Dover and the Claret Tappers by Joyce Porter

Author:Joyce Porter [Porter, Joyce]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0881501484
Published: 2019-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Nine

THEY GOT BACK TO SCOTLAND YARD AT ABOUT half-past three, which left Dover with nice time for a cup of tea and a short nap before he had to leave to catch his train home. Commander Brockhurst had temporarily suspended his campaign to make Dover do a full day’s work as even he recognised that there were limits beyond which you shouldn’t hound a man who had so nearly sacrificed his all on the altar of expediency and public policy.

MacGregor hesitated. The old fool wasn’t going to like this. He wasn’t going to like it at all. . .

Dover’s eyes opened wide. ‘What bloody house?’ he demanded thickly.

‘Well, hopefully, the one in which you were held prisoner by the Claret Tappers, sir.’

Dover blinked sullenly. ‘Who says?’

‘Well, nobody actually says so, sir,’ admitted MacGregor, seeing only too well where this was leading. ‘Nobody knows for sure yet. It’s just that they do seem to have turned up a fairly likely prospect.’

‘And I’m being expected to go and have a bloody squint at it?’

MacGregor inclined his head.

Dover settled back in his chair. In his younger days he had been in the habit of propping his feet up on his desk but with advancing age and obesity such gymnastics were now beyond him. ‘Tomorrow,’ he said through a yawn.

‘We could be there in twenty minutes, sir,’ said MacGregor. ‘I’ve managed to get a police car from the pool and . . .’

‘Tomorrow,’ repeated Dover. ‘More haste, less speed.’ He seemed to feel that this statement was a little inadequate. ‘’Strewth, it’s not going to run away, is it? Tell you what,’ – he made the offer with all the magnanimity of a sovereign bestowing a knighthood – ‘you pick me up at my place tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock or a bit later. Then we’ll go straight to this house. Right? So tell ’em we’ll have the police car tomorrow instead of today. Savvy?’

‘I don’t know if I can get a car tomorrow, sir,’ MacGregor pointed out miserably, though Dover knew as much as he did about the difficulties in obtaining transport.

‘All the more reason for shoving off now and trying!’ snapped Dover. ‘And take this with you!’ He poked Miss Montmorency’s blue suede coat. ‘This is an office, not a bloody old clothes shop.’

MacGregor departed to make what apologies and pull what strings he could and at half-past ten the following morning he installed a somewhat subdued Chief Inspector Dover in the back of the police car.

‘Know anything about women, sergeant?’

MacGregor was a bachelor – a shirking of responsibility that Dover usually found very hard to forgive. ‘Not very much, I’m afraid, sir.’

Dover shook his head uncomprehendingly. ‘You’d think she’d be glad to have me back!’ he complained, but didn’t enlarge upon the subject. Instead he stared morosely out of the window. ‘Where are we going?’

‘North London, sir.’ MacGregor was armed with the exact address and even the map reference, but they were not required.

‘Wake me when we get there,’ said Dover.

‘There’ was

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