Mrs Pargeter reported her progress to Truffler Mason on the carphone as Gary’s limousine sped her smoothly back to Greene’s Hotel. ‘I mean, I know box numbers are supposed to be a kind of security device, but…’
‘Mrs Pargeter…’ Truffler’s voice was once again edged with a hint of reproach.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. Of course I know you’ll be able to find out. Well, needless to say, any connection you can get with Brotherton Hall’s going to be terrific. And the sooner the better, obviously.. ’
‘Goes without saying, Mrs Pargeter. Incidentally, on the other things you asked me to check out…’
‘Ank and Dr Potter?’
‘Right.’ There was a pause before the uncharacteristic admission. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t made much headway there.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘It’s not for want of trying.’ Truffler Mason’s voice was drowning under an excess of apology.
‘Never occurred to me that it was.’
‘No, but… Well, I just feel bad. Like I was letting you down.’
‘Of course you’re not. So what have you got on Ank?’
‘Well, really nothing so far — that’s what’s so bloody annoying. Nothing except the Brotherton Hall party line. “Mr Arkwright is away for a few days.” “Do you know where he’s gone?” “No, I’m afraid not, sir.” “Do you know precisely when he’s likely to be back?” “No, I’m afraid not, sir.” Right slap up against a brick wall, I am.’
‘Sounds like he’s deliberately lying low.’
‘Yes. Unless he’s been laid low,’ said Truffler chillingly.
‘Hm. What about Stan the Stapler?’
‘Same story. “No, I’m afraid Mr Bristow is away for a few days — and no, I’m afraid I don’t know when he’s likely to be back.” Bloody frustrating, I can tell you. I’m not used to not getting a result.’
‘Sounds like someone’s deliberately stopping you from getting a result.’
‘Yeah. That doesn’t make it any less frustrating. I’ll find a way, don’t worry.’ But the gloom in Truffler’s voice was terminal.
‘How about Dr Potter? Anything on him?’
‘Well, yes…’ There was still no hint of satisfaction in his tone. ‘Don’t like it, though.’
‘Nasty secrets, do you mean?’
‘No — no nasty secrets, that’s what I don’t like about it. Kind of model history for a medical man. Did all the right training, worked as a GP in England for ten years, then out to Hong Kong. Twelve years out there — good doctor, highly respected professionally, well liked personally — then comes back here and gets the job at Brotherton Hall. I don’t like it,’ he repeated sepulchrally.
‘Why?’
‘Because it doesn’t seem to tie in with the way he’s behaving now, does it? From your encounters with him, you’d hardly call Dr Potter a good doctor, would you? Not one you’d recommend to your friends for his bedside manner?’
‘No.’
‘Anyway, I’m still pursuing it. Got feelers out with my contacts in Hong Kong — may be able to get some dirt.’
He didn’t sound optimistic. But then, come to that, Truffler Mason never did sound optimistic.
‘Don’t worry,’ Mrs Pargeter comforted. ‘At least now with this box number you’ve got something positive to investigate.’
‘Yes. Yes, that’s true.’
Only someone who knew Truffler extremely well would have recognized from his tone that this reminder had actually cheered him up.
Perhaps from frustration at the blocking of his other enquiries or from a need to prove himself (completely unnecessary so far as Mrs Pargeter was concerned), Truffler Mason was back to his brilliant best in investigating the Private Eye box number. Indeed, she had just arrived back at Greene’s and was only half-way through Hedgeclipper Clinton’s fulsome welcome when the girl on Reception announced that a Mr Mason was on the line asking for her.
Mrs Pargeter took the call right there in the foyer.
‘I’ve tracked it down!’ Truffler announced with mournful glee. ‘Tracked him down, I should say.’
‘Brilliant!’ said Mrs Pargeter, with a little extra effusiveness to reassure Truffler she attached no blame to him for the blanks he had drawn on his other enquiries. ‘Who is he?’
‘Would you believe an estate agent?’
‘What — so it was an estate agent who was offering the job?’
‘Well, yes, but not on his own account, of course. When do estate agents ever do anything on their own account — except present bills? No, he was doing it on behalf of a client.’
‘Do you know who the client is?’
‘Not yet, but we can get it from him,’ Truffler replied with grim confidence.
‘And have you found out whether Jenny Hargreaves did actually apply for the job?’
‘Not exactly. But the speed with which the geezer clammed up when I mentioned her name makes me pretty certain I’m on to something.’
‘Good work, Truffler. What’s the next move?’
‘I’ve fixed an appointment to go and see the gentleman tomorrow morning.’
‘Me too?’
‘You bet, Mrs Pargeter. You can help me nail the bastard.’
‘Why, have you got some dirt on him?’
‘Not yet,’ came the sardonic reply, ‘but give me time. You can always get dirt on an estate agent.’