Rumpole and the Penge Bungalow Murders by John Mortimer Read Free Book Online Page B

differently when it comes to getting married.’
    â€˜If I ever do, I’m sure I’ll be able to rub along on a life of crime,’ I was unwise enough to tell her.
    â€˜Rubbing along doesn’t sound quite good enough, Rumpole. I’m sure your wife will expect more than that. By the way, you know how you landed the junior brief in R . v. Jerold ?’
    â€˜Your father said,’ I remembered the conversation over the Wystan port, ‘that you recommended me.’
    â€˜I did, Rumpole. You can be sure that, when it comes to questions of your career, I have your interests at heart.’
    The telephone rang then and I gathered it was Daddy, telling his daughter to meet him for dinner at Simpson’s in the Strand. Hilda departed in a hurry and I was left worrying more about the bloodstains in the Penge bungalows and less than perhaps I should about why Hilda Wystan was planning my future career at the bar. In my comparative innocence, I hadn’t noticed that the dark clouds were gathering not only over Simon Jerold but over much of Rumpole’s life to come.

7
    â€˜It’s quite like old times,’ Daisy Sampson said as we were dealing with a late breakfast (bun and butter washed down by watery coffee) in the canteen at London Sessions as a prelude to a visit to my client, Cyril Timson, in the cells in order to search for some more or less lovable act to mitigate the effects of his confession of guilt.
    â€˜Yes,’ I said, ‘the old times before you danced away from me.’
    I tried not to sound bitter, and Daisy drew back the scarlet lips on her slightly protuberant teeth and gave me a brilliant smile. ‘That was only a bit of fun,’ she started to mitigate for herself. ‘That was the “Gentlemen’s Excuse Me”.’
    â€˜That gentleman excused himself far too much, if you want my opinion.’
    â€˜Well, you weren’t alone for long. That other girl seemed dead keen to dance with you.’
    â€˜That “other girl”, as you call her, happens to be the daughter of my Head of Chambers.’
    â€˜Well, that didn’t stop her being dead keen on dancing with you.’
    I bit into my bun. What Daisy had just said seemed to point to a road down which I was not yet prepared to travel. I was determined to return the conversation to the safer subject of crime.
    â€˜Anyway, you sent the brief to Teddy Singleton.’
    â€˜When he couldn’t do it, I suggested he passed it on to you.’
    â€˜Thank you, Daisy.’ I supposed a brief was a fair substitute for a dance.
    â€˜I thought it would be good for you to meet the Timsons.’
    â€˜There’s more than one of them?’
    â€˜Oh, a huge number. They’re great on family values. Look, over there, they’ve all turned up to see Uncle Cyril sent back to prison. They reckon he needs a lot of support.’
    She nodded towards a table in the corner at which a number of respectable-looking citizens of various ages and sexes were talking in quiet, concerned voices and drinking coffee.
    â€˜They look a reliable group,’ I said. ‘Shall I call some of them as character witnesses?’
    â€˜Better not.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜They’ve all got more convictions than you’ve had hot dinners, Horace.’
    â€˜What do they do?’
    â€˜Crime. Oh, no violence. Nothing spectacular. Just ordinary, decent breaking and entering, that sort of thing. That’s why they look so respectable. But the best thing about them is they provide an enormous amount of work for the legal profession.’
    It was when she said this that I was prepared to forgive Daisy her infidelity at the Inner Temple ball. ‘If that’s the case,’ I said, ‘let’s not hang about here. Let’s go straight down and talk to Uncle Cyril.’
    â€˜The charge is that you broke into Sound Universe, in spite of its title a comparatively small radio