“Sounds like a good motive to me, Mr. Grundy.”
“I disagree,” replied Grundy evenly. “My loss to Humpty was only two-tenths of one percent of my fortune. Consider this: Even if I generously estimated your personal net worth at four hundred thousand pounds, the comparative loss to you would be only eight hundred pounds. Two million may be more money than you’ll see in a lifetime, but I could lose that sum every week for a decade before I might consider myself ruined. Do I make myself clear?”
Jack gritted his teeth. He’d enjoy bringing this one down.
“Abundantly, Mr. Grundy. I wonder if you could tell me your movements following the Spongg Charity Benefit on Monday?”
“I returned home,” he replied, indignant that he should have to account for his actions to anyone, “with my wife. You can ask her, if you so wish, with my blessing.”
Jack stared at Grundy, who looked back at him without sentiment. Jack wanted to make him sweat, so he tried a threat.
“I’d like to interview the board of directors and read the company minutes for the past two years.”
Grundy rolled his eyes and tapped some ash into a crystal ashtray the size of a hand basin. “It’ll require a court order.”
Jack stared at him. “I thought you would be happy to assist, Mr. Grundy.”
The bluff failed.
“Of course. What you ask will require considerable expenditure of time and resources. A court order gives me peace of mind that you really need what you ask for. I won’t be given the runaround on a non-Guild NCD officer’s whim. And I’ll tell you now I don’t frighten easily. I have been investigated by the FBI, the CBI, the CID, the MCC and the FO. I have weathered four stock-market crashes and suffered monetary losses that exceed the GNP of East and West Woppistania combined. I survived all that, and I’ll certainly survive you.”
His voice had kept the same modulation, although red blotches had been breaking out on his pale face. Jack feared for any junior board member who had this to contend with. Grundy paused for a minute as his face returned to its normal pallid complexion, then spoke again: “Is there anything else?”
“Not for the moment,” said Jack as sternly as he could. He needn’t have bothered. It came out sounding weak and ineffectual, and Grundy knew it. He gave a smile and bade them good day.
The elegant assistant appeared from nowhere and escorted them back to the elevator, in which they were plunged at freefall speed back to the lobby, thanked and shown the door in under a minute.
“I’ve never been so efficiently expelled from a building before,” murmured Mary in awe as they walked back to the Allegro.
“I imagine that being fired is probably a similar experience,” said Jack, “but without the courtesy of the elevator.”
20. Press Conference
POPULAR CRIME MAG OUTLAWS TWINS
The bestselling true-crime magazine Amazing Crime Stories announced that it would be banning the “identical twins” plot device as part of tough new measures to stave off what it described as “stagnation” within the world of professional detecting. Other plot devices facing the ax are the much-loved “left-handed perpetrator” and anything to do with anagrams. The Guild of Detectives reacted angrily to the ban, complaining that they had “not been fully consulted” and would “vigorously defend the right of detectives to use whatever plot contrivances come to hand in the course of their investigations.” The ban will come into effect in August.
As soon as they walked into the station, they realized that something was going on. A certain buzz travels around as everyone discusses a prominent case. Friedland might have felt it all the time, as his exploits were routinely grapevined, but Jack had never experienced it before. Ashley and Gretel were waiting for them in the NCD offices.
“What’s going on, Gretel?”
“Humpty’s murder, sir. Seems like everyone has an opinion about how the investigation should be run. The Superintendent has been calling every twenty minutes wanting to know where you were.”
“Ah,” said Jack, “no surprises there. Have you found any irregularities in Humpty’s finances yet?”
“It’s very complex and very confusing,” said Gretel, “like being lost in a large forest. But I’m making headway. I’ll let you know as soon as I have anything solid.”
She turned back to her desk and dialed another number on the telephone.
“Ashley, any luck with that auburn hair?”
“Not yet, sir. I’m running through the telephone directory; there are a lot of hairdressers in Reading.”
“Keep at it. Did Tibbit get a name for the lad in the photograph?”
“No,” said Ashley, “but we did get a cross-reference match with a silver VW Polo and the Christian name of ‘Bessie.’ Her name’s Bessie Brooks, veterinarian’s assistant, age 11001. Hasn’t been seen at work since the morning Humpty was killed. The address is on your desk.”
“Excellent. Call Ops and get some uniform around there to bring her in for questioning. If she doesn’t want to come, then arrest her as a possible suspect. Mary?”
“Yes, sir?”
“I don’t buy that ‘two million means nothing to me’ crap from Grundy. This is a request for a search warrant for Winsum’s headquarters. I want you to—”
“Murder, Jack?”
Briggs was at the door. He didn’t look quite as angry as Jack had supposed he might be.
“Yes, sir.”
“I could have sworn you told me yesterday it was suicide.”
“I made a mistake. I’d spoken to you before Mrs. Singh’s initial report. There’s a copy on my desk—”
“I’ve read it, Jack. So he was shot—by whom?”
Jack outlined what had happened in the investigation so far, which wasn’t very much. Briggs didn’t seem bowled over with enthusiasm, but then Briggs never was. The three pigs he had never been keen on, and the emperor’s-new-clothes fraud inquiry had similarly been looked upon with tepidity. Even so, his answer surprised Jack.
“Well,” he said as soon as Jack had finished, “seems like you’re doing fine. Keep me informed of any developments, and if there’s anything you want, anything at all, just call me.” He paused and then added, “As long as it’s not extra manpower, overtime, funds or… anything else I don’t agree with. I’ll have my secretary prepare a list. I meant what I said earlier about fast results. The budgetary meeting is next week, and an early arrest would do a lot towards continued funding. And listen: This doesn’t mean you’re excused from the Sacred Gonga security duties. I’m short-staffed as it is, and we’ve overspent this year already.”
He thought for a moment.
“One other thing: I’ve just spoken to the Chief. He’s had a call from Solomon Grundy himself, who lambasted him for half an hour about your threats. Do you seriously expect me to believe that Grundy is behind all this?”
“It’s possible, sir. Winsum and Loosum are set on owning all Spongg’s foot-care remedies. Dumpty blocked a takeover bid and then seemed set on some kind of a plan to save Spongg’s.”
“What sort of plan?”
“I don’t know, but with Dumpty out of the picture, there is no barrier to Winsum and Loosum’s eventual takeover of Spongg’s. They have the best motive I can see, and what’s more, Solomon himself lost two million in Humpty’s Splotvian mineral-rights scam.”
“The one in 1990? Fourteen years ago?”
“Yes,” said Jack, “that one.”
“And the proof?”
Jack stared at Briggs.
“That’s what the search warrant is for, sir.”
“What search warrant?”
“This one,” said Jack, holding the request up a bit weakly.
Briggs glared at him, took the application and tore it in half.
“Sorry, Jack. You’re going to have to do better than this. Words burnt into the wall. Voices from burning bushes, three witches around a cauldron. Anything. No hearsay, no suspicions and definitely no hunches. You don’t pester Mr. Grundy or Winsum and Loosum until I see that proof and sanction it.”