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.‘For what reason?’The news that Green was Philip Moxton was surely going to break at any moment, as the story of Green’s murder had received great attention in the nationals.I found it hard to believe Miss Janes-cum-Moxton didn’t know about the Green identity although it was possible Philip had kept the details from her and merely told her he had another residence for security purposes.Reply came there none from the lady, the self-styled owner of Staveley House – as indeed she might now be.The last thing I wanted was to rush over to Staveley House again.I reminded myself that I was on Brandon’s payroll and I had wanted to be involved for Philip’s sake.Now I was, although technically I was in it only so far as determining whether the Packard and Golf had played any part in Geoffrey Green’s murder and if so what.True, I felt I owed Philip Moxton for not having reacted to his declaration of fearing to be murdered, but dealing with his dotty sister was surely not part of my penitence.Rebelliously I drove over to Staveley House once more.It was unlikely that Miss Moxton would be on her own with just John Carson and any other staff around.There’d be some police presence at least.There was indeed.A huge sign on the roadway announced the gateway’s presence and two uniformed PCs guarded it.I could see no sign of Carson.‘Jack Colby,’ I said, leaning out of the window.‘Appointment with Miss Moxton or Miss Janes.’One PC stepped forward.He regarded me impassively.‘Who are they?’Here we go again.‘One person and she lives at Staveley House.’‘You’re not on my list.What’s your business?’I resisted temptation and showed him my police ID.‘Ring the house and tell whoever answers that I’m here.Police business.’He did, with a distinct and grumpy expression that conveyed ‘why didn’t you say so in the first place?’ and then barked out, ‘And the name’s Miss Joan Moxton for future reference.’‘It changes from time to time,’ I informed him affably.I left the Alfa in the car park there and walked up to the house with some foreboding.There had been several cars there, and one of them, a Bentley, hardly looked like the latest police issue so I wondered what awaited me.Downing Street?Only one car was parked in the forecourt of Staveley House, the Packard, and a fine sight it was.I doubted whether it had been moved since I came to visit the gardens with Cara.It looked lonelier than ever.The door flew open almost immediately I pressed the bell, and there stood Joan Moxton, alias Miss Janes, in corduroy trousers, smock, that greying black hair and fierce expression.I could see no offensive weapon in her hand, but I kept my distance just in case.‘You took your time,’ she informed me.‘I have a fair way to drive,’ I said mildly, ‘and a business to run.’‘So I’m told.’She didn’t welcome me in.She didn’t even invite me in.All she said was: ‘Take that away.’She waved a hand indicating I should turn around.I did so and saw the only object to which she could be referring as ‘that’.‘The Packard?’ I was astounded.‘What’s gone wrong with it?’‘Nothing.I just want it gone.Out of here.For good.Here are the keys – and all the registration documents.’ She thrust a large envelope into my bewildered possession together with the car keys.I struggled with reason.‘You want to sell it?’‘No, just get rid of it.Keep it for all I care.’I cleared my throat.An excellent if self-conscious method of gathering one’s wits and preparing for battle.‘Are you the Packard’s legal owner, Miss Moxton?’‘How would I know? Just take it.’‘Then how do I know?’This confused her.‘My brother’s dead.That means I can have the car and give it to whom I please.You.Take it.’I stood my ground.‘But I have to be sure who does own it now that your brother has died.It’s early days and there’s probate to consider.’‘Oh very well,’ she said impatiently.‘Come in and talk to him.’For a moment I thought she meant her brother, but even Joan wasn’t that confused [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]