In the Frame - By Dick Francis Page 0,75

one in Sydney. I shouldn’t think the suburban place I told you about had proved central enough, so they shut it.’

‘Stop,’ he said.

‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘But the organisation is like a mushroom… it burrows along underground and pops up everywhere.’

‘I only said stop so I could change the tape on the recorder. You can carry right on now.’

‘Oh.’ I half laughed. ‘Well… did you get any answers from Donald to my questions?’

‘Yes, we did.’

‘Carefully?’

‘Rest assured,’ he said dryly. ‘We carried out your wishes to the letter. Mr Stuart’s answers were “Yes of course” to the first question, and “No, whyever should I” to the second, and “Yes” to the third.’

‘Was he absolutely certain?’

‘Absolutely.’ He cleared his throat. ‘He seems distant and withdrawn. Uninterested. But quite definite.’

‘How is he?’ I asked.

‘He spends all his time looking at a picture of his wife. Every time we call at his house, we can see him through the front window, just sitting there.’

‘He is still… sane?’

‘I’m no judge.’

‘You can at least let him know that he’s no longer suspected of engineering the robbery and killing Regina.’

‘That’s a decision for my superiors,’ he said.

‘Well, kick them into it,’ I said. ‘Do the police positively yearn for bad publicity?’

‘You were quick enough to ask our help,’ he said tartly.

To do your job, I thought. I didn’t say it aloud. The silence spoke for itself.

‘Well…’ his voice carried a mild apology. ‘Our co-operation, then.’ He paused. ‘Where are you now? When I’ve telexed Melbourne, I may need to talk to you again.’

‘I’m in a ’phone booth in a country store in a village on the hills above Wellington.’

‘Where are you going next?’

‘I’m staying right here. Wexford and Greene are still around in the city and I don’t want to risk the outside chance of their seeing me.’

‘Give me the number, then.’

I read it off the telephone.

‘I want to come home as soon as possible,’ I said. ‘Can you do anything about my passport?’

‘You’ll have to find a consul.’

Oh ta, I thought tiredly. I hung up the receiver and wobbled back to the car.

‘Tell you what,’ I said, dragging into the back seat, ‘I could do with a double hamburger and a bottle of brandy.’

We sat in the car for two hours.

The store didn’t sell liquor or hot food. Sarah bought a packet of biscuits. We ate them.

‘We can’t stay here all day,’ she said explosively, after a lengthy glum silence.

I couldn’t be sure that Wexford wasn’t out searching for her and Jik with murderous intent, and I didn’t think she’d be happy to know it.

‘We’re perfectly safe here,’ I said.

‘Just quietly dying of blood-poisoning,’ Jik agreed.

‘I left my pills in the Hilton,’ Sarah said.

Jik stared. ‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Nothing. I just thought you might like to know.’

‘The pill?’ I asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Jesus,’ Jik said.

A delivery van struggled up the hill and stopped outside the shop. A man in an overall opened the back, took out a large bakery tray, and carried it in.

‘Food,’ I said hopefully.

Sarah went in to investigate. Jik took the opportunity to unstick his tee-shirt from his healing grazes, but I didn’t bother.

‘You’ll be glued to those clothes, if you don’t,’ Jik said, grimacing over his task.

‘I’ll soak them off.’

‘All those cuts and things didn’t feel so bad when we were in the sea.’

‘No.’

‘Catches up with you a bit, doesn’t it?’

‘Mm.’

He glanced at me. ‘Why don’t you just scream or something?’

‘Can’t be bothered. Why don’t you?’

He grinned. ‘I’ll scream in paint.’

Sarah came back with fresh doughnuts and cans of Coke. We made inroads, and I at least felt healthier.

After another half hour, the store keeper appeared in the doorway, shouting and beckoning.

‘A call for you…’

I went stiffly to the telephone. It was Frost, clear as a bell.

‘Wexford, Greene and Snell have booked a flight to Melbourne. They will be met at Melbourne airport…’

‘Who’s Snell?’ I said.

‘How do I know? He was travelling with the other two.’

Beetle-brows, I thought.

‘Now listen,’ Frost said. ‘The telex has been red-hot between here and Melbourne, and the police there want your co-operation, just to clinch things…’ He went on talking for a long time. At the end he said, ‘Will you do that?’

I’m tired, I thought. I’m battered, and I hurt. I’ve done just about enough.

‘All right.’

Might as well finish it, I supposed.

‘The Melbourne police want to know for sure that the three Munnings copies you… er… acquired from the gallery are still where you told me.’

‘Yes, they are.’

‘Right. Well… good luck.’

16

We flew Air New Zealand back to