Free The Wicked Mr Hall by Roy Archibald Hall Page A

After Ambrose had done his stuff, we covered the safe in coats, cushions, beer towels, rugs, everything. It must have been the warmest safe in the south of England. When Ambrose’s gelignite exploded, it became the hottest. I went into the yard and looked up at the publicans’ bedroom window. No lights went on, they were so pissed they’d have slept through a nuclear explosion. However, when the smoke had cleared, we saw that the safe door had buckled, but it was jammed. Ambrose said all that was needed was a touch of ‘jelly’ on the hinges. He did his work. Again, we covered the safe, and bang! This explosion was not so loud. The safe door, falling on to the stone cellar floor made more noise. The safe was full of banknotes, in a corner at the back were some nice pieces of jewellery. I was back in business.
    In our lodging rooms, we showered and shampooed. All the clothes that we had worn were put into rubbish bags and disposed of. If we were caught, the police forensics would have nothing. We counted the money – there was£29,000. For a cheap price, I bought Ambrose’s share of the jewels. He caught the first plane back to Edinburgh, and I returned to my London flat. It felt good to be working again.

8
A TOUCH OF CLASS
    C hatting to young girls in pubs can be very gainful for a man such as myself. A young au pair in the Maidenhead area, in a repeat of the Slough episode, told me one evening of her rich employers in Henley, who were leaving for the USA in a few days and were taking all their valuables with them. That morning, the lady of the house had taken her jewellery taken out of her bank safe deposit box, and it was now locked in a travelling wardrobe trunk. Before she got too drunk, the au pair gave me the address. The next day, in a hired car on a bent licence, I drove past my next target.
    It was a nice property, a modern lodge house. I parked the car in the lane and approached their drive. There were no cars parked there. I walked up to the front door and rang the bell. No answer. I walked round to the back of the house and quickly entered. I started with the masterbedroom and found some trinkets, but nothing of real value. I methodically searched all the rooms, including the travelling wardrobe trunk.
    In the dining-room, in a glass case, there was a beautiful piece of Renaissance work – a Spanish galleon with portholes of rubies and diamonds encrusted in its bows. It was beautiful, I took it.
    On a whim, I drove to Scotland. I approached Louis Henry, Esther’s son. I showed him the galleon. He offered me £2,000. I refused, as that was a fraction of its value. I put the galleon in a safe place and considered spending a couple of days in Edinburgh visiting old friends. I was in my hotel room getting changed when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, I was confronted by four policemen. The one who did all the talking was an old acquaintance, Chief Constable Merrilees. He had been speaking to Louis Henry. His men searched the room, but found nothing. They took me down the station and interrogated me for four hours. Being questioned by the police, like going to prison, is all part of my professional work. I’ve never given them anything. In the end, lacking evidence they released me. Going to Louis had been cheeky, but I couldn’t resist it. I had a night out in Edinburgh, but I felt a nagging sense of frustration. I was sure the information the au pair had given me on the jewels had been genuine. The next day, back in Henley, I watched the lodge house. Packing boxes were now evident at all the windows. There was movement. By mid-morning the man had left in his car and, just before lunchtime, I watched his wife and the young au pair , along with the children, get into a familyestate car and drive off. I waited a few minutes and then approached. I went in through the same set of French windows. This time there was less to search, as most of the belongings were in packing crates, presumably for