trouble. Never answered.”
“What did she say?”
“Can’t remember. Some stuff. Always asking me about things.” He turned bleary eyes to Manners. “You’re as bad as she was, don’t seem to understand. I just want to be left alone, that’s all. Let them run everything, Percy, Melicent. Just leave me alone.” He looked at the painting, in which hundreds of tiny figures cowered under an enormous rock which was being split by lightning. Some vast heavenly presence filled the sky.
“That’s a fine picture. I like looking at it.”
Manners’s heels positively clattered as he went down the stairs, he went so fast across the hall and out to the car that Jones could hardly keep up with him. In the car, as they drove back, he spoke with a bitterness the sergeant had never heard in his voice. “The poor little devil, slung out to look after herself before she was sixteen. With a mother and father like that, what chance had she got? It would have been a blessing for her if she’d been brought up in a slum.”
Chapter Three
Some of the Witnesses
When Manners returned to the Yard he found Ryan waiting for him. The inspector had the glint of achievement in his eye as he told of his conversations with Kabanga and Susan Strong. Manners was unimpressed, and said so.
“That’s not the end of it. Kabanga lives in Surrey, in a place called The Dell, sort of a high-class housing estate, only they don’t call ’em that out there. She stayed there with him once or twice. Right? Now, a chap called—” Ryan looked at a memo pad, “—Paget has been on the blower to say that he remembers seeing this girl at a party there last Friday. She was with Kabanga, called herself Sylvia, he doesn’t know her other name—”
“Sylvia Gresham. Estelle Simpson was her stage name or whatever you like to call it.”
“Gresham, all right. At this party the girl had some sort of row with a man named Grundy. Paget says she smacked his face.”
“Yes. I still don’t see any cause for excitement.”
“Wait. We’re not at the end yet. You know Jones left someone checking up on that idea of his about the strip cartoon. Here’s the result.”
Manners took the memorandum Ryan handed to him, read:
Subject. Guffy McTuffie strip cartoon. This appears six days a week in Daily Blade, has done so for three years. Have talked to editor, Mr Clacton, who says it was recently decided to rest the series. Decision was communicated yesterday to T Werner and S Grundy, who are jointly responsible for it.
T Werner and S Grundy are partners in AdArts, firm of advertising art agents, also produce Guffy cartoons. Understand Grundy has ideas, Werner is artist, but need to check. Suggest investigation both men, see if associates of Estelle Simpson.
Manners read and re-read it. “Grundy was at the party.”
“Right. And the girl smacked his face. And he lives in The Dell. A visit is called for, don’t you think? Here are two things that could have happened. One, Kabanga killed her because he found out she was having an affair with Grundy. His club is only ten minutes’ walk away from her flat, it’s perfectly possible. Two, and I like this better, she was a tom. Grundy is an old client and when she meets him she tries to put the black on him, that’s what causes the trouble at the party. She increases the pressure, threatens to tell his wife, he kills her.” Manners smiled faintly, said nothing. “I know, theorising without facts. Still, it’s worth seeing Grundy and this Paget, who sounds a nasty bit of work by the way.”
“Yes, you’re right.” He was still thinking of Sylvia Gresham’s parents, and the Home of Supra Peace.
“Whose manor is it?”
“Bobby Clavering’s.”
Five minutes later Manners was talking to Superintendent Robert Clavering, chief of the CID in the district where The Dell was to be found. The call was made partly as a matter of courtesy, partly in the hope of obtaining information.
“What did she say?”
“Can’t remember. Some stuff. Always asking me about things.” He turned bleary eyes to Manners. “You’re as bad as she was, don’t seem to understand. I just want to be left alone, that’s all. Let them run everything, Percy, Melicent. Just leave me alone.” He looked at the painting, in which hundreds of tiny figures cowered under an enormous rock which was being split by lightning. Some vast heavenly presence filled the sky.
“That’s a fine picture. I like looking at it.”
Manners’s heels positively clattered as he went down the stairs, he went so fast across the hall and out to the car that Jones could hardly keep up with him. In the car, as they drove back, he spoke with a bitterness the sergeant had never heard in his voice. “The poor little devil, slung out to look after herself before she was sixteen. With a mother and father like that, what chance had she got? It would have been a blessing for her if she’d been brought up in a slum.”
Chapter Three
Some of the Witnesses
When Manners returned to the Yard he found Ryan waiting for him. The inspector had the glint of achievement in his eye as he told of his conversations with Kabanga and Susan Strong. Manners was unimpressed, and said so.
“That’s not the end of it. Kabanga lives in Surrey, in a place called The Dell, sort of a high-class housing estate, only they don’t call ’em that out there. She stayed there with him once or twice. Right? Now, a chap called—” Ryan looked at a memo pad, “—Paget has been on the blower to say that he remembers seeing this girl at a party there last Friday. She was with Kabanga, called herself Sylvia, he doesn’t know her other name—”
“Sylvia Gresham. Estelle Simpson was her stage name or whatever you like to call it.”
“Gresham, all right. At this party the girl had some sort of row with a man named Grundy. Paget says she smacked his face.”
“Yes. I still don’t see any cause for excitement.”
“Wait. We’re not at the end yet. You know Jones left someone checking up on that idea of his about the strip cartoon. Here’s the result.”
Manners took the memorandum Ryan handed to him, read:
Subject. Guffy McTuffie strip cartoon. This appears six days a week in Daily Blade, has done so for three years. Have talked to editor, Mr Clacton, who says it was recently decided to rest the series. Decision was communicated yesterday to T Werner and S Grundy, who are jointly responsible for it.
T Werner and S Grundy are partners in AdArts, firm of advertising art agents, also produce Guffy cartoons. Understand Grundy has ideas, Werner is artist, but need to check. Suggest investigation both men, see if associates of Estelle Simpson.
Manners read and re-read it. “Grundy was at the party.”
“Right. And the girl smacked his face. And he lives in The Dell. A visit is called for, don’t you think? Here are two things that could have happened. One, Kabanga killed her because he found out she was having an affair with Grundy. His club is only ten minutes’ walk away from her flat, it’s perfectly possible. Two, and I like this better, she was a tom. Grundy is an old client and when she meets him she tries to put the black on him, that’s what causes the trouble at the party. She increases the pressure, threatens to tell his wife, he kills her.” Manners smiled faintly, said nothing. “I know, theorising without facts. Still, it’s worth seeing Grundy and this Paget, who sounds a nasty bit of work by the way.”
“Yes, you’re right.” He was still thinking of Sylvia Gresham’s parents, and the Home of Supra Peace.
“Whose manor is it?”
“Bobby Clavering’s.”
Five minutes later Manners was talking to Superintendent Robert Clavering, chief of the CID in the district where The Dell was to be found. The call was made partly as a matter of courtesy, partly in the hope of obtaining information.
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