Fallen Skies Read online

  The inspector nodded as if the information were of little interest. “There has been violence in the past?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Bad?”

  “He slapped her once, and I believe he has forced himself on her,” Charlie said tightly.

  The inspector kept his face impassive. “It is nothing of that nature.”

  Charlie lit his cigarette and pocketed his lighter. “What, then?” he demanded briefly.

  “I should like you to answer some questions first, if you please.”

  Charlie nodded.

  “What have your movements been today?”

  “I was telephoned early this morning by someone I believed to be calling from the Palace Theatre, London. They asked me to go up to town at once for a meeting. They told me that their musical director was sick and asked if I would replace him.”

  “At what time was this telephone call?”

  “About quarter to nine.”

  “And what did you do, Mr. Smith?”

  “Leaped out of bed, dressed, called Lily to tell her I wouldn’t see her today, rushed for the train, got to London, kicked my heels while they tried to work out what had happened, and then discovered it was some kind of hoax.”

  The inspector nodded slowly. “By whom?”

  Charlie shrugged. “God knows,” he said. “We all went out to lunch on the strength of it, I saw a couple of chaps I know, and we had a few drinks, and then I came home on the four o’clock train and called Lily from the station, and here I am.”

  There was a long thoughtful silence.

  “This morning now,” the inspector said. “What time did you call Mrs. Winters?”

  “This morning? At about quarter to ten.”

  “A long telephone call, was it?”

  “About twenty minutes.”

  “I see. Did you telephone anyone else at all? Before you went to the station and caught the train?”

  “No, I went straight away. I cut it a bit fine but I just caught the half past ten train to London.”

  “Have you kept your ticket?”

  Charlie flushed. “I have to confess,” he said, “I dashed out of the house with not a penny in my pocket. I had nothing but my cheque book. I had to run for the train anyway, and at the other end they weren’t checking tickets. I travelled up without a ticket, and I didn’t buy one. In London I went to my bank and cashed a cheque. I have my return ticket.” He reached into his pocket and put the ticket on the desk.

  The inspector took it up and put it down again. “Did you speak to anyone on the train? There was no ticket collector, I take it?”

  Charlie shook his head. “I was on my own in a compartment, the whole way.”

  The inspector nodded. “Is there any way that you can prove that you caught that particular train? That you did not catch a later one, for instance?”

  Charlie thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I can’t prove I was on it,” he said. “Does that time matter particularly?”

  “Yes,” the inspector said. “It matters most particularly. Are you in love with Mrs. Winters?”

  There was a stunned silence.

  “I am very very fond of her,” Charlie said levelly. “There’s nothing between us. Her husband is a friend of mine also.”

  “Your landlady tells us that this morning, on the telephone to someone—presumably Mrs. Winters—that you said that you wanted something to change. That you wanted to snatch her and Christopher up, and take them away.”

  Charlie inhaled a deep breath and then blew out a thin plume of smoke. “I think you had better tell me what this is all about,” he said.

  “Do you deny advising Mrs. Winters to leave her husband? Do you deny offering her financial support if she divorced him?”

  There was a long silence. “I do think Mrs. Winters should leave her husband,” Charlie said eventually. “He has been violent to her in the past and I think he could hit her again. There has been no love affair between us, and there will be none. I would certainly do my best to support her if she decided to leave him. I love her and respect her. I am not her lover. I cannot be her husband.”

  “Because of your wound?”

  Charlie recoiled slightly. “You have been busy, haven’t you? I thought there were rules of confidentiality governing medical records?”

  The inspector did not answer. “Because of your wound, Sir?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a long silence. When the inspector spoke his voice was gentle. “Is there anything you want to tell me, Sir? I think we should get this straightened out as soon as possible, don’t you? It’s not worked. It’s gone wrong. Let’s get it cleared up and we can all go home.”

  Charlie stubbed out the cigarette in the silver ashtray. “We’re at cross purposes,” he said briefly. “I don’t know what you’re investigating. Everything I’ve told you about Lily is true. I can’t help you any further.”

  The inspector nodded. “I should like you to come to the police station with us, Mr. Smith. There are a few things I would like to discuss further.”

  Charlie hesitated. “Do I have a choice?”

  The inspector shook his head with a grim smile. “If you refuse to come with us I will put you under arrest.”

  Charlie blinked. “What the devil is going on here? I insist on knowing what has happened!”

  “I’ll tell you at the station.”

  Charlie shook his head. “Actually, inspector,” he said, “I think I’d rather be charged and have a right to my lawyer, and a bit more information, than carry on chattering to you while you consult my private medical history and snoop around my landlady. Charge me, if you think you have evidence to make it stick—or I shall go to Lily now and she will tell me what’s happening.”

  The inspector nodded. “Charles David Smith, I am arresting you for the kidnap of Christopher Charles Winters. You need say nothing, but anything you say may be taken down and used in evidence against you.”

  Charlie’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  The inspector was silent.

  “Christopher’s been kidnapped?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not by me!”

  “That we will endeavour to discover.”

  The implication of the charge suddenly hit Charlie and he leaped to his feet and steadied himself with one hand on the back of the chair. The police constable loomed silently between him and the door. The inspector said nothing.

  “Can I see Lily? She must be absolutely frantic.”

  “Not at the moment, Sir, I’m afraid. We’ll need to go down to the police station and take a statement from you, and so on.”

  “Look,” Charlie said with rapid earnestness. “Just stop here a moment. It’s not me. You can search my lodgings. I don’t have him hidden there. I have been in London all day, you can confirm that. I’ll give you names. I wouldn’t have taken him without Lily’s consent. I would never have taken him without her consent. But don’t you see—while you’re arresting me, the baby’s somewhere else!

  “For Christ’s sake don’t bother with me. I’ll come to the station, you can parole me, I’ll do anything you say—but find Christopher. It’s not me—so someone else has got him. You should be looking for someone else!”

  “You’ll come to the station with us now?” the inspector asked.

  Charlie nodded. “Please,” he said. “Don’t stop looking for him.”

  “I take it we don’t need to handcuff you?”

  “No.”

  “On your honour?”

  “On my honour! Will you give Lily a message for me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell her to be brave. Tell her I’m sure it will be all right. Tell her I’m thinking of her all the time. Tell her that she’s in my heart, she’s always in my heart. Will you tell her that?”

  “Yes.”

  The inspector nodded at the constable who slipped from the room and went round the corner to fetch the car. Then with the inspecto