The Deadly Mystery of the Missing Diamonds (A Dizzy Heights Mystery)

by T E Kinsey

  ‘Oh, perhaps I just thought it. All that stuff about not wanting the rivalry to come to blows, the way he changed the subject whenever we tried to get him to talk about the war. He’s hiding something.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Skins. ‘But a coward? That’s a bit of a jump.’

  ‘I don’t know. Perhaps.’

  ‘What about Blanche?’ said Ellie. ‘Do you think there’s anything in Lavender’s notions?’

  Dunn laughed. ‘I’ve said what I think of Lavender. I mean, it’s possible Danny could have done it, but he’d have to be a certifiable nutcase. He had the opportunity, obviously. And if the Sidecar was poisoned he had the means. But what about motive? It’s too . . . what’s the word? Random?’

  ‘So who else could it be? Who at the club could possibly have wanted Blanche dead?’

  ‘Was she going out with anyone?’ asked Skins.

  ‘No,’ said Dunn.

  ‘That was quick, mate. You sure?’

  ‘I told you I asked her out. She said yes straight away. There was no, “Well, I’m seeing someone else, but . . .” She didn’t even um and ah. She just thought for a second and said yes. There was no one else, I’d bet my life on it.’

  ‘I think we can rule out Alfie and Ernie for the same reasons we’re ruling them out as the deserter,’ said Ellie.

  ‘They’re too nice?’ said Skins.

  ‘Until Sunderland tell us they’re liars, then yes, they’re too nice.’

  ‘Bertie?’ said Dunn.

  ‘He might have poisoned her accidentally,’ said Skins. ‘Gawd knows what he’s got in his hair, but if she touched it . . . who knows? It might be toxic.’

  The others laughed.

  ‘Which only leaves Charlie,’ said Ellie. ‘I’ve not spoken to him.’

  ‘He’s very smooth,’ said Skins. ‘Remember that first dance lesson?’

  ‘He was,’ agreed Dunn. ‘All suave charm and upper-class confidence.’

  ‘Does that rule him in or out?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Skins and Dunn together.

  Ellie rolled her eyes.

  Skins grinned. ‘The deserter, this Grant bloke, was Other Ranks. Just a bloke off the streets like us. Whereas this Charlie is as posh as they come. On the other hand, look how much I’ve changed since you first met me. I used to be all “gorblimey”, but now listen to me. If you didn’t know me, could you even tell I was a Londoner?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellie and Dunn together.

  ‘Yes, well,’ said Skins, trying to sound a little more refined. ‘It don’t take much to put it on, do it? So his accent might rule him out as the deserter, but then again it might not – it’s only an accent. And his swagger? It might be the natural swagger of the ruling classes. But it takes a lot of confidence to knock off a shipment of diamonds like you’re Dick Turpin on a French holiday. So that doesn’t mean anything, either. And the murder? Confident posh blokes can be insane killers, I reckon. Anyone can, if I understand it right.’

  ‘But he doesn’t have a motive for the killing,’ said Dunn.

  ‘Which is why I made sure to mention the “insane” bit.’

  ‘What about Millie?’ said Ellie.

  ‘It’s a bloody good disguise if she’s Arthur Grant,’ said Skins.

  ‘She’s gorgeous,’ agreed Dunn.

  ‘Not for the deserter, you chumps,’ said Ellie. ‘The murder.’

  ‘No reason why not,’ said Skins. ‘But she went nowhere near the drinks or the food. She left just as it was all being brought in by the Cuthberts.’

  ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘She didn’t say. But I’d bet you a tanner she went for a tiddle. Danny brought a tray straight over to us, though, and she never touched it before or after doing whatever it was she went to do. She can’t have poisoned the drinks. She was at the House of Commons. Visiting Mrs Jones. Gone to look at the crops—’

  ‘She was powdering her nose,’ said Ellie. ‘I get it. So she’s out on both counts.’

  ‘I should say so, yes,’ said Dunn. ‘Although I did see some blokes who made pretty convincing birds in the concert parties during the war. But not that good, I grant you, so she’s definitely not the deserter. And the food and drink would all have been prepared during the first half of the lesson so she couldn’t have got to any of it before she came in.’

  ‘But Danny had access to it when it arrived.’

  ‘He did,’ said Skins. ‘Actually, all the others did. They fell on the stuff like gannets before Danny wrenched one of the trays out to bring to us.’

  ‘The tray with the cocktails on?’ said Ellie.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So they all knew it was yours.’

  ‘They must have.’

  ‘Danny’s even less of a sure bet now, then,’ she said. ‘Any of them could have slipped something into one of the cocktails.’

  They were saved from more speculation by the arrival of Mrs Ponton’s famous rice pudding. All conversation stopped while the delicious dish was eaten.

  Dunn left to find a cab shortly before midnight but the Maloneys stayed up, sitting in the drawing room with a cup of cocoa each.

  Skins luxuriated in a long sip of his bedtime drink. This was one of his favourite times of the day, sitting with Ellie and enjoying a moment of simple luxury.

  ‘Do you really think we should be doing all this?’

  ‘Drinking cocoa?’ she said. ‘Well, I suggested Horlicks but you don’t like it.’

  ‘Can’t stand the stuff. Don’t know why. But you know that’s not what I meant. Should me and Barty be investigating jewel thieves, deserters, and murderers? I’m a musician – what do I know about it?’

  ‘You know plenty – you’re not as dumb as you like to pretend. And it doesn’t matter how much we know – I want to do it. I want to help.’

  ‘I know. And I’ve got to admit it does make a difference having you in the gang.’

  ‘How, though? I mean, other than my general wonderfulness and the undiluted joy of having me around. I’m dismissed in the popular mind as “a lady of leisure”, after all. What use can I be?’

  ‘You’re more than that. You’ve got a lot more going for you than me and Barty do, for a start. You were a military nurse, and your aunt’s a spy, and one of your best mates . . . well, she’s a spy, and a sleuth, and – as you like to put it – she can beat a man six ways from Sunday without messing up her hair.’

  ‘Knowing Aunt Adelia and Flo Armstrong doesn’t give me special abilities.’

  ‘No, but it gives you more of a . . . what do you call it? An “insight” into how these things are done.’

  ‘When you put it like that, I’m amazing. But there’s a thrill in it, don’t you think? Especially trying to avenge the death of a friend.’

  ‘I suppose.’

  ‘And it’s got some intriguing elements. You know, with the secret treasure and all.’

  ‘Old Sir Dynamite Fitzfiddlefaddle-Gumption? Did I tell you me and Barty found his portrait? Good-looking lad. Had a gold key in his hand.’

  ‘A clue?’ said Ellie, excitedly.

  ‘Could be. He was on a wall of portraits of the club presidents and they were all holding it.’

  ‘Oh. Probably not, then.’

  ‘It’s the talk of the club, though. Well, the Alphabet Gang, anyway. That Danny bloke says it was all they could talk about until the dance thing came along.’

  ‘Really,’ she said, slowly. ‘And what else did he say?’

  ‘That it was a load of old rubbish someone made up a hundred years ago for a laugh.’

  ‘Trying to play it cool. Put you off the scent. Was it you who brought it up, or him?’

  ‘Us, obviously – me and Barty. It was when we talked to him in the committee room before you turned up and did your “outraged manager” act for the porter.’

  ‘Oh, then. But it’s suspicious, no? You ask about the treasure, he says all the others are talking about it and laughs it off . . .’
/>
  ‘Or he really does think it’s rubbish, and just said so,’ said Skins.

  ‘Well, I think you need to put it in your report to Sunderland anyway.’

  ‘Well,’ said Skins. ‘Now . . . you see . . . the thing is . . . I’m not much good at reports . . . and . . . well . . .’ He gave her his winningest smile. ‘Perhaps we ought to call him.’

  ‘Perhaps you ought to call him. You can do it in the morning while I write to Flo. It’s Friday tomorrow, isn’t it?’

  Skins yawned. ‘It is.’

  ‘So you’re playing at the dance at Tipsy Harry’s as usual?’

  ‘We are. It’s not a bad night, actually. They’re a lively bunch and they love their jazz. Not as much as the regular crowd at the Augmented Ninth, but I’m happy to play anywhere we’re appreciated.’

  ‘You should open your own club, you know. Then you could do what you wanted. Play when you wanted.’

  ‘Pay rent and rates, hire staff, buy booze, deal with the council, advertise, book cantankerous bands . . . No thanks, love. I think I prefer the life of the wandering minstrel. And it has one huge advantage over owning a club . . .’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘It irritates the bejesus out of your uncles back in Maryland.’

  She laughed. ‘They’re still annoyed I married a penniless musician. What are we going to do about Barty?’

  ‘He’s all right. We make a good living, tell the truth. He’s better off than he would be working at the sweet factory.’

  ‘I’m not talking about money. I mean his love life.’

  ‘None of our business.’

  ‘Of course it is. You want your best friend in all the world to be happy, don’t you?’

  ‘You’re my best friend in all the world.’

  ‘OK, so do you want your second-best friend in all the world to be happy?’

  ‘Of course I do. But there’s no “do about” it to be done. A bloke doesn’t interfere in another bloke’s affaires du cœur.’

  ‘Hark at you and your la-di-da French phrases.’

  ‘I’ve travelled,’ he said with another yawn. ‘I know a thing or two.’

  ‘But not about affaires du cœur. They always need a little help. A little nudge in the right direction.’

  ‘Well, if you want to nudge Barty’s “affaires” in the right direction, you’ll have to do it without me. I’m not touching another bloke’s affaires.’

  ‘Men are idiots.’

  ‘That’s not in dispute. But we get by.’

  ‘With our help.’

  Skins yawned again. ‘Seems like the perfect arrangement, then.’

  ‘You’d better get to bed, honey.’

  ‘I probably ought to. You coming?’

  ‘No, I think I might play a little if it won’t disturb you.’

  ‘Play on, my love – one of the many advantages of this massive house is you could host a full rehearsal of the band in here and I’d not hear it in the bedroom.’

  ‘I’ll play quietly anyway.’

  ‘Right you are. See you in the morning . . . Oh, fancy going out for lunch tomorrow?’

  ‘That would be swell. And I’m coming to the club.’

  ‘Of course. Wouldn’t expect anything less of my wife the sleuth. Don’t stay up too late.’

  Bloomsbury

  June 5, 1925

  Dearest Flo

  Just a brief one this time – I need some advice but I also need to get to a lunch date with some of the gals.

  It was wonderful to see you both on Monday. You’re looking so well . . . for a woman of your age. And thank you for steering the boys in the right direction.

  I didn’t want to say anything while we were all at lunch together, but Blanche’s death has hit them harder than they let on. Barty especially. He asked her out just before she was killed, you know. I think they’d have made a wonderful couple.

  The interviews are going well (or as well as can be expected, anyway) but we are running out of steam a little. We’ve learned quite a bit already and Ivor is passing it all on to Supt Sunderland, but I’m not at all certain what to do next. What happens when we’ve talked to everyone?

  And have you heard anything from your newspaper contact? I do so hope it’s not just another baseless myth.

  Love to you both.

  Your friend

  Ellie

  Chapter Ten

  The room at the Aristippus Club that the band used as a green room had become, if not a second home, then certainly a favourite haunt. Everyone had claimed their own little bit of space, and they all settled in and helped themselves to the drinks set out for them by the liveried Cuthberts as they got themselves ready for the evening ahead. Instruments were warmed up and occasional impromptu “jam sessions” – as the new slang had it – would break out as other players joined in.

  ‘Sometimes I wonder if we should let the audience in here, you know,’ said Eustace after a particularly interesting exploration of Bach’s Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme he’d instigated. ‘Some of the stuff we do in here is better than our regular set.’

  ‘It’d be a bit crowded,’ said Skins. ‘There’s only just enough room for us as it is. But there’s no reason we can’t mess around at the Augmented Ninth. I bet they’d be happy to hear some experimental stuff. They’re a good crowd.’

  ‘I’d be happy with that,’ said Benny. ‘There’s something . . . I don’t know how to say it . . . Like you’re floating away. Like the whole world has gone and all that’s left is the music.’

  ‘Sounds spiritual,’ said Elk.

  ‘Maybe it is.’

  ‘What’ll I do while you’re all getting spiritual?’ said Mickey.

  ‘Same as always, Mickey boy,’ said Dunn. ‘You can sit on a bar stool and chat up the birds.’

  ‘You’ve got to leave a few songs in the set, then. I can only impress the ladies if I’ve done a bit of the old singing.’

  There was a knock at the door.

  ‘Is everybody decent?’ said Ellie as she poked her head round.

  ‘Bit late if we weren’t,’ said Skins. ‘You’ve already had a good look.’

  ‘Oh, you know me, sweetie – I live to see musicians in their drawers. Oh, hi, Puddle. How are your drawers?’

  ‘The elastic’s seen better days, but they do the job,’ said Puddle. ‘Who are you going to quiz today?’

  ‘Whomsoever falls into my cunningly woven web of . . . something or other. You know what I mean. We’re getting closer, I just know we are. Has Inspector Lavender spoken to you, by the way?’

  ‘Oh, yes, I forgot to say. Wednesday morning. He came to my digs and upset my landlady. She doesn’t like her lodgers getting visits from the police and she wasn’t shy about letting me know. I am, apparently, on my last chance.’

  ‘How many times have you been visited by the coppers before?’

  ‘He was the first. But one is too many.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘About my landlady? He gets stick from landladies all the time.’

  Ellie sighed. ‘Is this a band thing? Ivor does it and it drives me bananas. I meant, what did he say about Blanche?’

  Puddle grinned. ‘Only what one might expect. Well, mostly what one might expect. He asked me to describe the evening, so I did. Then he started asking me if I knew Dudley Daniels and if I had any particular grudge against Blanche. I told him I didn’t even know who Dudley Daniels was, that Blanche and I were best chums, and he should mind how he talked to people about their recently murdered friends.’

  ‘Dudley Daniels is Danny’s real name.’

  ‘I knew, really, but he was beginning to get on my nerves. He wasn’t very forthcoming after that. Just kept asking me about the cocktails and whether I really do prefer gin.’

  ‘He’s still on about you being in it with Danny, then?’ said Ellie.

  ‘So it would appear. Am I the only one to have been graced with a visit?’

  Eustace, Benny, Elk, a
nd Mickey all confirmed that Inspector Lavender had called on them.

  ‘I suppose we should be grateful he’s doing something,’ said Puddle. ‘Even if he’s stupid and wrong.’

  ‘We’ll just have to make sure we make up for his stupidity, then,’ said Ellie. ‘Eyes and ears open, Dizzies. Someone here knows something, and we can find it out.’

  She kissed Skins on the cheek and slipped back out into the corridor.

  ‘She’d make a pretty good manager, you know,’ said Benny. ‘She doesn’t mind taking charge.’

  ‘I’d not mess her about, certainly,’ said Elk.

  ‘You’re probably not wrong,’ said Skins, ‘but I’d not wish you lot on my worst enemy, much less the love of my life.’

  ‘That’s sweet,’ said Puddle. ‘Apart from the part about us being a living nightmare. I, for one, am completely adorable.’

  She was immediately pelted with cushions lobbed from all corners of the room.

  Ellie sauntered along the corridor without an enormous amount of enthusiasm. She didn’t actually dislike the regular events at the Aristippus Club, but they were becoming a little routine. She tried to count up in her head how many other times she’d been there. Was it really just two lessons and a Friday night dance? It felt like she’d been coming to the place forever.

  Charlie was walking towards her.

  ‘Good evening, Mrs Maloney,’ he said with a cheerful smile.

  ‘Please, call me Ellie,’ she said. ‘I can hardly remember any of your real names and it feels decidedly odd to be calling you Charlie while you have to call me Mrs Maloney.’

  ‘Right you are, Ellie,’ he said. ‘Looking forward to the dance?’

  ‘I always look forward to hearing the Dizzy Heights,’ she said.

  He laughed. ‘A properly diplomatic answer from the band’s new manager. I can understand the reaction to this place, though. It’s not exactly designed for ladies. To be honest, I don’t think most of the members were designed for ladies. We find ourselves hopelessly attracted to them, but completely unable to figure them out. It’s our upbringing, d’you see? The only women we ever meet are mothers, nannies, and school matrons. The war brought us into contact with nurses, too, I suppose, but for the rest of the time, women might as well be from another planet entirely.’