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‘By the way, I put your new coat in the wardrobe.’
‘My coat?’
‘Yes. We found it in the back of the car when we collected it from the airport.’
‘But I didn’t take a coat with me,’ Steve said, puzzled.
‘Yes, you did, darling. Here it is.’ Temple slid the white door back on its runners, reached inside and took out an overcoat on a hanger.
He held the coat up for her to see. It was in classic style, of fawn cashmere, with a tie-belt and sleeves trimmed with leather buttons. What surprised him was the weight of the material.
‘That’s not my coat!’ Steve exclaimed.
‘But it is, Steve! It was in the back of your—’
‘I don’t care where it was! It’s not my coat!’
Temple found it hard to understand why she was so vehement in repudiating this fashionable garment.
‘Are you sure, dear?’
‘I’m positive!’ More quietly she asked: ‘Is there anything in the pockets?’
He carefully checked both pockets. ‘No, nothing.’
Steve pointed a finger towards the top of the coat. ‘There should be a maker’s name on the back of the collar somewhere.’
‘Yes, I’m just looking for it.’ Temple took the coat off the hanger and looked inside the collar. ‘Ah, here we are!’
He turned the label towards the light to read the name. ‘Margo…’
Superintendent Raine took his mackintosh off and handed it to Charlie, who hung it up in the little cloakroom. Through the closed door of the sitting-room he could hear someone playing the piano – one of Chopin’s Nocturnes. Despite his air of businesslike efficiency Raine was a sensitive man and a lover of music. From the style of the playing he was able to recognise a woman’s touch.
The music stopped when Charlie knocked on the door and went in to announce the visitor. A moment later Temple himself appeared.
‘Hello, Superintendent!’ he welcomed Raine warmly. ‘Come along in!’
The Temples’ coffee cups had been put back on the silver tray and a brandy glass was on the table beside Paul’s chair. The book he had been reading had been placed on the arm, with the cover uppermost. It was the novel that had recently won the Booker McConnell prize.
Steve had come out from behind the baby grand piano.
‘Good evening, Mrs Temple.’ Raine gave her a courtly bow. ‘You look better than you did a week ago.’
‘Yes,’ Steve smiled. ‘I’m fine now, thank you very much.’
‘I just happened to be passing and I thought I’d drop in and have a word with you.’
‘Glad to see you.’ Temple indicated a chair. ‘Sit down. Can I get you a drink?’
‘No, thank you. I’m afraid my day’s work is not done yet.’ Raine sat down, as usual leaning slightly forward. ‘Well, we don’t seem to have got very far during the past week. We’ve made enquiries about the coat, but we’ve drawn a blank. We’ve failed to find the owner, or even the shop where it was bought.’
‘What about the makers?’
‘We can’t even locate the makers. According to all accounts, there isn’t a coat firm called Margo – not in this country, at any rate.’
‘I see.’ Steve and Paul exchanged a glance. ‘Did you check with the airport people?’
‘Yes, and we’ve had no luck there either, I’m afraid. I suppose you haven’t had any bright ideas, Mr Temple?’
‘No, I’m afraid I haven’t, except that…Well, I think the people who kidnapped Steve were labouring under the delusion that I was just about to investigate a case of some kind.’
‘And you think the Mrs Temple incident was a warning to keep out?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘Well, that’s a possible explanation, I suppose,’ Raine conceded dubiously. ‘But what’s the case?’
‘You tell me.’ Temple tapped his pipe out and reached for the tobacco jar. ‘I never interfere in anything without an invitation. What’s your biggest headache at the moment?’
‘Oh, our biggest headache is The Fence – trying to find out who the devil he is. But we’ve had that headache for some time now. I doubt whether we’ll ever solve it.’
Steve had gone back to the piano stool and was leafing through some sheet music, obviously intending not to intrude on the conversation; but she was drawn into it in spite of herself.
‘What do you mean – The Fence?’
‘Well, you know what a fence is, Mrs Temple?’ Raine had to shift his position to face her.
‘Yes – a man who receives stolen property.’
‘That’s right. Well, during the past twelve months there’s been several robberies. I mean, really big stuff. The two jewellers in Leicester Square…the fur warehouse in Bond Street…’
‘Lord Renton’s place in Eaton Square,’ Temple put in, as Raine hesitated.
‘Yes, that’s right. Well, it’s our opinion that these particular jobs were all done…’
‘…by the same gang!’ Steve supplied, determined not to be outdone.
Raine laughed good-humouredly. ‘No, Mrs Temple. Nothing quite as simple as that. We think – in fact, we know that the various jobs have been done by different people. We feel pretty confident, however, that the stolen property was, in every case, handled by the same person.’
‘The Fence?’
‘Yes, Mrs Temple. So far we’ve failed to find out who this fence is – or where he operates from. But sooner or later we’ve got to find him, because, at the moment, he’s indirectly responsible for a great many of the robberies in this country.’
‘Then I can see why you’ve got to find him,’ Temple remarked drily.
‘Still, we’ve no reason for thinking – no proof, as it were that Mrs Temple’s experience had anything to do with The Fence.’
‘No, Superintendent,’ Temple said thoughtfully. ‘No proof.’
There was a short silence, but Raine made no move to go. ‘There was one thing I wanted to ask you. The day Mrs Temple disappeared you said something about a note – a telephone message – which was on the pad by the side of the bed.’
‘Yes, of course!’ Temple struck his brow with the flat of his hand. ‘I forgot all about that! There was a note, Steve. It said: “Tell P. about L.”’
‘Oh, that was Laura Stafford,’ Steve said dismissively. ‘She telephoned one morning and said she wanted to see you. She seemed awfully disappointed when I said you were in New York.’
‘Who’s Laura Stafford?’ Temple enquired.
‘She’s a journalist – or rather she was several years ago.’ Steve forsook the piano stool and moved over to the sofa. ‘We used to see quite a bit of each other when I worked in Fleet Street. Then she left and married a man called Kelburn.’
‘Kelburn?’ Temple echoed, with surprise. ‘George Kelburn?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Very wealthy. North country. She’s his second wife.’
‘That’s right.’ Steve leaned back and crossed her legs. Raine bent his head and dutifully studied his fingernails. ‘Anyway, when I said you were in New York she said she’d get in touch with you later. I thought nothing of it at the time, but a couple of days later I bumped into Laura in Freeman and Bentley’s and naturally, I mentioned the telephone call, and to my amazement she said she hadn’t ’phoned.’
Raine looked up sharply. ‘She said she hadn’t?’
‘That’s right, Superintendent. She said she certainly had no wish to consult Paul about anything.’ Steve turned to Temple, whose expression showed his scepticism. ‘Darling, why were you surprised when I mentioned the name Kelburn?’
‘Well, coming over on the ’plane a man called Langdon introduced himself to me. He works for George Kelburn. Apparently Kelburn’s having trouble with his daughter and he’s asked Langdon to try and sort it out.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of Miss Kelburn,’ Raine said meaningfully. ‘Julia, by name.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Always in the newspapers. She must be quite a handful, that young lady. I don’t envy Mr Langdon his assignment.’ He put his hands on his knees to push himself upright. ‘Well, I’ll be making a move. Glad you’re feeling better, Mrs Temple.’
Raine had been gone for an hour and Steve had announced her intention of going to bed early when the doorbell rang and they heard Charlie going to answer it. A few moments later his head came round the door.
‘What is it, Charlie?’
‘Are you in or out, Mr Temple?’
‘At a quick glance, I should say we’re in.’
‘Well, there’s a Mr Langdon would like to see you. Looks like a Yank to me.’
‘Yes – he is a Yank, as you so elegantly put it, Charlie. Show the gentleman in.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Langdon?’ Steve asked. ‘Is this the man you met on the ’plane?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did you ask him to call?’
‘Not in so many words, but I said if I could be of use any time I’d be pleased to see him.’
Like Raine, Langdon refused the offer of a drink, but accepted a chair. Steve resigned herself to being a listener to another of Temple’s interviews. She always admired his capacity for making people feel that a visit from them was just what he had been hoping for and that he had all the time in the world to listen to their confidences.
‘I’ve already had more than my share of drink this evening,’ Langdon said with a sigh. ‘Which isn’t surprising – considering.’
‘Why, is the Kelburn business getting you down?’
‘It certainly is.’
‘You’ve seen Julia, I take it?’
‘Yes, half a dozen times. It’s hopeless – she has every intention of doing precisely what she wants.’
‘And what about the young man she’s keen on – Tony Wyman?’
‘I went to see Wyman last night.’ An expression of distaste crossed Langdon’s face. ‘At The Hide and Seek. He completely denied that he and Julia were engaged. He just laughed when I said that Kelburn would pay him twenty-five grand not to see her again. He became quite offensive. Said he wouldn’t marry the girl if she was the last piece on earth. So far as he was concerned Kelburn could keep his twenty-five grand and his daughter too!’ Langdon sighed again.
‘What a charming young man!’
‘You can say that again, Mrs Temple. I wasn’t exactly enthralled by Master Wyman!’
‘Do you think he was telling the truth?’
‘I don’t know, Temple. He sounded convincing and yet it just doesn’t add up. Everyone I’ve spoken to swears he’s got his eye on her. Temple, I know this is a bit of a cheek, but do you think you could make one or two enquiries for me?’
Steve shot Temple a warning look, but he seemed to be more interested in refilling his pipe.
‘All right, Langdon, we’ll get on the grapevine and see what we can do.’
‘That’s mighty kind of you,’ Langdon said effusively. ‘I appreciate it, I really do.’
‘Then how about changing your mind and having a drink?’
As Steve turned away to hide her exasperation at Temple’s excessive hospitality, Langdon put his head on one side. ‘There’s nothing I’d like better.’
Temple raised his head from the pillow at the third ring of the telephone, but no sooner was he properly awake than it stopped.
‘Probably realised they were dialling the wrong number,’ Steve said beside him. He could tell from her voice that she had been lying awake.
‘What time is it?’
‘Struck three a few minutes ago.’
‘Couldn’t you get to sleep?’
‘I keep thinking of Laura Kelburn. It must be awful having a daughter like Julia. Paul, do you think she was lying when she said she hadn’t telephoned me?’
‘I can’t see why she—’ Paul stopped as the ’phone started ringing again.’ Who could be telephoning us at this hour?’
