trail to the Porsche could hardly be bleaker, I decided to tackle Harry Prince on the slim chance that since Huptons was part of his empire he might have heard a whisper about it and an even slimmer chance that he would convey this news to me if I presented myself on his doorstep.
Harry seems a great guy until you cross him. He and his wife live in a plush mansion in the village of Charden on the way to Ashford. I like his wife very much, which suggests that Harry must have a tender side, the existence of which has eluded me. I do have to admit that Harry is sometimes willing to do me a good turn even though a bad one is equally attractive to him.
The garages he owns are all reasonably honest â or if they arenât he turns a blind eye until the truth comes out and kicks him in the face. I went to see him on Tuesday morning â unannounced, as that way Harry is more likely to be available, because he is always hopeful Iâve come crawling to beg him to buy Frogs Hill. Not in a million years. My luck was out, because so was Harry. I tried again in the afternoon and this time Harry was actually in his forecourt when I pulled up at the electric gates. Even Harry didnât go so far as to refuse to open them.
âBad day on Sunday,â I said as I parked the Alfa.
âThat why youâre here, Jack? Come to sell up?â Harry shook with guffaws of laughter.
âYes, but not to sell up. Itâs about Mike Nelsonâs Porsche.â
âPoor old Mike,â he said reflectively. âI heard it had been nicked.â
âAny line on it? Someone told me that Huptons had a customer asking about a Porsche 356 for sale.â
A pause. âIs this official, Jack?â
âYes.â
âNo.â
âThen make it unofficial, Harry.â
An agonized look. âYou know me, Jack. Always willing to help when I can. Yes, someone did ask about a 356. Why not?â
âAnd could Huptons give this customer any help?â
âAs it happens, they could.â
My day was brighter already. âHuptons had one for sale?â
âWell, yes, they did.â
âWhat makes me think this particular customer wasnât interested in that one?â
âWhich customer?â he asked carefully.
âThe one who was asking about a particular Porsche,â I said trying to hang on to patience. âWhat did they sell him?â
âThey didnât. It wasnât Mikeâs. Theyâd know that one. Mike was a customer of theirs.â He blew out his cheeks defiantly.
â
Tell
me, Harry.â I flashed my ID ominously.
He licked his lips and then burst out with, âSomeone at Huptons referred him to someone.â
âWho?â
Explosion of laughter from Harry. âDoubler!â
Dark clouds immediately rolled in again. I could understand why Harry found it so funny.
Doublerâs real name is lost in the mists of the underworld. Everyone knows him as Doubler. Some say he gets his nickname from his eagerness to double-cross both foes and friends although he objects strongly to being double-crossed himself. Others say that it comes from his boast that he can double your money for you â but that heâd rather kill you than hand it over.
Whichever, he was bad news. If the theft was indeed linked to Mikeâs murder â and after my talk with Arthur this seemed likely â the name of Doubler made it much, much worse, and something that no one who valued his tenure on this earth would pursue.
So what did I do? I drove back to Frogs Hill, rang Arthur and took the job. I always like a challenge.
----
1 See
Classic Calls the Shots
FIVE
Iâ d never met Doubler, but Iâd heard about him. Who hadnât in the car trade? Doubler works to his own rules, and Rule Number One is: you donât find him â he finds you. Address? Office? Phone number? No way. Like T.S. Eliotâs Macavity the Mystery Cat, whenever thereâs