A Death at Crystal Palace Page 15

  ‘We cannot,’ I said and I saw the frown lift.

  ‘I know it is hard not being able to rush to Richenda’s side,’ said Bertram. ‘But I do not think you could live with yourself if you did not do your best to establish the truth here.’

  I smiled. ‘Neither could you,’ I said.

  He smiled sadly back at me. ‘Then let’s hope we can uncover the truth and that you were right, this mystery is linked to the twins’ disappearance.’ At this moment Michael chose to make his entrance.

  Michael’s collar stood proud, but only that. His clothes hung off him in creases. Shadows ringed his eyes. A great purple bruise was blooming across this cheek.

  ‘What the hell happened to you?’ said Bertram.

  ‘The situation was not straightforward,’ said Michael laconically, slumping into a chair. ‘Do you have a culprit.’

  ‘What is the importance of almonds?’ said Bertram.

  ‘It can be an indication of a fast-acting poison,’ said Michael. ‘I thought you would know that.’

  ‘Why would we know that?’ I snapped. ‘As Fitzroy has often been at pains to point out, we are assets, not operatives.’

  ‘Are you not up to the task?’

  ‘We have ruled out Habermann and Draper. Beiersdorf is a low probability,’ I said. ‘Gottlieb appears the prime suspect, but we have no motive. We are hoping you can supply one. Fitzroy suspected him of being a foreign operative.’

  ‘I cannot confirm that,’ said Michael. ‘I can, however, tell you there is a strong rumour that Gottlieb was Von Ritter’s illegitimate son.’

  ‘Bosenby’s,’ said Bertram.

  ‘What about it?’ said Michael.

  ‘It’s Porter’s club. He said he took Von Klaus there.’

  Michael nodded. ‘It fits with the profile I have been building.’

  ‘Could you kindly explain what is so special about this club?’ I said. The men exchanged looks. ‘If you intend to treat me as an equal, and I strongly suggest you do, Michael, you will give me this information.’

  ‘Michael?’

  Bertram coughed. ‘We didn’t know your name, so we gave you one. Easier that referring to “that man”, et cetera.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Michael, not bothering to inform us of his actual name. He looked at me. ‘Fitzroy is always so careful about you,’ he said enigmatically. ‘I cannot work out your relationship.’

  I bridled at that. ‘I am engaged to Bertram,’ I said.

  ‘How does that make any difference?’ said Michael. He paused. ‘Bosenby’s has a certain reputation. It allows women on the premises, but only of a certain kind.’

  ‘You are suggesting Von Ritter was a philanderer,’ I said. ‘It fits with how he treated me - and I could have told you that if you had both not been so coy earlier.’

  Bertram started to splutter into anger. Michael interrupted him. ‘The man’s dead, so that is moot. I am uncomfortable with the way in which you have not ruled out some of the others definitively. Is there anything from Cambridge?’

  ‘Not yet,’ said Bertram.

  ‘The information I have for you is little and hard-won. Beiersdorf is a long-standing friend of Von Ritter, but he was engaged to Ritter’s wife, before she chose to marry the Baron. The Baron is known to have made his wife extremely unhappy in the early days, and his philandering has continued, though to a lesser degree, into his later years. Apparently, his wife is pregnant yet again and the doctors are concerned for her life. It would be a long time to hold a grudge, but the woman’s impending possible demise might have rekindled it.’

  ‘Poisoning on foreign soil makes him less likely to be suspected,’ I said. ‘But it sounds as if he would require a degree of forward planning. Could a man wait for revenge for so long?’

  Michael shrugged. ‘I could. Anyway, Draper is not well liked by those in power. He is expecting a knighthood for his support should there be a war. He is liable to get one too. We need him. However, he has strong anti-establishment leanings and has been suspected of Bolshevik sympathies.’ Bertram groaned at this.

  ‘Porter is rising fast. Liable to cross the line into politics shortly and tipped for greatness. I cannot discover any link to Von Ritter nor why he would risk such an action at this time. Habermann is more of a dark horse. Stainless character. Excellent diplomat. Scrupulously clean private life. Highly suspicious.’

  ‘We did wonder about the tea lady,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Oh, they’re all ours. You would hardly believe the types we enrol as assets.’ His tone made me uncomfortable.

  ‘So you are suspicious of Habermann,’ I said, attempting to redirect the conversation.

  ‘Very,’ said Michael.

  ‘Oh, did we mention that Gottlieb had been heard arguing with Von Ritter. Can’t recall who told us,’ said Bertram. ‘But it should be easy to check.’

  ‘Publicly?’ said Michael.

  ‘It was certainly overheard,’ I answered.

  ‘I suppose that wraps it up,’ said Michael, in a stunning about-face. ‘All that needs to be decided is if we hang him here or hand him over to Germany.’

  ‘But he’ll go to trial,’ said Bertram.

  ‘Hmm, unlikely,’ said Michael. ‘Be awkward at this stage. As long as the Germans see we have acted in a just and unbiased manner, it should be all right. I’m thinking we hand him over to them and let them sort it out. Publicly we call it a heart attack. We can say we were taking security precautions that proved unnecessary. That should go down well both here and abroad.’ He stood up. ‘Your country thanks you for your service.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘Is that it? You are sentencing Gottlieb to death just like that? A minute ago you were prepared to hand over Habermann as the murderer.’

  ‘I am not the one who found the evidence,’ said Michael. He sighed. ‘This is what happens when you involve civilians too deeply. If I have told Fitzroy once I have told him a hundred times...’

  ‘Is he back?’ asked Bertram.

  Michael shook his head. He looked at me. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘For the man to get a fair trial!’

  ‘He is not a British citizen. If we hand him back to the Germans with our suspicions it is out of our hands.’

  ‘What do you think will happen to him?’ asked Bertram.

  Michael shrugged. ‘Probably best for all if he falls off the boat on the way home.’

  ‘This is not right!’ I protested.

  ‘We - or rather you - could argue around this for hours. What did you think you were doing? We need a name. You gave us one.’

  ‘Give us more time to ensure it is the right one,’ I said.

  Michael frowned. ‘This needs to be wrapped up quickly.’

  ‘And we have other things to do,’ said Bertram. ‘Urgent things.’

  ‘We cannot risk sending an innocent man to his death,’ I said.

  ‘Look,’ said Michael, ‘you are devout Christians. Think of it as him simply getting to the promised land earlier. All I want is someone we can reasonably suggest is the murderer. I don’t care who it is. What’s that saying about letting God sort the sinners from the righteous?’

  The look of loathing I gave him at such blasphemy made him wince slightly.

  ‘All right. You have until tomorrow morning. Then a name must be given and whomever that is will face terminal consequences. You understand that attributing this murder is to placate the peace process – to keep it alive. The death of one innocent man for the potential deaths of thousands of innocent men. It is the kind of deal this country and its rulers must make every day.’

  ‘But you said there will be war anyway,’ I said.

  ‘I am not omniscient,’ said Michael. ‘There is always a chance peace might prove more profitable.’ He pushed in his chair with an air of finality. ‘You have until tomorrow morning at eight a.m. That is when the delegation will be sitting down together again for breakfast. I will lift the cordon now and send them back to their
hotel. Escorts will ensure none of them mingle or leave.’ Then he left.

  Bertram regarded me with a mixture of admiration and despair. ‘I do not know whether to applaud you for your conscientiousness or despair that this keeps us longer from helping Richenda.’ He stood and came over to me. He took one of my hands in both of his and looked me directly in the eyes. ‘What do you think we can achieve now? It sounded very much to me as if Michael has put the delegation out of our reach. The day is drawing to a close. The twins and Merry are still missing. The exhibition is closing. What can we actually do with this extra time?’

  ‘Bosenby’s,’ I said. ‘We can talk to the staff and any witnesses we can find about last night. A picture of how the group behaved socially may give us a fresh insight. If it does, we can return to their hotel at seven a.m. and demand to re-question the group based on our new evidence.’

  ‘No,’ said Bertram.

  ‘No? No to what?’

  ‘You cannot go to Bosenby’s. If you insist I will go and discover what I can, but you cannot accompany me. Do not ask,’ said Bertram.

  ‘I have no intention of asking,’ I said. ‘We should return to our hotel, so we can change.’

  Bertram scowled. ‘It is not like you to capitulate so easily,’ he said.

  ‘Come,’ I said. ‘It may be that Rory has news about the babies.’

  Bertram took my arm and we walked unimpeded to the cab rank. He said nothing more but appeared to have developed a mild tic. He kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I, as usual, concentrated on keeping us on a straight course.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A Situation So Fraught Not Even Cake Will Help

  At the hotel suite Rory flung open the door to our knock. Shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows and sporting grazed and bleeding knuckles, his appearance drew a gasp of astonishment from both of us.

  ‘I found someone,’ he said, panting slightly. ‘He has not told me everything yet, but he will.’

  I pushed past him only for Richenda to leap from her seat and throw herself into my arms. ‘It is all so horrible,’ she wailed.

  It took me some time to calm her. Even I understood that this was not a situation that could be helped by the ordering of cake. What do you say to a mother who fears her babies are in danger? I could not imagine her despair. Amy hung around her mother, and every now and then Richenda engulfed her in a huge and tearful hug. That Amy accepted this quietly and without complaint spoke volumes for the mood of those left behind at the hotel room.

  I had lost track of Bertram while consoling Richenda, but I spied him coming out of one of the bathrooms. ‘Do not go in there, Euphemia,’ he said.

  It was so unlike Bertram to refer to bathroom functions that I stared like a loon.

  ‘Rory has one of the bellboys in there. Apparently, he was paid to ensure our floor was clear of staff when the kidnapping took place. Rory is in the process of helping him remember all the details of his pay-master.’

  ‘Bellboy,’ I said horrified. ‘Is he a child?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Bertram. ‘Twenty-five, if he is a day. It is a position, not a description of youth.’

  ‘Where is Glanville?’ I asked, noticing her absence.

  ‘She went to the police some time ago,’ said Richenda. ‘We decided not to use the telephone in case the kidnappers had someone on the switchboard listening in. She said she would take a circuitous route so as not to be followed. She is yet to return.’

  Bertram and I exchanged worried looks.

  ‘You do not think she has been kidnapped too, do you?’ said Richenda in horror.

  ‘Look on the bright side,’ said Bertram. ‘She could be working with the kidnappers.’

  Rory re-entered the room. ‘It seems he was only paid to ensure no one stopped the lift at this floor. His pay-master is the butler for this floor. Apparently, he has a reputation among the staff for taking bribes to deliver a wide variety of favours.’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘He went off duty a while ago. Apparently, he likes to sup at some inn called The Devil’s Lamb. I am going to change and head there.’

  ‘Do you need me?’ asked Bertram. ‘Only Euphemia and I are not quite finished…’

  ‘No,’ said Rory. ‘I suspect I will have to beat the truth out of him and that is easier if I do it alone. The bellboy described him as a weaselling sort of a man and a physical coward.’

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Richenda.

  ‘Helping,’ I said. ‘Trust us.’

  Richenda turned her red-rimmed and puffy face to me. ‘I have no choice,’ she said.

  ‘I take it you never telephoned Hans for the same reason,’ I said.

  ‘No,’ said Richenda quietly.

  ‘Good God,’ said Bertram. ‘The man has a right to know what is happening with his own children.’

  ‘We have a little time,’ I said. ‘Why do you not send a telegram from a post office outside the hotel, should one still be open? We cannot fear there will be enemies listening in on the switchboards outside the hotel, that is a level of paranoia even I am not willing to entertain.’

  Bertram glanced at his pocket watch. ‘I could do that,’ he agreed reluctantly. He and Richenda agreed a wording and he left having asked me for the correct change. Rory left to find the butler, leaving the bellboy tied up in one of the bathrooms. Richenda and I wedged the door from outside with a chair. Then I quietly explained to Richenda the next part of my plan but did not reveal the whole circumstances. She opted to help me, saying it would divert her mind until Glanville returned.

  When Bertram, nattily attired in his evening suit, walked into Bosenby’s, I imagine the last thing he expected to see was his fiancée, sitting on a high stool at the bar, dressed like a tart and sipping champagne. I smiled coquettishly at him. Bertram, if you will excuse the pun, made a beeline for me. He signalled to the bartender to bring us a bottle with such expertise I began to worry.

  On the outside Bosenby’s looked like the epitome of a gentleman’s club. A jolly, wrong-side-of-middle-age porter, with a tolerant smile, welcomed members into the generous lobby. However, as well as yearly membership, it appeared that gentlemen might pay a monthly tariff as long as they were known to be found in what is often crudely referred to as the ‘stud book’ - Debrett’s. It was also possible for members to vouch for guests. I discovered all this when I arrived at the front door earlier in the evening.

  ‘’Ello, me darlin’,’ the porter had said, eyeing me up and down. ‘You must be a new girl. Not seen you before. Next time come in by the back gate. Trudi will brief you on the club details.’

  I had assumed that I would have to ask for employment, but I did not demur and followed his directions through the London townhouse to a small office in the basement. There, seated behind a desk sat a very smart, elegant, and doubtless once beautiful woman. From her discreet pink-painted lips, to her exquisitely curled (but improbable) red hair, to her tasteful black cocktail dress, she could have passed for a hostess at any smaller country house. When she spoke, it was with carefully rounded vowels.

  ‘I do not know you,’ she said bluntly.

  Equally bluntly I told her I was new in town and had come hoping for work, and the doorman had directed me straight down to her.

  ‘Stand up,’ she said. ‘Turn around, slowly. Are you clean?’

  ‘I have no diseases,’ I said, biting my inner cheek and hoping the pain would prevent me blushing. ‘I also am not fond of alcohol or any other stimulants. Although I will, obviously, indulge with a client if required.’

  ‘Working abroad?’ asked the woman.

  ‘In France,’ I said, reddening. I knew very little about the country and hoped she would not question me.

  ‘I see,’ said Trudi. ‘I suppose some gentleman said he would marry you and then left you to work your way home?’

  ‘Something like that,’ I said.

  ‘Well, George, the doorman, has a good eye for what our
members like. But let me make it clear from the start, this is not a knocking shop. No illegal activity ever takes place here.’ I did not manage to mask my surprise for she continued, ‘If you want to work somewhere where you can turn several tricks a night I can refer you to a number of places, but our girls do not do that. We are a different kind of establishment. You are rather green, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Good. We have a number of members who prefer that. That is why they come here. Several of our girls have left to get married, you know. It all depends. You speak well, and with advice you could… hmm. Anyway. Our members come here to select a mistress. A mistress is a long-term companion, who is available whenever they are in town. All the girls they see here are open to offers. You only accept a gentleman if you wish to. They are looking for companions as much as bed partners, so there must be some chemistry between you. We take a finder’s fee that is twenty per cent of what the gentleman offers for your first month of service. After that we take ten percent a month for the next six months and after that five per cent for the rest of the year. Should the arrangement become permanent, as a mistress or a wife, we take one per cent of the initial monthly payment for life. Is that clear enough? We also introduce the gentleman to a lawyer, who will set out the agreement properly. A man’s word here is only worth the paper it is signed, sealed and witnessed on. I think you could do rather well. Although you might consider dyeing your hair. Are you interested?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ I said. ‘That sounds more than fair, and the best I can hope given my situation.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Trudi. ‘I will say that unless your contract states you are exclusively to belong to a gentleman, it does not preclude taking another client. We have several girls who manage three or four gentlemen. However, it would be your responsibility to ensure they are all happy with the arrangement. Our lawyer will not suggest an exclusive contract unless you or the gentleman mention it first.’

  ‘It all sounds very business-like,’ I said.

  ‘It is. Bosenby’s has been running for a very long time. Do I need to say that acting outside our rules, of which you will be given a copy - these can be read to you if you cannot read - incurs a terminal penalty?’