Black Ship (36 page)

“Mr. Lambert, you didn’t kill him yourself, did you?”

“Gosh, no, Mrs. Fletcher.” He gave her a look of reproach. “I wouldn’t do a thing like that, not even for the Government. I saw Callaghan strangle him and I’ve been tailing him ever since. Didn’t you wonder where I was the last couple of days?”

“No. Who the blazes is Callaghan?”

“He’s a heavy for the Luciano family.”

Daisy thought of the Lucchese family. “Is that the same as an enforcer?”

“More or less.”

“You
saw
him kill Castellano? Why on earth didn’t you come straight to Alec? What do you mean, you ‘collared’ him?”

Lambert went for the first question first. “I saw Castellano pull a gat and the Jessup guy tackled him—boy, that was some neat tackle—and both of them went down.”

“What happened to the gat? The gun?”

“Geeze, I don’t know. It flew up in the air, but I didn’t see where it landed. Does it matter?”

“Yes, but never mind now. Go on.”

“The other two, Callaghan and the guy with him, they knelt down. I didn’t know what was going on, and I couldn’t properly see what they were doing, so I worked my way around. When I got to where I had a better view, Callaghan had his hands around Castellano’s neck. I was trying to figure out what to do, when up he jumped and ran off, so I followed. Geez, Mrs. Fletcher, d’you think I should’ve stayed?”

“Yes. No.
I
don’t know. No, I suppose you did the right thing. Especially if you’ve really caught him.”

“I have!” Lambert sat down at last. “See, I tailed him for two days. He never stopped moving except to get a meal in cheap cafés. I couldn’t collar him in public, so—”

“You could have stopped a policeman.”

Lambert looked sulky. “These British bobbies, they didn’t take me seriously when I got here. I know Mr. Fletcher doesn’t have much of an opinion of me. I wanted to show them I could do the job.”

Daisy had been brushed off by police officers—American as well as English—often enough to sympathise, to a degree. “Right-oh. But now you’ve caught him, you should have gone to Scotland Yard. Where is he?”

“And get sent home with a pat on the head and a dime for bus fare? Sure!”

“Where is he?” Daisy repeated.

“He took a room at a hotel in a lousy part of town, the sort of place where you pay up front and they don’t ask too many questions. I slipped the porter a pound to give me his room number and I went up there and knocked on the door. I put on a limey accent and I said I was the manager and he’d been overcharged. Told him I had some change for him.”

“Brilliant! Who wouldn’t open the door for that?”

“I thought it was kind of cute,” Lambert said modestly. “We had a bit of a roughhouse. He got in a lick or two.” He touched his cheekbone and winced.

“So I see.”

“But I floored him and tied him up with an electrical cord and a ripped-up towel. It had a tear in it already,” he assured her. “I know I’m not allowed to arrest anyone here, so I locked him in the closet. Wardrobe. I stuck a sign on the door saying ‘Do Not Disturb.’ I’ve been back a couple of times to check and tighten the knots, and he was still there, quiet as a mouse. I don’t figure he’ll be making a lot of noise that might make the hotel people call in the cops.”

“Well done!” said Daisy warmly. “And now it’s time
we
called in the cops.”

Piper answered the knock on the door. There was a murmur of voices; then he turned back. “It’s Mrs. Fletcher on the telephone, Chief.”

“I said
no
interruptions!”

“Seems it’s about the case and it’s desp’rately urgent. I bet she’s worked out who did it, Chief.”

Alec gave in and went to the phone.

“Darling,” said Daisy, “you’ll never in a million years guess what …”

The Jessups’ dinner party in honour of Lambert was a small affair. They didn’t want to broadcast their troubles to their friends and acquaintances, even now Patrick and Aidan were cleared of all but minor offences. The Fletchers were invited, of course, and, at Daisy’s request, Mrs. Jessup kindly included the Pearsons.

“They’re frightfully discreet,” Daisy promised. “He’s a lawyer, after all. As they saw poor Lambert’s disastrous arrival, it’s only fair that they should witness his triumph.”

Over the meal, Patrick, Aidan, and Lambert told their stories. Alec finished up with the extrication of Callaghan from the wardrobe and his arrest.

Madge was thrilled. “What an adventure!” she exclaimed. “What a terrible time you had, Mrs. Jessup, and Audrey.”

“I know you don’t need to specify motive in court, Fletcher,” Tommy Pearson objected, “but what I don’t see is why Callaghan killed Castellano. And come to that, why Castellano aimed the gun at Patrick in the first place.”

“He didn’t, sir,” Lambert blurted out. He blushed as everyone looked at him, but he continued gamely, “He was aiming at Callaghan.”

“You may remember, Pearson,” said Alec, “when Mr. Lambert appeared among us, we were talking about the bootleggers organising themselves into gangs? It would appear to have come to open warfare among them.”

“Castellano belonged to the Lucchese family,” said Lambert, “and Callaghan to the Luciano mob.”

“Castellano was poaching—or attempting to poach—on Luciano territory,” Alec explained. To Mr. Jessup, he added, “That’s you, sir. Callaghan was actually sent here to rectify the situation—that is, to deal with Castellano. He nearly got potted first, but thanks to Aidan’s tackle, he was presented with the opportunity to turn the tables.”

“I have a question, too,” said Madge. “What happened to the gun?”

“Oh, I forgot,” said Daisy. “I think I’ve guessed—”

“Great Scott, Daisy!” Alec exploded.

“Well, Mr. Lambert says it flew up into the air. No one’s been able to find it. Don’t you think it might have landed in the fountain’s urn?”

Patrick stared at her. “Gosh, Mrs. Fletcher, what a pity I wasn’t aiming at it. That would have been the throw of a lifetime!”

Alec said repressively that he’d send a man to check in the morning.

Champagne came out with dessert. At the head of the table, Mr. Jessup rose to propose a toast to Lambert. After an effusive expression of gratitude, he continued: “And I may add that I’ve come to a decision. Jessup and Sons will no longer be shipping to America. There’s just too much risk involved. Mind you, we shan’t refuse to deal with any customers who come along, no matter their country of origin, but what they do with their purchases is up to them. So there’s another success for you, Mr. Lambert.”

He raised his glass and everyone drank to the blushing American.

“Speech!” cried Tommy Pearson.

“Speech!” Patrick seconded him.

“Who, me?” Lambert spluttered.

“Yes, do please say a word, Mr. Lambert,” said Mrs. Jessup.

Lambert stood up. His mouth opened, and closed again. Then he leant forward and picked up the unused Champagne glass that Enid had set at his place.

“The heck with seltzer!” he said recklessly. “Pour me Champagne!”