Abracadaver (5 page)
‘But of course.’ Cribb placed a reassuring hand on Chick’s shoulder. ‘Well now, Major, I’m really uncommon fortunate having you here to advise me—a professional investigator on the scene of the crime a full week before it was committed. That’s a gift from Providence, wouldn’t you say?’
The Major nodded guardedly. He was plainly not used to being thought of in that way.
‘You’ve had time to meet the staff and performers and form an estimate of ’em,’ continued Cribb, ‘and you’ll have noted down anything irregular that happened this last week.’
It was plain from the Major’s expression that he had not. ‘Fact of the matter is, Sergeant, that there’s nothing regular at all in the music hall life, so far as I can see. You can’t even count on seeing the same faces from day to day. There are stage-hands being hired and sacked in the same week, stage-door Johnnies by the dozen wandering about backstage, out-of-work performers arriving for auditions—’
An unexpected outburst of barking from the picnic-basket halted the Major’s flow. To everyone’s amazement it was answered by a submissive whining from the doorway. Albert’s mother, still dressed in her white robe and ostrich feathers, filled the lower three-quarters of the door-frame. Cradled in her arms was a black and white bulldog that from its generally lethargic attitude had to be Beaconsfield.
‘Keep your animal quiet, Thackeray!’ ordered Cribb. ‘Push it behind the piano, for Heaven’s sake!’
‘He was shut away in the dark, weren’t you, my poor busy little Dizzie?’ crooned Albert’s mother, planting herself heavily on the chaise-longue, perilously close to her son’s injury. Beaconsfield slumped over her knees with lolling tongue, accepting the banalities impassively. ‘Shut in that horrid quick-change room without even a saucer of water. If Miss Charity Finch-Hatton hadn’t needed to repair her garter we might not have found you for hours and hours. Why the silly little baggage made such a scene when you jumped up to be rescued I cannot understand.’
‘Perhaps like the rest of us she thought Beaconsfield was a savage animal,’ suggested Cribb. ‘I’m a police officer, Ma’am, and I should like to take the liberty of asking you two questions.’
‘We shall answer them if we can,’ she said, caressing Beaconsfield’s dewlap with her fingertip.
‘Thank you. Could you tell me, then, why you didn’t notice before the act that the dog in the basket wasn’t Beaconsfield?’
She did not look up. ‘I never venture near the basket until the moment comes to release Dizzie. I wouldn’t want him to suppose me a traitor. It pains me to see him imprisoned there night after night. All that I noticed tonight was that a dog—and I presumed that it was my Beaconsfield—was in the basket and wearing the flag.’
‘Who do you think could be responsible for tonight’s mishap?’
‘If I knew that, Inspector, I should have repaid the scoundrel by now and you would be arresting me. I have a powerful pair of arms, you know, and I’m not afraid to use them when anyone is inconsiderate to my little pet.’
‘I’ll remember that, Ma’am—but I really think someone must attend to your son. Albert will need helping home tonight.’
‘Will he?’ said the fat woman in surprise, for the first time turning towards her son. ‘What’s wrong with you then? A dog-bite won’t stop you from walking a couple of streets, will it?’
‘I twisted my ankle when I fell,’ explained Albert.
‘Oh, congratulations, my son!’ she said sardonically. ‘So the strong man must take a rest for two weeks on account of his weak ankle, while his mother is forced to return to serio-comic singing to keep Beaconsfield and herself out of the workhouse. Kindly explain what I am supposed to do to get you to the lodgings—carry you on my back?’
‘We’ll see to him,’ said Cribb. ‘Miss Blake, perhaps you’ll be so obliging as to fetch his clothes.’
Major Chick rounded on Cribb in amazement. ‘But there are suspects to be interviewed—a case to investigate. You can’t leave the theatre, Sergeant.’
‘Who’s going to stop me?’ asked Cribb. ‘You’re a competent detective, ain’t you, Major?’
‘Indubitably, but—’
‘You’ve been here for a week, so you know everyone concerned?’
‘Yes—’
‘You understand, of course, that if you learn anything important from your inquiries you have a duty to pass it on to me?’
‘Naturally, Sergeant, but—’
‘Excellent!’ The matter was settled so far as Cribb was concerned. ‘Thackeray, whistle up a cab and have it wait at the stage-door, will you? We’ll have you home in half an hour, Albert. Oh—and don’t forget our four-legged friend in the hamper, Major. I leave him in your good care. We may need him later. Evidence, you know.’
‘IS THIS THE HOUSE?’ Cribb inquired. The four-wheeler had drawn up in an ill-lit cul-de-sac off the Kennington Road. The walls of Bethlehem Lunatic Hospital loomed higher on one side than a row of mean terraced houses on the other, built of the same grey bricks with an eye to harmony of appearance. Barefoot boys abandoned their pitch and toss under the street-lamp at the end, and scrambled for the privilege of opening the cab-door.
Albert nodded. ‘Just one small room upstairs. It’s not Grosvenor Square—but then I’m not George Leybourne or the Great Vance. Leybourne once treated me to a drink and told me that lifting weights would never get me a top billing. “What you need in the halls is a voice that carries,” he said. “Humping weights about is hotel-porters’ work.”’
With the last remark fresh in his mind, Thackeray supported the strong man as he descended. Cribb paid the cabman and tossed a halfpenny to the nearest urchin.
‘Can you climb the stairs with your arm over Thackeray’s shoulder or would you like him to carry you pick-a-back style?’ asked the sergeant when they were inside, ready, as always, to volunteer his constable’s services. Albert accepted the first suggestion. Thackeray was no small man himself, and the addition of Albert’s considerable breadth as he supported him made for a laborious ascent up the narrow, uncarpeted staircase. Cribb followed, straightening the pictures knocked aslant by his assistant’s shoulder. On the landing Albert pushed open the first door.
‘Matches?’ asked Cribb.
‘On the tallboy to your right.’
The gaslight revealed a room of modest size, dominated by a suite of grotesque lacquered bedroom furniture, obviously designed half a century earlier for a room three times as large. How it had got up the stairs was a mystery.
Thackeray guided Albert towards the bed, thankfully deposited him there and began brushing the mildew from his cape at the points where it had touched the wall on the way up. ‘You’re a good weight, sir,’ he said breathlessly. ‘You haven’t got a dumb-bell in your pocket, have you?’
Albert grinned. ‘I’m wondering whether my landlady saw anything. She’ll be suspicious, I can tell you. She’s very particular on temperance.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Cribb grandly assured him. ‘I’ll tell her who we are.’
‘I’d rather you didn’t, Sergeant. Coming home with two policemen is even more certain to get me a week’s notice than an evening at the pub.’
Thackeray concealed his smile from Cribb by finding a sudden interest in a Landseer canine study on the wall behind him. Albert identified it. ‘-“Dignity and Impudence.” The landlady’s as partial to dogs as my mother, but only in the pictorial form. You can turn it over.’
Thackeray did so. The hooks supporting the frame were screwed into the top so that it was reversible. Pasted on the back was a photo-engraving of a young woman with a narrow length of muslin over one shoulder, standing beside a Greek column.
‘Now I’m at home, you see,’ said Albert with a laugh. ‘That’s my single contribution to the decorations. Sit down, gentlemen, if you can find a chair. You won’t object to my reclining on the bed, I trust.’
Thackeray settled into a wicker chair by the window and regarded Albert’s impressive physique, now constricted by the inadequate brass bedstead. This strong man was a queer sort of cove, with his public school accent and his waxed moustache. How did a man of that class fit into a shabby lodging-house like this, pasting doubtful figure-studies on the backs of Landseers and living in fear of a Lambeth landlady?
‘We won’t detain you long,’ said Cribb, ‘but I’ll thank you for a few moments of your time. You probably gathered from the conversation at the Grampian that your injury tonight was one of a series in recent weeks suffered by music hall artistes. I want to discover if yours has anything in common with the others. You’ll forgive me, I hope, if I put some questions to you that may seem unduly personal.’
‘You can ask whatever you like,’ said Albert.
‘I’m obliged to you.’ The sergeant moved an upright chair to the bedside, its back facing the bed. Then he swung his leg across it to sit astride, with arms folded along the back, and chin resting on them a yard from Albert’s face. ‘Now it’s crystal-clear, ain’t it, that someone went to a deal of trouble to arrange what happened on the stage tonight? Stray bulldogs aren’t six a penny on the streets of London, as any bobby who’s done dog-pound duty will tell you. Nor is it easy to exchange two dogs in the wings of a music hall when the show’s in progress. Ah, I know all about your traditions of practical joking—silk hats coated with soot, and the like—but this was in a different class, wasn’t it? Whoever arranged it knew very well that he was putting you out of work for a week or more.’
Albert shook his head. ‘Longer than that, I fear. Who is going to hire me in a London music hall as a serious artiste after tonight’s absurd exhibition? You’ll see a report of the incident in next week’s Era and that’ll be the last notice I get as a strong man.’
Cribb nodded gravely. ‘Who would have done such a thing, then—another strong man, perhaps?’
‘Absolutely not. There aren’t more than two dozen of us who lift weights professionally in London, and there are over a hundred halls, you know. We’re not in competition with each other.’
‘You don’t have any enemies among the other acts at the Grampian?’
‘Not really, Sergeant. People don’t stay long enough to become jealous of each other. You might get a booking for three weeks and then you move on—unless you’re Champagne Charlie or The Vital Spark and you’re hired for a three-month engagement.’
‘Let’s look outside the music halls then,’ said Cribb. ‘Who do you meet in your spare time? Is there some acquaintance who might have turned sour on you?’
Albert laughed. ‘Spare time? But there isn’t any! From Monday morning’s band-call to Sunday night’s training with the bells my life is wholly given over to the music hall. Why, even my mother and my donah are part of it.’
‘Miss Blake?’
‘Ellen. She’s a real beauty, you must admit. When her singing is in the same class as her face and figure she’ll be the rage of the halls.’
‘I don’t doubt it.’ Miss Blake’s voice required a miracle, but Cribb spoke with conviction. ‘She has other admirers, I expect.’
‘Scores, I’m sure. Every night there are bunches of flowers and chocolate boxes delivered to her dressing-room.’ Albert seemed naively proud of it.
‘Then you have rivals.’
‘Ah, but she gives them no encouragement. She doesn’t even eat the chocolates. The other girls share them out after Ellen has gone home. She is entirely loyal to me, Sergeant . . . Yes, smile to yourself if you like, but I know Ellen. She is singularly strong-willed. I shouldn’t want to be the masher who tried forcing his attentions on her.’
‘Perhaps just such a gent arranged your downfall tonight,’ suggested Cribb.
‘I’m doubtful of that. Whoever took Beaconsfield out of his basket knows a rare amount about my act. Anyone knowing so much must also know that making overtures to Ellen is a waste of time.’
Cribb paused in his questioning, scratching speculatively at his side-whiskers. Thackeray, who disliked silences, lowered his eyes and slowly rotated the brim of the silk hat in his lap. He had a strong intuition that Cribb was about to move into a sensitive area of questioning.
‘Then we seem to have eliminated everyone but your mother, Albert. I can’t believe she would play a trick like this.’
There was a guffaw from the bed. ‘Mama? There’s not much she hasn’t stooped to in her time, Sergeant, believe me! But I can’t think why she would want to ruin the act. Besides, she wouldn’t do anything to upset Beaconsfield. She dotes on that animal.’
‘Has she always been a part of your act? I wouldn’t think her contribution is indispensable.’
Albert laughed again. ‘She’s left four or five times to get her hooks into some unfortunate fellow with tin to spare, but she always comes back. I’m too soft-hearted to turn her away. It’s the blood-tie, I suppose. She was once quite a celebrated figure in the halls—you won’t believe this—as a coryphee in the ballet. That was how Papa met her. He was the chairman at Moy’s Music Hall in Pimlico, right back in the fifties before it became the Royal Standard. He gave dramatic monologues on occasions, too. Oh, the hours he devoted to teaching me the vowel sounds—perhaps he knew I might need to follow in his footsteps some day. Well, about fifteen years ago he told Mama she ought to give up her dancing because she was already overweight and past forty. She took offence, there was a terrible argument, Papa walked out of our lives and Mama bought Beaconsfield. Oddly enough, she gave up ballet and took to singing, with me in a sailor-suit and Beaconsfield walking on to distract the audience a bit. She isn’t a bad singer, you know. I tried to persuade her to pass on some hints to Ellen, but she wouldn’t. Unless you’ve got bow legs and a wet, black nose, Mama isn’t interested in the way you do anything.’
‘But you’re quite certain that she isn’t responsible for what happened tonight?’
‘Well, you saw the state she was in after she had rescued Beaconsfield, Sergeant.’
‘Quite so.’ Cribb got to his feet. ‘We’ll leave you to get some rest now. You’ll be feeling the effects of tonight’s experience. There’s nothing we can do for you before we go? Very good. There’s just one thing I want you to do for me, then. Whatever happens in the next day or two—and I suspect that something may—avoid violence. Scotland Yard won’t be far behind you.’
With that, Cribb picked up his hat and cane and quit the room. Thackeray hauled himself out of his comfortable chair, mystified by the sergeant’s last remark. Violence? He looked hard at Albert; what kind of violence was a bed-ridden man capable of, even if he was the Hercules of Rotherhithe? He followed, shaking his head.
THERE WAS A TAP at the door of the interview room at Kennington Road Police Station. Sergeant Cribb rubbed his hands in anticipation. ‘It had better be Cadbury’s,’ he told Thackeray. ‘Come in!’
A bright-eyed constable in full uniform with helmet, greatcoat and armlet, made his entrance.
‘Lord, they get younger and younger,’ muttered Cribb. ‘You can put the tray down here, lad. What’s your name?’
‘Oliver, Sergeant.’
‘And how long have you been in the Force?’
‘Four months, Sergeant.’
‘Is that so? That’s a fine new uniform you’re wearing, Oliver, but there’s no need to dress up to bring us a cup of cocoa, you know.’
‘I’m on night duty, Sergeant, and Sergeant Flaxman insists—’
‘Does he now? It’s not for me to interfere, then. You’re on till six tomorrow morning, are you?’
‘Yes, Sergeant.’
‘And you’re the man whose beat takes in Little Moors Place?’
‘Yes, Sergeant.’
‘Then listen to me, young Oliver. I want you to keep a special watch on that road tonight—number nine in particular. You may know it—theatrical lodging-house. Just as soon as anyone enters there, it’s your job to hare back here and let Constable Thackeray know. You can stand at the end of the road: it’s a one-ender, you know, so you should be able to keep out of sight. Pity you’re not a plain-clothes man, but we’ll have to make do with you. Keep your lantern out; there’s nothing like a bull’s-eye for giving a bobby away. And take that armlet off when you get there.’
‘But Sergeant—’
Cribb put up his hand. ‘I’ll square it with Harry Flaxman. This is a chance for you to make a name for yourself, lad, so don’t disappoint me. Here, let’s have a look at that armlet of yours. See that, Thackeray. What do you make of that?’
‘Soda, Sarge, without a doubt.’
‘Unmistakable. Never wash your armlet in soda, young Oliver. Makes the colour run like you’re going to run back here from Little Moors Place as soon as you’ve got any news for us. That’ll do, then. Fine cup of cocoa!’ He turned back to Thackeray, as P.C. Oliver left to begin his vigil. ‘You can relieve him at six. I don’t think anything’ll happen before then, but I can’t take the chance. Well, Thackeray, I know the symptoms. Your face has been as long as Big Ben all evening. You want to speak your mind to me. Very well. Now’s the time. Just wipe the cocoa-skin off your moustache and I’ll give you my complete attention.’
‘Well, Sarge,’ said Thackeray a moment later, ‘I suppose it’s just that I can’t take all this music hall stuff seriously. It don’t seem nothing like your class of investigation to me. It’s not really worthy of you, Sarge. A blooming bogus bulldog in a basket and a strong man with a twisted ankle—that don’t seem worth losing a night’s sleep over. We’ve taken on some odd cases, I know, but there’s always been a corpse to make the whole thing worth while.’
‘You might have got one tonight if that dog had rabies,’ said Cribb. ‘I understand you, though. On the face of it, tonight’s affair at the Grampian seems pretty small beer. But look at it as the latest episode in this string of accidents on the stage—and remember we had a warning that something would happen tonight—and it becomes a deal more sinister. What we saw at the Grampian certainly wasn’t murder, Thackeray, but from Albert’s viewpoint it was professional assassination. You heard him yourself saying he was finished as a strong man. We heard Woolston saying something similar in Newgate. That’s serious enough for me, Constable.’