Death on the Riviera by John Bude

Author:John Bude [Bude, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, Crime
ISBN: 9781464205705
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 1952-10-31T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter XIII

Clue on Cap Martin

I

During the next twenty-four hours, after the week-end spurt, Meredith’s investigations dropped, so to speak, into bottom gear. No further developments. No further information. No word of the missing Latour, for whose apprehension a general call had gone out to all police-stations in the district. Yet Meredith was far from idle. A further exhaustible interview with Mrs. Hedderwick had enabled him to draw up a series of fairly comprehensive case-histories of the various members of her household. All the womenfolk and this fellow they were always bumping into, Bill Dillon, seemed, on the face of it, to be utterly beyond suspicion.

But in the case of Tony Shenton, Meredith hesitated to make up his mind. He had no real reason for this hesitation, just a hunch that the fellow, whom he’d cross-questioned on his first visit to the villa, was a bad egg. There was something shifty and slick about him; a decided whiff of the playboy that immediately put the Inspector on his guard. He had the curious impression that the young man’s face was familiar. But if so—why? Meredith smiled to himself. Well, whenever a C.I.D. bloke claimed to recognize a face it was usually because the chap in question had a criminal record. A cynical admission, perhaps, but that was how it ticked.

Was it worth, he wondered, following up this hunch and air-mailing a photo of Shenton to the Records Department at the Yard? Time and again he’d known these long shots in the dark to find their billet. What was it his old mentor “Tubby” Hart used to say? “The conscientious detective leaves no stone unturned and no avenue unexplored in the interests of his investigation.”

Meredith argued thus:—Latour had been living at the villa under false pretences. Now he was suspected of having a tie-up with a forgery gang and, having been tipped the wink concerning the recent activities of the police, he’d scapa-ed in a hurry. A young man living in the same villa has a face that seems familiar to a member of the C.I.D. And if that didn’t add up to something pretty significant then pigs had wings!

By midday that Tuesday morning, a photo of Shenton, together with the Inspector’s covering remarks, was on its way to the Yard. The matter was marked—Urgent.

II

For Acting-Sergeant Strang that particular Tuesday marked a blissful and memorable hiatus between two slices of high-pressure activity. Meredith, engrossed in a routine check-up of the evidence now to hand, was more than tolerably disposed to let his subordinate off the official leash. Much as he appreciated the lad’s keenness and efficiency there were times when his high-spirited chatter and unbounded zeal were a trifle distracting. Perhaps, too, a certain deep-bedded sentimental streak in the Inspector’s make-up was partly responsible for his decision to let Freddy have a day off-duty. A day that Freddy was determined to devote entirely to Dilys Westmacott. Provided, of course, that she was prepared to co-operate.

After their prearranged meeting on the terrace of the Menton Casino their resuscitated friendship got away to a flying start.

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