The Inscrutable Charlie Muffin by Brian Freemantle Page B

sufficiently to send you all the way here?’
    ‘You’d better believe it,’ said Jones glibly.
    But I don’t, thought Charlie. It would be wrong to let the disbelief be too obvious.
    ‘So what are you going to do?’ he repeated. It was time to attempt some insurance of his own. Or at least as much protection as possible.
    Jones returned to his chair, apparently realising the failure of his wanderings to irritate Charlie.
    ‘Like you, I’m stuck with the official version,’ said the American.
    ‘But I don’t accept it. What about you?’
    ‘I like your story better than Johnson’s,’ conceded Jones.
    ‘Why not ask Johnson’s help?’ suggested Charlie. ‘He might change his mind if he got a second request so quickly.’
    Jones made a dismissive gesture with his well-kept hands.
    ‘He’d know it originated from you. And he didn’t strike me as a man prepared to change his mind very often.’
    ‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Charlie. About now, he decided.
    ‘We could work together,’ said Jones, promptly on cue.
    Charlie maintained his relaxed pose, smiling across at the other man. Jones had realised his earlier mistake.
    ‘You’re welcome to anything I learn,’ promised Charlie. ‘And if you come up with anything, I’d like to know about it.’
    ‘I was actually thinking of something closer,’ said Jones.
    I know you were, thought Charlie. Aloud, he said, ‘I was never much for teamwork.’
    ‘We could both benefit,’ Jones argued.
    He already had, Charlie decided. Having led Jones into making the suggestion, then rejecting it, he would know from the closeness of the man’s attention just how strong Jones’s uncertainty of him remained. Which was the maximum insurance for which he could hope.
    ‘Or get in each other’s way,’ said Charlie. ‘I think it’s better we work independently. But perhaps exchange what we come up with.’
    ‘So you’re a loner?’
    ‘Every time.’
    ‘How many times have there been?’
    ‘What?’ said Charlie, momentarily confused by the question.
    ‘How long have you worked for insurance companies?’
    ‘Must be twenty years,’ assured Charlie, wanting to change position in the chair but knowing the other man would recognise the nervousness it would betray.
    ‘Long as that?’
    ‘Hardly entrust a £6,000,000 investigation to a newcomer, would they?’
    ‘Not unless he had particular qualities … like being able to see something that the police don’t regard as unusual.’
    ‘Seemed obvious, like I told you.’
    ‘Sure,’ agreed Jones. ‘You told me.’
    Charlie waited, but the American didn’t continue. The man was letting the silence build up, trying to disturb him as he had attempted with the pointless meandering around the suite.
    Remembering the way the encounter had been forced upon him, to become annoyed would be entirely natural, realised Charlie, just in time.
    ‘Right,’ he said positively, standing up. ‘If there’s nothing more with which I can help you at the moment …’
    ‘If you’re quite sure there isn’t?’ interrupted Jones, making his most direct approach since they had begun talking.
    ‘And I have a funeral to arrange,’ continued Charlie, refusing to respond to the innuendo.
    Once more Jones stood, accepting his dismissal.
    ‘Kind of you to let me barge in like this.’
    ‘No trouble at all,’ said Charlie.
    ‘We’ll keep in touch.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘I’m at the Peninsula.’
    ‘I’ll remember that.’
    ‘Damned clever of you, seeing the flaw in Johnson’s case,’ reiterated Jones, shaking his head in feigned admiration and wanting to prolong the meeting as much as possible.
    Now it was Charlie’s turn to use silence.
    ‘I’ll get along then,’ said Jones finally.
    ‘Yes,’ Charlie encouraged him.
    Charlie stood unmoving for several moments after the door had closed behind the American. Then he went to the bar. The bottle vibrated against the glass edge as he splashed the whisky out,