The Thousand Faces of Night - Jack Higgins [50]
He parked the truck at the front door and went inside. As he walked along the corridor he heard the sound of weeping from the sitting-room. When he looked in, Maria was huddled in a chair sobbing her heart out.
'What is it, angel?' he said, dropping to one knee beside her.
She raised her tear-stained face and said bitterly, 'Get away from me. I can still smell her perfume on you.'
He jumped up in anger. 'For God's sake tell me what all this is about?'
'It's Papa,' she said. 'He's gone out in the other truck.'
Marlowe frowned. 'He must be mad. He's a sick man.'
'I know,' she said. 'Mac phoned through over an hour ago. He'd had a breakdown and asked if you could drive the other truck through to him.'
Marlowe cursed savagely. 'And the old man insisted on going?'
She nodded. 'Yes, while you were having fun with Jenny O'Connor he had to drag himself out of bed and go out on a night like this.'
Before Marlowe could reply, the telephone rang. She rose quickly and answered it. 'Yes, who is it?' she said. There was a short silence as she listened, and then she swayed and clutched at the table. 'What did you say?' She started to shake her head dumbly from side to side, and then she dropped the receiver and turned her agonized face to Marlowe. 'Hugh!' she said. 'Hugh!' She slipped to the floor in a dead faint.
Marlowe dropped to one knee and picked up the receiver. 'Hallo?' he said. 'Marlowe speaking. Who is that?'
'Hugh, is that you?' Mac's voice crackled over the line. 'I'm at a place called Bardon Bank about forty miles away. You'd better get here fast. The old man's dead.'
10
Marlowe arrived at Bardon Bank shortly after seven o'clock on the following morning. It wasn't difficult to locate the scene of the accident. Half-way down the hill a police car and a couple of breakdown wagons were parked at the roadside. He pulled in behind them and switched off the engine.
As he climbed down from the cab, a young police constable approached him with a frown. 'Now then, chum, we don't want any sightseers.'
'The man who crashed was my boss,' Marlowe told him. 'I got a phone call last night telling me to get here as soon as possible.'
An expression of sympathy appeared on the policeman's face. 'Oh yes, your other driver's been here. A Jamaican called Mackenzie. You'll find him at the transport cafe down at the bottom of the hill.'
Marlowe nodded. 'Thanks. I'd like to have a look before I go, if you don't mind.'
The policeman shrugged. 'Please yourself, but I'm warning you - it isn't very pretty.'
They walked a little way down the road and came to a gaping hole in the wall. The bank fell steeply on the other side through a plantation of firs to a stream fifty or sixty feet below.
The path of the truck was quite plain, and at the end of the lane it had cleared through the fir trees, Marlowe could see the blackened and twisted wreckage of the truck.
He cleared his throat. 'It looks pretty bad.'
The policeman nodded. 'I've been down there, and believe me it is bad. The whole damned thing went up in flames when it hit the bottom.'
'What about the old man?' Marlowe said slowly.
The policeman shook his head. 'He's still in there, or what's left of him. They're burning their way through the wreckage now to get him out.'
For a moment longer Marlowe looked down at the wreck, and then he turned away. 'Thanks,' he said. 'I'll probably see you later.' He climbed back into the truck and drove down to the transport cafe.
He found Mac sprawled half across a table in one corner, fast asleep. When Marlowe touched him the Jamaican came awake instantly. A slight smile came to his face. 'Hugh! I'd just about given you up.'
Marlowe explained. 'Maria passed out on me when she heard the news. I had to get the doctor in. He gave her a sedative and put her to bed. She was in such a state that I couldn't leave her.'
'How is she now?' Mac asked.
Marlowe shook his head. 'All frozen up inside, poor kid. She's taking it pretty hard. She had a lousy night until I made a cup of tea and slipped a couple of