‘I see.’ Temple raised his eyebrows enquiringly at Steve, who nodded. ‘Does that go for Mrs Kelburn, too?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Does Mrs Kelburn want me to call round?’
‘Why, yes, of course.’ Langdon was puzzled by the question. ‘I imagine so. She hasn’t said otherwise.’
Temple calculated for a moment, then said: ‘Tell Mr Kelburn I’ll be there at twelve o’clock.’
‘Right! Thanks a lot. I appreciate it…’
Temple put the receiver down, cutting off Langdon’s protestations of gratitude.
‘Excuse my asking, Mr Temple,’ Raine said, ‘but who’s this fellow Langdon?’
‘He’s one of Kelburn’s right-hand men. I met him on the ’plane coming over from New York. Kelburn sent for him. He apparently thought Langdon might be able to reform his daughter. I understand he’d got her out of one or two little scrapes in New York.’
‘All the way from New York because Kelburn couldn’t cope with his own daughter?’ Raine grinned at Steve. ‘Sounds a bit far-fetched.’
‘I don’t know,’ Temple said. ‘We never knew Julia Kelburn. We don’t even know what her father was up against. However, Langdon’s main job was to try and buy off Tony Wyman.’
‘That’s interesting. What happened?’
‘Wyman told Langdon he couldn’t care less about Julia – in no uncertain terms.’
‘Mm.’ Raine had brought a notebook out of his pocket and opened it at a page where there was a marker. He tapped his teeth with a pencil. ‘This chap Langdon – is he about forty, dark wavy hair, medium height, uses a pretty exotic aftershave?’
Temple smiled. ‘Yes, that’s him!’
‘He was hovering about when I interviewed Kelburn and his wife, but they didn’t introduce me. They were pretty upset, of course.’
Leaning over so that she could take a peek at Raine’s notebook, Steve was surprised to see that the page was covered with as many doodles and drawings as words. The Superintendent drew a circle round one of his sketches.
‘Would you say there’s been anything between Langdon and Julia Kelburn?’
‘I don’t think so, but I wouldn’t know, of course. You’d better ask Langdon that question.’
‘I will,’ Raine promised, putting away his notebook and standing up. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Mrs Temple.’
‘Our pleasure, Superintendent.’
‘You’ve no objection, I take it,’ Temple asked casually, as he ushered Raine to the door, ‘if I go along and see Kelburn?’
‘Not the slightest, Mr Temple.’ Raine gave him a smile and a long, straight look. ‘Not the slightest. It’s a free country so they tell me…’
‘It isn’t that I mistrust the police, Mr Temple. I just think that a case of this kind demands a more imaginative approach than the average police officer is capable of.’
The emotional stress he was under had made George Kelburn’s Yorkshire accent more pronounced. He was a burly man with the paunch and podgy cheeks of someone who can afford more whisky than was good for him, and it was evident that he had been seeking solace from the decanter. He was wearing a black tie with the dark blue suit which a skilful tailor had constructed to mask his bulk.
‘Mr Kelburn, I’ve worked with the police now for many years and I can assure you that the men at Scotland Yard are shrewd, intelligent and highly efficient.’
Since greeting Temple, Kelburn had not invited him to sit down. The furniture of the room was luxurious but brash and showy. Standing on the brilliantly patterned carpet Temple could look down through the window at a tiny walled garden.
‘Efficient, yes, maybe. But slow – slow. That’s the trouble – damned slow. My daughter’s been murdered, Mr Temple my only child…’ The tears were springing again to Kelburn’s eyes. ‘I’ll give anything to find the swine responsible for that murder. Just name the fee…’
Kelburn was chairman of over fifteen companies and believed that he could buy anyone’s services with a snap of his fingers and a flourish of his cheque book.
‘You don’t solve a case of this kind simply by paying someone a fat fee, Mr Kelburn,’ Temple said quietly. ‘The whole problem is far too—’
He saw Kelburn’s moist eyes focus over his left shoulder and turned round. A woman who looked about fifteen years younger than Kelburn had come quietly into the room.
‘Oh, there you are, Laura! I was wondering where you’d got to. Mr Temple – may I introduce my wife?’
‘How do you do, Mrs Kelburn? I believe you know Steve…’ As they shook hands Temple felt the chunky rings on her fingers. She had put on a dark grey suit, but her nails were painted and her auburn hair was as crisp as if she had just come from the hairdressers.
‘I do indeed. Is she well?’
‘Thank you, yes. She was looking forward to seeing you this morning.’
‘This morning?’ Laura echoed, obviously puzzled.
‘Yes. We were expecting you to call at nine o’clock as arranged, but obviously this business…’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Temple, but I don’t understand.’
‘Were you under the impression that my wife was coming to see you?’ Kelburn demanded.
‘I was indeed.’
‘What made you think she wanted to see you?’ Langdon’s nasal drawl gave the question an unflattering implication.
‘The fact that she telephoned me in the early hours of this morning and said that she wanted to.’
Laura Kelburn stepped back, staring at Temple in amazement. ‘I – I telephoned you?’
‘Yes. About three o’clock a.m.’
‘But that’s nonsense!’ she exclaimed, throwing an appealing glance at her husband.
Kelburn crossed to his wife and put a hand under her elbow. ‘I can assure you my wife didn’t ’phone you, Mr Temple. We occupy the same bedroom. If she’d made a telephone call at that hour of the morning I’d certainly have known about it.’
She said: ‘What exactly am I supposed to have ’phoned you about?’
‘You told me that you suspected…’ Temple hesitated.
‘Suspected what?’ she prompted him rapidly.
‘That your stepdaughter was going to be murdered.’
Laura’s eyes widened and her hand covered her mouth.
‘Good God!’ Kelburn stared accusingly at Temple, as if he was responsible for everything that had happened. ‘But this is ridiculous!’
‘Are you serious, Temple?’ Langdon asked angrily.
‘Wait a minute!’ Laura had recovered her poise quickly.
‘This is the second time I’m supposed to have made a mysterious telephone call.’ She turned to Temple. ‘I met your wife a couple of weeks ago and she had some strange story about having spoken to me on the ’phone – and my saying I wanted to see you.’
‘And you didn’t want to see me?’
‘Of course not!’ Laura dismissed the idea emphatically. ‘I didn’t even ’phone…’
‘Someone did,’ Temple said quietly, then abruptly changed