Death with Blue Ribbon (15 page)

‘A model,' he said unenthusiastically. ‘All legs and nothing at the top of them. I don't suppose she had anything to do with it.'

‘It's a common name,' Carolus agreed.

There was another call from the bathroom.

‘I'm coming out now!'

‘Are you dressed?'

‘No!'

‘Then get dressed.'

‘Shan't!'

‘Don't, then. You're being a bore, Gladiola.' Biskett turned to Carolus. ‘Anything else you wanted to know?'

‘Yes. Did you ever drive Imogen Marvell to a block of flats in Bayswater called Gaitskell Mansions?'

He watched the chauffeur keenly as he answered but the negative was casual and convincing.

‘No. I should have remembered the name.'

Carolus took his leave, observing as he did so that the bathroom door was ajar.

‘What hell women are,' observed Dickie Biskett unconvincingly.

Back at the Fleur-de-Lys that evening Carolus found Gloria Gee in a state of anxiety and some excitement.

‘It's about Tom Bridger,' she said, and looked at Carolus as though wondering whether he would be sympathetic.

‘Well, Gloria?'

All Gloria's elocution practice went by the board.

‘He's gorn!' she said, and Carolus could see that she was holding back her tears.

‘You mean, left his job?'

‘He didn't want to. I know
that.
He got a phone call. Then he came in here as white as a sheet. Honestly, you should have seen him, Mr Deene. I said “Whatever's the matter, Tom? You look as though you'd seen a ghost.” “Perhaps I have,” he said. Then he told me he'd got to go to London and was going to borrow Antoine's car. It's a Vauxhall.'

‘Did Antoine lend it?'

‘Oh yes. He's very good, like that.'

‘Did Bridger take any baggage with him?'

‘Not that I know of. No, I'm sure he didn't because Mrs Boot told me nothing had gone from his room. He just popped in here and said he was off to London and would be back that night.'

‘When was this?'

‘Yesterday afternoon. And there's nothing been heard of him since. What do you think it means?'

‘It's very early to say, isn't it?'

‘I
feel
there's something wrong. Honestly, Mr Deene, I have some queer instincts about people. My mother used to say I had second sight. As soon as Tom told me he was rushing off like that I knew there was something wrong. He looked scared.'

‘Did he mean a lot to you, Gloria?'

‘Well. You know. I suppose he did, in a way. He was such a cheerful fellow, wasn't he? I mean, I don't mean I was
mad
about him. But you know. I seemed to get used to him. He was ever so nice when my mum died.'

‘Perhaps he'll turn up today.'

‘I wish I could think so. Where do you think he's gone, anyway? He never told me he knew anyone particular in London.'

‘Had he got a passport?'

‘A passport? You mean you think he's gone off abroad? He wouldn't do that. Not without telling me. And what about all his things? Besides, he hadn't got a passport. He happened to mention it to me. We'd thought of going abroad together this summer. Spain, he said. The Coster something-or-other. Tom said he'd never been abroad and would have to get a passport.'

‘I see. I may be able to find him. But don't count on it. I'm going to London myself tomorrow. Meanwhile I must see Rolland.'

He found the proprietor of the Fleur-de-Lys annoyingly cock-a-hoop.

‘I'm glad I didn't give in to them,' he said.

‘Why?'

‘They've packed in. They've had it. The whole thing failed. I got more publicity from the fact that Imogen Marvell was
buried from here than I've ever had. The restaurant's been packed.'

‘You think they'll leave it at that?'

‘What else can they do? They can see I'm not a man to be messed about. Besides, they've called in Bridger. You didn't realise this, but Bridger was obviously their man. It was he who worked the food poisoning—I can see it all now. And yesterday afternoon they phoned him to pull out of here.'

‘How do you know?'

‘What else can it have been? He had a phone call from London and rushed off at once in Antoine's car. Didn't even wait to pack his gear. They know when they're beaten.'

‘I shouldn't be too sure, if I were you.'

Rolland's confidence was slightly shaken.

‘Why do you say that?' he asked.

‘I don't think these people give up easily. They can't afford to. They must either go on till they've won or lose their means of livelihood. They mustn't fail in one single case or they fail altogether.'

‘Then what do you suppose they'll do?'

‘If you want my advice, Rolland, you'll go to the police. Now. If you haven't the guts for that get yourself a bodyguard.'

Rolland stared.

‘And what are
you
doing meanwhile? You're supposed to be trying to break these people, and you calmly talk about my getting a bodyguard. What do you intend to do?'

Carolus smiled.

‘Put my head in the lion's mouth, perhaps. But it won't be to save
you
money.'

‘I see. You're prepared to let them … beat me up. Perhaps …'

‘Kill you? Not if I can prevent it. You, or anyone else. I detest this thing more than you. I'm going to fight it. But you don't make it any easier for me.'

‘I've got my business to think of.'

‘That's what you all say. You and the rest of them who have suffered from this. If it was just your businesses that are involved I half believe I'd drop it. But it's more than that.'

‘What?'

‘Murder,' said Carolus.

‘What murder?'

‘Possibly in the past, probably in the present, certainly in the future.'

‘I see,' said Rolland looking very much less comfortable. ‘And what exactly do you intend to do about it?'

‘I'm going to see the man they call the boss.'

Rolland gave a forced laugh.

‘How?'

‘He's a solicitor. I'm going to consult him.'

‘Really? On what?'

‘On the case of a missing man. Bridger.'

Rolland started.

‘Don't bring
me
into this!' he said. ‘If you want to throw your life away by going to these people, you can. Though I don't see what you'll gain by it except to be beaten up and possibly worse.'

‘I hope to gain information,' said Carolus mildly.

‘Don't forget you're not acting for me.'

‘Or anyone else. I'm on my own. You won't have to make any statement until you're quite, quite safe, Rolland. Now, where will I find Antoine?'

‘In the kitchen. And very busy, with Bridger away. I hope you won't waste his time.'

Carolus found Antoine in the act of garnishing a lobster Newburg.

‘Yes?' said the
chef
sulkily.

Carolus came to the point.

‘Did you lend Bridger your car?'

‘Yes.'

‘Have you done so before?'

‘Yes.'

‘What is its make and index number?'

‘Vauxhall. Victor Estate. Four months old. Pale blue. YYY8o8.'

‘Thank you very much.'

Antoine nodded and became even more absorbed in his work. Carolus left.

Before going to bed that night he telephoned to his friend John Moore. John had been a young Detective Sergeant in Newminster when Carolus had first met him and had now climbed almost to the top of his profession as Detective Superintendent at Scotland Yard. The two men had remained friends but Moore was strictly a professional and was not to be drawn into Carolus's unconventional investigations except when his duty, rigidly interpreted, caused him to be. On this occasion Carolus did no more than ask if he could come and see him at his office tomorrow at 11.30. Moore agreed.

Then Carolus dialled the number of Mr Gorringer, his headmaster, and a muffled voice replied: ‘Residence of the headmaster, Queen's School, Newminster.'

Carolus, who knew Mr Gorringer's penchant for making
himself difficult of access, said cheerfully: ‘That you, headmaster? Deene speaking.'

There was a pause in which Mr Gorringer could almost be heard debating in his mind whether to continue his impersonation or admit his identity. He decided, reluctantly, on the latter.

‘Ah, Deene,' he said.

‘I wondered whether by chance you would be in town tomorrow,' said Carolus. ‘If so I hoped perhaps you would lunch with me.'

‘It happens that I had intended to run up to London for an hour or two tomorrow,' said Mr Gorringer. ‘I shall be somewhat occupied with school affairs but I have as yet made no luncheon appointment. I should be pleased to accept your invitation. Perhaps you will name the
venue?'

Carolus, in view of the last weeks, chose a restaurant where there was no affectation of
haute cuisine,
which appeared in no list of recommended places to eat with starry grading, where the cook was probably called Bert and the food was extremely good.

‘The Saddle of Lamb in Whitehall, at one o'clock?' he suggested.

‘Excellent,' agreed Mr Gorringer. ‘It is hard by my club, the United Headmasters and Headmistresses, where I already have an appointment during the morning.'

On the completion of these arrangements Carolus slept well and woke to find Mrs Boot in his room with a tea-tray.

‘I heard it was you in here,' she said, ‘and I knew you wouldn't want those Arabians creeping about when you woke up.'

‘Thank you,' said Carolus.

‘Specially after what's happened with them. You heard about that I suppose? Trying to kill one another. Dancing round the yard, they were. Pushing and making as though to strangle one another. Getting hold of each other's hair and kicking. Shouting all the time like a pair of lunatics. If they want to fight why can't they fight and have done with it? Then afterwards looking daggers at one another. Now they're thick as thieves again. I said to my husband, I feel as though I was in a menagerie, I said.'

Carolus made a sympathetic noise.

‘Then there's that Gloria,' said Mrs Boot, ‘crying her eyes out morning, noon and night because that Bridger's gone off somewhere. Mind you, there's something funny about that. I happened to be passing the phone box when he was in there and couldn't help hearing. “I never said anything,” he kept saying. “He never heard anything from me.” Then something about the Old Cygnet which he hadn't mentioned. I couldn't follow it all but I could see he was upset. Still, why she should blubber about it I can't think. It's not as though he's any loss, always grinning. I told Gloria. “Let him pop off if he wants to. There's plenty more,” I said. But she wouldn't have it. There's some like that, aren't there?'

‘I suppose there are. You actually overheard Bridger on the telephone?'

‘I couldn't help it, could I? I'm not one to listen to anyone's conversation but he hadn't shut the door properly and I happened to be dusting just near.'

‘What else did he say?'

‘Nothing to speak of, really. He promised to go up somewhere or other that afternoon. He sounded as though he was upset, as I told you. And he went straight off for a drink
afterwards. Then to Antoine to borrow his car. There was more in
that
than meets the eye. You don't find someone like Antoine lending a new car for nothing, do you? It's not as though the two of them were all that friendly. Antoine isn't one to give anything away. As soon as I saw what had happened I said to myself, that's funny, I said, Antoine lending his car like that. I wonder what he gets out of it. But there you are. You never know, do you?'

‘No.'

‘You'd never think that Gloria would give herself away like that, would you? It shows what there was between them and I've always said. You'd think she'd have more respect for herself than to show everyone. Still, there you are. As for that Stefan…'

‘What's the matter with Stefan?'

‘You know very well what's the matter with him.
Drink.
That's what's the matter with him. I don't see it so much because I'm not here at night. Though last night Mr Rolland asked me to come back because Bridger wasn't there and they needed help in the kitchen. I give you my word he could hardly stand up straight. How he went round the tables I don't know but I suppose he's used to it. Fancy a head waiter, though! You'd think he'd set an example, wouldn't you? I'd like to know where he keeps it. He doesn't often go in the bar. He doesn't get on with that Gloria if the truth were known. He seems to have been worse since all this happened, as though there was something on his mind. I think he knows more than what he's said. That's what it looks like, anyway.

‘As for that Rolland, he's like a dog with two tails. You'd think he'd be at his wits' end with all this food poisoning and people being suffercated and Bridger going off, wouldn't you?
Not him. He was humming as he came through the hall this morning. You can hum, I said to myself, but what's going to happen next, that's what I want to know. And that Molt's been acting funny.'

‘Funny?'

‘Very funny. Going about with a face like a funeral and watching everyone out of the corner of his eye as though he thought a policeman was after him. If I hadn't worked here all these years I'd go, I can tell you. It was different in Mist'ran Misses Cheeseman's time. You didn't have all this going on. I don't say they wasn't close. She used to count the pickled eggs in the Public and write it down on a piece of paper. But we never had any Arabians here in their time—that was one thing. I should like to have seen Mist'ran Misses Cheeseman's faces if there'd been Arabians slinking round while they was here. Or if young Dave Paton was to have asked for more wages as he did yesterday.'