The Warning by John Creasey

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

Chapter 17

Defiance

Mannering walked into Kennard’s room, and saw Dawson at Kennard’s desk. It was typical of the man that he had stepped into the dead man’s shoes without hesitation. His right eye was swollen and his lips were puffy, but he still looked formidable. As the door closed, he looked up.

‘You can sit down or you can stand up, I don’t give a damn either way. But one thing’s clear. You’re going to get off my back, and get off fast. Daphne’s walked out on me, and it’s your fault. I didn’t murder Kennard, no matter what lies you told her.’

Mannering said: ‘Before I’m through I’ll prove it.’

‘Now let me tell you one or two things. You were here last night. You are the burglar who killed Kennard. Would you like me to tell your friend Bristow?’

Mannering smiled and sat down.

‘What odd ideas you’ve got. Care to call Bristow now? He’s at the Yard. I’ve just spoken to him. He’ll be here in an hour, unless I call him back.’ How he wished that were true.

‘You damned fool!’

‘Now listen to me,’ said Mannering evenly. ‘Where is Daphne?’

‘She walked out on me.’

‘So? Well, I’m going to report her missing, for a start.’ Mannering paused. ‘Unless she is at my flat by midnight, I’ll release the story to the Press that she’s missing.’

‘I’ll deny it!’ blustered Dawson.

‘The story will be out by then; a denial will merely make you look silly.’

‘We’ll see who looks silly,’ sneered Dawson, so furious that his words came out in a rush. ‘You burgled this house last night, you killed Kennard—’

‘No use,’ said Mannering. ‘I can produce the man who came here.’

Dawson said thinly: ‘I don’t believe you.’

He moved his chair back a few inches, slipping his right hand into an open drawer. Mannering sat quite still. The man was killing mad, but – would he take a chance here?

He tensed his body, hardly breathing, watching the slow reappearance of the hand, now holding a gun.

‘I could shoot you where you sit,’ Dawson said.

‘So you could,’ said Mannering. ‘And earn a life sentence for it. Do you think I’m fool enough to come here without letting Bristow know where I am?’

He stood up abruptly.

‘Midnight, at my flat,’ he said. ‘And I’ll have a police cordon round it, to discourage tricks.’

He turned his back and went towards the door. He believed that he had judged the right moment, but Dawson might shoot, Mannering reached the door and touched the handle.

‘Mannering!’

He turned his head. Dawson was standing by the desk, both hands in sight – empty.

‘Well?’

‘I don’t know where she is.’

‘Then it won’t do any harm if she’s reported missing,’ said Mannering.

He opened the door and stepped on to the landing, aware, as, he walked slowly down the stairs, of watching eyes, not at all sure he would get out alive. Dawson was a dictator in his own small way and among his group of yes-men. Defied, he was frightened and infuriated and dangerous – more dangerous because his mood would be unpredictable.

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