The Enemy

‘Ashton isn’t at his office?’

‘No, and he isn’t at home, either.’

I thought about it. In the course of his business Ashton might be anywhere in the Home Counties; he might even have gone to London. And there was nothing to say that Benson was a prisoner in the house; he had to go out some time. All the same, I didn’t like it.

I said, ‘I’m going to the house. Come on, Larry.’ I turned to Brent. ‘And you stick close to Penny Ashton. For Christ’s sake, don’t lose her.’

I drove a little faster than I should on the way to Ashton’s place, and when I got there I leaned on the bell-push until Willis arrived wearing an annoyed expression. ‘There’s no one in,’ he said abruptly.

‘I want to make sure of that. Let me in.’ He hesitated and then opened the gate reluctantly and I drove up to the house.

Larry said, ‘He’s a surly devil.’

‘But reliable, I’d say.’ I stopped before the front door, got out, and rang the bell. It was a fair time before the door opened and I was confronted by the maid who looked surprised to see me. ‘Oh, Mr Jaggard, Miss Penny’s not here. She’s at the hospital.’

‘I know. Mr Ashton’s not in?’

‘No, he’s out, too.’

‘What about Benson?’

‘I haven’t seen him all morning.’

I said, ‘Mind if we come in? I’d like to use the telephone.’

In response she opened the door wider. Larry and I walked into the hall, and I said, ‘You’re Mary Cope, aren’t you?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Have you seen either Mr Ashton or Benson at all today?’

‘No, sir.’

‘When was the last time you saw them?’

‘Well, not really to see,’ she said. ‘But they were in the study last night; I heard them talking. That would be about nine o’clock. Just before, really, because I was going up to my room to catch the nine o’clock news and I switched on five minutes early.’ She paused, wondering if she was right in talking of the doings of the family. After all, I hadn’t been around all that long. She said nervously, ‘Is this anything to do with what happened to Miss Gillian?’

‘It could be.’

‘Mr Ashton’s bed wasn’t slept in,’ she volunteered.

I glanced at Larry who raised his eyebrows. ‘What about Benson’s bed?’

‘I haven’t looked – but he always makes up his own bed.’

‘I see. I’ll use the telephone if I may.’

I rang the hospital, asking for Penny, and told the operator she’d be in or near the intensive care unit. It was a long time before she came on the line. ‘I hope you haven’t waited long,’ she said. ‘I slipped away for a cup of tea. Gillian’s much better, Malcolm; she’s talking to Honnister now, and she doesn’t mind a bit.’

I said, ‘Did you tell your father about us last night?’

‘No. He’d gone to bed when I got in.’

‘Did you tell him this morning?’

‘No. I slept late and he’d gone out when I got up. I expect Mary made breakfast for him.’

I didn’t comment on that. ‘When did you last see Benson?’

Her voice was suddenly wary. ‘What’s the matter, Malcolm? What’s going on?’

I said, ‘Look, Penny, I’m at your house. I’d like you to come home because I want to talk to you about something. I expect Honnister will be at the hospital for quite some time, and there’s nothing you can do there.’

‘There’s something wrong, isn’t there?’ she said.

‘Not really. I’ll tell you when I see you.’

‘I’m coming now.’ She rang off.

I put down the receiver and looked around, to see Mary Cope regarding me curiously from the other end of the hall. I jerked my head at Larry and gave him my keys. ‘In the special compartment of my car you’ll find a file on Ashton. There’s a list of the cars he owns – on page five, I think. Nipround to the garage and see what’s missing. Then go down to the gate and ask Willis what time Ashton and Benson left here.’

He went quickly and I walked into Ashton’s study. On his desk were two envelopes; one addressed to Penny and the other to me. I picked up mine and broke the seal.

The note might have been enigmatic to anyone else, but to me it was as clear as crystal. It read:

My dear Malcolm,

You are far too intelligent a man not to have seen what I was driving at in our more recent conversations. You may be acquainted with the French proverb: Celui qui a trouvé un bon gendre a gagné un fils; mais celui qui en a recontré un mauvais a perdu une fille.

Marry Penny with my blessing and make her happy – but, for her sake, be a bad son-in-law.

Yours,

George Ashton.

I sat down heavily and had a queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach because I knew we’d botched the job. I picked up the telephone to ring Ogilivie.

ELEVEN (#ulink_ac20bd4f-a4da-5faf-abf3-b24e50fc579f)

I didn’t wrap it up for him. ‘Our pigeons have flown the coop,’ I said baldly.

He was incredulous. ‘What! All of them?’

‘Just the two cock birds.’

He was silent for a moment, then said slowly, ‘My fault, I’m afraid. I ought to have given you your team yesterday. How certain are you?’

‘He left me a note.’ I read it out.