Inspector Alleyn 3-Book Collection 9: Clutch of Constables, When in Rome, Tied Up in Tinsel

He now asked to see the passports of Mr Lazenby and the Hewsons and they were produced, Mr Lazenby taking the opportunity to complain about the treatment of Australian visitors at British Customs. Mr Tillottson said the passports would be returned and shifted his feet about as a preface to rising.

It was now that Mr Lazenby suddenly said: ‘I’m puzzled.’ And Troy thought ‘Here we go.’

‘I’d like to ask,’ he said, and he seemed to be looking at her, ‘just how the police have come by some of their information. When did the Superintendent find the opportunity to make the necessary inquiries? To the best of my belief, from the time he got here until this present moment, the Superintendent has been on The River or here in this boat. If you don’t object, Superintendent, I think this calls for an explanation. Just to keep the record straight.’

‘Blimey, chum, you’re right!’ Mr Pollock exclaimed and the Hewsons broke into a little paean of agreement. They all stared at Troy.

Mr Tillottson made an almost instant recovery. He looked straight before him and said that he happened to receive information about Miss Rickerby-Carrick’s mode of departure and had thought it unusual enough to warrant a routine inquiry.

And from whom, if the Superintendent didn’t mind, Mr Lazenby persisted, had he received this information.

Troy heard herself, as if it were with somebody else’s voice, saying: ‘It was from me. I think you all know I called at the police station at Tollardwark. I happened in the course of conversation to say something about Miss Rickerby-Carrick’s unexpected departure.’

‘Quite so,’ said Mr Tillottson. ‘That is correct.’

‘And I imagine,’ Caley Bard said angrily, ‘you have no objections to that perfectly reasonable explanation, Mr Lazenby.’

‘Certainly not. By no means. One only wanted to know.’

‘And now one does know one may as well pipe down.’

‘There’s no call to take that tone,’ Mr Pollock said. ‘We didn’t mean anything personal.’

‘Then what the hell did you mean?’

‘Gentlemen!’ Mr Tillottson almost shouted and they subsided. ‘A statement,’ he said, ‘will be typed on the lines of your information. You will be asked to look it over and if you find it correct, to sign it. I have only one other remark to make, ladies and gentlemen. As you have already been informed, we have Superintendent Alleyn, CID with us. Mr Alleyn came, you might say, on unofficial business.’ Here Mr Tillottson ducked his head at Troy, ‘But I don’t have to tell him we’ll be very glad of his advice in a matter which I’m sure everybody wants to see cleared up to the satisfaction of all concerned. Thank you.’

Having wound himself into a cocoon of generalities Mr Tillottson added that as the afternoon was rather close he was sure they would all like a breath of air. Upon this hint the passengers retired above. Troy after a look from Alleyn went with them. She noticed that Dr Natouche remained below.

It seemed to her that the Hewsons and Mr Lazenby and Mr Pollock were in two minds as to what attitude they would adopt towards her. After a short and uncomfortable silence, Mr Lazenby settled this problem by bearing down upon her with his widest smile.

‘Happy now, Mrs Alleyn?’ he fluted. ‘I’ll bet! And I must say, without, I hope, being uncharitable, we all ought to congratulate ourselves on your husband’s arrival. Really,’ Mr Lazenby said, looking – or seeming to look – about him, ‘it would almost seem that he was Sent.’

It was from this moment, that Troy began to suspect Mr Lazenby, in spite of the Bishop of Norminster, of not being a clergyman.

He had sparked off a popularity poll in favour of Troy. Miss Hewson said that maybe she wasn’t qualified to speak but she certainly did not know what was with this cop and for her money the sooner Alleyn set up a regular investigation the better she’d feel and Mr Pollock hurriedly agreed.

Caley Bard watched this demonstration with a scarcely veiled expression of glee. He strolled over to Troy and said: ‘We don’t know yet, though, or do we, if the celebrated husband is going to act.’

‘I’m sure I don’t,’ she said. ‘They have to be asked. They don’t just waltz in because they happen to be on the spot.’

‘I suppose you’re enchanted to see him.’

‘Of course I am.’

‘That monumental creature seemed to indicate a collaboration, didn’t you think?’

‘Well, yes. But it’d all be by arrangement with head office.’

‘Hallo,’ he said, ‘we’re going through the lock.’

‘Thank God!’ Troy ejaculated.

It would be something – it would be a great deal – to get out of that region of polluted foam. Troy had been unable to look at The River since she came on deck.

They slipped into the clear dark waters, the sluice-gates were shut, the paddles set, and the familiar slow ascent began. She moved to the after-end of the Zodiac and Caley Bard joined her there.

‘I don’t know if it has occurred to you,’ he said, ‘that everybody is cutting dead the obvious inference.’

‘Inference?’

‘Well – question if you prefer. Aren’t we all asking ourselves whether the ebullient Hay has been made away with?’

After a pause, Troy said: ‘I suppose so.’

‘Well, of course we are. We’d be certifiable if we didn’t. Do you mind talking about it?’

‘I think it’s worse not to do so.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. Have you heard what they found?’

‘In The River?’

‘Yes.’

‘I did hear a good deal. In my cabin.’

‘I was on deck. I saw.’

‘How horrible,’ said Troy.

But she was not as deeply horrified as she might have been because her attention was riveted by a pair of large, neat and highly polished boots and decent iron-grey trousers on the rim of the lock above her. They looked familiar. She tilted her head back and was rewarded by a worm’s-eye view in violent perspective of the edge of a jacket, the modest swell of a stomach, the underneath of a massive chin, a pair of nostrils and the brim of a hat.

As the Zodiac quietly rose in the lock, these items resolved themselves into an unmistakable whole.

‘Well,’ Troy thought, ‘this settles it. It’s a case,’ and when she found herself sufficiently elevated to do so without absurd contortion, she addressed herself to the person now revealed.

‘Hallo, Br’er Fox,’ she said.

IV

‘What was said,’ Fox explained, ‘was this. Tillottson’s asked for us to come in. He rang the Department on finding the body. The AC said that as you’ve been in on this Jampot thing from the time it came our way, the only sensible course is for you to follow it up. Regardless, as it were. And I’ve been shot up here by plane to act as your support and to let you know how things stand on my file. Which is a nice way of saying how big a bloody fool I’ve been made to look by this expert.’

‘But who says this is a Jampot affair, may I ask?’ Alleyn crossly interjected.

‘The AC works it out that this job up here, this river job, ought properly to be regarded as a possible lead on Foljambe. On account of the Andropulos connection. Having been made a monkey of,’ Fox added with feeling, ‘by a faked-up false scent to Paris, I don’t say I reacted with enthusiasm to his theories but you have to look at these things with what I’ve heard you call a disparate eye.’

‘I entirely agree. And that, under the circumstances is something I cannot be expected to do. Look here, Fox. Here’s Troy, one of a group of people who, if this woman was murdered, and I’ll bet she was, come into the field of police investigation: right?’