The Golden Deed Page 6

  ‘I would – but I don’t mind telling you. It was three or four years ago. I was stationed in Kenya, and so was Lancaster. We were good pals. He had a private fortune, lucky chap! Anyway, I got a notion to fix myself up with a bit of property out there as a speculation – nice farmhouse. Everyone said it was bound to go up in value when we’d smashed the Mau Mau. Lancaster lent me most of the dough, and I bought it. Then the Mau Mau burned the place down! So I’d got a debt, and nothing to show for it. And that’s all there is to it.’

  ‘Wasn’t the property insured?’

  ‘Not against the Mau Mau, no. I thought it was, but it wasn’t.’

  ‘Didn’t Colonel Lancaster take a mortgage on the place?’

  ‘No, he just gave me a cheque. He was that sort of chap.’

  ‘It was certainly a very friendly thing to do.’

  ‘Oh, I paid him a good rate of interest, of course.’

  ‘Out of your Army salary?’

  ‘Sure!’

  ‘That must have been a bit of a strain.’

  ‘It was, but I managed it.’

  ‘And now he’s asking for the whole capital back?’

  ‘That’s right. Wants it urgently.’

  ‘Would you have any objection to showing me the letter he wrote you?’

  ‘Well, really … ! Are you calling me a liar?’

  ‘Not at all,’ Mellanby said mildly. ‘It’s just that I’d like to see what he says.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry – you can’t. I was so damned annoyed about the whole thing I tore it up and threw it away. Chucked it over a hedge somewhere.’

  ‘That’s a pity … How did he know you were staying here, by the way?’

  ‘I wrote to him the other day, out of pure good nature – told him I’d got promising plans and hoped to start paying off the loan pretty soon. I thought it would keep him sweet – but it merely set him off.’

  Mellanby nodded. ‘Of course, you could start paying him now with a part of your gratuity – it would show that you meant business … After twenty years’ service, it must surely be quite a big lump sum?’

  Roscoe gave him a long, derisive stare. Then he said, ‘I’ll need all that for the poultry farm.’

  ‘You still plan to buy one?’

  ‘Of course – once I’m in the clear again. With seven thousand pounds from you, I’ll have nothing to worry about.’

  Mellanby nodded again. He suddenly felt very tired. ‘Tell me, what is Colonel Lancaster’s exact address?’

  ‘That’s my affair, Mellanby – there’s no need for you to go chasing him up. I’ve given you all the facts, and they’re true – you can take my word for that … If you don’t want to pay your debt, just say so.’

  Mellanby tapped out his pipe and got up.

  ‘Well … ?’ Roscoe pressed him.

  ‘I’ll need to think about it,’ Mellanby said. ‘Well talk about it again – tomorrow night.’

  Chapter Eleven

  First thing next morning Mellanby drove into town to check up on Roscoe’s story. It went against the grain, but after what had happened he felt he had no choice. With the best will in the world, he’d been unable to believe a word of what he’d been told. It was too fantastic – the purchase of a valuable property in Kenya by a serving officer without means, the big loan made entirely on trust, the failure to insure … And Roscoe’s behaviour could hardly have been more suspicious, with his refusal of Lancaster’s address, his convenient destruction of the letter, his obvious fear of inquiries. Mellanby felt practically certain that the pressing creditor was an invention. Now he intended to make quite certain.

  The task proved to be even easier than he’d expected. In the public reference library in Bath, copies of the Army Lists dating back some time were soon dug up for him. It took him only a few minutes to discover that there had been no Colonel Lancaster of the Royal Engineers in recent years. Roscoe had invented him! But that was only the beginning. Until now, Mellanby had taken Roscoe’s account of himself completely on trust. This seemed the moment to verify it. Quickly, he paged through the Lists, searching for a Major Frank Roscoe of the Gloucesters. There wasn’t one. Roscoe had invented him, too.

  For a little while Mellanby sat motionless, thinking back to the first developments in the Roscoe saga. It was difficult now to believe that anything had been above board … Presently he left the library and drove out to the Plough at Fresney Stoke. There, over a glass of sherry, he learned from the landlord that the season had not been a good one in spite of the recent improvement in the weather, and that at no time during the summer had the Plough been without an empty room.

  So there it was! – worse, much worse, than Mellanby had suspected. There could be no doubt about it now. The web of lies, the phony creditor, the request for money – everything fitted. Roscoe was a fake and a fraud. A confidence man. No wonder he hadn’t wanted newspaper publicity after the rescue! He hadn’t been in the Army, and it was most unlikely he’d been genuinely looking for a farm. All he’d been looking for was a victim! He’d tricked his way into the Mellanbys’ home, exploiting their gratitude, watching his opportunities, intending all the time to ask for money in the end – it was a familiar story. And yet … Mellanby frowned. There were some very odd things about it – things that didn’t fit …

  Depressed and puzzled, he drove home and told Sally the result of his inquiries. She listened in shocked silence. Like Mellanby, she had been prepared for part of it – but not for all.

  ‘What baffles me,’ Mellanby said, ‘is how he ever thought he could get away with it. That story of his never even began to sound true.’

  ‘I suppose he was just trying it on,’ Sally said.

  ‘Do I really seem so gullible?’

  ‘Well darling, you do give a superficial impression of not being too worldly-wise.’

  Mellanby gave a grim smile. ‘Even so, he must have known I’d never hand over seven thousand pounds without making some sort of check. In fact I’m sure he did know I made it clear enough. So where did he think he was getting …? He’d have done better to ask me straight out for a gift when he first came here.’

  ‘You’d hardly have given him seven thousand pounds, even as an outright gift,’ Sally said, ‘without showing a little interest in what he was going to do with it – you were too anxious to help him get settled … He’d have known he’d be shown up as a fake in the end.’

  ‘M’m! – perhaps you’re right … But at least he’d have been no worse off – he certainly hasn’t got anywhere as it is. For a confidence man, I can’t imagine anything cruder than the way he’s gone about things.’

  ‘Well he’s just not a very good confidence man, darling.’

  ‘He’s hopeless – I could do better myself …! Why did he have to say he was a major in the Gloucesters? And this mythical Lancaster – why put him in the RE? Everyone knows about the Army Lists … He was heading for trouble right from the start.’

  Sally looked thoughtful. ‘When he first told me he was in the Army, he’d only just met me, of course – he didn’t know then that you had money … Perhaps he said the first thing that came into his head – and then had to stick to it and embroider it when he found there were prospects.’

  ‘Does a confidence man ever say the first thing that comes into his head …? I still don’t understand. In any case, you’d think if he’d planned to ask for money on that scale he’d have behaved a bit better, instead of going out of his way to put our backs up.’

  ‘Well, if you ask me,’ Sally said, ‘he’s just not quite normal. I don’t mean he’s mad, but no one could possibly call him well-balanced. It’s the only explanation I can think of for his peculiar behaviour.’

  ‘It’s certainly the kindest one!’ Mellanby said.

  There was a little pause. Then Sally said, ‘Anyway – what are you going to do?’

  Mellanby shrugged. ‘Have it out with him, I suppose. Hear what he has to say, and then tell him to clear off … What else
can I decently do …? Damn the fellow! It was bad enough having to be grateful to him before – now it’s quite intolerable …’

  Chapter Twelve

  The showdown, Mellanby realized, would inevitably be most unpleasant. Roscoe, his hopes shattered, might well become noisy and abusive when he was asked to leave. It would be the kind of undignified scene that Mellanby most detested – and certainly one to be kept as private as possible. At his suggestion, Sally took steps to see that, apart from the children, they would have the place to themselves for the evening. By good luck it was Cook’s regular day off and Sally would be getting a cold meal herself, so that was all right. The daily maid always went at five. When the time came, Kira needed little persuading to let Sally bath the children while she went to see a film she’d heard was good. By a quarter to seven, Tony and Alison were both in bed, and far enough away from the sitting-room not to be disturbed. When they woke in the morning, Sally thought protectively, all the trouble would be over and they’d know nothing about it. She gave them a specially fond goodnight kiss and went downstairs to join Mellanby.

  It was later than usual when Roscoe came in that evening – and he was by no means in his usual state. Normally he was most particular about his appearance, but today his clothes looked rumpled and dirty and there was a deep scratch all down his left cheek – the result, he said, with a curious jauntiness, of an encounter with a bramble while he was tramping round a field. The scratch was bleeding a little, and he went upstairs to attend to it. When he came down he joined Mellanby and Sally in the sitting-room and, as always, helped himself to a large drink.

  ‘Where’s Kira?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s gone to the pictures,’ Sally said.

  He nodded. ‘Well, Mellanby, let’s get this over before dinner, shall we? What have you decided?’ His tone was as confident as ever. His eyes were hard and bold. He seemed not to care at all that Sally was in the room. Looking at him, Mellanby was aware of a dislike for the man that amounted almost to hatred. He had to make an effort to speak calmly.

  ‘I checked up on your story,’ he said.

  Roscoe eyed him thoughtfully. ‘You did, eh …?’ He sounded a bit disappointed, but not in the least abashed. ‘Pity …! Still, I can’t say I’m surprised … I didn’t think you could be quite the sap you seemed to be.’

  ‘Really!’ Sally exclaimed. ‘You don’t have to be insulting as well as everything else …’

  Mellanby put a restraining hand on her arm. ‘Leave it to me, darling … Anyway, there it is, Roscoe. You weren’t a major in the Gloucesters. There’s no Colonel Lancaster. You haven’t a gratuity, and I’m pretty sure you haven’t been seriously looking for a farm.’

  Roscoe grinned. ‘You’re dead right,’ he said. ‘What the hell would I want with a lot of damn silly hens?’

  Mellanby gave a little sigh. ‘Well, that seems to be that, doesn’t it? At least we know where we are. I don’t pretend to understand you – you’ve put on a pretty inept performance and I can’t imagine what you think you’re getting out of it all …’

  ‘I’m getting seven thousand pounds,’ Roscoe said.

  Mellanby looked at him incredulously. ‘You surely don’t expect that now?’

  ‘Indeed I do. I saved your wife and child, didn’t I? I did my golden deed, and that’s what it’s damn well going to be – golden!’

  Mellanby shook his head. ‘You’re wrong, Roscoe … I won’t say our account’s squared, because in a sense it never can be, but if you think I’m going to pay seven thousand pounds to a brazen crook you’re making a big mistake. What I am going to do is to let you go without preferring any charge – and that’ll be on my conscience, because I don’t doubt you’ll go off at once and try to fleece someone else … Still, there it is – you’re free to go, and I think it would be much more comfortable all round if you went straight away.’

  ‘Oh – you do?’ Roscoe said. He struck a match on the sole of his shoe, lit a cigarette, and flung the spent match into the Adam fireplace. ‘Well, now let me tell you something. I like it here. The house is nice and the food’s adequate and it all suits me very well. With your seven thousand in the bank I shall get along fine. So I’m staying, Mellanby.’ He grinned at Sally. ‘I even like your wife I think I could go places with her.’

  Mellanby sprang up, his face white and hard. ‘You must be out of your mind … Get out of here!’

  Roscoe settled his great bulk more comfortably in his chair. He looked as though nothing short of a crane would move him. ‘You don’t know me very well yet, Mellanby, do you? – but you’re going to very soon. You’ve been underrating me, you know. I agree I’m not a top-class confidence man, but that’s because it’s not really my line. I try it now and again, just for a change, but I’m not much good at inventing plausible yarns, and anyway I haven’t the temperament for it. If you’re a confidence man you’ve got to behave well and be nice to people right up to the time you make your killing – and I find that difficult, as you’ve probably noticed! I much prefer getting what I want in other ways. More direct ways … Like today, for instance …’ He fingered the long scratch on his cheek, reminiscently. ‘Where do you think I was this afternoon? I’ll tell you – it’ll help you to understand me. I called on Eve Sherston again while her big slob of a husband was in town taking a bath. I had quite a time with her. See what I mean?’

  Sally said, in a voice of horror, ‘Oh, no!’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ Roscoe mimicked, ‘You see, I’m not afraid of people. I’m not afraid of Sherston. People are afraid of me. Everybody is, when they get to know me. You are, Mellanby. Do you think I can’t see you sweating? You know I could break you over my knee if I wanted to … And nobody wants to get hurt. Not badly hurt! People will do almost anything to avoid it. That’s what I’ve found, anyway. It’s the secret of my success.’

  Mellanby was staring at him in disbelief. He couldn’t be talking this nonsense seriously. It was preposterous – worse than the worst cheap melodrama. The man was either bluffing or crazy … Whichever it was, there was only one thing to do. Mellanby took a step towards the telephone.

  Before he could reach it, Roscoe was in his path, towering over him. A large hand came out, there was a shove against his chest like the kick of an elephant, and Mellanby fell back with a crash into the chair he had just left.

  ‘Not much use you trying any rough stuff, little man,’ Roscoe said calmly. ‘And don’t you move, Sally – I’m not having any sneaking out. We’re going to come to a full understanding before anybody moves.’

  There was a tense silence in the room. Mellanby sat still, watching him, trying not to panic, trying to think what to do. In all his life he had never thought he’d have to cope with a situation remotely like this. Until now, violence had passed him by completely. He’d often imagined, but never known, how ugly, how terrifying it could be. His mouth felt dry, his heart was beating so fast that he could scarcely breathe. He felt horribly conscious of his own inadequacy – of Sally, who depended on him in this crisis, of the children upstairs – and of the brutal, reckless face in front of him, the face, he now recognized, of a hoodlum – a hoodlum he didn’t begin to know how to deal with … Yet he’d got to do something …

  Slowly, cautiously, he got to his feet again. ‘You’ll never get away with this, Roscoe,’ he said. ‘Surely you can see that … ?’

  Roscoe stepped forward and gave him a stinging slap on the cheek. Sally sprang up with a cry and tried to reach the phone but Roscoe grabbed her and pushed her back into her chair. Mellanby struck out wildly at thè grinning face. A much harder slap started bright lights dancing before his eyes. Blood from a cut lip began to trickle down his chin. He felt dazed and sick.

  ‘Well,’ Roscoe said, ‘now that you’ve had your little lesson, perhaps you’ll agree to talk things over quietly … As far as I’m concerned, this is the position. I can’t afford to have you go to the police. With my record, it’s just not possible. So I’m going to see you do
n’t. I’m going to stay here, and you’re going to keep me – and you’re going to keep quiet about me. You’re going to pretend you like having me around. Is that clear? You won’t be the first ones who’ve done it, if that’s any consolation. You’ll do it for the same reason the others did – because you don’t want to be beaten to a pulp. Because you don’t want to see your kids suffer – which is what’ll happen if you talk.’

  ‘They’ll put you in prison,’ Sally cried wildly. “You’ll be there for the rest of your life …’

  ‘Don’t you believe it,’ Roscoe said. ‘They always let you out in the end – and I’ve got a long, long memory … Don’t imagine you can get out of it that way. Sooner or later, whatever you told the police, I’d be free – and there’s no protection in the world could keep your kids safe from me then. I’m speaking from experience – it once happened …! It wasn’t at all nice for the folks concerned. Ever heard of people using razors? I’m warning you two – I’m a pretty hard man, with not much to lose … You play along with me, and we’ll get on fine. If you don’t, you’d better take a long last look at those two sweet children of yours, because when I’ve finished with them you’ll hardly recognize them …’

  ‘You’re mad!’ Mellanby said.

  ‘Don’t kid yourself, Mellanby – I’m as sane as you are. I know what I want that’s all – and how to get it. A short life and a merry one, that’s my motto. Take what you want while you can, and to hell with the consequences …’

  A ring at the door-bell cut him short – a long, insistent ring. On the instant Roscoe’s manner changed. He was suddenly wary. ‘Who would that be?’ he asked sharply. No one answered. He advanced threateningly on Mellanby. ‘Come on, who is it? What have you been up to?’

  ‘We don’t know who it is,’ Sally said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. ‘We – we’re not expecting anyone.’

  The bell shrilled again, violently. Someone seemed to be leaning on it.

  Roscoe jerked his head towards the door. ‘Go and see, Sally – but remember what I said about the kids. One word of all this, and they’ve had it. I mean that … Whoever it is, get rid of them.’