Who Killed Stella Pomeroy? (24 page)

“There are a lot of bad drivers on the road,” said Richardson, “but hasn't it occurred to you”—he lowered his voice mysteriously—”that it was a deliberate attempt on your life by someone who has a grudge against you? 

The pallor that overspread the patient's face made Richardson uneasy as to whether he had not gone too far, but he soon recovered himself.

“You have a lot of imagination for a police officer, haven't you?”

“I don't think so. There have been a number of cases lately which were put down as accidents, but which were really deliberate attempts at murder. Are you one of those lucky men who have no enemies?”

“I suppose that everyone in the world has enemies.”

“We have been putting two and two together, and we can't ignore the fact that your associate, Stella Pomeroy, met a violent death at precisely the same hour as this attempt was made upon your life.”

“Well then, isn't it up to you to take your coats off and catch this murderous scoundrel? A daylight murder that can't be solved doesn't redound to the credit of the police, I should think.”

“The police can't get on without the loyal assistance of the public. I want you to tell me truthfully why anyone should want you out of the way.”

“I've told you that your imagination runs away with you. Isn't it up to you to find the driver of that car, a man who has the effrontery to drive through this settlement and deliberately run someone down—for you suggest that it was done deliberately.”

“I do, for the very good reason that he had obscured his rear number plate by tying a rug over it. Steps have already been taken with the A.A. scouts, but so far without result.”

“I think you're overstaying the time allowed to visitors, Mr Richardson.”

“Don't worry about that, Mr Casey: I'm going; but I'd like you to remember one last word. The police are strong to protect worthy citizens, but they are also stern in their pursuit of wrongdoers.”

He had got nothing out of Casey, but he had not expected anything. All that he had done was to frighten him, and that in itself was something, because with mercurial temperaments like the Irish, fear is a potent solvent. At their next interview he hoped to have the trump card in his own hand and to find the Irishman quite communicative.

On his return to the office he found a note on the inspector's table saying that a Mr Milsom desired him to ring him up: he had something to communicate. He made the call, and Milsom's voice asked whether it was Superintendent Richardson speaking.

Reassured on this point he said, “I've rung up to tell you that luck has been on my side. I've been in communication with the person who frequents that club we were talking of, and we are going to meet.”

“How soon are you going to see him?”

“Good Lord! It isn't a he; it's a she. She's coming to lunch with me in an hour's time, so you can come to my office about four o'clock and hear all I have gleaned for you.”

“Very good, you can expect me at four.”

A
T FOUR O'CLOCK
Richardson found Jim Milsom impatiently waiting for him.

“I've just left my little lady, after a very instructive conversation,” he said. “Does the name Burton convey anything to you? Robert Burton?”

“Yes, he was the man who works with Townsend alias Wills and hasn't yet been convicted. You remember what Sergeant Thoms of the crime index said about him.”

“And we thought that Robert Burton might be the man who was sitting beside Townsend alias Wills in that gambling club and who was making signs to Otway.”

“Yes; well…”

“Well, Robert Burton is a friend of your Mrs Esther. The world's small, isn't it?”

“Yes. That's important, because Burton himself is believed to get his living by blackmail.”

“Well now, listen to what I've managed to pick up about this Mrs Esther. When she contrives to escape from her censorious husband she enjoys a flutter at high stakes. A little while ago she had a run of bad luck and had to deal out IOU's buttered with charming smiles to the winners, but as the days passed the charming smiles ceased to charm and something had to be done about it. Suddenly she became affluent and paid off her losses. The general opinion was that her husband had unbuttoned and paid up for her, because since then she has become a changed woman. Some have even gone so far as to hint that she will soon be seen decked in the uniform of a Salvation Army lass.”

“I suppose that the winners became a little pressing.”

“Yes; in that kind of club the rule is pretty strict that gambling debts must be paid on pain of the lumber receiving an intimation from the secretary that her membership hangs in the balance.”

“And so she was obliged to find the money somehow.”

“And she did.”

“And the man Burton, what about him?”

“Ah, that was another thing that brought her into bad odour in the club. Though he's a member, more or less on sufferance, no one likes him. That's all I was able to find out, because my little friend doesn't know the Esther woman intimately; they're on bowing and smiling terms only. Now, what's to be my next job?”

“Well, if it's not asking too much of you, I should like you to go once more to that gambling hell and see whether Burton and the man whose photograph you saw this morning are together again; they may have been merely chance neighbours on the last occasion.”

“And they may only chance to go there once in a blue moon. Is this to be part of my daily round in my devotion to the cause of justice?” 

“Bear with me for a day or two, when I hope to get the case completed.”

And Milsom, who knew his friend, let him go without further questioning.

Richardson was anxious to have an interview with Sergeant Hammett, who had taken on the duty of gleaning information about the tenant of 9 Parkside Mansions. It was worth while walking in that direction after sending his driver to park on the other side of the Serpentine Bridge. Luck favoured him. He ran into Hammett, who was gazing into the window of a bookshop near the Albert Gate.

“Take a turn in the park with me. I want to hear how you have been getting on.”

“I haven't done so badly, sir. I've made the acquaintance of Mrs Esther's maid who takes the dog out. She's a forthcoming little woman, and from passing the time of day we've got on to personal matters.”

“You might give me the gist of the information you've gathered.”

“I've gathered, sir, that Mrs Esther is very unhappy and has gone all to pieces these last few days.”

“Why?”

“The maid can't make out why. Her husband is away and is expected back in a day or two, but this doesn't account for her unhappiness, because she is very fond of him.”

“Then it's not a case of another man?”

“Oh no, sir; the maid gives her a very good character on that score. I suggested that she had card debts, and the maid agreed with me that that might have been the case a week or two ago, because she had left lots of bills unpaid and even the maid's wages, but suddenly she became quite flush with money and paid up everything. The maid didn't know where she had got the money from to do it, and I said perhaps she had pawned something. The young woman said, ‘Well, I thought that too, but I have charge of all her jewellery—it's worth millions—and there's nothing missing, so it couldn't be that.'”

‘‘Did you ask whether she had any male visitors?”

“I did, sir, but she said that there were only one or two, and none that called frequent.”

“I think you've done very well, Sergeant. You can knock off observation now. I'll let you know if I want you to do any more.”

An idea had crossed Richardson's mind. He felt that he could follow it up better alone than through any of his subordinates. It entailed a tour of jewellers' shops, but we would shorten the quest by beginning with the most likely. He argued that in the transaction he suspected, Mrs Esther would not have been likely to go to any of the jewellers in the West End of London. She would have gone to some firm in North or South London, where she could not personally be known. For one man alone it was going to be a formidable enquiry, but from his knowledge of those in the trade he thought he could shorten it.

At Marsham's, where he was a familiar figure from other days, he drew blank. Mr Marsham welcomed him.

“It's not often we see you now, Superintendent Richardson. Indeed, I don't think that I've had the opportunity of congratulating you on your promotion. What can I do for you today?”

“I want to ask you confidentially whether you have lately undertaken to make a copy in imitation of any article of jewellery brought by a lady, and whether you purchased the real jewels?”

Mr Marsham sniggered. “It's not quite so unusual a transaction as many people think. I won't say that I haven't done such a thing, but not lately.”

Richardson had undertaken to visit the most likely of the firms, but he drew blank at two more on his list. At the fourth shop he gained heart again. The proprietor, so far as he knew him, was an honest man, half jeweller, half pawnbroker, in North London.

He invited him into a little room at the back of the shop after calling an assistant to take charge. Richardson put his question to him. The man grinned.

“You know, Mr Richardson, when I see you come into the shop cold shivers run down my back, but I've nothing to fear this time, because the transaction you mention is a perfectly legal one. I took steps to see that everything was in order before I touched the business. A lady, who gave me her name and address in confidence and allowed me to call upon her at her home, commissioned me to do the very thing that you mention.”

“Did the lady come to you alone?”

“No; I'll tell you how the business came to me. A gentleman called and proposed the business of copying a genuine pearl necklace of great intrinsic value in cultured pearls. I said that I could do it. Then he asked me whether, if I was satisfied with the value of the genuine pearls, I would purchase them. This was quite an unexpected proposal. I said that I would have to see the owner and satisfy myself that the transaction was an honest one. I said that I did not impugn his good faith in any way, but that that was a rule of the house. He assured me that everything was in order, and if I would guarantee to undertake the business he would give me the lady's name and address and I could call upon her.”

“I think I can give you both the name and address without asking you to violate the lady's confidence. It was Mrs Esther of 9 Parkside Mansions.”

Plainly the jeweller was startled. “I don't know how you gentlemen at the Yard get to know these things. I am quite sure that you didn't get that information from Mrs Esther herself.”

Richardson smiled. “It is by the very simple process that we all learn at school: it's called putting two and two together. Did the gentleman who called on you give you his name?”

“No, but I can give you a fairly accurate description of him. He was tall and slim and very well dressed, with a slight—very slight—cast in one eye. I think in the left eye.”

“Did he strike you as a man in whom you would have confidence?”

The jeweller hesitated a moment. “Well, he was dressed like a gentleman, and he spoke like one. I can't say that he impressed me as a man—well, as a man that I would trust with the care of my stock, without further enquiry. In fact I must confess that I wouldn't have undertaken the business at all if I had not seen Mrs Esther personally and satisfied myself that she was the lawful owner of the pearls. One has to be so careful in these days. I got the name of her banker as a reference.”

“What bank was it?”

“The National.”

“And you did complete the transaction?”

“Yes sir, I did, but as the pearls were of such value I had to get friends in the trade to share the transaction with me. There was one point that worried me a bit. The lady declined to accept a cheque in payment, but insisted upon being paid in bank notes.”

“Of what denomination?”

“Well, as far as I remember, in fifties and twenties.” Richardson left the jeweller, well satisfied with the result of his enquiry. If Mrs Esther had changed any of these notes for treasury notes with which to pay Stella Pomeroy, she would have had to sign her name on the back. Here was another job for Sergeant Hammett. He rang him up at Ealing Police Station.

“There is one question that I forgot to ask you,” he said, when he had Hammett on the line. “Did you find out at what shops that lady is accustomed to deal?”

“Yes sir, I did. She does nearly all her shopping at Harringtons.”

“Well, I want you to go tomorrow morning to Harringtons and find out whether she has changed any big notes for treasury notes. If you draw blank there I will call on her bankers myself, but I want to avoid doing that if I can.”

“Very good, sir. I know the cashier at Harringtons.” Richardson changed the telephone number to that of Jim Milsom's flat.

“Hallo!” exclaimed an impatient voice. “Oh, it's you, Superintendent. What's the new trouble?”

“If you haven't any other engagement this evening I'd be very grateful if you could look in at that place.”

“And poison myself with the scent of Balkan humanity. I gather that you're hot on the scent, or you wouldn't dare ring me up again so soon.”

“I've got some new dope for you. The gentleman in question has a very slight cast in one of his eyes.”

“Poor devil! I wonder he hasn't taken to honest courses instead of risking recognition by that obvious defect. I suppose the truth is, that when you get your nose to the ground on a hot scent you don't want any sleep and so you keep me from my virtuous pillow for company. Very well, I'll sacrifice myself once more, and if you'll come round to my flat at half-past nine, I'll tell you about your friend and stand you a spot of supper into the bargain.”