by Helena Dixon
Matt smiled apologetically and slipped a donation into the offerings box as he left the church. He wasn’t a religious man, not any more. The war had seen to that, but he found the space inside the church soothing to his nerves. With luck, it might mitigate the nightmares that he knew would inevitably haunt him in his sleep later.
Chapter Eighteen
Matt took his time walking back to the hotel. He needed more space to fully recover from seeing Hubert Farjeon’s body inside the booth. The time inside the church had helped but he wasn’t ready yet to talk to Kitty. His feelings for her when he had comforted her the other day had caught him by surprise.
Without thinking, he had spoken to her the way he and Edith had used to talk to each other. He paused on the embankment and stared out across the water. He and Edith had been so young when they had married, but so happy. The war had accelerated their courtship and marriage and the arrival of baby Betty had set the seal on their happiness, until the day it had all been taken away. He’d never thought he might one day be open to having that same kind of love and companionship again.
‘Captain Bryant,’ Mickey, the maintenance man, called him as soon as he entered the lobby. It looked as if he had been loitering, waiting for his return.
‘What’s the matter, Mick?’ He’d asked Mickey to look out for anything he thought might be unusual or suspicious around the hotel.
‘I think there’s something funny going on round the back of the hotel.’ Mick’s tanned and grizzled features contorted in a frown.
Matt guessed the elderly man was struggling to explain what he thought was wrong. ‘Better show me what you mean.’
He followed Mickey through the hotel, along the service corridor and out through the busy kitchen past the chefs and pot-boy into the yard where the fire had occurred. The soot had been scrubbed away from the bricks and the yard floor washed.
‘I been keeping my eyes open like you asked, Captain. Come over here, sir.’ He took Matt across to the old wooden gate that sealed one of the smugglers’ tunnels in the cliff face. ‘Have a look at that lock.’
Matt could see what he meant. The padlock looked shinier than before and there was a thin film of oil around the top. It contrasted with the faded, blistered paintwork of the door, still bearing soot marks from the fire. ‘Have you got the key for this, Mickey?’
The old man fished a huge ring of keys from his belt and sorted through the bunch. ‘I reckon it might be this one.’ He inserted the key into the lock. The key turned easily and he unclipped the padlock. ‘Ain’t nobody supposed to have been in here for about five years now, at least.’
Matt watched as Mickey opened the door. On a small ledge inside the tunnel was a glass storm lantern. Mickey lifted it out, peered and sniffed. ‘Been primed and used recently.’
Matt produced his cigarette lighter and ignited the wick. Mickey held the lantern in front of him and they ventured into the tunnel. Sweat trickled down Matt’s back as he entered into the confined space. Today seemed to be the day that he was confronting all his demons at once. More horrific memories of being buried in mud in the trenches flooded into his mind, the constant fear of being buried alive, entombed beneath the boards used for shoring up the sides and the layers of heavy, glutinous soil. To his relief, after about twenty yards the tunnel opened out into a larger space that looked as if it might once have been a natural cave.
‘They smugglers used to store some barrels here back in the old days.’ Mickey lifted the lantern up so they could look around. The yellow light flickered and played over the rough, red rock face. In the corner Matt spotted a bundle of what looked like cloth.
‘Over here, Mick.’
Mickey followed him with the light. The bundle comprised of some blankets, a small bag containing a change of clothes, a packet of sandwiches wrapped in greaseproof paper, a tin mug and a bottle of beer. Melted stubs of candles stood on a ledge nearby.
‘Somebody been sleeping in here,’ Mickey said.
‘But who, and how did they get the key to access this area?’ Matt checked around the cave and the exit tunnel which led further into the cliff. ‘Where does this come out, Mick?’
‘Below yon castle, but you have to wait for low water. Come high tide, the entrance floods. ‘‘Tis dangerous.’
‘How many people know about it?’
Mickey shrugged, the movement making the lantern light bob and weave. ‘Dunno, ’tis mainly the older ones now I suppose. In the war no one could get near it, like, and Mrs Treadwell has kept this end locked for years, especially since Miss Elowed went missing.’
Matt knew the castle dated back to the thirteen hundreds so there had to be other passageways connected with it and probably with the church of St Petroc, which stood beside the castle. ‘We’d better get out of here.’
Mickey grunted his assent and the two men made their way back out into the sunlight. Matt automatically reached for his cigarettes as soon as he was free of the cramped, dark confines of the tunnel. His hand trembled as he lit up.
‘Put the lantern back, Mickey, and relock the door. I’ll alert Inspector Greville and see if he will set a watch to catch whoever is using the tunnel. Are there any other ways in or out that you know of?’
‘There used to be a regular warren of tunnels. Some was dead ends, and some have caved in over the years or the entrances have been lost with the building works for the town. I don’t remember there being one still open to this one, other than that one by the castle and you need a boat for that.’
‘I’d better tell Miss Underhay what’s going on.’
Mickey nodded. ‘I’ll keep my eyes open till they puts one of they police on to watch.’
Matt thanked him and set off back inside the hotel. Whoever was using the tunnel was well set-up and had to have been given access to a key. The obvious suspect was Colin Wakes, but why would he be hiding in the tunnel? His mother’s house would be empty, and he had no reason to evade the law. At least no reason as far as Matt knew. Colin may have a dodgy past, but he wasn’t in trouble this time, or was he?
He stopped off at the reception desk to write a note to Inspector Greville before giving one of the kitchen porters a few coins to take it to the police house.
Kitty was in the ballroom, standing at one of the tables with Mrs Homer, the head of the housekeeping staff. ‘I’ve been trying to sort out the curtains, table linen and the décor, ready for next Saturday’s masked ball. It’s Vivien’s finale before she returns to America, and then I’ve a troupe of acrobats coming for two weeks to entertain the guests.’ Her cheeks were flushed and she had a small streak of dust on one cheek. She added another bundle into the housekeeper’s arms and dismissed her. ‘Where have you been all morning? Mickey was looking for you.’
‘It’s all right, he found me.’ Something in his tone must have warned her that something was wrong.
‘What is it? Has something else happened?’ The colour drained from her face.
‘Hubert Farjeon was found murdered this morning.’
‘How? Where?’ She sank down on one of the small gilt chairs.
‘Stabbed, in his booth. Inspector Greville is down there now.’
He saw her swallow. ‘Does he have any idea who may have done it? Or why?’
‘He’s still looking for Colin Wakes and this Mr Kelly, if only to clear them of any involvement.’ He knew she must be worried in case her father was somehow implicated in this latest tragedy.
She nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose so. It’s so awful, Matt. Poor Mr Farjeon.’
‘Kitty, there’s something else.’ He told her of his and Mickey’s discovery in the tunnel.
‘It could be Colin. Cora could have given him a key and kept him supplied with food from the kitchen. He could be the one that set the fire. It has to be someone local and he would be the obvious suspect. But why? None of this makes sense. It’s so horrible to think about what is happening at the hotel, I miss Grams so much right now. It’s frightening, Matt. That’s tw
o people close to me murdered, and if you hadn’t rescued me from that coal truck, it could have been my fate too.’
‘I’ve sent a message to Inspector Greville. Mickey is keeping an eye on the door until they get a policeman in place to keep watch.’
Kitty shivered and rubbed the tops of her arms. ‘Someone just walked over my grave. I’ve got goosebumps. I hope they catch whoever is responsible for this soon. Do you think Hubert did know something about who killed Cora?’
Matt rubbed his chin. ‘I don’t know. Greville is checking his lodgings, but clearly someone must have believed he knew something or else why kill him?’
‘And it might be to do with this gem that I know nothing at all about and don’t have.’ Kitty shuddered. ‘Horrid, absolutely horrid.’ She buried her face in her hands.
‘Come on, let’s go and get some lunch. If you’re a good girl I might treat you to a cream scone later.’ He deliberately kept his tone light and teasing, hoping it would lift her spirits. He decided not to share Vivien’s information with her just yet. She was already concerned about her father; she didn’t need to worry even more.
She accompanied him along the corridor towards the dining room. ‘I’ll join you shortly. I need to freshen up.’ She waved her dusty hands at him and grinned.
‘I’ll see you there.’
Bobby was in his usual spot, loitering in reception near the elevator, his gaudy checked suit visible in the shadows. Matt approached him from behind. ‘Vivien not with you?’ he asked, clapping a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder.
The rotund little man jumped into the air in surprise. ‘No, not yet. I’m er, just waiting for her. You know how she likes her beauty sleep.’
‘Oh, she was out and about quite early this morning. I met her taking the air.’
Bobby appeared flustered, small beads of sweat forming on his hairline. ‘Ah, yes, I was busy this morning, business, you know.’
‘Of course. I’m curious, do you manage any other acts or does Miss Delaware keep you busy?’
Bobby produced a large yellow silk handkerchief and began to mop his brow and around his neck. ‘Goodness me, hot today, isn’t it? Oh, I have a few other acts, you know, as well as Vivien to look out for. Contracts to check, you know.’
‘Must be a difficult life, living out of a suitcase, travelling about?’
Bobby seemed to relax a little. ‘Yes, it can be, but it’s more difficult in America. The colour bar, you know.’ He waved his hands vaguely.
Matt suspected that Bobby and Vivien would encounter a great deal of prejudice and obstacles were their marriage to be widely known. ‘I expect that’s why Miss Delaware retains her own name?’
‘I try to get contracts overseas where I can. London is easier, and Paris, of course.’
‘But this time you are returning to America?’ Matt asked.
Bobby fidgeted, shifting uneasily from foot to foot. ‘Business calls. I have my other acts to manage and this is a longstanding obligation.’
The penny dropped for Matt. ‘An obligation to the kind of people you can’t refuse?’
Bobby’s lips quirked. ‘You could say it would be better to be obliging.’
Chapter Nineteen
Bobby melted away as soon as Kitty appeared, the dust smudge on her cheek gone and her lipstick renewed.
‘I thought you would have gone into lunch?’
‘I ran into Bobby. We were chatting.’
‘Oh?’ She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.
‘Let’s go and eat and I’ll tell you all about it.’
In the dining room, Matt took the seat opposite Kitty. The room was fairly quiet, with many guests out for the day, so there was a low level of chatter in the room. They had just finished the first course when a maid came scurrying into the dining room and straight to their table. ‘Oh, miss, I’m so sorry to disturb you, but you need to come right away, miss.’ The girl kept her voice low and cast a nervous gaze around the room, as if afraid any of the other diners might hear her.
‘What’s wrong, Alice?’ Kitty set her glass back on the table.
‘Your room, miss.’ The girl looked distressed, her fingers worrying at the sides of her apron.
Matt jumped to his feet. ‘You’d better show us what’s happened.’
Kitty joined him as they hurried up the staircase, the maid explaining breathlessly as they walked. ‘I went to clean your room, miss, and the door was open.’
The maid’s cleaning cart was outside the door to Kitty’s room. Matt could see that the lock on the door had been forced, splintering the wood.
‘Was anyone up here when you arrived?’
‘No, sir, it were all quiet.’ The maid’s expression was a mix of excitement and fear.
Kitty gasped aloud when she looked into her room. ‘What on earth?’ Everything was disturbed; all the drawers were out of her chest, the contents strewn across the floor. Her clothes were torn from the hangers and dumped. Even the mattress on her bed was skewed, as if someone had looked beneath it. The lock on the drawer of her bedside cabinet had also been broken and the scanty contents of her jewel box tipped carelessly out.
‘Clearly no ordinary robbery,’ Matt murmured.
‘I’m so sorry, Miss Underhay.’ The maid hovered uncertainly in the doorway as Kitty made her way carefully into her room.
‘Leave us for a minute, while Miss Underhay checks to see if anything has been taken.’ Matt fumbled in his jacket pocket for a notebook and pen. ‘Please can you take this message to Inspector Greville. Alfie, the kitchen boy, knows where to find him.’
The young maid took the note and vanished.
‘Who could have done this?’ Kitty stared around the room. ‘Oh!’ She let out an anguished cry and bent to retrieve an object from the floor. ‘Matt, my mother’s darling little clock, it’s broken.’ She placed the carved wooden cuckoo clock down carefully on the bed.
Dark wood, with a typical Black Forest carved bear and tree decorating the front, the clock was nothing special other than the sentimental associations it held for Kitty. The fretwork on the top had been broken, the hands had come off and he could see the weights that hung from the chains below the clock had been damaged, probably when the thief had tossed it away.
‘What’s that?’ He peered more closely at one of the weights. He had assumed they were made of wood, like the clock, but the fall had revealed they were painted papier mâché designed to resemble fir cones.
Kitty looked more closely. ‘There’s something inside the weight.’ She picked up the clock and pulled at the damaged covering. Instead of the more usual lead, something else appeared: a dark red, rough rock that glittered as the light from the window caught its surface. The size of a small pigeon egg, the gem nestled in her palm.
‘It was here all the time,’ Kitty whispered.
Voices could be heard approaching in the corridor so Kitty quickly slipped the jewel into the pocket of her cardigan and covered the clock with one of her dresses.
Inspector Greville was at the doorway accompanied by Alice, the young red-haired maid who had been dispatched with the note.
‘Is anything missing, Miss Underhay?’
Kitty shook her head. ‘Not as far as I can see, Inspector. My jewellery is scattered about, but all appears to be here. I have nothing else of any value in my room.’
‘No witnesses? No one heard or saw anything suspicious?’
‘No, sir. This is a quiet time of day. Most of the guests are gone for the day or are taking luncheon in the dining room. This floor isn’t used by guests, so apart from the staff when they come to clean or return laundry, no one would be here.’
The inspector nodded. ‘You think it’s someone familiar with the layout and routine of the hotel?’
‘It would appear so.’ Matt was frustrated with himself. He should have realised that as the people searching for the ruby became increasingly desperate, they would try Kitty’s room once more. They should have come and searched agai
n themselves, even though Kitty had clearly been unaware of the ruby’s hiding place.
‘And only this room was searched? No damage to your room, Mr Bryant? Or that of Mrs Treadwell?’ The inspector asked. ‘What order were the rooms cleaned?’
‘I did Mr Bryant’s room first, it being further along the corridor and Mrs Treadwell’s rooms is on the first floor. There was nothing.’ The maid spoke quickly, as if anxious that she should not be blamed for the happenings of the day.
Matt caught Kitty’s gaze and she gave a barely imperceptible shake of her head, warning him not to tell the policeman of the discovery of the ruby.
Inspector Greville examined the broken door lock and damaged door jamb. ‘Most likely a crowbar or lever of some kind.’
‘Yes, we increased security so perhaps they couldn’t obtain the key. Or of course, it could be someone different,’ Matt observed, thinking through the implications of this new development.
‘Shall we go down to my grandmother’s suite?’ Kitty said. ‘Can Alice begin to clean up my room?’
‘I don’t see why not. There seems to be little more information that can be gathered here.’
Matt stayed for a moment to give the maid some instructions as Kitty and the inspector walked back along the corridor and down to Mrs Treadwell’s suite. He caught them up outside the door as Kitty produced the key to let them into the suite.
Matt was relieved to see that everything in her grandmother’s rooms appeared untouched. Kitty sat next to him on the sofa, after calling down to reception for a tea tray.
‘Did you find anything of interest at Hubert Farjeon’s lodgings?’ Matt asked, once the tea had arrived and the maid dismissed.
Inspector Greville stroked his moustache thoughtfully, before helping himself to a biscuit. ‘Nothing very conclusive. No indications that he had heard or seen anyone in particular in connection with the murder of Cora Wakes.’
‘But?’ Matt asked, certain the inspector was holding something back.
‘I believe Mr Farjeon may have been attempting to convince certain people that he knew they were involved with Cora’s death and possibly that he had seen something when Mr Blaas was killed. A most dangerous game to play with a murderer.’