Crime Writers and Other Animals by Simon Brett

Author:Simon Brett [Simon Brett]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2012-11-02T16:00:00+00:00

Don’t think you have that one at Eton, do you, Son?

I tell you, after two months in that prison, Squiffy Yoxborough knows as much about being at Raspington as the Marquess of Gorsley does himself. He stays on a couple more weeks, to check there’s nothing more, but by now the marquess is just rambling and repeating himself, sinking deeper and deeper into an alcoholic coma. So Squiffy quickly organizes his own thousand quid release money, and scarpers back to England.

First thing he does when he gets back home, Squiffy forms a company. Well, he doesn’t actually literally form a company, but he, like, gets all the papers forged so it looks like he’s formed a company. He calls this company ‘Only Real Granite House-Building Construction Techniques’ (ORGHBCT) and he gets enough forged paperwork for him to be able to open a bank account in that name.

Next thing he gets his clothes together. Moves carefully here. Got to get the right gear or the whole thing falls apart.

Dark blue pinstripe suit. Donegal tweed suit. Beale and Inmans corduroy trousers. Cavalry twills. Turnbull and Asser striped shirts. Viyella Tattersall checked shirts. Church’s Oxford shoes. Barbour jacket. Herbert Johnson trilby.

He steals or borrows this lot. Can’t just buy them in the shops. Got to look old, you see.

Has trouble with the Old Raspurian tie. Doesn’t know anyone who went there – except of course for the marquess, and he’s rather a long way away.

So he has to buy a tie new and distress it a bit. Washes it so’s it shrinks. Rubs in a bit of grease. Looks all right.

(You may be wondering, Son, how I come to know all this detail. Not my usual special subject, I agree. Don’t worry, all will be revealed.)

Right, so having got the gear, he packs it all in a battered old leather suitcase, rents a Volvo estate and drives up to Scotland.

He’s checked out where the Duke of Glammerton’s estate is, he’s checked that the old boy’s actually in residence, and he just drives up to the front of Glammerton House. Leaves the Volvo on the gravel, goes up to the main door and pulls this great ring for the bell.

Door’s opened by some flunkey.

‘Hello,’ says Squiffy, doing the right voice of course. ‘I’m a chum of Alex’s. Just happened to be in the area. Wondered if the old devil was about.’

‘Alex?’ says the flunkey, bit suspicious.

‘Yes. The Marquess of Gorsley. I was at school with him.’

‘Ah. I’m afraid the marquess is abroad.’

‘Oh, really? What a swiz,’ says Squiffy. ‘Still, I travel a lot. Whereabouts is the old devil?’

Flunkey hesitates a bit, then says he’ll go off and try to find out. Comes back with the butler. Butler confirms the marquess is abroad. Cannot be certain where.

‘What, hasn’t left a forwarding address? Always was bloody inefficient. Never mind, I’m sure some of my chums could give me a lead. Don’t worry, I’ll track him down.’

This makes the butler hesitate, too. ‘If you’ll excuse me, sir, I’ll just go and see if his Grace is available.

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