by T E Kinsey
She timed her arrival to perfection. The Dizzies ended the number with an expansive flourish just as she opened the door, and she heard Millie say, ‘Well done, chaps. Well done. Have a break and a beer. You deserve both.’
She slipped into the room and up on to the stage.
‘Did you have fun?’ asked Skins.
‘Fun?’ she said. ‘I guess so, it’s a fun place. Hey, guess what – I found a secret door.’
Skins started. ‘You never. Where?’
She grinned. ‘In that corridor with all the portraits. Don’t get your hopes up, though – it was just a wine cellar. According to a ledger on one of the shelves it’s the “Senior Members’ Special Collection”. They’ve got a fleetful of bottles of absinthe, but no treasure.’
‘Well, you know what they say—’
‘If the next words out of your mouth are “absinthe makes the heart grow fonder”, you’ll be sleeping alone in the guest room for the next week.’
Skins laughed. ‘You know me too well. See anything else?’
‘Just where the members’ bedrooms are upstairs. I know Flo told me they had them but I wasn’t sure she was right. I honestly didn’t know gentlemen’s clubs were just posh dosshouses – I thought they were for secretly running the country away from the tiresome scrutiny of parliament and the press.’
‘Well, that as well, but mostly so that gentlemen can get puggled with their pals on the contents of some of the finest wine cellars in London, and then sleep it off without their wives knowing exactly what they’re up to. Handy for . . . liaisons, too.’ He winked.
‘Or for husbands to discreetly give their wives a chance to have liaisons of their own while they’re “away”.’
‘I’m sure there’s a lot of that, too. Plenty of husbands and wives in the Great Families must be staying together for the sake of the dynasty rather than any mutual affection. A chance for a sly tumble must be welcome on both sides. Not everyone marries for love.’
She kissed his neck. ‘I’m lucky to have you, even if you are an insufferably smug know-it-all.’
Dunn had joined them. ‘Steady on – that’s my game. I don’t stay in night after night reading boring books just so someone else can come along and be the insufferably smug know-it-all. What did he know?’
‘That gentlemen’s clubs have rooms for the members to stay in,’ said Ellie.
‘Oh, everyone knows that,’ said Dunn. ‘Common knowledge round our way.’
‘Well, I thought it was interesting,’ she said. ‘How did the rehearsal go?’
‘Best yet,’ said Dunn.
‘That’s encouraging.’
‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ said Skins. ‘They’re still bloody awful, but that was definitely the best bloody-awful performance they’ve managed so far.’
‘What did you guys think?’ said Ellie to the rest of the band.
‘I was thinkin’ about me dinner,’ said Mickey.
‘I had my eyes shut,’ said Eustace.
‘Trying to decide on a birthday present for the missus,’ said Elk.
‘Drinkin’ rum in my favourite bar in St John’s,’ said Benny.
Puddle’s music-school pal smiled politely but said nothing. It belatedly occurred to Ellie that she had no idea what his name was.
‘You’re all dreadful,’ said Puddle. ‘They’ve all worked incredibly hard and I’m proud to have been part of it all.’
‘Good for you,’ said Ellie.
Puddle looked thoughtful, as though she were trying to decide whether to mention something. After a moment, she found her resolve. ‘I’ve heard from Blanche’s brother. He’s in a bit of a state, as you can imagine. And he thinks it might help if he could have her instruments back. I said I’d take them round.’
‘That makes sense,’ said Ellie. ‘They were so much a part of her. It might give him some comfort.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Puddle. ‘So can I pick them up from your chum’s shop after we’re done here?’
‘Course you can,’ said Skins. ‘We can go over there together. Maybe stop at the Lamb and Flag for a pint?’
‘Or back to our place for a nightcap in more salubrious surroundings,’ said Ellie.
‘Oh, that would be delightful,’ said Puddle. ‘I love your house. Thank you.’
‘Can I come?’ said Dunn.
‘Of course you can, dear,’ said Ellie. ‘You never have to ask. Anyone else? We could make an evening of it.’
The rest of the band politely declined, all citing the usual mix of family obligations, other bookings, and difficult journeys.
‘Places, everyone,’ called Millie in her parade-ground voice. ‘Full run-through. No stopping. No second chances. Contest conditions. Come on, Alfie, get your head on. Let’s go.’
Ellie took that as her cue to slip out into the green room again. She’d brought a book.
The rain of the previous day had blown through and the weather had become a good deal more summery. It was a rather pleasant evening as the four friends made their way past the Royal Academy and eastwards, eventually towards Covent Garden.
‘Why didn’t we get a cab?’ said Dunn.
‘Because the exercise will do you good,’ said Ellie. ‘And I like it when we get to Leicester Square and St Martin’s Lane. I love the theatres.’
‘Do you go often?’ asked Puddle.
‘As often as I can. His lordship is always working when the good shows are on, but I get out with my pals. Lady Reasons can always get us good seats. Her husband is Sir Vivian Reasons, the producer.’
‘It works out well. She gets to have fun with her mates and I’m saved from some of the worst excesses of the West End,’ said Skins.
‘I’d love it if you could come with us more often, though,’ said Ellie.
‘Fella has to earn a living,’ said Skins. ‘And I thought it was my musicianly allure that drew you to me in the first place, anyway.’
‘I was only sixteen. And in England for the first time. Everything seemed exotic then, even a penniless drummer.’
‘You met him when you were sixteen?’ said Puddle. ‘How romantic.’
‘Surely he’s told you that story.’
‘There was something about a retired spy called Lady Something-or-other, and Weston-super-Mare, and a terrifying aunt. I didn’t pay much attention, to be honest – I thought he was making it all up.’
‘It’s all true. Well, that’s to say there’s a true story involving retired spies and my terrifying aunt in Weston-super-Mare – I don’t know if everything else he told you is true.’
‘I stuck pretty much to the official narrative,’ said Skins. ‘I might have overstated the audience’s reaction to our ragtime revels, though. I’m not sure the residents of the Arundel Hotel were quite as keen on our music as I made them out to be. But everything else was true. Including the beautiful American girl who came up to the stage in the break and stole my heart.’
‘You’re a soppy sod at times,’ said Dunn.
‘Shut up,’ said Puddle. ‘I think it’s adorable. It must be a drag not being able to go out together in the evenings, though.’
‘Oh, we get by,’ said Ellie. ‘I still get to go out and have fun with my buddies, just not with him. And he’s hanging around the house most of the day so we probably see more of each other than most married couples.’
‘Hanging about like a bad smell?’ said Skins.
‘Well, I didn’t like to say anything, honey,’ said Ellie. ‘But since you brought it up . . .’
‘Remind me why we walk through the backstreets,’ said Dunn, indicating two drunken men ahead of them who were involved in an altercation, apparently about Arsenal and Tottenham’s relative performances the previous season and their chances for the next.
‘This is where we get to see the real London,’ said Skins.
‘I’ve seen the real London,’ said Dunn. ‘It’s a dump. I grew up here. And Arsenal don’t stand a chance.’
‘What did you say?’ said the Arsenal supporter belligerently.
‘You heard,’ said Dunn. ‘And keep it down – there’s ladies present.’
‘Sorry, mate,’ said the Tottenham fan.
They walked past the two men, who by this time had decided that they were best pals again.
They crossed Leicester Square and on to Charing Cross Road, then cut through St Martin’s Court by the side of Wyndham’s Theatre. They emerged on St Martin’s Lane opposite New Row.
‘Now that we’ve seen the real London,’ said Dunn as he let them into his friend’s shop, ‘can we at least get a taxi to Bloomsbury?’
‘If it’ll shut you up, you miserable old bleeder,’ said Skins, ‘I’ll get you a chauffeur-driven Rolls.’
‘A black cab will do fine, thanks. Where did you put Blanche’s stuff?’
‘In the back there,’ said Skins. ‘Behind my old traps case.’
They picked up the two instrument cases and went back out on to St Martin’s Lane to hail a cab.
Skins let them in with his key and Ellie led the way to the drawing room.
‘Drinks?’ she said, indicating the well-stocked cabinet.
‘I know I agreed to come for a nightcap,’ said Puddle, ‘but to tell you the truth I could murder a nice cup of tea.’
‘Ivor’s your man for tea,’ said Ellie. ‘Apparently I don’t do it right.’
‘She hasn’t got a clue, bless her,’ said Skins. Then, in a whisper, he said, ‘She’s American.’
‘Darn tootin’,’ said Ellie. ‘And don’t you forget it, pardner.’
‘Does that account for her obsession with the secret vault and the hidden treasure?’ said Dunn with a wink. ‘They love all that Olde Englande rubbish, the Yanks.’
‘I’ll be proven right,’ said Ellie. ‘You’ll see. There’s something in it – I can feel it in my Yankee bones.’
‘And what gorgeous bones they are,’ said Skins. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Barty?’
‘Not for me, thanks, mate. Mrs C is the best landlady I’ve ever had, but I do sometimes wonder if she’s trying to drown me slowly in tea. I’ll have a scotch.’
‘You’ll have one, love, won’t you?’ said Skins.
‘I think I might join Barty, actually,’ said Ellie. ‘Can’t let the poor boy drink alone.’
‘Tea for two, then.’ He set off for the kitchen.
The Maloneys’ servants were used to their employers’ unconventional hours, and although they had retired for the night they had made sure everything they might need for late-night drinks and snacks was ready in the kitchen. Skins filled the kettle and spent some time poking about in jars to find biscuits before performing the time-honoured ritual of warming the pot and spooning a precisely calculated amount of tea into it. At least, that’s what he would have told anyone he was doing. In reality he absently sploshed some of the near-boiling water round the inside of the pot and chucked a few spoonfuls of tea leaves into it, hoping he’d counted right.
Back in the drawing room, he found Ellie and Dunn sipping scotch while Puddle examined a china ballerina.
‘It’s yours if you want it,’ said Skins, as he put the tray down beside the figurine on the table.
‘Oh,’ said Puddle. ‘Well, that’s very kind . . .’
‘But you’d rather smash it with a hammer?’ suggested Ellie. ‘Don’t worry, honey, we all feel that way about it.’
‘A present from a favourite aunt?’ said Puddle with a smile.
‘Something like that,’ said Ellie.
‘More like punishment from a hated one,’ said Skins. ‘Milk and sugar?’
‘Oh, don’t say that,’ said Ellie.
‘I always offer guests milk and sugar.’
‘No, you goof, I meant don’t say Aunt Martha is hated.’
‘But you do hate her,’ said Skins. ‘We all do. She’s a nasty piece of work.’
‘She is, but you shouldn’t say so.’
‘As you wish,’ said Skins.
‘Milk and two, please,’ said Puddle. She indicated the piano. ‘Do you mind if I . . . ?’
‘Please do,’ said Ellie. ‘I was going to suggest Ivor put the gramophone on, but the piano always sounds much better.’
‘What would you have played?’
‘On the gramophone? I’ve become absolutely obsessed with that George Gershwin tune from last year.’
‘“Rhapsody in Blue”?’ said Puddle. ‘What’s the chap’s name? The bandleader. Paul Something.’
‘Whiteman,’ said Dunn.
‘That’s the fellow,’ said Puddle. She settled herself at the piano and began to play. ‘It sounds better with a full orchestra, but the piano arrangement is rather fun, too.’
‘She can’t come round any more,’ said Ellie. ‘She’s far too good. I’m supposed to be the piano player in this house.’
Puddle laughed. ‘I can talk at the same time, too.’
‘Make her leave, Ivor.’
‘At least let her finish her tea,’ said Skins.
Puddle played on for a minute or two while the others sat quietly and listened. Suddenly, halfway through a phrase, she stopped.
‘Why poison?’ she said.
‘Why poison what?’ said Skins.
‘Blanche. Why kill her with poison?’
‘Why kill anyone with anything?’ said Dunn. ‘I’ve seen men killed. I could never see a good reason for it.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Puddle. ‘But suppose you’d reached the point where you decided to off someone. You’d rationalized it and come to the conclusion that it was perfectly justified. Someone’s friend, someone’s daughter – another living, breathing, smiling, laughing, talented, beautiful person – had to die. Why poison?’
‘It’s easier to get away with, isn’t it?’ said Skins. ‘You can slip them the poison and be nowhere near them when they go. Some poisons take ages to act. Hours sometimes. Days, even.’
Puddle contemplated this for a moment. ‘So she could have been poisoned by someone in the café where she had lunch. Or her landlady could have put it in her breakfast tea. Or someone could have slipped her something the weekend before.’
‘True,’ said Skins. ‘I reckon that’s why the police aren’t getting anywhere. They don’t know what the poison was, so they don’t even know where to start.’
‘Oh, they know where to start,’ she said. ‘They started with me and Danny being in it together, remember?’
‘That was Lavender,’ said Dunn. ‘He’s an idiot. But he’s not on the case now.’
‘Who is, then?’ Puddle said. She sighed. ‘No, never mind. What am I going to tell Blanche’s brother?’
‘Why do you have to tell him anything?’ said Ellie.
‘He’s going to ask, isn’t he? I was there with her when she . . . you know. He’s going to want to know what happened. We all want to know what happened. And I’ve got nothing to offer him apart from a sax and a clarinet.’
‘Then do that,’ said Ellie. ‘Give him the instruments and tell him how much we all loved her. Talk about her work with the band.’
‘You’re right, of course. I shouldn’t overthink these things. But it’s horrible for us – the not-knowing, I mean. Imagine what it must be like for her brother.’
‘We’ll get to the bottom of it. Or Superintendent Sunderland will.’
‘Who’s he again?’ said Puddle.
‘He’s the one who got the boys looking for the deserter, and now he’s taken over the murder inquiry, too.’
‘Once they know what the poison was, we might be able to fill in some of the blanks for them,’ said Skins. ‘Who was where, who saw what, all that kind of thing.’
‘It would be a comfort to Bill, certainly,’ said Puddle.
‘Bill?’ said Ellie.
‘Blanche’s brother. Sorry, I thought I’d said. William Henry Adams.’
‘Ah. Yes, like you said, not knowing is horrible. Is he married?’
‘With three child
ren.’
‘So he doesn’t have to deal with it on his own,’ said Ellie. ‘But you shouldn’t, either. Do you want me to come with you?’
‘Oh, would you? I mean, I don’t want to put you out, but I’d welcome the company.’
‘It’s no trouble at all. When are you going?’
‘I said I’d pop in tomorrow around lunchtime. He’s an accountant. Has his own practice. He said he’d nip home.’
‘He’s in Wimbledon, did you say?’
‘He is, yes.’
‘Then leave the instruments here and I’ll pick you up in a cab at about, what, twelve?’
Puddle smiled broadly. ‘That would be marvellous. Thank you.’
Chapter Fourteen
Ellie’s taxi arrived at Puddle’s digs in Balham at noon the next day. Instructing the cabbie to leave the meter running, Ellie hopped out and knocked sharply on the door to the bay-fronted semi-detached house.
A few moments passed before a well-dressed middle-aged woman opened it. Her face had either been set in an unwelcoming scowl for the purposes of answering the door to unexpected callers, or that was her natural expression. Either way, Ellie was unfazed and greeted the glower with her customary warm smile.
‘Yes?’ said the woman. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Hello,’ said Ellie, brightly. ‘I’m just—’
‘We don’t want any,’ said the woman.
‘I can understand how you wouldn’t. Dreadful things. But—’
‘And we don’t want to join your religion, either.’
‘Who would? It’s a very personal thing, religion. But that’s really—’
‘And we’re not going to vote for you.’
‘I’m entirely sure I wouldn’t vote for me, either. Is Miss Puddephatt at home?’
‘Oh, her. Are you one of her . . . musician friends? I’ve told her I don’t want your lot hanging round here. You lower the tone.’
‘Well, I play the piano, but not professionally. She’s expecting me. We’re to go out for lunch together.’
‘Are you, indeed? Wait here.’
She slammed the door.
Ellie turned round and waved at the cabbie to reassure him that she wouldn’t be long. He was reading his newspaper and didn’t see her.