Off the Record by Dolores Gordon-Smith

Author:Dolores Gordon-Smith
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Tags: mystery, detective, cozy, historical
ISBN: 9780727898883
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2011-03-02T07:00:00+00:00

TEN

The next day Jack had an early start. He called to see Bill Rackham, who greeted him with distinctly modified rapture.

After hearing his latest idea, Bill Rackham buried his head in his hands. ‘Let me get this straight, Jack. After persuading me that Evelyn Dunbar isn’t off her rocker but capable of conspiring to murder with Sonny Boy Bryce, you’re now telling me that Hector Ferguson is your most favoured candidate?’

‘I wouldn’t go as far as that, but he is a possibility, isn’t he?’ Jack glanced at his watch. ‘Anyway, I’ll leave it with you. I can’t stop. I promised I’d call for Gerard Carrington. We’re going to see his Uncle Maurice. Ferguson rather tactlessly told Stephen Lewis that his mother accused him of bumping off the dear departed. Lewis wants someone to make it clear to her that he was too busy smoothing pillows and generally being an angel in the sick-room to be doing anything of the sort.’

‘He doesn’t honestly think we’d take her seriously, does he?’

‘No, I don’t think he does, but if Mrs Dunbar goes round muttering accusations, it’ll make the proposed merger a bit awkward.’

‘Yes, I can see it could lead to a bit of a frost. Why are you involved? Sheer kindness of heart?’

‘Not really. I thought it might be interesting to be there when Carrington met his uncle. You remember I had the idea that the burglary was contrived?’

Rackham sat up. ‘By jingo, I see what you mean.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘I can’t see it, though, Jack. If Carrington thinks his uncle might recognize him, he’d hardly invite you along to witness it, would he?’

‘You wouldn’t think so, but he might be prepared to brazen it out. I thought it was worth doing, anyway.’ He picked up his hat. ‘I must be off.’

He drove to Carrington’s rooms on Tavistock Square and, drawing the Spyker up outside a block of flats dwarfed by the bulk of University College, pipped the horn cheerfully.

After a couple of minutes the door opened, Carrington came out, stopped, indicated with a complicated wave of his hand and shrug of his shoulders that he would be back shortly, and disappeared back into the house. Jack grinned, took off his motoring gloves and, sitting back, lit a cigarette.

The front door opened again. Carrington came out, paused, felt his head, went back for his hat, came out once more and joined Jack at the car.

‘It’s awfully good of you to take me,’ he said, climbing in over the side. ‘I’ve never actually learned how to drive.’

‘Haven’t you?’ asked Jack, pulling away from the kerb. ‘I bet you know more about engines than I do, though.’

‘The theory, perhaps,’ agreed Carrington, diplomatically. ‘I wish my uncle was interested in science,’ he added in a worried way. ‘It’s hard to think what we can possibly have in common. I hope he’s not going to be difficult,’ he added, his worry visibly increasing. ‘I sent him a telegram to say we were coming but he’s never met me and he might resent my turning up with a complete stranger.

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