Abracadaver (16 page)

‘No,’ said Cribb. ‘I didn’t think Mrs B. was more partial to one man than any other.’

‘Ah, there’s a type she goes for,’ said the Major affirmatively. ‘She picks out the fellows with an obvious weakness, like an old lioness at the water-hole looking for a lame buffalo.’

Cribb shot a menacing look in Thackeray’s direction, almost daring him to infer anything from the Major’s remark. ‘I suppose you mean that her late husband couldn’t see without his spectacles and Professor Virgo has a stammer.’

‘Exactly,’ said Major Chick. ‘She wasn’t very interested in me when I tried the sentimental approach yesterday afternoon. Had to drink myself into a stupor before she’d even let me sit in her confounded box. It’s the runt of the litter that lady fancies, I can tell you.’

‘You were telling us why you suspect her,’ Cribb reminded him acidly. ‘You think she was jealous of Lola’s friendship with Professor Virgo.’

‘Lola did it out of spite, of course,’ said the Major. ‘She wasn’t a bit interested in Virgo. Young Bellotti was far more attractive to a girl like that, but, you know, she took an impish pleasure in jilting him for the older man. She was tormenting Bellotti and Mrs Body at the same time, you see. Hussy like that doesn’t get much sympathy from me when someone feeds poison to her.’

‘How did Mrs Body manage to administer the poison when she wasn’t even at the Paragon?’ said Cribb.

‘How do you know she wasn’t there, Sergeant? You’ve got her word for it, and that’s all. Everyone else was there, so there was nobody to provide an alibi for her at Philbeach House. I think she saw the others off in the bus and then took a cab to the theatre herself. She knew the order of the acts as well as Plunkett himself, so it was easy to judge the moment to transfer the acid to the tumbler. Poison’s a woman’s way, Sergeant.’

‘I could name you a dozen men who swung for using it, Major,’ said Cribb.

‘Well, that’s my opinion, blast it. Crime of passion. Why, you can’t deny that Virgo’s act was chosen for the murder. That’s significant, in my view. Like taking revenge at the moment of unfaithfulness. These theatrical wallahs are apt to arrange things with an eye to dramatic effect, you know. That’s their weakness.’

For a second, Cribb eyed the Major, standing over his map with the lamplight accentuating his features, like a tableau of Wellington on the eve of Waterloo. He passed no comment.

‘All right, Sergeant. In spite of all my theories, you still want me to question Plunkett,’ said the Major, in a resigned tone.

‘You’re quite a mind-reader, sir. Yes, it’s a plausible case you’ve made out against Mrs Body, and you may be sure Thackeray and I will put some strong questions to the lady. I still want to know about Plunkett and his possible links with Miss Pinkus though. You’ll have to put your questions delicately, of course.’

‘I’ll do the best I can. Shall I say I’m from the Yard? He doesn’t know me, you see.’

‘Better not, sir,’ said Cribb hastily. ‘It’s never advisable to impersonate the police. I think you’ll find him quite talkative if you lead him to believe you’re acting in a legal capacity, trying to establish the beneficiaries of Miss Pinkus’s estate.’

‘Did she have one?’

‘I doubt it, sir, but money talks with Mr Plunkett. He’ll be ready to believe she left a fortune if you hint at it.’

‘You’re a shrewd old devil, Sergeant.’

‘Thank you, Major. It’s time we started though. May we rendezvous here again at two? Thank you. Thackeray, sound the advance, will you?’

CHAPTER
15

THACKERAY WAS DUMBFOUNDED. NOT by the deception Cribb had practised on Major Chick; it was obvious (to a man of Thackeray’s insight) that the elaborate charade in the Major’s rooms was staged solely to get the Major to the Paragon. No surprise at all that when the Major had marched away on his mission and been swallowed by the fog, Cribb suggested a glass of ale at the nearest pub. And really to be expected that Cribb should then announce he had no intention of spending the rest of the morning at Philbeach House. Nor did Thackeray turn a whisker when the sergeant plunged into a two hour analysis of the whole inquiry, event by event, culminating, several glasses later, in a review of the murder suspects. Cribb didn’t usually do such things, but the man was only human and probably wanted to try his theories on an intelligent ear. What finally shattered Thackeray’s composure was the climax of Cribb’s disquisition. As brisk and positive as a turnstile-man, the sergeant took the suspects one by one, examined them and allowed them to pass out of reckoning. One was left. Only one who could have murdered Lola Pinkus.

‘I can’t believe it, Sarge.’

‘D’you mean I’ve been wasting my time?’

‘Lord, no, it makes sense enough. Couldn’t really have been anyone else from the start, though I didn’t see it myself. It’s the coolness of it that takes my breath away. Fancy thinking that by causing Lola’s death . . . It’s abominable, Sarge!’

‘What murder isn’t? There’s no point in agitating yourself, Constable. If you want to fret about something, give a thought to next Tuesday night. That, at least, ought to be preventable, though I’m damned if I see how.’

‘The Yard won’t intervene, Sarge, and it’s more than our jobs are worth to try and stop the show ourselves.’

Cribb took out his watch. ‘Time we moved. Can’t be late for our rendezvous with the Major. When we get there I want you to leave the talking to me and don’t look surprised at anything I suggest. Got that?’

Thackeray sighed as he followed Cribb into the street. Was he really as transparent as that?

When they knocked, the Major flung open his door so abruptly that he must have been standing there waiting.

‘We’re not late, are we?’ asked Cribb.

‘Late? No, no. I got back early. Had time to mess out in Knightsbridge.’ The Major pointed out the location on his map.

‘Ah, well done. You concluded your interview with Plunkett quite quickly then.’

‘Too blasted quickly. Had me guns spiked, in fact. The fellow wasn’t prepared to talk at all. He was too damned worried about his daughter. Couldn’t put his mind to anything, he said. She went to call on her young man yesterday— odd behaviour for any girl, in my view—and hasn’t been heard of since.’

‘Miss Blake?’

‘No, Plunkett’s daughter, I said.’

‘But that is Miss Blake, Major. Ellen Blake, the friend of Albert, the strong man. She went to call on Albert at Philbeach House. I spoke to her myself. We must get over there at once! This is appalling. I hope to God it’s not too late.’

Finding a four-wheeler in the fog was so unlikely that the detectives started out for Kensington Palace Gardens on foot, Cribb setting the pace at a brisk jog, the Major, light of step and obviously quite fit, matching his strides, while the third member of the party laboured to keep the others within earshot, privately cursing Cribb and his liquid lunches. For all that, he was not long in rejoining them when they reached Philbeach House, hats, coats and eyebrows white with freezing fog.

Cribb’s knock was masterful. So was his entry, growling the word ‘Police’ as he shouldered aside the door and the ugly manservant and strode through the hall with the others at his heels.

‘Who is there?’ A woman’s voice from the drawing-room. Not Mrs Body’s.

They entered that eccentric room of faces. In Mrs Body’s chair, like a monstrous cuckoo, was Albert’s mother.

‘What’s this—the police?’ she boomed, so loudly that Beaconsfield, prone at her feet, opened one eye to survey them. ‘I didn’t send for the police.’

‘Where’s the lady of the house, Ma’am?’ demanded Cribb.

‘Are you being offensive?’ asked Albert’s mother, moving her hand to the bulldog’s collar.

‘Mrs Body. We must see Mrs Body.’

‘Must?’ repeated Albert’s mother. ‘That is no way to request an audience with a lady. She is unable to see you, anyway. She is indisposed. I have accordingly taken charge as housekeeper. I shall be writing to Sir Douglas—’

‘Indisposed, you say. What’s the matter with her?’

‘She has an attack of the vapours and will not leave her room. Somebody had to take charge, so I—’

‘The vapours,’ said Cribb. ‘Better get up there at once, Major! Thackeray, sound the gong in the hall. I want everyone out of their rooms and down here.’ He turned back to Albert’s mother, who was visibly outraged at such liberties. ‘Your son, madam. He’s in the house, I hope? I shall need to question him.’

‘You have no authority—’

‘Madam, I’m investigating one murder and trying to prevent another. I hope you wouldn’t contemplate obstructing me in the execution of my duty. If it’s authority that’s wanted I’ll remind you that I’m acting in the name of a lady with authority extending a good deal further than yours or Mrs Body’s—over an Empire, in fact.’

‘Officer,’ said Albert’s mother, in a voice quaking with emotion, ‘that gracious lady has no two subjects more loyal than Dizzie’—her palm sought the comfort of Beaconsfield’s tongue—‘and me. If you had any knowledge at all of the halls you would know that our careers are dedicated to the red, white and blue. There is no need to remind us where our duty lies.’

‘Thank you, Ma’am,’ said Cribb tersely. ‘Then you’ll do that lady a very good service by helping to instil a co-operative spirit among the other guests when my constable has—’

Thackeray had found the gong, and was plainly infected by his sergeant’s sense of urgency. Startled residents came running from many points in the house.

‘In here, if you please,’ called Cribb, when he could make himself heard. ‘Is anyone out this morning?’ he inquired of Albert’s mother over the heads of those streaming in.

‘We are all permanently at home. It is a rule of the house.’

Thackeray began to make a mental roll-call. Quite soon everyone he could recall having seen there before had crowded into the drawing-room, except Mrs Body. Albert, flushed from recent exercise and wearing a dressing-gown, was one of the first; he stayed near the door, away from his mother. Professor Virgo peered in and prepared to bolt away again, but Cribb extended an arm to him in a way that was part invitation, part coercion. Sam Fagan, Bellotti and the Undertakers arrived together, making their entrance with the aplomb of well-established residents. Soon it was impossible to keep a tally, for others, members of the Paragon chorus or orchestra perhaps, or servants, were entering through the second door. Bella Pinkus, in black crepe, came last, supported quite superflously by Miss Tring; Professor Virgo, twitching through the length of his body each time his eyes met anyone else’s, looked far more ready to collapse.

‘We’ll give Mrs Body a few minutes,’ Cribb announced.

‘You can give her all day and next week as well, mate,’ said Sam Fagan. ‘A dinner-gong ain’t going to fetch that one out, when she can get her food sent up in the lift. She’s got no intention of coming down here. Been there since yesterday afternoon and refused to have anything to do with us. Fortunately for all of us we’ve got a new housekeeper now.’

The new housekeeper bestowed an unctuous smile on Sam Fagan. Albert glanced sharply at his mother and longer and more speculatively at Fagan. Thackeray felt a small rush of sympathy for the strong man.

The Major reappeared, shaking his head. Mrs Body would not be making an appearance. ‘Can’t get a word out of the woman,’ he said, ‘but I heard movements in there all right. Blasted place is built to withstand a siege. Only way of getting her out, in my opinion, is to send the bulldog up in the serving-lift.’

Albert’s mother caught her breath in horror.

‘Shame!’ said Sam Fagan, a fraction too late to be convincing.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ announced Cribb, mounted suddenly on the very chair used by W. G. Ross when he sang the Ballad of Sam Hall, ‘I’m most obliged to you for responding to my call so promptly. Many of you know that I am an officer in the Criminal Investigation Department of the Metropolitan Police. My assistants and I are making inquiries into the sudden decease—if you’ll forgive me, Miss Pinkus—of one of your number. Now it’s not my wish to alarm you, so I shall count it as a particular favour if you listen calmly to what I’ve got to say. We have reason to believe that a second young lady—not one of your company, I promise you—is in some danger.’

There were stifled gasps all round.

‘The lady in question is Miss Blake, the daughter of Mr Sam Plunkett, known, I believe, to all of you as the manager of the Paragon music hall. Miss Blake visited this house yesterday afternoon and has not been seen since.’

There was a short interruption while Miss Tring, who had fainted in Bella’s arms, was deposited in an arm-chair.

‘Depend upon it, we shall spare no efforts in finding her,’ continued Cribb, ‘and I hope you will appreciate the necessity of what I have to tell you now—that I propose searching this house room by room. While my assistants are conducting the search I must insist that the rest of you remain here or in the rehearsal room next door. And with your further co-operation I should like to ask any lady or gentlemen who saw Miss Blake at any time yesterday or this morning to come forward and give me a full account of the circumstances. That is all I have to say for the present. Rest assured that my colleagues will show the utmost respect for your property. I hope we shall not inconvenience you very long.’

The impression Cribb’s statement had made was clear from the din of excited—even hysterical—conversation that began before he stood down. Several ladies converged on him, not to give information about Miss Blake, but to seek it. He extricated himself at the first opportunity, sought out the Undertakers and asked them to stand guard at each door. Then he took Albert’s arm and guided him outside and into the small waiting-room across the hall.

‘I was watching you as I made my announcement in there,’ Cribb said, when they were seated on either side of the table. ‘You took the news of Miss Blake’s disappearance most manfully.’

‘That was because I knew of it already,’ Albert said. ‘Mr Plunkett was here before breakfast this morning, asking if we’d seen her. Mama and I were the only ones about at that time; I rise early for fitness, you see, and Mama was attending to the housekeeping arrangements. We didn’t say anything to the other guests because they aren’t aware that Ellen is Mr Plunkett’s daughter. She is known here simply as Miss Blake. If they knew who she was, some of ’em might take it amiss, you see, Mr Plunkett holding the position he does.’

‘You mean they could be jealous of you walking out with the manager’s daughter?’

‘Well, yes, except that walking out is the one thing nobody can do here.’

‘Ah yes. Rules of the house.’ Cribb took a turn round the small room and came to rest with his elbows on the chair where Ellen Blake had sat the previous afternoon. ‘Well, they all know her identity now, thanks to my announcement. Unavoidable. There won’t be bad feeling, will there?’

‘Finding Ellen is more important to me than a pack of tongue-waggers.’

‘Glad you think so, lad. Well let’s concentrate on that. D’you think she’s here somewhere?’

Albert shook his head. ‘I showed her out myself yesterday at ten past four. She turned right at the gates as she usually does to walk to the cab-shelter in Kensington High Street. Ellen wouldn’t have come back, Sergeant. I’m sure of that.’

‘How long did she spend here?’

‘Three-quarters of an hour, I should think. Mama was there as chaperon.’

‘Can you recall your conversation with Miss Blake?’

Albert toyed reflectively with the ends of his moustache. ‘We talked of my injury and I informed her that I was almost fully recovered. I told her of my training and my efforts to achieve a state of fitness in time for next Tuesday. That’s an occasion I don’t intend to miss, Sergeant. The honour, you understand.’

‘You weren’t at the Paragon last Tuesday then.’

‘Why do you say that? No, I wasn’t, Sergeant. Mama went with Beaconsfield, but I remained here, taking hot baths to reduce the stiffness in my injured leg. Of course I heard the tragic news of Miss Lola’s death when they all returned.’

‘I see. You were telling me about Miss Blake, though. She was happy to see you fit again, I dare say?’

‘Less happy than I expected,’ said Albert, with a trace of chagrin. ‘I’ve always cut a shine with the ladies, you know, having a well-developed torso, but I’m damned if I understand ’em. Last time Ellen came she was beside herself with concern for my injury. Advised me to take hot baths and brought some embrocation for me. Yesterday when I told her I was fully recovered and lifting, she refused to believe it. Told me I ought to get a doctor’s opinion. I suppose she doesn’t want me to come to grief a second time, but I told her there’s no trace of pain in the leg.’

‘Did you part on good terms?’

‘Oh yes. You can ask Mama. We arranged that Ellen should come again next Friday. That’s why I’m sure she didn’t return.’ He shuffled in his chair. ‘How shall I put it? There’s never been anything clandestine in my friendship with Ellen, Sergeant. She’s a most high-minded young woman. Not at all the sort who’d linger in the road outside and then creep back in through a window, if that’s what you suspect. It’s unthinkable that she should spend a night away from home. I can understand the state her father’s in. She won’t even stay for dressing-room parties for fear of upsetting him by being home late. It’s a very good thing this has become a police matter, I assure you.’

‘She didn’t mention any other appointment when she was with you?’

‘I understood she was going straight home, Sergeant. Of course if she did take it into her head to visit some aunt or cousin in the suburbs, the fog may have delayed her return. It was already coming down at ten o’clock last night.’