A Part for a Policeman by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter Twelve

Coppell Growls

Roger stepped out of the Divisional car at the Yard, thanked the driver, and went into the new building. He had hardly reached his office before the inner door opened and Watts appeared, wearing the unmistakable look of trouble. As he opened his mouth, Roger raised a hand, and Watts stood there with his mouth open, looking a little ridiculous.

‘I need to breathe,’ Roger said, as he sat at his desk. ‘What is it? The Commander?’

‘Right in one, sir,’ said Watts. ‘He wants—he would like to see you at once.’

‘Do you know specifically why?’

‘No, sir, only that it’s about the O’Hara case.’

‘Yes. What about Mary Ellen?’

‘She’s come round,’ said Watts, ‘but she doesn’t know what happened—I doubt if she even realises that anything happened, she just dropped off to sleep again.’

‘Has the cook there seen a photograph of James Donovan?’

‘Pell was to have taken one and shown it to her.’

‘Right. Let’s talk to—’ began Roger, when the telephone bell cut across his words. He motioned to Watts, who lifted the receiver. Roger almost expected to hear Coppell’s voice reverberate from the telephone with the inevitable rasp of wrath, but no voice boomed and Watts said: ‘Put him through.’ He was looking at Roger and whispered: ‘Pell, sir.’

Roger stretched out for the telephone.

‘Hallo, Pell. What do you have for me?’

‘The man who was at 5c Berne Court this morning was undoubtedly James Donovan,’ Pell reported. ‘I had to go and find the cook to confirm—she was out shopping. There’s no shadow of doubt about it. It appears that either he lied to her about being a friend of her cousin, or she lied to you.’

Roger frowned. ‘She’s a natural liar, like Donovan.’ He paused. ‘We need to make sure she isn’t involved,’ he added cautiously. ‘Will you do that, Pell? Check the cook, her friends, her home town—the lot. And check the Donovans’ activities in this country, and Mary Ellen. Don’t attempt to contact the Irish police yet, the Commander has that in hand.’

‘The Com—’ began Pell, as if he did not believe that the Commander was an active investigator. ‘Very good, sir.’

Roger rang off.

There were a thousand and one things he wanted to do, but the most important was to sit back and get the whole case in perspective. There were so many different angles, so many people involved. The incendiarism at Borelee was another disquieting factor he ought to check quickly. He sat for a few seconds, Watts watching him, then sprang up almost to attention.

‘This won’t do! Have you had a chance to get my file on the case up to date?’

‘Yes—on the desk behind you, sir.’

‘Thanks.’

Roger picked up a thick file, saw a copy of the photograph of James Donovan and a vivid description on top, others of Mary Ellen and her father, nodded, and went out. Everything was clipped into place in the file, and as he walked along the spotless passages, oblivious of the many who passed him, he skimmed report after report.

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