‘Never mind,’ Mrs Pargeter concluded easily. ‘Julian Embridge is the important one. He’s who I really want to get.’
‘And how are you going to get him?’ asked Jack the Knife.
‘He’s a criminal,’ she replied primly. ‘I’m going to turn him over to the police.’
Mrs Pargeter usually kept her dealings with the police to a minimum. She had no disrespect for the force, and was frequently heard to praise them as ‘a fine body of men’. But she never liked causing unnecessary confusion. She was often of the opinion that an excess of information could only serve to make the constabulary’s life more complicated.
And she was a model citizen in the sense that, rather than overburdening an already stretched force with problems that other people might have taken to their door, she usually sorted out such matters for herself (with the help of the late Mr Pargeter’s associates).
But there were some cases in which she recognized that the police should be involved. And Julian Embridge’s was such a case.
For one thing, the man was a public menace. People who go around illicitly testing drugs on young girls — and committing murder — deserve to be put away for a long time.
There was also a personal score to settle. It was through the offices of Julian Embridge at Streatham that the late Mr Pargeter had had a closer encounter with the British police force than he had wished for.
It was only fitting, therefore, that Julian Embridge should become a victim of the same authorities.
So, once the three villains had been secured in the cellar, with Stan the Stapler left to guard them, Mrs Pargeter and the others went upstairs to Ankle-Deep Arkwright’s office. Truffler Mason, who spent much of his time as a private investigator typing up reports for clients, was seated behind the word processer, while he and Jack the Knife searched their memories for details of Julian Embridge’s wrongdoing.
These recollections were rigorously edited by Mrs Pargeter. Nothing was allowed to appear in the text that could not be incontrovertibly proved. For example, the suspicion that Julian Embridge had taken on the identity of the doctor from Hong Kong, and might even have done away with the real Dr Potter, was not admitted. Only crimes that could be proved, and for which reliable witnesses could be quoted, were allowed to feature.
But there was still plenty of material. Enough to put Julian Embridge away for a very long time indeed.
Once the deposition had been completed, it would be faxed to the police. They would be given an untraceable fax number (a facility which Truffler Mason had developed and frequently used) to respond to if they were interested. Given the long list of crimes Truffler was keying in to the word processor, the police would quite definitely be interested. When they contacted the untraceable fax number, details of the whereabouts of Julian Embridge and his accomplices would be then faxed back to them.
Unfortunately, the two murders could not be included in the accusations. Jenny Hargreaves’ body was still missing, and Lindy Galton’s death seemed to have been passed off successfully as an accident.
‘Pity about that,’ said Mrs Pargeter, looking over Truffler Mason’s shoulder at the screen. ‘I’d really like to nail him for those.’
‘Well, we could put in that the two deaths might be worth further investigation…?’ Truffler suggested.
‘What, and leave the police to try and get to the bottom of them?’ Mrs Pargeter wrinkled her mouth sceptically. ‘I’d feel safer if we could give them a bit of specific direction for their enquiries. Police’re never that good when they have to use their own initiative.’
‘No,’ Jack the Knife agreed.
‘What about Stan?’ asked Ankle-Deep Arkwright suddenly. ‘Might he know anything?’
‘Good thinking,’ Jack the Knife enthused. ‘I’ll go and get him.’
The oddjob man appeared a few minutes later, the surgeon having stayed downstairs on guard. Mrs Pargeter explained the information they required and he responded enthusiastically. Although Stan the Stapler couldn’t speak, he could write. And he wrote furiously.
It was better than they’d dared hope. He had actually, unbeknownst to the perpetrator, witnessed ‘Dr Potter’ hitting Lindy Galton over the head and holding her under the Dead Sea Mud until she was dead.
And now he knew that the murderer had been Julian Embridge, Stan would be prepared to do anything to bring him to justice — even risk revelation of his own criminal background by standing up in court and bearing witness against the man who had betrayed the late Mr Pargeter.
‘And what about Jenny Hargreaves?’ asked Mrs Pargeter. ‘Have you got any information on her death?’
The oddjob man looked at her in bewilderment.
‘Jenny Hargreaves,’ Ank explained. ‘You know, the girl whose body was taken out on the trolley by Embridge’s heavies. She’d died of the drug. Jenny Hargreaves.’
Stan still looked blank, so Ankle-Deep Arkwright continued, ‘You must remember. Look, I didn’t know she was here. Dr Potter kept all that stuff to himself. But after Mrs Pargeter told me about seeing the body, I went up to the room and checked, and found all these belongings with the name “Jenny Hargreaves” on them.’
‘And then you falsified her registration details,’ Mrs Pargeter observed coolly.
The manager coloured. ‘Yes, look, I’m sorry. I did a lot of stuff I regret. I’m not proud of any of it, but I was just basically scared of Dr Potter. He’d got all this dirt on my criminal record — of course, now I know who he really is, I can see how he got it, but I still-’
‘Never mind all that,’ said Mrs Pargeter. ‘We need to find out if Stan knows anything about Jenny Hargreaves’ death.’
Ankle-Deep Arkwright was relieved to turn his attention back to the oddjob man. ‘Look, you must know something about it, Stan. Mrs Pargeter saw you helping those two thugs put the body in the ambulance.’
Stan the Stapler shook his head and gurgled excitedly.
‘What’s he trying to say, Ank?’ asked Mrs Pargeter.
‘I don’t know.’
‘He’s beckoning us to go with him,’ said Truffler.
They followed the man back down to the cellars. He was almost running in his excitement, and the others exchanged puzzled looks as they hurried after him.
Once in the cellars, Stan the Stapler ignored the room where the three villains were imprisoned and hurried on to the end of the passage. He stopped outside a locked door and produced a key from his pocket. The door opened. He switched on the light and stepped aside to let Mrs Pargeter enter.
The room was clean but meagrely furnished. From a bed against the far wall a girl looked up blearily, her sleep broken by the sudden light.
She was very thin, but very much alive. Her hair could have done with a wash, but was not falling out.
Mrs Pargeter felt a warm glow spreading inside her as she asked, ‘Are you Jenny Hargreaves?’
Puzzled, the girl nodded.
Chapter Forty
It was a time of happy reunions.
Mrs Pargeter effected the first at Greene’s Hotel. Jenny Hargreaves, remarkably unscathed by her incarceration, was seated over a large tea with lots of cream cakes when Truffler Mason, who had once again tracked down the young man, introduced Tom O’Brien.
Mrs Pargeter was deeply moved to see how they fell into each other’s arms, and little surprised later when she heard that the young couple had impulsively married and would complete their degrees as man and wife. It gave her an inward smile to think how much Chloe, Candida and Chris would disapprove, and a bigger smile to know how wrong their disapproval would be.
Tom, having once entertained the thought of losing Jenny, was now determined to cling on to her for ever. First things first — changing the world could wait. And in time, no doubt, her parents would come round to the idea of him.