Part 34 (2/2)

'Where did he get Mr Franklin's wallet from?'

Annette asked, puzzled, looking at the card.

'He found it,' I said.

'He took his time sending it back,' June said tartly.

'Mm.'

The wallet contained a Saxony Franklin chequebook, four credit cards, several business cards and a small pack of banknotes, which I guessed were fewer in number than when Greville set out.

The small excitement over, Annette and June went off to tell the others the present and future state of the nation, and I was alone when I opened the envelope.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

Pross had sent me a letter and a certified bank draft: instantly cashable money.

I blinked at the numbers on the cheque and reread them very carefully. Then I read the letter.

It said: Derek, This is a plea for a bargain, as you more or less said. The cheque is for the sum I agreed with Grev for the twelve tear drops and eight stars. I know you need the money, and I need those stones.

Jason won't be troubling you again. I'm giving him a job ifl one of my workrooms.

Grev wouldn't have forgiven the brick, though he might the wallet. For you it's the other way round. You're very like him. I wish he hadn't died.

Pross.

What a mess, I thought. I did need the money, yet if I accepted it I was implicitly agreeing not to take any action against him. The trouble about taking action against him was that however much I might want to I didn't know that I could. Apart from difficulties of evidence I had more or less made a bargain that for information he would get inaction. but that had been before the wallet. It was perceptive of him, I thought, to see that it was betrayal and attacks on our brother that would anger both Greville and me most.

Would Greville want me to extend. if not forgiveness, then at least suspended revenge? Would Greville want me to confirm his forgiveness or to rise up in wrath and tear up the cheque . . .

In the midst of these sombre squirrelling thoughts the telephone rang and I answered it.

Elliot Trelawney here,' the voice said.

'Oh, h.e.l.lo.'

He asked me how things were going and I said life was full of dilemmas. Ever so, he said with a chuckle.

Give me some advice,' I said on impulse, 'as a magistrate.'

'If I can, certainly.'

Well. Listen to a story, then say what you think.'

'Fire away.'

'Someone knocked me out with a brick...' Elliot made protesting noises on my behalf, but I went on. 'I know now who it was, but I didn't then, and I didn't see his face because he was masked. He wanted to steal a particular thing from me. but although he made a mess in the house searching, he didn't find it, and so didn't ,.

rob me of anything except consciousness. I guessed later who it was, and I challenged another man with having sent him to attack me. That man didn't deny it to me, but he said he would deny it to anyone else. So . . . what do I do?'

'whew.' He pondered. 'What do you want to do?'

'I don't know. That's why I need the advice.'

'Did you report the attack to the police at the time?'

'Yes.'

'Have you suffered serious after-effects?'

'No.'

Did you see a doctor?'

'No.'

He pondered some more. 'On a practical level you'd find it difficult to get a conviction, even if the prosecution service would bring charges of actual bodily harm. You couldn't swear to the ident.i.ty of your a.s.sailant if you didn t see him at the time, and as for the other man, conspiracy to commit a crime is one of the most difficult charges to make stick. As you didn't consult a doctor. you're on tricky ground. So, hard as it may seem, my advice would be that the case wouldn't get to court.'

I sighed. 'Thank you,' I said.

'Sorry not to have been more positive.'

'It's all right. You confirmed what I rather feared.'

'Fine then,' he said. 'I rang to thank you for sending the Vaccaro notes. We held the committee meeting and turned down Vaccaro's application, and now we find we needn't have bothered because on Sat.u.r.day night he was arrested and charged with attempting to import illegal substances. He's still in custody, and America is asking for him to be extradited to Florida where he faces murder charges and perhaps execution. And we nearly gave him a gambling licence! Funny old world.'

I'Hilarious.'

How about our drink in The Rook and Castle?' he suggested. 'Perhaps one evening next week?'

'OK.'.

'Fine' he said. 'I'll ring you.'

I put the phone down thinking that if Vaccaro had been arrested on Sat.u.r.day evening and held in custody, it was unlikely he'd shot Simms from a moving car in Berks.h.i.+re on Sunday afternoon. But then, I'd never really thought he had.

Copycat. Copycat, that's what it had been.

Pross hadn't shot Simms either. Had never tried to kill me. The Peter-Pan face upon which so many emotions could be read had shown a total blank when I'd asked him what he was doing on Sunday afternoon.

The shooting of Simms, I concluded, had been random violence like the other murders in Hungerford.

Pointless and vicious; malignant, lunatic and impossible to explain.

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