Murder at the Dolphin Hotel

by Helena Dixon

  ‘I’m going to pop into the kitchen and get some hot milk to take upstairs.’

  ‘If you make it cocoa then I’ll join you.’ Matt smiled at her.

  They made their way along the corridor companionably, quietly warning the constable stationed in the gloom next to the large pantry door that they were coming to make drinks. Kitty offered to make the constable some cocoa too. She left the main light turned off, relying on light from the corridor to see by.

  She had barely had time to tip some milk into the pan when Matt took hold of her arm, stilling the movement.

  ‘Look!’ The constable rose from his seat and they looked towards the door in the cliff face, all of them scarcely daring to breathe.

  The door had opened a fraction; someone was inside the tunnel. The constable swore they hadn’t entered via the door, but were clearly about to exit that way. Matt touched the constable’s sleeve and gestured towards the rear door to the kitchen which stood unlatched.

  He and the police officer edged slowly and carefully towards the door. Kitty followed them. In the moonlight they watched the tunnel door open further and a shadowy face peep out.

  Matt held his breath. The next move was crucial. If the man were to see them, or if they moved too soon, he could dart back inside and be gone. A cold shiver danced along his spine at the thought of possibly having to enter the tunnels again, especially in the dark.

  For what felt like an eternity, nothing happened. Then the door to the tunnel opened wider and the slight figure of a man emerged. The man glanced about as if to check the coast was clear and then darted towards the gate. Before Matt could prevent him, the constable let out a blast on his whistle and charged through the back door of the kitchen.

  The man they were chasing startled and ran back into the tunnels. Matt groaned aloud and, cursing under his breath, he followed the broad shoulders of the constable as he charged after their quarry.

  ‘Matt!’ Kitty raced behind him, her heels clicking on the paving stones. ‘Take this.’

  He paused to accept the large metal torch she handed him. ‘Stay here. Go inside and telephone Greville.’ He shouted the instruction to her as he switched on the torch and followed the constable inside the cliff face.

  Darkness enveloped him as soon as he entered the tunnel and the door swung shut behind him. He was thankful for Kitty’s quick thinking as the yellow light of the torch lit his way as he followed the constable along the narrow tunnel. Up ahead in the dark he heard the rapid, scrabbling footsteps of the man they were hunting.

  Soon they were in the cave where he and Mickey had discovered the blankets. He swung the torch around looking for any other exits but only saw the one that Mickey had said led to the sea below the castle.

  This time Matt led the way, with the policeman behind him. He listened as he went forward for any sounds of their quarry. The air smelt damp and briny and his heart pounded hard against the wall of his chest as they ventured deeper into the cliff.

  Just as Matt was beginning to feel the walls of the tunnel closing around him, it suddenly widened out and forked. Matt breathed a sigh as he tried to fight the terror in his mind by considering the options before them. One branch of the tunnel led downwards and the other, much smaller, swerved away up and to the right. The fugitive had a head start and Matt played the torch around the ground and walls searching for clues as to the direction he might have taken.

  ‘I can’t hear him,’ the constable said.

  Matt could barely hear anything beyond the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. ‘I doubt he came in by boat, let’s try this way.’ He took the path leading upward, and against every survival instinct he possessed, led the way further into the complex.

  As they worked their way along, the tunnel grew narrower and Matt found his shoulders scraping against the side of the passage. Up ahead he thought he could hear the man they were chasing.

  ‘Sir, I can’t get no further.’ Matt glanced behind him to see the policeman’s burly frame prohibited him from making further progress. He swallowed.

  ‘Can you go back, check on Miss Underhay and tell any others where I’ve gone?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I have some matches in my pocket to light the way.’

  The police officer began to work his way backwards down the tunnel. Matt took a deep breath and continued on his way. He forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand, to push aside the horrific memories taunting him at the edge of his mind. Memories of Flanders mud, heavy and sticky, falling, pressing against the wall of his chest, filling his nose and mouth. The rocky walls began to give way to soil, damp and earthy-smelling, long pale roots, white in the torch light, dangled from the ceiling and brushed against his hair.

  Every now and then he thought he heard scrabbling sounds from up ahead and he hoped it was his quarry. A shower of dirt and small stones rattled down on his face and he almost dropped the torch. He wanted to be sick, surely the tunnel had to open out soon.

  Even as the thought crossed his mind, the space closed in even further so he was forced to drop onto his stomach and crawl. By the torch light he could see leaves ahead of him, smell green air and could feel the cool of the night on his face. He wriggled forward, hoping the man he had been pursuing wasn’t hiding just ahead, about to attack.

  Finally, he emerged through what seemed to be the entrance to a badger’s sett into the vast open slopes of a field just outside the castle walls. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the moonlight as he looked around for the man he had been following. A hedgerow lay in shadow and he shone the torch, trying to see if his quarry might be lying hidden there, but there was no sign.

  Matt sank down on his knees on the grass, so thankful to be outside the tunnels and alive. He supposed it would be a long and difficult walk back into the town through the woods, but he simply couldn’t face returning to the Dolphin the way he had emerged.

  Slowly, he began to follow the hedgerow line, taking care over the uneven ground beneath his feet, until he came to a gate and made his way towards the small stone-built Devon longhouse. His approach set the farm dogs barking and in response a light came on inside the building.

  Kitty had telephoned the police station as soon as Matt had disappeared inside the tunnel. She waited anxiously in the kitchen for any signs of either Matt or the constable emerging back into the yard.

  Her patience was rewarded after about half an hour when the police officer came out.

  ‘What happened? Where is Captain Bryant?’

  Her heart raced. The constable’s uniform was torn and dirty. She led him to the kitchen and put on the kettle, trying to calm herself by keeping busy and being purposeful.

  ‘Captain Bryant is still in pursuit, miss. The tunnel was too narrow for me to get through, so he carried on by himself. He asked me to return and stay with you, miss.’ The policeman sank down on a kitchen chair, clearly shaken by the pursuit. ‘It’s dark as pitch in those tunnels, can’t see a hand in front of you.’

  ‘I’ve telephoned the police station, your colleagues should be here soon. Did you see the man at all? Where did you go?’ At least Matt had the torch with him, but that thought was of little comfort.

  The constable told her about the journey through the tunnel and their theory that the man had escaped via the land route.

  ‘Matt could be anywhere. He could be in mortal danger!’ She knew the tunnel would be his worst nightmare, and to go on alone after the fugitive was brave beyond belief. He would suffer terribly from the adventure. For two pins she would set off along the tunnels herself if she thought she could help.

  ‘Miss Underhay. Constable Jones. Would you care to tell me what has been happening?’ Inspector Greville entered the room, escorted by the night porter.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Exhaustion washed over Kitty, draining her of any remaining energy she had when the telephone call finally came to say that Matt was safe. Inspector Greville sent a car to collect him from High Castle Farm.
/>   By the time he arrived back at the hotel, the first pinky-coloured streaks of dawn were staining the sky and the birds had begun to sing.

  ‘Captain Bryant, I understand you were lucky Farmer Dykes didn’t discharge his shotgun at you,’ Inspector Greville remarked as Matt entered the hotel lobby, looking tired and dishevelled. Dirt clung to his suit and he had a scratch mark on his left cheek.

  ‘I think he thought I was a fox after the hens at first. It was a close thing to convince him I was not a tramp about to rob his household.’ He sank down on a nearby chair. Kitty passed him the tumbler of whisky she had prepared for him.

  ‘No sign of your quarry?’

  Matt shook his head. ‘No, sir, he obviously knew those tunnels and the lay of the land well. By the time I managed to get into the field he was gone.’

  Greville sighed deeply. ‘I think we can most probably assume our man is Colin Wakes. It has to be someone local to know the layout of those tunnels so well. Did you get a good look at him? Constable Jones said he couldn’t see clearly in the moonlight.’

  ‘Only a glance, I’m afraid. Constable Jones and I were some distance away and it was quite dark. He is a thin man, shorter than average, thin face and narrow moustache, that’s all I can tell you, sir.’ He swallowed a gulp of whisky.

  The inspector glanced at his watch. ‘That certainly fits Wakes’s description. For now though, I think we should all get some rest, it’s been a long night. We will carry on the search for Colin Wakes as there must be some reason why he is so anxious to avoid coming into contact with the police and is lurking about inside the old smugglers’ tunnels.’ He donned his hat and bade them all a good morning.

  The night porter set about his morning duties, leaving Kitty alone with Matt in the lobby.

  ‘How are you?’ she asked, keeping her voice low.

  ‘Glad to be away from the tunnels.’ He grimaced as he spoke.

  Kitty bit back a yawn. ‘I’m sorry, I need to get some sleep. Can I get you anything else?’

  He finished his whisky. ‘No, thank you for the drink.’

  ‘Will you be all right?’ she asked as he stood to ascend the stairs with her. She hoped his ordeal wouldn’t trigger another bout of night terrors.

  ‘I’ll survive.’ He gave her a brief smile and she had to be content with his response.

  Preparations for Vivien’s final performance and the masked ball took up the next few days and Kitty threw herself into it to distract herself from frustration with the lack of progress in the case. The police continued their efforts, but Colin Wakes appeared to have vanished. Kitty kept expecting to receive further contact from her father, but nothing happened, although she continued to keep the vase of roses in full view. Her grandmother and her great aunt had set off from Scotland but wouldn’t arrive until after the ball as Livvy had been told she must have frequent stops on the journey.

  Vivien and Bobby continued to keep a low profile. Kitty only saw them when Vivien appeared to give her nightly performances.

  Much to Kitty’s frustration, Matt continued to monitor her every move, both inside the hotel and whenever she went out, often finding excuses to accompany her.

  ‘I’m starting to feel as if we’re an old married couple,’ she complained as he insisted on walking with her to the post office.

  His eyebrow quirked and the corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Then I’m sure you’ll agree I’d make you a most attentive husband.’

  She scowled as he strolled along beside her as if he had all the time in the world. She wondered if he had ever been a husband, if that was the personal tragedy that had marked his life. Perhaps the mysterious Edith.

  ‘I need to call at the market for a few things.’ She set off towards the ancient, covered Butterwalk which lay away from the river behind the main streets.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve seen the market,’ Matt remarked and fell into step beside her as they passed under the overhanging upper stories of the buildings supported by stone columns, past the shop windows. The market was small but busy with stalls laden with all kinds of goods. Vegetables, fish, ironmongery and haberdashery all jostled for position and for customers.

  She completed her purchases, stowing the packages in the large wicker basket she carried over one arm and they were about to walk back to the hotel when Matt touched her elbow. ‘Look there.’

  She glanced in the direction he indicated. To her surprise, Bobby was deep in conversation with Walter Cribbs. Matt drew her to the side of the footpath so they weren’t blocking the way. As they watched, Bobby drew a brown Manila envelope from inside the breast of his jacket and passed it to Walter before hurrying away.

  ‘Well, wasn’t that strange?’ Matt remarked.

  ‘What do you think was in that envelope?’ Kitty asked.

  Matt shrugged. ‘Money? Information? Walter Cribbs is such a sly character, anything is possible.’

  ‘Do you think he may have taken something from Hubert Farjeon’s booth that he is blackmailing Bobby and Vivien over? He admitted he went in there and we are fairly certain he lied to Inspector Greville.’

  ‘Bobby and Vivien both seemed quite shaken up when Greville interviewed them. If anybody is under suspicion, I would have thought it would be Bobby. Vivien draws crowds wherever she goes due to her appearance so she can hardly have managed to murder Cora or Hubert without someone seeing her. Bobby, on the other hand, who knows?’

  Kitty frowned as she pondered the information. ‘Why, though? What motive would they have? They weren’t here either when Mr Blaas was killed.’

  ‘I have been thinking about this, and I believe Vivien and Bobby are here under instructions to try and retrieve that ruby. Bobby admitted that their next singing engagement was back in Chicago and it sounded as if it was for a mob-owned club. Or they could be after it for themselves, of course.’

  ‘I suppose that makes a horrid kind of sense. If they recognised my father in London they could have told someone who they knew was looking for him. It’s not so far from London to here by train or motor vehicle and Bobby arrived later than Vivien.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Matt said.

  ‘I’ll be glad when the masked ball is over. A few more days and they’ll be gone back to America. I wish now I hadn’t said they could stay for the extra couple of days before they are due to board their ship.’

  ‘It’s strange that the transfer of the envelope wasn’t the other way around,’ Matt said.

  ‘Oh yes, I see what you mean. Walter has already admitted that he pays for information, so you would think it would be Walter paying Bobby.’ It was strange. A shudder ran down her spine. Walter was so untrustworthy, and the way he always looked at her made her blood run cold. When he had made unwelcome advances at the Christmas ball, under the mistletoe, she had been forced to physically stamp on his foot to elude his clutches.

  As they arrived on the embankment, she couldn’t help but glance up the river towards Hubert Farjeon’s booth, which remained cordoned off.

  ‘I understand Inspector Greville is not amused that it has become a must-see site for the more ghoulish of the day trippers.’ Matt drew her arm through his and turned her gently towards the Dolphin. ‘I believe the mayor is pressing the council to remove it as soon as possible.’

  ‘That would be a good thing. Hubert Farjeon had no family as far as I know so there is no one to take on his company or to drive the motor coach. It’s horribly sad.’ Kitty shivered at the thought of strangers peering at the gay little booth where Hubert had met such a terrible end.

  ‘Miss Delaware is also out for a stroll this afternoon, I see.’

  Vivien was indeed out for a promenade along the embankment. She was elegantly dressed as usual in a pale fawn costume; a fox fur stole around her shoulders and one of her hats bedecked with a tall feather. Trailing behind her at a short distance, their mouths agape at such a sight, were three small urchins.

  ‘Good afternoon.’ Matt raised his hat as she drew closer to them.

/>   Vivien nodded her head regally in response, making the feather in her hat dip and the urchins giggle. ‘I don’t suppose you have seen Bobby anywhere? He was supposed to escort me to the castle tearooms.’

  ‘We passed him earlier in town near the Butterwalk. I expect he’ll be here soon,’ Kitty said. If Vivien wanted to go to the tearooms she was walking in the wrong direction. Vivien wasn’t really attired for a walk either, unless she and Bobby intended to take a car to the castle, as rounding Warfleet Bay on foot involved an uphill hike.

  ‘Thank you, honey. He did mention something about going to the post office.’ Vivien drew her stole a little closer around her shoulders, her eyes unfriendly.

  ‘Perhaps running into Walter Cribbs delayed him,’ Matt said smoothly.

  Vivien blinked, her scarlet lips pressing together with a snap. ‘Walter Cribbs? Oh, the reporter guy. Bobby always deals with the press for me, arranging interviews and such.’

  Matt smiled. ‘I expect that’s what will have delayed his return then.’

  They resumed their stroll, passing Vivien as she stood waiting for the hapless Bobby to return.

  ‘You are a very wicked man,’ Kitty murmured as soon as she was sure they were out of earshot. ‘Do you think it was wise to tip her off that we knew that Bobby had met with Walter?’

  ‘I don’t think it will do any harm. It may make them more cautious if they are unsure of who might be observing them.’

  Kitty glanced up to the window of her grandmother’s suite as they reached the hotel entrance. She clutched his arm. ‘Matt, look.’

  He followed her gaze. Instead of the vase of red roses that had been visible from the street, a vase of yellow flowers stood in their place.

  ‘Quickly, what does it mean?’ Kitty hurried into the lobby and headed for the desk. ‘Ellen, have I had any letters or deliveries whilst I’ve been out?’

  The young receptionist’s eyes widened at the urgency in her employer’s tone. ‘Only the flowers, Miss Underhay.’