The Greek Key

'You do believe me then?' Mrs Larcombe asked as she stood up to see them out.

'Oh, yes, I believe you.'

'Well, I'm glad someone doesn't think I've lost my marbles…'

Paula waited until they were walking back to The Anchor before asking the question. 'What was that business about your glasses case? There was no need to take it out of your pocket."

'A final test on her eyesight. My case is dark-coloured. Even I couldn't see where it had dropped – it merged with the carpet. Mrs Larcombe has exceptional eyesight.'

'What do you think she saw then?"

'Some kind of covered jeep or four-wheel-drive vehicle which could negotiate that pebble ground easily. Now I'm phoning Colonel Barrymore. He's first on the list for some hard interrogation. His reaction to my calling him will be interesting.'

Inside his room at The Anchor Paula looked out of the window while Tweed made his call. She had a view down over the road which ended a short distance to the west, and the harbour with the dried-up channel where the sea would come flooding in.

Tweed's conversation with Barrymore was brief. He spoke tersely and concluded by saying, 'Then I will call you back within the hour.'

'He says he has to try and cancel an appointment,'Tweed told her. 'I think he's up to something. Let's have some coffee sent up and review what we've discovered. Butler is taking a well-earned rest.. .'

He called back exactly one hour later. This time the conversation was longer. Tweed's manner was even more abrupt. He closed by saying, 'Very well, if you insist. It will save me time.'

He looked grim as he replaced the receiver. 'I was right – he was up to something. He's phoned Robson and Kearns and invited them to join him at Quarme Manor. We'll be confronted by the three of them.'

'Including Kearns? But surely he must be distraught so soon after the death of his wife?'

'We'll see, won't we?'

38

Colonel Barrymore did not bother to receive them. When they arrived at Quarme Manor the door was unchained and opened by Mrs Atyeo. She ushered them into the hall and then indicated the door to the study.

'They'se waitin' for you in there.'

'Thank you,' Tweed said pleasantly. Followed by Paula, he opened the door without knocking. They were seated round a large oak table in the bay window. Barrymore, Kearns and Robson. The colonel had his back to the window with Robson at his left and Kearns on his right. Tweed instantly realized that the seating arrangement forced Paula and himself to face the light while the others had their back to it. An old tactic. Barrymore remained seated, launched his onslaught as soon as they were inside the room.

'I see you've brought that girl again. This time I won't have her taking notes. You sit there and there.'

'Paula Grey is my assistant,' Tweed rapped back. 'She will take notes of the entire interrogation.' He sat down and dropped his bomb. 'Now we are investigating four murders which may all have security implications.'

'Four? What on earth are you talking about?' Barrymore demanded in his most commanding voice.

'One, Ionides at the Antikhana during the war.' Tweed waited to see if anyone would correct him, say 'Gavalas'. Three blank faces stared back at him. Two, Andreas Gavalas on Siros when you made your commando raid. Three, ex-Chief Inspector Partridge here on Exmoor.' He paused.

Paula was watching Kearns. He sat very stiffly, motionless, and his face was drained of colour, chalk-white. Tweed turned to him.

'Four, your wife, Jill. My condolences.'

'She was knocked down by some hit-and-run bastard,' Barrymore protested. 'And that's pretty bad form to raise the subject – to call it murder is madness.'

Then why is Scotland Yard investigating it as a case of murder?'

'How do you know that?' Barrymore snapped.

'I have contacts. I'm Special Branch. You know that. You checked up on the phone with my chief, Walton.'

Robson, wearing a loose-fitting brown shirt, a plain brown tie, the knot slack below his throat, and an old check sports jacket, stirred. He turned to face Barrymore.

'You didn't tell me that.'

'Must have slipped my mind,' the colonel replied curtly.

Robson tugged at his straggly moustache, turned back to face Tweed. His pale blue eyes studied him for a moment.

'What makes you think Jill was murdered?'

'A cleaning woman inside one of the St James's Street clubs saw a Jaguar waiting by the kerb with its engine running. The moment Jill started to cross the street the man behind the wheel headed straight for her. Cold-blooded murder.'

Tweed waited again. Before leaving London he had changed his mind, had phoned Chief Inspector Jarvis in charge of the case. No description of the driver worth a damn. The silence inside the room became oppressive.

Paula was studying Kearns. He sat like a statue. Not a blink of an eyelid at Tweed's statement. Years of iron self-discipline as a CSM, she thought. Never show your emotions however tough the situation. She felt Tweed was treating him inconsiderately.

'Why have you come to see us?' Robson asked, leaning forward, gazing at Tweed as though deciding on a diagnosis.

'Because you're all suspects, of course…'

'How dare you!' Barrymore burst out. 'Are you accusing us? And what evidence have you to base that slanderous statement on? I want an answer.'

'I'll give you one. You were all members of the commando raid on Siros. Andreas Gavalas was murdered. A fortune in diamonds he was carrying for the Greek Resistance was stolen. You were all based at the Antikhana Building in Cairo. You had returned from the raid, Ionides was murdered. You were all here on Exmoor a good few weeks ago. Partridge was murdered. You were all staying in London at the Lyceum Hotel – only a short distance from St James's Street. Jill Kearns was murdered. How much more coincidence do you think I can swallow?'

Robson laid a restraining hand on Barrymore's arm. He asked the question in the manner of a doctor enquiring about a patient's symptoms.

'Why do you think that Jill was murdered?'

'Because someone who knew she always stayed at Brown's saw me having tea with her. Whoever it was became worried she might tell me too much.'

'Stretching it a bit, aren't you?'

'Possibly. Until I link it up with the fact you must all have known she made a habit of staying at Brown's, that she made a habit of going out for a walk at that time every single day of her life. The killer followed her to the Stafford where I asked her to go, hoping to ensure her safety. Where were you all at 6.30 a.m. that fatal morning?'

Barrymore opened his mouth to protest. 'What damned impudence. I'll see you in hell before…'

'Best to reply,' Robson intervened. 'We all got up early – the habit of a lifetime. Goes back to Army days. By early I mean about 5.30 a.m. None of us have breakfast. There were tea-making facilities in the bedrooms. I spent my time packing, then studied some medical journals. No one to verify that.' His smile was wintry. 'Barrymore had gone for a walk – I know that because I went to his room and there was no reply. Kearns was also out walking. It was a fine day. Doesn't help a lot, does it?'

'Not a lot,' Tweed agreed. 'You were out for a walk, Barrymore?'

'You heard what Captain Robson said. I'm getting a trifle fed up with you…'

'And I'm fed up with the fact that my old friend, Sam Partridge, was foully murdered,' blazed Tweed. 'I'll move heaven and earth to find out who did that.'

Paula glanced at Tweed in surprise. She'd never known such an outburst during an interrogation. Then she saw the supercilious smile of satisfaction on Barrymore's face. He'd needled Tweed. She glanced back as Tweed began cleaning his glasses on his handkerchief and nearly sucked in her breath. Tweed had put on an act. She tensed: she was witnessing a duel between Tweed and the three men. Kearns spoke for the first time.