Mask of the Verdoy (33 page)

‘No—too smart. That whistle’s almost brand new. A dilly boy like Harper ain’t gonna have the kind of dough to splash around on that kind of clobber.’

‘Well, at least we know the train leaves from Platform Three; he’s got to pass us to get onto it.’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t give us much time, does it? Gilby said he’s getting milky. If he’s so desperate to scarper he won’t want to risk missing his train by standing about gassing to us now, will he? It’d be better if we could spot him beforehand, when he turns up to buy his ticket.’

‘Maybe he’s already got a ticket?’

‘Possibly, but unlikely. Remember—he’s been keeping a low profile.’

The sound of an approaching engine drew their attention to the platforms. Soon the train plunged into view below the huge arches of iron and glass, filling the station with a shocking cacophony as it broke free of the muffling effect of the smog. It drew to a halt with a final splutter of steam and disgorged its cargo of tourists and commuters onto the platform.

‘There’s so many people here, Harley—how are we ever going to spot one lad amongst this lot?’

‘I think I just have … Look—
over there!
Coming out of the ticket office … what d’you reckon?’

Pearson looked over to see a nervous-looking youth with blond hair exiting the ticket office, clutching a paisley-patterned valise.

‘I reckon that could be our man. He certainly looks wary enough.’

‘Alright, easy now! We don’t wanna spook him. Let me approach him on my own. Remember—he’s got a natural aversion to coppers. You hang back and keep lookout. If you see any of Quigg’s mob—or anyone else who looks like a bogey—you tip me the wink. Got it?’

‘Got it.’

Harley made his way across the concourse towards the boy who had now stopped to check something in his wallet.

‘Harper?’

The boy started, clutching his case to his chest.

‘It’s alright! I’m Harley—George Harley … Gilby spoke to you about me, didn’t he? About Aubrey’s murder?’

‘Are you alone?’ said Harper, scanning the station for signs of a trap.

‘Well, to be straight with you—no, I’m not alone. I’ve got a mate with me—over there …’

‘Looks like a bogey to me.’

‘I know—but he’s kosher. He’s keeping nix for us, in case Quigg shows … Gilby says you’ve got something for me, Harper—is that true?’

Harper nodded, still looking anxiously at every traveller that passed within a few feet.

‘You want to go somewhere a bit more private?’

‘
No!
We stay here, in the open.’

‘Alright—easy now! You did want to see me, didn’t you?’

‘I wanted to see George Harley … How do I know you’re who you say you are?’

Although a little rough around the edges, the boy’s accent hinted at his provincial upbringing, and a certain sensitivity behind the affected rent-boy brashness.

‘You don’t—you’ll just have to trust me, Harper. I mean, I’ve got a business card, but anyone could have got those printed—right?’

‘Show me.’

Harley pulled out a card from his wallet and handed it to the youth.

‘You’re the one that looked after Aubrey, before they … You helped him the night he was jumped, right?’

‘Sure.’

Still looking nervous, Harper took a step closer to Harley and held his gaze for the first time.

‘He wrote me about you—you know that?’

‘No, I didn’t know that.’

Harley pulled out his cigarettes and offered one to Harper, who greedily snatched at it, lighting it with a trembling hand from a book of matches in his pocket.

‘How did he post the letter?’ asked Harley. ‘After all, he was roughed up pretty bad, bed-ridden.’

‘He wrote me, I tell you—said that you and your wife were very kind.’

Harley gave a knowing smile.

‘I haven’t got a wife, Harper—maybe he was thinking of Vi, my next door neighbour? But probably not though, eh?’ He glanced at the big clock suspended above Platform One. ‘We haven’t got much time—not if you wanna make that three-o’clock rattler … Listen—I know you’re testing me, but you’ve gotta trust me. I want to find whoever it was who killed your friend Aubrey and bring them to justice.’

Harper regarded him for a moment.

‘How did they do it? How did they murder Bree? Did he suffer much, d’you think?’

‘You don’t wanna go thinking about that now, that ain’t gonna help anything.’

‘I want to know!’

‘Alright, alright … Well, in my opinion Aubrey was smothered with a pillow and … then he had his wrist slashed, to make it look like suicide.’

‘Just like the other two.’

Harper now looked over to the platforms where a set of coaches was being shunted into position.

‘That’s my train … Alright, listen—I believe you.’ He got down on his haunches and rested the valise on his thighs. ‘Here—take it! I don’t want it around me anymore.’

He held out a small notebook with a crocodile skin cover.

‘What is it?’ asked Harley, taking the book from his hand.

‘It’s the kiss of death, that’s what. It’s what they did Bree for—and the other two.’

Harley flicked through the pages.

‘A diary … address book …’

Harper secured his case and stood up again.

‘It’s Freddie Daubeney’s. They pinched it that night—Bree and the other two.’

‘You weren’t there?’

The boy shook his head. ‘Believe me—I would have jumped at the chance of getting one over on that Viscount Chantry, the vile creature! But I was working a different pitch that night.’

‘So what happened?’

Harper looked across at the waiting train.

‘Come on, Harper!’ said Harley. ‘You’ve got a little time yet. I need all the help I can get at the moment.’

‘All I know is what Bree told me afterwards. He reckoned Daubeney was out of his nut even before he picked them up that night. Not just the drink—apparently London’s most eligible bachelor has developed a taste for the opium pipe. He’s become a proper little Limehouse Johnny.’

‘So I’ve heard.’

‘Well, by the time they reached the swanky apartment he could barely stand up. Bree said he was laid out cold on the bed within ten minutes. Not a good state to be in with a pack of Green Fox boys mooching about your flat.’

‘They turned the place over?’

‘Not exactly. The secret is not to get too greedy—they would have known that. They took all the gelt he had on him, obviously, and a bit of groinage and some other stuff; nothing too tasty though, nothing to draw too much attention—or so they thought. Bree was going through the dresser drawers when he came across that book. He was bright, that one—knew straight away that it would be worth plenty on the street. I mean, look at it—it’s got the addresses of all those Bright Young Things, from
the
most influential families. Not only that—there are dozens of cocktail parties, balls, galas, dinners … all marked down, the when and the where.’

‘The addresses of the best pickings in town and dates for when the owners will be out until late?’ Harley gave a low whistle. ‘Any decent screwsman would pay a fortune for that kind of knowledge.’

‘Exactly! But that’s not all. You see, Daubeney has added little comments to all the functions that he’s attended. It didn’t take long
to figure out his little code—who’s doing whose fiancée, how Lord so-and-so likes a bit of the other, which countess is a little too fond of the snow … Imagine how easy it would be to work the black on all those posh berks. We were all convinced that little book would make us a fortune …’ Harper dropped his gaze and chewed on his lower lip. ‘But it didn’t work out like that, did it? … Bree gave it to me to look after when it became obvious it was too hot for him to hold on to.’

Harley flicked through the pages of the address book again.

‘But if this really is what they were after when they did for those three boys … well, surely there’s gotta be something in it a little stronger than West End gossip. After all, you can get as much in the socialite columns every Sunday.’

‘It’s
definitely
what they were after—there’s no doubt. You see, Freddie Daubeney came back to find Bree the night after they’d pinched it. He hung about Soho Square until he showed. ’Course, Bree scarpered at first, thinking he’d brought the bogeys with him. But Freddie called him back, convinced him he wasn’t going to press any charges, that he just wanted the book back. He asked Bree to name his price. He looked really frightened apparently … Anyway, jokingly Bree suggested a ton—and our little viscount didn’t bat an eyelid, just asked him to get the book and he’d hand over the money there and then. Just think—
one hundred pounds
.’

‘So why didn’t he?’

‘Because—and this is the weird bit—just then two heavies turn up, all dolled up in expensive clobber, and frogmarch Fast Freddie to a waiting Rolls-Royce, like he’s a naughty schoolboy caught playing hooky. Bree hangs around for a little while watching the motor, not quite believing that he’d been so close to that type of gelt, when suddenly this other character gets out and starts after him. Some older geezer—with a frozen face. That’s how Bree described him.’

‘Earl Daubeney.’

‘His old fella? I suppose that makes sense—a toff like that isn’t gonna want his son and heir playing around with the likes of us now, is he? Earl Daubeney, eh? … You must know, Harley, that you don’t stand a chance of getting justice for Bree. You think they’re going to put an earl of the realm in the dock? It’s more likely that you’ll wind up floating face-down in the Thames.’

‘You might be right—but I’m gonna give it my best shot.’

Harper smiled for the first time, and placed a tentative hand on Harley’s sleeve.

‘I think you’re completely insane, George Harley. But,
thank you
—for Bree’s sake.’ He picked up his case. ‘Right, I’m getting out of this poisonous city. Good luck! You’ll sure as hell need it.’

‘Hold on, Harper! Just one more thing. You said that as well as the book, the boys pinched some other stuff—did Aubrey give you anything else to look after?’

‘Yes, as it happens, he did. This …’ Harper crouched down to open his case again. ‘But I’m sure it’s not important, just something Freddie Daubeney had as decoration—a souvenir or something. I mean, it’s definitely the book they’re after, Freddie said as much himself … There were two of these actually, Bree held onto one and gave me the other. We had a bit of a laugh with them, that’s all. You can have it, if you like. I’m done with the whole sorry business.’

Harley felt a flutter of excitement now as he saw what Harper had taken from the case. It was a green
mask
. He took it in his hands and turned it over, studying the sculpted face, recognizing immediately the macabre design.

‘You say there were two of these?’

‘Yes—they were identical.’

‘D’you think Aubrey would have had the other one in his bag when he came to my place?’

‘Probably. We used to muck about with them, play a little game. It was silly really, but it was a little relief … me and Bree, we were … we were
close
, you know?’

Harley could see tears welling in the younger man’s eyes.

‘You’d better get your train. Go on—off you go! Safe journey … And listen—you’ve been a great help.’

The boy gave a silent nod and picked up his valise.

‘You get those bastards for me, alright George Harley?’

‘I’ll do my best.’

‘Good …’ He wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeve. ‘Oh, listen—there might be something else. In the book—near the very back—there’s a list. Nicknames, or codes, or something … just one page. I couldn’t make head nor tail of it, but it might mean something to you.’

A harsh whistle from the engine at Platform Three galvanised Harper into action and he grabbed his valise and made off along the concourse.

‘
Give ’em hell, George!
’ he called back over his shoulder.

Harley watched as the boy mingled with the steady stream of passengers making their way towards the one-thirty departure.

Seeing it was now safe to approach, Pearson made his way over.

‘What have you got there, then?’

Harley held up the mask to his face for a moment, dropping it to reveal a quizzical look.

‘What d’you reckon?’

‘Our masked intruder? But surely you don’t think that Harper—’

‘No, there were two of these—the Green Fox boys nicked them from Fast Freddie that night.’

‘So is this what all the fuss has been about?’

‘No—I’ll come to that in a minute. But two masks like this, right? And Harper thinks Aubrey had the other one in his bag at my gaff. So that means that Girardi didn’t actually
bring
a mask with him that night.’

‘If it
was
Girardi.’

‘My point is—
whoever
it was, he didn’t arrive already masked. My guess is he found it in Aubrey’s bag and took it with him, either as a disguise or …’

‘Or what?’

‘Or maybe because it’s significant and he wanted to retrieve it. I dunno—there’s something niggling me about this mask, Albert. I felt it as soon as Harper pulled it out of the bag. You recognize what it is?’

‘The
Green Man
—it’s the name of my local, as a matter of fact, back in the village. Although the one on our pub sign looks a little friendlier than that.’

‘Yeah—the
Green Man
 … foliate head … Jack in the Green. It’s an ancient symbol, going back to pagan times.’

‘It’s a bit creepy if you ask me.’

‘Maybe it’s supposed to be. It can symbolise regeneration, resurrection … the cycle of life. Now, why would our Viscount Chantry have two Green Man masks lying about his gaff?’

‘One of those
Bright Young Things’
fancy dress dos? Or perhaps he’s into amateur dramatics?’

Harley raised an eyebrow at Pearson, then tapped the side of his head.

‘No … that old niggle’s there, Albert; like a little worm inside my brain. It usually means there’s some deeply-buried memory in the old internal filing system—in this case something that might tie this mask in with Aubrey’s murder. I just need time to winkle it out, is all.’

‘So, come on then—if it wasn’t the mask, what
was
our mystery intruder after?’