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Paul Temple and the Margo Mystery
Francis Durbridge
What could possibly connect expensive Margo ‘designer’ coats, an industrialist, a petrified celebrity, and a psychiatrist with a peculiar secretary?A potent murder plot is underway when a terrifying warning is received on the grounds of a funfair. It’s up to Paul to unravel a disturbing set of mysteries that turns this funhouse into a deadly death trap
FRANCIS DURBRIDGE
Paul Temple and the Margo Mystery
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by
Hodder & Stoughton 1986
Copyright © Francis Durbridge 1986
All rights reserved
Francis Durbridge has asserted his right under the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover image © Shutterstock.com
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008125769
Ebook Edition © November 2015 ISBN: 9780008125776
Version: 2016-04-29
Contents
Cover (#uc5aa1daf-2bde-5297-8a07-4e055cdabbba)
Title Page (#uc2841c4d-3202-5cfb-82fd-a41572f20498)
Copyright (#ubdd5796e-e87a-55a0-b6ef-a5f797ac297e)
CHAPTER I: The Coat (#u1296e73a-a6cd-59c9-a4dc-593ea49ae2cc)
CHAPTER II: Dead Lucky (#ub533734c-5256-5d1c-aeb5-acaaa754fe74)
CHAPTER III: A Change of Mind (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER IV: Bill Fletcher’s Story (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER V: Breakwater House (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER VI: The Late Tony Wyman (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER VII: A Time to Worry (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER VIII: The Visitor (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also in This Series (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER I (#uc982a306-f805-51d3-814a-b020874f1507)
The Coat (#uc982a306-f805-51d3-814a-b020874f1507)
Thanks to a cab driver with the nerve of a Grand Prix racer Paul Temple caught the morning flight from New York to London by the skin of his teeth. As a Concorde passenger he received VIP treatment and was hustled through the departure formalities. Less than an hour after leaving his hotel on Fifth Avenue he was in his window seat watching John F. Kennedy Airport drop rapidly away as Concorde soared towards her cruising height. Some other passengers must have cut things even finer, for the seat beside him had remained empty.
He listened patiently to the stewardess going through the familiar demonstration of the emergency equipment, waiting for the illuminated sign to be switched off so that he could unfasten his safety belt. As the Captain finished his reassuring announcement he made his way forward to put through the telephone call to London which he had booked on boarding.
One of the stewardesses, who had put on her in-flight overall, stood aside to let him pass. Her smile was not purely automatic. It was a pleasure to see someone whose style matched that of the aircraft. Temple, with his well-cut clothes, tall build and clean-cut features looked as British as the Rolls-Royce engines that were driving them through the air faster than a bullet leaving a rifle.
Temple’s decision to return home had been made last thing the evening before and his wife Steve would need some warning that he would be arriving two days early.
When he returned to his seat he found that a youngish man had ensconced himself in the empty place. He smiled apologetically and swung his knees sideways to let Temple pass.
‘I hope you don’t mind. I saw that this seat was empty.’ The accent was American, but suggestive of Boston rather than the Bronx.
‘Not at all,’ Temple said, removing The New York Times from his seat before he sat down. ‘I thought someone must have missed the plane.’
‘Oh, I have a seat further back. I flew in from California overnight and had a couple of hours’ wait at Kennedy. Nice to think we’ll be in London just about the same time as we left New York. Your Concorde sure is a fantastic aircraft.’
‘Yes, and this new telephone link by satellite is a great advantage. I’ve just been talking to my wife.’
‘Mrs Temple doesn’t come on these trips with you?’ The man laughed when he saw Temple’s surprise. ‘You don’t remember me? My name’s Langdon. Mike Langdon. We met in Hollywood, Mr Temple.’
‘Did we?’ Temple turned to look at his neighbour more closely. He was wearing a lightweight suit and his confident manner was that of a hard-thrusting businessman who does not mind cutting a few corners to achieve his targets. His dark curly hair was cut close to his head and he must have found time to shave during his wait at Kennedy, for his cheeks were smooth. Temple could often tell as much about a person from his hands as from his facial features, but Langdon held his hands firmly folded in his lap as if determined to keep them strictly under control.
‘You don’t remember?’
‘I’m sorry.’ Langdon was holding his gaze. ‘I’ve met so many people during these past weeks—’
‘Yes, of course.’ Langdon smiled, remembering some scene that Temple had forgotten. ‘I was at that party the film people gave you – me and about two hundred others.’
‘Yes.’ Temple smiled in reply. ‘That was quite a party, wasn’t it?’
‘It sure was.’
‘Are you in the film business, Mr Langdon?’
‘No.’ Langdon glanced down to adjust the cuffs of his shirt, making sure that they protruded just one quarter of an inch. ‘I’m with a publishing firm in New York, Talbot and Ryder. It’s only a small outfit, but we do very nicely. I’m sorry we don’t have your books on our list, Mr Temple, but I guess we can’t afford the advances the big boys put up. How did the lecture tour go?’
‘Oh, very well, thank you, but it was a bit wearing at times.’
‘I’ll bet!’ Langdon agreed emphatically. ‘Our authors hate ’em. Still, they’re first-rate publicity.’
The conversation was interrupted as two stewardesses came along with the Concorde ration of vintage champagne. Langdon shook his head and insisted on a Scotch on the rocks.
‘Is this your first trip to Europe?’ Temple enquired, savouring his Veuve Clicquot. The aircraft had climbed through cloud and was now flying over a cotton-wool landscape under blue skies.
‘No. I’ve been over many times before. I was in Paris two weeks ago.’ Langdon turned sideways in his seat, swirling the ice round in his glass. Temple sensed that he was now about to learn why Langdon had wanted to sit beside him. ‘Mr Temple, have you heard of a young man called Tony Wyman?’
‘No, I don’t think so. Should I have done?’
‘Well, I understand he’s fairly well-known in your country. He’s a pop singer.’
‘Tony Wyman?’ Temple shook his head. ‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘No.’ Langdon gave a short laugh. ‘And I doubt whether he’ll turn out to be one, either.’ He eased a little closer and leant his forearm on the armrest between them. ‘Mr Temple, I’ve got quite a problem on my hands and I’d sure like to talk about it. Is that okay by you?’
‘Why, yes.’ Temple, who was used to this kind of approach, smiled wryly. ‘Go ahead.’
‘About two years ago my firm was taken over by an Englishman called George Kelburn. If you don’t know Kelburn personally, you’ve probably read about him.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of Kelburn. He’s a north-country chap, reputed to be worth millions.’
‘That’s right. Well, when Kelburn took our firm over he made me the Number One boy. He’s a blunt, ruthless sort of guy, but we’ve always got on well together.’
Temple thought Langdon looked as if he was well able to handle a blunt, ruthless sort of guy.
‘He’d be a good deal older than you?’
‘Yes, he’s about sixty, maybe sixty-two or three. I’m not sure.’
Langdon screwed his eyes up against a sudden dazzle. As the plane banked the sunlight was reflected into the cabin off its gleaming wing.
‘Go on, Mr Langdon,’ Temple prompted.
‘Well, Kelburn’s first wife died some years ago and he married again – a woman a lot younger than himself. He has a daughter, Julia, by his first wife. Julia’s twenty-one – young, attractive and hopelessly spoilt.’
‘Not an unusual story,’ said Temple with a smile.
‘No, I suppose not, but – well, to cut a long story short, Julia’s got herself tangled up with this night-club singer, Tony Wyman, and she’s told her father that she intends to marry the guy.’
‘And Kelburn’s against it?’
‘Against it?’ Langdon looked deadly serious. ‘Kelburn’s going to stop that marriage if it’s the last thing he does.’
‘Yes, but – how do you fit into all this, Mr Langdon? If you’re just a business associate of Kelburn’s…’
‘That’s just the point,’ Langdon interrupted, with exasperation. ‘I don’t fit into it! But Kelburn sent me an SOS, and there was nothing I could do about it.’
‘You mean, he wants you to try and influence her to…’
‘Exactly! Julia and I have always got on well together, so he wants me to talk to the kid and try to persuade her to throw the boyfriend over.’
‘Do you think you’ve got much chance?’
‘None.’ Langdon shook his head morosely. ‘I’ve got no special influence with her, and according to all accounts she’s nuts about this Tony Wyman.’
‘You seem to be in quite a spot.’
‘You can say that again! Well, you’re used to other people’s troubles, Mr Temple! What would you do if you were in my shoes?’
Temple had warmed to Langdon, whose frank helplessness was rather disarming. The problem was a pleasantly banal one, after the murders and other vicious crimes which he was usually called on to solve. ‘Frankly, I don’t know what I’d do.’
‘If I refuse to help Kelburn he’ll put me on the spot businesswise – there’s no doubt about that, I know Kelburn. On the other hand, if I get mixed up in it and make a mess of things, which is more than likely, it isn’t going to do me any good either.’
A stewardess was moving back along the cabin, collecting the empty glasses. Temple finished his champagne and placed the glass on the folding table ready for her.
‘And how does Kelburn’s wife react to all this?’
‘Oh, Laura takes the point of view that Julia’s twenty-one and she’ll do what she likes, anyway.’
‘I see.’
‘This whole business has turned up at a very awkward moment, so far as I’m concerned. I’ve had a hectic time just lately – been in ten countries in two months, and right now I’m ready for a holiday, not a first-class family squabble.’
‘Well, there’s no point in anticipating trouble, Mr Langdon,’ Temple told him reassuringly. ‘Perhaps when you get to London you’ll find the situation has straightened itself out.’
‘I certainly hope so.’
‘Anyway, I’m in the ’phone book. If you feel I can help you at any time, give me a ring.’
‘Well, now, that’s very kind of you, Mr Temple.’ Obviously delighted, Langdon stretched out his free hand and insisted on shaking Temple’s. ‘I do appreciate it, sir. I certainly do!’
The stewardess leant across him to pick up Temple’s glass. ‘Will you be returning to your seat, sir?’ she enquired, ‘or remaining here? We shall shortly be serving lunch.’
