Delilah looked near to tears. Poppy took her hand. “Oh Delilah. I’m sure it won’t get Miles into trouble. He just made a phone call. He was probably asked to. Perhaps he didn’t think he had a choice – if they were his employers in the company.”
Delilah nodded vigorously. “They were. They are. So you – you don’t think Miles has done anything wrong, then?”
Poppy inhaled and then let out a long, slow breath. How was she to phrase this? “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. However… whilst I don’t think people should encourage that sort of thing, as you say, it does happen. It’s up to you whether you think Miles’s involvement is something you can condone. It’s not my business, Delilah.”
Delilah squeezed Poppy’s hand so tightly it was beginning to hurt. She had a strong grip for a slightly built woman. “Oh Poppy, I don’t know. If all he did was make a phone call… and as you say, he might not have felt he could say no… Tell me, what would you do if it was Daniel?”
Poppy felt her stomach churn at the mention of her former beau. A sudden flash of an image of the two of them on a beach came to mind. Was that her dream? She shook her head to bring her thoughts back to Delilah and the here and now. “Well, if it was Daniel – before we’d called it off, of course, because now it wouldn’t be any of my business – I think I would have confronted him and told him that that behaviour was totally unacceptable to me. Even if a girl hadn’t been hurt.” Poppy shook her head. “But it’s not Daniel, and it’s not me. This is a decision you have to make for yourself, Delilah.”
Delilah’s shoulders slumped. “I know. And I’ll have to decide soon. We’re leaving for California on Friday. I’ll have to speak to him about it before then. I don’t think I can go with him until we’ve had it out.”
Poppy patted Delilah’s knee with her spare hand. “I think that’s wise, Delilah, very wise.”
CHAPTER 32
The next morning, Poppy was summoned to Judson Quinn’s office. On her way she passed Paul Saunders, seated at a spare desk in the news department. Her attempt at a polite greeting was met with a glare. Rollo was already waiting for her in the editor’s office, and the two old friends were chewing the cud over a pot of strong coffee. Poppy declined Quinn’s offer of a drink.
“Take a seat, Miz Denby, take a seat,” said Quinn, returning to his own. “Rollo has filled me in on the latest developments.” He chuckled. “It hasn’t taken you long to get your feet under the desk now, has it?”
Poppy lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr Quinn. I know it’s distracting me from my job on the Death Beat…”
“Nonsense!” said Quinn, and toasted her with his coffee cup. “You’re a newshound, not a secretary. I’d be more upset if you’d let this pass. And besides, it was through doing your job on the Death Beat that you picked up on this von Hassler story. Good work, Miz Denby. Very good work.”
Rollo beamed from ear to ear like a proud parent. “So, Judson, where are we going to go from here?”
The editor sipped at his coffee, looking thoughtful, then pushed his wire-rimmed glasses further up his nose. “I think the first thing I need to do is find out if Saunders has actually covered this up or he’s just printed the statement from the coroner’s office and taken it at face value.” He grimaced. “Either outcome’s not good. Either he’s taking back-handers or he’s just incompetent.”
Poppy pursed her lips. “Or he’s just new on the job and still finding his feet?”
Quinn ran his finger over his moustache to wipe off the coffee droplets. “Very true, Miz Denby; you shame me with your fair-mindedness. I’ll reserve judgment on Saunders until I’ve got more facts to hand. But,” he picked up his pen, dipped it in the inkwell and made a note, “that’s going to be my first port of call.” He winked at Rollo. “I’ve got a few favours I can call in at the department – and higher up.”
Rollo put down his cup, cradled his head in his hands, and leaned back in his chair. “Higher up?”
Quinn blotted the ink and put his pen back in its holder. “City Hall…”
Rollo unmeshed his fingers and leaned forward. “City Hall? The mayor’s office? You don’t think…”
Quinn shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. As Miz Denby has already said, we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” He tapped his nose. “But there’s a scent. There’s definitely a scent.”
Rollo nodded. “Well, let me know what you find out. I think I’m going to follow up with the mortuary assistant. He and I both know the initial report said it wasn’t an accident. And he took my money without blinking an eyelid. I think he’s got some explaining to do. Miz Denby, may I have your notes from that interview please?”
“Yes, of course,” said Poppy, and passed Rollo her notebook. But then she remembered the notes she’d made after her conversation with the Carter office. She needed them to follow up the Mimi story.
“Is there any way you can copy the notes and then give them back to me? There’s stuff in that notebook I might need. And I’d rather not tear out those pages.”
Rollo thought for a moment and said, “Maybe I can have the notes photographed. That way the morgue guy can see it written in your hand – which will remind him there’s two people’s word against his.” He nodded assertively. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do.” He tapped the outside of the leather-bound book. “I’ll get it back to you in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, Poppy.”
Quinn nodded his agreement. “Good, good. What’s your next move, Miz Denby?”
Poppy thought about it for a moment. “I think I’ll visit the Carter office. And, if you don’t mind, Rollo, I need you to call your contact on Ellis Island.”
Quinn frowned. “What’s this about?”
Poppy looked up. “The illegal immigrant prostitute story.”
Quinn turned to Rollo. “You never told me about this.”
Rollo gave Poppy a disapproving glance. “That’s because I thought we’d agreed we would give the von Hassler story priority for now.”
Poppy shrugged apologetically. “I think we can do both. I don’t think there’s much more I can do on the von Hassler story until we hear from Marjorie. You and Mr Quinn have leads to follow, but I’m twiddling my thumbs for now. So I thought I’d do some work on the other story. And as I’ve said, I think they’re connected anyway…”
“Whoa! Will someone tell me what’s going on here?” Quinn looked from the young reporter to the middle-aged hack.
“Sorry, Judson,” said Rollo, and proceeded to fill the editor in.
Five minutes later he concluded with: “And Poppy here thinks there might be a connection between the two stories because Alfie Dorchester has turned up in both of them, and von Hassler and the Spencers have shares in the same factory. Does that about sum it up, Poppy?”
She nodded. “It does, yes, although some further information has come to light since I last saw you, Rollo, which I think might justify me giving it a bit more priority.” She then went on to tell the men about her conversation with Seaman Jones and the revelation that there might be some kind of organized scam going on involving Carter officials and the US Immigration Service. She also told them the details of her conversation with Toby Spencer about his cousin ordering prostitutes for his producer colleagues, and that she was trying to get information on where they came from.
Quinn leaned back in his chair and let out a long whistle. “This one’s a keeper, Rollo, definitely a keeper. Miz Denby, if you ever decide to move to New York permanently, I can guarantee you a job here.”
Rollo grinned. “Back off, Judson.” Then he turned to Poppy. “My first thought, Poppy, is that we should do this story in tandem with Ike Garfield back in London. That’s where the corruption seems to start. What do you think, Judson?”
Quinn nodded. “Yes, I think you’re right. Can you speak to Ike without Archie Weinstein at the Globe finding out, though? He and I need to sort out our problems when he gets back, but I don’t want him getting the idea I’m siding with you over him.”
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“What exactly has he got over you, Jud?” asked Rollo.
“This and that. Nothing I can’t handle.” Quinn nodded briefly towards Poppy. “But now I want to hear what Miz Denby has planned.”
“May I borrow my notebook for a moment, Rollo?” she asked.
He passed it to her. She paged through it, then stopped, her finger tapping on a particular note.
“I don’t think we can go much further on this until we confirm that the girls – Mimi and her sister – are indeed illegal immigrants. Otherwise it’s just a story about a prostitute that got slapped about by one of her clients at a party of toffs. And unfortunately, that’s not much of a story.”
Both Quinn and Rollo nodded in agreement.
“So, can one of you call your source at Ellis Island and get them to check the records? If the Yazierska girls are here legally, then its newsworthiness diminishes.”
Quinn grinned at Rollo. “Oh Rollo, hats off to you – and Miz Denby, of course. I wish half my cub reporters were as astute as this little lady.”
Poppy cringed inwardly at the phrase “little lady” but let it pass. Rome wasn’t built in a day…
Quinn picked up his pen and asked: “How do you spell that name again. Y-A – or is it E…”
Poppy repeated the spelling she had received from the Carter clerk. Quinn wrote it down, circled it, then opened his contacts book. He flicked through until he found the number, then picked up the telephone and asked to be put through to Ellis Island. When connected, he asked to speak to Immigration Inspector Jim Brown.
“Jim, hello. Judson Quinn here… yes, yes, they’re well, thanks… Ha! Third grandchild already? I’ve just got the one… That’s right, Edward’s married now… I know, just seems like yesterday, doesn’t it… Jim, listen, I need a favour…”
Quinn proceeded to ask Brown to check the processing records for Friday 12 April from the Olympic, which had arrived in port the night before. He spelled out the sisters’ names. Then he put his hand over the mouthpiece and said to Rollo and Poppy: “He’s checking. How about another cup of coffee while we wait?”
Poppy knew without being told that as the most junior member of staff there – and, whether she liked it or not, because she was a woman – she was expected to make the brew. She did so, checking with Quinn exactly how he liked it. As she busied herself Rollo and Quinn chatted about “Edward”, whom Rollo said he hadn’t seen since the boy was in college. Then, laughing, he confirmed that yes, he was still a bachelor and no, that’s exactly the way he liked it.
No mention of Yasmin Reece-Lansdale, thought Poppy. She kept mum. It wasn’t her place to tell.
As Poppy served the coffee Quinn was alerted to a voice on the telephone. “Righto, Jim. Thanks.” Then he looked directly at Poppy. “So, just to confirm, an Esther Yazierska was denied entrance to the United States on the grounds of being feebleminded, but her sister, Miriam, was admitted… Yes, yes, thanks, Jim, got it. But Miriam decided to return with her sister, is that right?… Okey dokey, and when was that?” He picked up his pen and made a note. “On the Olympic’s return journey, Saturday the 20th… Right, right, and are you sure they were on board… Of course, sorry, Jim, not your department. Thanks for your help…” Quinn frowned, nodding. “Yes, of course we can discuss highlighting some good news stories in return. Tell you what, I’ll get someone to call and set up an appointment. I’ll send one of my best fellas down… No trouble, Jim, always happy to help the US Immigration Service.”
Quinn said his goodbyes, promised to pass on his regards to Edward, and put down the phone. He placed a hand on either side of his notebook and leaned forward: “Well, you heard it, Miz Denby. Your Miriam Yazierska went back to Blighty last Saturday.”
Poppy templed her fingers. “Funny that, as I saw her the very same day in a bathtub on Long Island.”
Rollo nodded. “Yes. Very funny. Definitely follow up with Carter. But wait until I’ve telegraphed Ike first though; then we can co-ordinate our efforts. When will you hear from Toby about Miles and the prostitutes?”
Poppy shrugged. “I’m having dinner with him tomorrow night. I’ll ask then.”
Rollo gave her a quizzical look, but didn’t comment further. He’s thinking about Daniel, she thought and quickly changed the subject. “In the meantime I think I’ll drop by Elizabeth Dorchester’s house to see if she’s made any progress asking around the girls in the Garment District.”
“Good idea,” said Quinn. He leaned on the desk and stood up, hunching slightly to the left.
“Right, you two, good work. Rollo, you off to the morgue?”
“I am,” confirmed Rollo, also standing up. “After I’ve photographed and processed the pages from Miz Denby’s notebook.”
“And I’ll go and see Elizabeth Dorchester,” said Poppy, gathering her things.
“While I get onto the cops, then City Hall if needs be. Hopefully I’ll have an answer on who put a lid on the von Hassler investigation by the end of the day. Go to it, troops!” laughed Quinn, his eyes alight with journalistic passion. Poppy smiled. He’s enjoying this.
CHAPTER 33
Poppy waited at her desk for Rollo to return her notebook. While she did, she pondered the conversation she’d had with Delilah in the middle of the night. What was it that had caught her attention? That Theo Spencer owned a film production company? Why was that important? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Something to do with her dream… She closed her eyes and tried to remember… an image of a cinema… the Statue of Liberty… No, nothing more concrete than that. But there was something – something Mimi had said… Cameron! That’s it! She said “Cam-man” when I asked her if she knew who’d hurt her. Perhaps it wasn’t Cameron the girl was saying; perhaps it was cameraman. A man with a camera… Miles! A wave of nausea passed over her. Oh Delilah!
She waited for the nausea to pass and then, although still feeling a little shaky, walked over to the communal telephone and put through a call to Rollo’s house. Morrison answered. “The Rolandson residence, good morning.”
Poppy asked the butler if Delilah was in. Apparently she was. He would just go and get her, but before he did, he was glad Miz Denby had rung. A telegram had arrived for her.
A telegram! Marjorie! “Thank you, Morrison, I’ve been waiting for that. Would you mind awfully opening it and reading it please?”
Morrison said he would. There was a sound of paper tearing then the clearing of a throat.
“Hello Poppy STOP Found von Riesling at Hotel du Paris MC STOP Down at heel STOP Sold name title and birth certificate for gambling debt STOP Thinks it was joke STOP Person who paid him Alfie Dorchester STOP Do be careful STOP Call if more help needed STOP Marjorie STOP”.
Poppy’s stomach churned again. Proof! We finally have proof!
“Miz Denby, are you still there? Is there anything else you need me to do or should I fetch Miz Marconi?”
“Er, sorry, thank you, Morrison. Yes, please call Miss Marconi.”
Poppy waited while Morrison went to fetch Delilah. She could imagine him pacing his way down the hall and up the stairs. Morrison never hurried.
But Poppy’s mind was racing. So Otto sold his title to Alfie. And Alfie’s using it to impersonate him. Doubt Otto knows that! Marjorie said he thought it was a joke. Perhaps he’d been too drunk to realize. I’d better let the lawyer know. What was his name? Barnes, that’s right. Suppose he could contact the real Otto and let him know about his uncle’s death – and that he’s finally inherited a fortune. There was an address in the telegram, wasn’t there? Hotel du something… du Paris, that’s right. Wonder if Barnes will get the court order now to re-open the coroner’s investigation… and if he does, might that scupper Rollo and Quinn’s story? Hmmm, maybe I should hold out on telling him… I’ll let Rollo decide…
“Poppy? – ahhhh, sorry – is that you?” It was Delilah stifling a yawn. Poppy looked at her watch: half past ten. It was practically the crack of dawn for Delilah.
“Ahhhh. What about him? I haven’t had a chance to speak to him since last night. I will though, I promise.”
“No, no, it’s not that. I just wanted to ask you – you said Miles had a camera.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did he use it at all on Friday night?”
“Er – let me think. No, I don’t think so.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. The first time I saw it was on Saturday morning.”
Poppy absorbed this, trying to see where the pieces of the puzzle might fit. “And – well, I’m sorry to be so indelicate about it, Dee, but… did you spend the whole night with Miles? In the – er – in the same – erm –”
Delilah giggled. “In the same bed? Yes, Poppy, we spent the night in the same bed.”
“The whole night? He didn’t leave you and go elsewhere?”
“I should jolly well hope not! No, he was with me all night.”
Poppy could feel herself blush. “Oh, all right. That’s good.”
“Why do you ask?”
Should she tell Delilah that she had thought for a moment that her new beau might have filmed and then assaulted Mimi? No, she’d better not.
“I’m just eliminating him from the enquiry, that’s all. Listen, Dee, can you remember the names of the producers who were there? The ones from – what was it? – Black Horse.”
Delilah said she could – or at least the first names of most of them. They were Howard Parker – he was the famous one, apparently – someone called Frank, another called Bob, and a fourth the others referred to as Chucky Boy. Poppy wrote them down.
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