neo-Georgian residence of considerable size and style, the place is, viewed from any angle, absurdly large for two people to live in. Two matching pedimented bays with tall sash windows flank the central block, which boasts a four-columned portico to the entrance reached across a paved and pot-planted terrace. There are wings to the rear, one connected to a single-storey extension that doubles back on itself to enclose what looks like a kitchen garden. There's a large lawn to the rear, bordered by trees, a smaller one to the front, bisected by a curving drive. At the opposite end of the house from the kitchen garden there's a car park, occupied in most of the pictures by ten or twelve vehicles.

    The trees are in full leaf. Sunlight gleams on the car roofs and picks out the white curls of croquet hoops on the rear lawn. This was Wickhurst Manor in high summer. When the photographer, I reflected, would find camouflage easiest to come by.

    "I took most of them from the public right of way," said Derek. I noted his delicate use of the word 'most'. "The house was built in nineteen twenty-eight by Mr. Colborn's grandfather, on the ruins of the medieval manor. The family had lived in Brighton until then, in one of the villas along Preston Park Avenue. Business was obviously booming, though Colbonite's wage rates were still rock bottom at the time."

    "What business is Colborn in now?"

    "General investment. Moving his money around to make the most out of it, day to day. And advising other people on how to do the same. Hence the staff. It's an intensive operation. Mr. Colborn believes in capitalizing on any advantage, however slight."

    "Perhaps he needs to, to maintain this place."

    "Perhaps so."

    "Handy for you, the right of way."

    "Rights of way are meant to be handy. I believe in using them."

    "I'm sure you do."

    "The path leads down from Devil's Dyke, crosses the Fulking road, cuts through the woods near Wickhurst and heads north-west towards Henfield."

    "Sounds like you're giving me directions, Derek."

    "Well, if you need directions '

    "I'll ask." I stood up. "Now, I'd better be going."

    "Right." Derek gathered the photographs and replaced them in the wallet. "By the way .. ." He looked at me uncertainly. "Does your offer of a ticket for Wednesday night still stand?"

    I smiled. "Of course. Unless the stunt you've pulled today goads the management into withdrawing my privileges."

    "Gosh." His eyes widened in horror, causing his glasses to slide halfway down his nose. "Do you think it might?"

    "On balance ..." I affected indifference. "Probably not."

    I left chez Oswin with The Plastic Men in a Sainsbury's carrier bag and the dregs of the evening ahead of me. The theatre would be turning out shortly. Brian Sallis had probably left a dozen messages on my mobile, none of which I wanted to hear. Nor was I eager to return to the Sea Air where doubtless more messages awaited me any sooner than I had to.
    I dropped into a pub halfway down London Road and weighed my options over a scotch. "When do you next intend to speak to your wife?" Derek had asked. It was a good question, given that I knew she'd want to be told what I'd accomplished as soon as possible. And there was only one answer. I finished the scotch in one and headed for the taxi rank at the railway station.

    Half an hour later, I was out in the colder, darker world beyond the downs, pressing a button next to an intercom grille set in one of the pillars supporting the high black-railed gates at the head of the drive leading to Wickhurst Manor.

    There was a crackle. Then I heard Jenny's voice, nervously pitched.
    "Yes?"

    "It's me, Jenny."

    "Toby?"

    "Yes."

    "What are you doing here?"

    "Can I come