Jack Higgins – The Violent Enemy

‘Scott told me he’d been through everything, sir,’ Dwyer said. ‘Couldn’t find anything in writing at all.’

Vanbrugh moved to the desk and opened the drawers one after another in quick succession. They were all quite empty. ‘A cautious bird, our Mr. Soames,’ he commented.

Dwyer went through the two wardrobes quickly and draped various items across the bed. There was a dressing gown, two suits and several shirts on hangers. Vanbrugh joined him and they went through the pockets.

There were one or two old bus tickets and the odd coin, but nothing else of value, and the drawers of the dressing table contained only underwear, socks and towels.

Mrs. Jones had been watching them with a mixture of uncertainty and horror on her face. At any moment,

Vanbrugh expected her to ask to see the search warrant he didn’t have and he moved in to the attack without any further waste of time.

‘You told Constable Scott that Soames left on Saturday, Mrs. Jones?’

‘That’s right, Superintendent. It was just before lunch. I remember it particularly because he asked if he could have something to eat a little earlier than usual. He said he had a train to catch.’

‘Did he take a taxi?’ Dwyer said hopefully.

‘There’s an Underground station at the end of the road. It’s quicker than a taxi these days, traffic being what it is.’

‘And Soames gave you no hint at all as to his destination?’

She shook her head. ‘Just said he was taking a little business trip. That he’d probably be away for a week or ten days.’

‘Has he done this sort of thing before?’

‘Oh, yes, often.’

‘And he never leaves you a forwarding address for urgent mail and so on?”

‘I asked him about that once, but he said there was no point, that he would be on the move the whole time.’

‘What about his social life? Did he have many callers?’

‘None at all. He once told me that he preferred to keep his business and private life completely separate. He was a quiet, well-mannered person who kept himself to himself. Most evenings, he took a walk down to the George on the corner for a drink, but he never stayed for more than half an hour. He was fond of television and he looked after the garden for me. He was very good with flowers.’

‘What about mail? Did he get much?’

She shrugged. ‘Two or three letters a day, mostly circulars and so on.’

‘Anything particularly interesting?’

She bridled at once. Tve better things to do, Super-

intendent, than to go through my guests’ mail.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting that you had been snooping, Mrs. Jones,’ Vanbrugh said patiently. ‘But quite obviously, you must sort the mail every morning after it’s been delivered. It would be only natural for an intelligent person to notice anything unusual, any change in the pattern.’

She responded immediately, almost as a reflex action. ‘It’s funny you should say that. Nearly all Mr. Soames’ letters used to come from the London area, but during the past few weeks they’ve been coming from all over the place.’

‘Can you remember where?’

‘He had a couple from Manchester and several from the Lake District. The day he left, he had one from Taunton. That’s in the West Country,’ she added. ‘I spent my holidays near there last year.’

Dwyer had taken a sudden, involuntary step forward, but Vanbrugh stilled him with a quick gesture from one hand. ‘These letters from the Lake District, Mrs. Jones, can you remember where they were from?’

‘Oh, yes,’ she said, ‘because he always replied within a day or two. Sometimes I posted the letters for him. Ren-da!, that was the place. He used to write to a Mr. Grant at Kendal.’

‘And you can’t remember the address?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. It was addressed care of somebody else, I do know that. I always assumed it was a boarding house or something similar.’ She patted her hair impatiently. ‘You know there’s really nothing more I can tell you, Superintendent.’

Vanbrugh gave her his most charming smile. ‘My dear Mrs. Jones, you’ve helped us more than you’ll ever know. I don’t think we’ll need to trouble you again.’

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