Holiday for Inspector West by John Creasey

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

Chapter Fifteen

Convalescence

“Of course, I didn’t believe Chatworth,” said Janet, her sun-tanned face close to his. “I caught the first train I could. He didn’t tell me until eight o’clock this morning, the marvel is that I hadn’t read the papers by then. What are you going to do now? You can’t stay in this pigsty for long.”

Roger laughed. “Is pigsty the word?”

“You know what I mean,” said Janet. “They’re not going to make you work as soon as you can get up, are they? I think I’ll go and see Chatworth.”

“Don’t do that,” protested Roger, hastily. “I can manage him, you’ve had quite enough to say to him on this job!”

It was pleasant just to sit there, with Janet’s fingers getting warmer in his hand. It was pleasant to close his eyes, and surprisingly easy, for a short while, not to think of the Riddel case. It would be good to return to Bog-nor. There was a balcony at the hotel, on which he could sit and watch the sea and the passing crowds on the promenade. Very pleasant … Hallo, someone was talking, talking. Who was it? Great Scott, he’d been to sleep. And Janet was speaking sharply, although in a low-pitched voice. He could always tell when Janet was angry. There was a man talking to her …

He opened his eyes.

“But it is really important,” George Henby was saying.

“Nothing can be so important that you need wake him up,” declared Janet. “I’m surprised that the nurse—”

“Hallo, there,” murmured Roger.

Janet swung round, and Henby pushed past her.

“Roger, it’s too bad!” Janet was flushed with annoyance, and Roger thought that she had probably been arguing with Henby for some time. “He’s no right to come in here like this.”

“He’s no right to do a lot of things that he does,” Roger assured her, sitting up on his pillows. “He keeps information from the police, which is excessively bad policy for a Member of Parliament. The police get ideas.” He felt refreshed and able to cope.

“Do you two know each other? Darling, this is George Henby, Henby, my wife.”

“Oh, lord!” exclaimed Henby. “Now I have put my foot in it. I thought I was talking to a particularly attractive—eh—nurse who was off duty!” But he gave Janet his most engaging smile, and in spite of her annoyance, her expression grew less angry. “I wouldn’t have come had I not thought it really important, West.”

“The police force works without me,” Roger reminded him.

“You get a grasp of things quicker than most, and you know this situation inside out. I would have gone to see Lessing, but I can’t find him. I think Chatworth has secreted him away, in case someone else tries to break his neck.”

Henby sat down on the bedside chair.

“It’s about this fair-haired fellow, O’Dare,” Henby went on. “I think you ought to know that for some time he has been blackmailing Mrs Riddel.”

“Oh,” said Roger. “Dangerous occupation.”

“There are times when I know people would gladly murder me for being flippant,” said Henby, with another grin.

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