Page 33 of Ticket Out

He looked past the man into the room, searching for who might be with him, and saw the window was open, the net curtains blowing in the breeze.

“Has someone just escaped out of that window?” he asked. He glanced back at Hartridge, signaling him to go and check it out.

Hartridge took the hint immediately, running out the room to the front door in pursuit.

“No, they haven’t.” The man in the striped suit glanced at the window, then smoothed a hand down his tie nervously before turning back at James, mouth tight. “What’s this about?”

“Murder, sir.” James watched his pompous expression falter and his face pale. “May I have your name?”

“Edward Golightly.” Golightly was not happy to have to give his name—his hold on the door jamb was tight enough to make his knuckles white.

“And the name of the man who ran when I knocked?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Golightly took a final look into the room, then stepped forward, forcing James back as he closed the door behind him. “Why didn’t my secretary announce you? Do you have an appointment?”

“There was no secretary when we arrived, and this is my appointment.” James held up his warrant card again. “Your firm set up a company that’s come up in a murder enquiry, Mr. Golightly. I need the name of the client you were acting for.”

“What’s the company name?” Golightly fussed with his tie again, and James had the feeling he knew exactly which company James wanted information on. Someone had tipped him off, or the Fraud boys had tramped around a little too obviously and sent up a red flag with their enquiries.

“High House.”

Golightly attempted a smile. “I’ll need to get my secretary to look through the files. If you leave your number, I’ll have her ring you when she gets back.”

“No.” James wasn’t letting this weasel out of his sight until he had the information he needed. “You’ll look it up for me, now, if you’re going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

“I say, who’s your superior officer, because I’m going to put in a complaint.” Golightly’s mouth was bloodless around the edges with outrage. “This is a solicitor’s office. There are questions of client privilege.”

“DI Whetford is my boss,” James said. “I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear from you. And I’m not asking for privileged information, I’m asking for the name of the client you set up a company for. One whose name you should have forwarded to the Companies Register, but somehow haven’t gotten around to yet.”

Golightly drew himself up. “Well, I’m not going to get the information for you. I wouldn’t even know where to look without Miss Carshaw.”

“That’s fine. I’ll just use your telephone to ring up to arrange for a warrant to search the premises,” James said. He moved through the waiting room to the reception area, and as he lifted the telephone handle, Hartridge burst back in, breathing heavily.

“Got away,” he said, putting out a hand to steady himself on the desk. He looked over at Golightly. “I got a really good look at him, though.”

Golightly wasn’t able to hide the dismay on his face.

James gave a nod. “Good. We can put out a sketch, let the public know where he was last spotted and who he’s associated with. It might help identify him.” He began to dial.

“You will keep the name of this firm out of the press,” Golightly squawked.

“Not possible, I’m afraid. I have to find who my murder victim is, and this is the best chance to do that. I have no choice.” He turned away in satisfaction at the way Golightly’s eyes bulged at his statement.

Just as the call was answered, Golightly darted forward and pushed down the telephone hook to cut off the call.

James cradled the hand set against his shoulder and turned slowly to face the lawyer.

There was a moment of silence between them.

“Look, I’ll let you have the information you’re looking for if you keep my name out of the paper.” Golightly was sweating slightly. “Do we have a deal?”

“We do.” James slowly put the receiver back in its cradle and watched as Golightly went back through into the waiting room.

Both he and Hartridge followed behind him as he opened the door into his office, but instead of going in, he stood in the doorway and stared. When he turned to look at them over his shoulder, his face was slack.

“He’s only stolen the file, the bastard.” He pointed at a gleaming desk with nothing on it. “We were looking it over when you knocked. He’s taken it.”

James stared at him for a long moment as he tried to calm the fury inside him at being bested again. “Then, Mr. Golightly, let’s start with who ‘he’ is.”

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