Inspector West Takes Charge Read Online Free PDF Page B

pounds as a consolation. Claude had shown no grief nor, Roger admitted, any great pleasure. He had remained a small-minded, vain, uneven-tempered little man who liked garish clothes, dancing, hot rhythm, alcohol in moderation, and a good time.
    Janet put a finger to her lips.
    ‘Hallo, darling, I didn’t expect you so early.’ Sotto voce : ‘ Mark brought him.’ She stood aside for him to enter, and instinctively he looked for Maisie; Maisie was not here. Mark was. He uncoiled himself from an easy chair. Claude’s pink and white face grew more pink than white.
    ‘Good evening,’ said Roger, smiling at Prendergast.
    Prendergast rose, and extended a long, white hand, the best formed part about him. His face was round and flat, his pale eyes were like limpid grey saucers, his fair hair was smeared back and too heavily greased, and there were distinct bumps on his narrow head.
    ‘Mr Lessing suggested that - er - you might er–’ He looked at Janet.
    ‘Miaow,’ called the kitten from outside.
    ‘I’ll go and look after that kitten,’ said Janet, tactfully.
    Prendergast saw the door close behind her with obvious relief. Mark began to talk. He had been at his flat when Mr Prendergast had called with a story which Roger should certainly hear in an unofficial capacity, preferably. Mr Prendergast fully understood that if any time came when it was impossible to treat it as a private matter then it would have to become a professional one. Not that there was anything for Scotland Yard, yet.
    Claude lit a cigarette with a shaky hand.
    ‘I’m dead scared, you mean,’ he said, and uttered a nervous little titter of a laugh. ‘Er - don’t know that it’s your pigeon, West. Only came here at Lessing’s suggestion. Er-thought he was a private eye. You know what I mean.’ He tittered again. ‘Found out he isn’t, or says he isn’t. I er look here, Lessing, you’d better do the talking.’
    ‘Mr Prendergast believes he has been followed about recently he and his wife have been living at their London home and twice he has nearly been run down by a car,’ Mark said flatly. ‘He suddenly realized that it is possible that his grandfather, father, and brother were murdered. He made another somewhat alarming discovery. He always believed that he was the last Prendergast. That isn’t so. That is, he has a relative, a cousin, his father’s sister’s only son. He had heard vaguely that there had been an aunt, but nothing else. He gathered she had married without parental approval, and Claude thought it was a damned good thing, Grandfather Septimus having been a crotchety old beggar, Victorian to the last ditch. Wouldn’t even permit cocktails. Drank only port and Madeira.’
    Mark told the story in his own voice but with a manner so perfect an imitation of Claude’s jerky delivery that it might have been a verbatim tape record. From time to time Claude nodded, and at the end broke in abruptly: ‘You see what I mean, Superintendent,’ Roger smiled to himself at this piece of blarney. ‘Didn’t think enough of the others to worry much whether they were dead or alive. Loosened the old purse-strings a bit, that was the main thing. Bit of a shock when Waverley, my brother, was bowled over. Often had a drink and a hundred up with hint Good sort, at heart. But I hadn’t given a thought to murder. Should have realized what your questions were driving at, of course, but didn’t. Knocked over, y’know. After all, half-a-million’s half-a-million. There’s the business, too. Only seen it as a source of free smokes before, but now well, it’s set me thinking. Couldn’t let the business go to the dogs. As a matter of fact,’ went on Claude diffidently, ‘I had a bit of a tussle with my wife about that. She didn’t see why I should suddenly become interested in Dreem, but a fellow can’t help himself.’
    ‘Naturally not,’ Roger said.
    ‘Then I learned about this cousin bloke,’ went on Claude. ‘Maisie, that’s