Murder at the Dolphin Hotel

by Helena Dixon

  Moving into the ballroom, they threaded their way past masked gentlemen in evening attire accompanying mysterious ladies in glamorous gowns as colourful as the peacock feathers in the room decorations. The ladies’ masks were the more fanciful, adorned with sequins and feathers, like Kitty’s.

  Matt swiftly identified Inspector Greville’s men despite their disguises. There was something about them that immediately said ‘police’ to his trained military gaze. Walter Cribbs was also present, accompanied by a photographer as he worked his way around the tables chatting to the great and worthy of Dartmouth. He looked more like a black beetle than ever, with his mask covering his eyes under his glasses.

  He had to admit that Kitty’s hard work had paid off, the additional greenery, painted backdrops and altered layout adding to the ambience of the room. The exotic peacock feather theme in green, gold and blue shimmered in the electric light of the glorious glass chandeliers. The dance floor was already full of people moving to the music provided by the house band.

  The bright, young things of Torbay were out in force, their dresses daringly shorter than the more conservative length that Kitty favoured. The young men accompanying them had pomaded hair and wore evening suits in the latest wide-lapelled style. Cocktails and champagne appeared to be flowing.

  Kitty had darted off to admonish a young waitress who appeared to be wearing her uniform in an improper manner, so Matt wandered between the tables listening in to snatches of conversation and looking for anyone who might be Colin Wakes or Edgar Underhay.

  A faint fug of cigarette and cigar smoke hung in the air and the staff had opened the diamond leaded windows to allow the night air in to circulate around the room. Matt collected a glass of champagne from the bar and continued to monitor the room. He kept a careful watch on Kitty as she too worked her way around, greeting guests. He’d thought the gold colour of her gown and her distinctive short blonde hair would be easy to spot in the crowd but there were so many people it proved harder than he had thought, which worried him more than he cared to admit.

  Kitty checked the tiny gold evening watch her grandmother had given her for her twenty-first birthday. It was almost time for Vivien Delaware’s first set of the evening. Everything appeared to be going well. The room was full, and her guests looked as if they were enjoying themselves. It seemed as if the night would be a success but she was aware she couldn’t congratulate herself entirely until it was over.

  She began to make her way towards the stage, ready to give the announcement. The side of the conversation Matt had held with her grandmother continued to play on her mind. Perhaps she was foolish for not handing the ruby to Inspector Greville and telling him of the communication with her father. All her life though, she had been curious about her father, where he was and why he hadn’t ever come forward. Until she had seen and spoken to him, she knew she couldn’t bring herself to hand over the ruby.

  The letter he had sent had been full of tender concern for her well-being. It hadn’t held the tone of someone who wished her harm. She pressed through the throng on the dance floor, narrowly avoiding having a glass of champagne spilled on her gown by some enthusiastic revellers.

  Bobby was at the side of the stage, partly concealed by one of the giant pots of fronded palms. She barely had time to notice him mopping his brow with one of his coloured silk handkerchiefs whilst sipping from a silver-coloured hip flask, before the band stopped playing and she was on stage.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for the final night of her sell-out run here at the Dolphin Hotel, I give you the wonderful Miss Vivien Delaware.’ She stepped away from the microphone and down from the stage as Vivien made her entrance.

  Clad in a fitted emerald-green, glittering sheath-like gown, in a gold and purple mask with tall peacock feathers in a band encircling her head, she was a truly exotic creature. Not for the first time, Kitty marvelled at how someone like Vivien had married someone like Bobby.

  The spot where he had been standing was now empty. She looked around the room for him, but the dance floor had refilled, and she wasn’t tall enough to see across the crowded space to find either Bobby or Matt.

  On stage, Vivien was singing, her tall, elegant figure swaying to the rhythms created by the house band and her own jazz musicians. Kitty’s feet had started to ache from all the standing and walking she’d been doing all day and she searched around for a vacant chair. Spotting an empty seat at a table tucked inconspicuously beside a pillar, she sat down gratefully and eased off her shoes beneath the cover of the white linen tablecloth. She wriggled and stretched out her stocking-clad toes and sighed with relief.

  ‘Champagne, Miss Underhay.’ A glass appeared in front of her, placed on a paper napkin.

  Startled, Kitty turned to see who had delivered it but there were no waiters in sight. She lifted the glass to take a sip and realised that there was a note folded into the napkin. She glanced around to see if anyone might be watching her. Satisfied that she could see no one, she palmed the folded paper into her hand, and, using the tablecloth for cover, swiftly slipped the message into her stocking-top under her garter. She would read it later, in private, where no prying eyes could see.

  She had no sooner completed the transfer and smoothed her gown back into place when the masked leering visage of Walter Cribbs loomed in front of her.

  ‘Miss Underhay, Kitty, my dear, I’ve come to claim my dance.’ His breath smelled of stale onions and whisky and Kitty wrinkled her nose in distaste.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Cribbs, my feet hurt and I’m taking a break so I’m not dancing this evening.’ Or ever with you, she added silently.

  Even behind the mask, she noticed his expression change. His eyes glittered and his mouth took on a petulant twist. ‘Then you must allow me to keep you company while you rest.’ He slid onto the seat opposite hers and she suddenly regretted choosing a chair with its back to the wall as she was now effectively trapped.

  ‘Are you enjoying the ball?’ She took a sip of champagne and hoped the note that had accompanied it wasn’t a warning not to drink it. Although, if Walter didn’t go away soon, she would require something stronger to drink.

  ‘I’m enjoying it all the more now I’ve finished my work and I’m with you, my darling,’ Walter leered and made a grab for her hand.

  Fortunately, she moved more swiftly than Walter and managed to whisk her hand from the tabletop before his sweaty fingers could entrap her.

  ‘Mr Cribbs, I thought I had made my feelings perfectly clear to you at Christmas.’ Her tone was glacial as she tried to peer around him, hoping Matt would spot her. Not that she needed his aid with Walter, but she had no energy or desire for a prolonged conversation with him.

  ‘Ah, but my circumstances have changed since then, my love. I can understand your previous reluctance to make a match which you may have considered beneath you in financial terms, but I can assure you that my fortunes have improved materially for the better. As my wife you would have no fears of being disadvantaged in society.’

  Kitty stared at him, her mouth falling open at his extraordinary speech. ‘Mr Cribbs, I can assure you that any material assets you might or might not have will never and have never entered my mind.’ Surely the man was not proposing marriage to her?

  ‘Then you can have no objection to my courtship, Kitty dearest.’ Walter smirked.

  Kitty’s mouth closed with a snap. The man had lost his mind, or he had consumed far too much whisky. ‘Mr Cribbs, I apologise for my bluntness, but I have no desire to be courted by you. Ever. Under any circumstances.’ She felt for her shoes with her toes to try to slip them back on again to make her getaway. The man was a lunatic.

  ‘My dearest Kitty, you can’t be serious. And please, you can call me Walter. People will think it strange for an engaged couple to be on such formal terms.’ He made another dive for her and captured her fingers in his moist hand.

  ‘Please release me immediately, Mr Cribbs. I have no intention of becoming engaged to you. I c
an only ascribe your behaviour at present to an overindulgence in alcohol. I have never knowingly given you any cause to believe I had any romantic interest in you.’ Her shoes now back on her feet, she attempted to stand and extricate her hand from his.

  ‘Do sit down, my dear.’ Walter’s voice took on a new, more menacing tone and he tugged her back down onto her seat. ‘I’m sure you would not wish to draw attention.’

  A jolt of fear ran through Kitty. ‘Please release me, Mr Cribbs, I have work to do and no more time to spend on this nonsense.’

  In response, his fingers tightened on hers, causing her to flinch. ‘You need have no fear that I will hold your questionable parentage against you when we are married. I would never reproach you on your father’s lack of patriotism or criminal record.’

  ‘Mr Cribbs, for the last time, release me and desist from this absurd conversation.’

  ‘After all, my dear, you wouldn’t wish your father to come to any harm, would you?’ Walter leaned closer towards her and she instinctively shrank away.

  ‘Why would my father come to any harm?’ She continued to try to free herself from his grasp as the icicle of fear grew larger at the implied threat in Walter’s demeanour.

  He drummed the tabletop with the fingers of his free hand. ‘My sources tell me that Inspector Greville’s men are not the only people keen to speak to your father concerning a certain missing ruby and Hubert Farjeon and Cora Wakes’s deaths.’ He tightened his grip still further on her fingers, forcing a tiny squeak of pain from her lips.

  ‘Mr Cribbs, you are hurting me.’

  He relaxed his grasp just enough to stop the pain. ‘I’m so very sorry, my love. But I just want you to understand. It would be terrible if those other people searching for your father should find him before Inspector Greville and his men.’

  Kitty swallowed. ‘Do you know where my father is?’ she asked.

  Walter smiled like a plump, unpleasant cat toying with a mouse. ‘Oh yes, I think I know.’

  ‘Then I suggest you inform Inspector Greville.’ She made another attempt to extricate her hand.

  ‘Not so fast, my love. There is the small matter of the ruby. After all, it is not just your father that shouldn’t fall into the wrong hands.’

  She gave another impatient tug, and to her satisfaction, managed to free herself. ‘I know nothing of a ruby, Mr Cribbs, and if you do know where my father is then you must go to the police. Now, I must return to my guests. Please do not ever trouble me again with your unwanted affections.’ She quickly stood and slipped past him before he could prevent her from leaving. Her legs trembled and she forced herself to keep moving, anxious to find Matt and update him.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  She had not gone many steps when she walked directly into Matt.

  ‘Kitty, I’ve been looking for you.’ He took hold of the tops of her arms to halt her progress.

  ‘Then where were you when that beastly Walter Cribbs was proposing marriage to me?’ she demanded, her voice breaking as a tear escaped onto her cheek.

  ‘What?’ Matt stared at her; concern mixed with bewilderment in his eyes.

  ‘Mr Cribbs renewed his very unwelcome romantic advances, then, when I rebuffed him, he tried to coerce me by threatening my father’s safety. He said he knew where my father was and implied he would reveal his whereabouts to others who were searching for him, and the ruby.’ Kitty dashed the tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.

  ‘Cribbs knows where your father is hiding? Are you all right?’ Matt was already looking around the room for the reporter.

  ‘I’m fine, I think. He could have been bluffing. He didn’t give me any kind of proof that he was telling the truth.’ Her fear was subsiding now, replaced with increasing fury that Walter Cribbs had dared to lay his hands on her and threaten her in such a way.

  ‘What else did he say?’ Matt asked.

  ‘He assumed my reason for declining his proposal was due to his lack of means, but he claimed he was soon to be wealthy.’ Kitty scowled. ‘The nerve of the man is incredible. I swear he was drunk.’

  ‘He has expectations of money soon. I wonder where or who from.’

  Kitty glanced at Vivien, still performing on the stage. ‘Bobby?’

  ‘Perhaps Hubert Farjeon is not the only person trying a spot of blackmail.’

  Kitty sniffed and shuddered. ‘Vivien is finishing her first set. I must make sure that the staff are ready to serve supper. Could you find Inspector Greville and let him know what Mr Cribbs has said, please?’

  Matt went in search of Inspector Greville’s men. He intended to make sure that Walter Cribbs was questioned as soon as possible about his claim to know where Edgar Underhay might be hiding. He found one of the constables near the entrance to the supper room and passed the message on. There was no sign of Walter in the ballroom and Matt guessed he must have left once Kitty had rebuffed his advances.

  The pianist was now on stage for the supper break, so Matt decided to take a stroll out through the lobby to the embankment and check that there was nothing untoward outside the hotel.

  Mickey nodded to him as he passed the cloakroom. ‘Evening, Captain Bryant.’

  ‘How’s it going, Mickey? Any concerns?’

  Mickey glanced around at the busy corridor and lowered his voice. ‘I dunno if you would say a concern, like, but that man who’s here with the singer came past in a hurry a bit ago. Looked proper mad, he did, and he hasn’t come back.’

  ‘Thanks, Mickey.’ Matt clapped the older man on his shoulder and continued to walk towards the lobby.

  The entrance was quieter now that most of the guests were taking supper before the unmasking and Vivien’s finale. The night porter was still keeping watch near the desk and he nodded to Matt.

  ‘Have you seen Bobby, Miss Delaware’s agent, this evening?’ Matt wondered if Bobby might have re-entered the hotel and headed upstairs to his and Vivien’s suite.

  ‘No, sir, he went out about an hour ago and hasn’t returned.’

  ‘Keep a look out for him, would you?’ Matt couldn’t say why but he had an uneasy feeling building in his stomach. Bobby always stayed near the stage during Vivien’s performances. ‘Any sign of Walter Cribbs, the reporter chap from the Herald?’

  ‘Yes, sir, he left too, a minute or so ago, not much after the other one.’

  Cool air met him as Matt stepped outside the hotel and onto the embankment. A few couples had also come outside, and he heard a girl giggling tipsily at something her companion had said. He decided to stroll towards the boat float.

  The further away from the Dolphin he went, the quieter the streets grew. He could hear the river lapping against the banks and smell the faint salt tang of the sea in the estuary. When he reached the marina, he decided to turn back, he was worried about Kitty. There was no sign of Walter Cribbs or Bobby.

  On his route back he could see the hotel and the silhouette of the castle on the hill beyond the customs house. Light spilled from the windows of the Dolphin, illuminating the people entering and leaving. As he drew nearer to the hotel, he passed a small, dark entryway.

  A fragment of coloured cloth caught his attention and he pulled out his cigarette lighter to see further into the shadows. As he did so, he heard a low moan.

  ‘Bobby!’ He leaned into the entry and saw Bobby sprawled, half sitting, half lying in the gutter. His jacket was ripped, his mask missing, and an ugly swelling had begun to form around his right eye.

  ‘Here, let me help you.’ He dropped his lighter back into his pocket and with some pulling and shoving, managed to get Bobby into a position where he could help him to stagger back to the hotel.

  Their arrival in the lobby caused something of a commotion. The night porter rushed to help him seat the unfortunate Bobby in the small back office behind the desk, away from the guests.

  ‘Bobby, what happened?’ In the brighter light of the office it was clear that Bobby had been assaulted. His head was cut and bleedin
g and the black eye Matt had noticed in the alley would certainly be sore in a few hours’ time.

  The night porter returned with a measure of brandy and one of the police constables from the ballroom. ‘Out taking the air. Fella jumped me from behind,’ Bobby muttered.

  ‘Do you want me to get Vivien?’ Matt asked.

  Bobby’s head shot up and alarm spread across his battered features. ‘No, she has to finish her performance. No point upsetting her yet.’ He took a sip of brandy, grimacing at the taste. ‘Sure wish you had some bourbon.’

  ‘Were you robbed, Mr Delaware?’ The constable had his pocket notebook at the ready.

  Bobby fumbled for the inside pocket of his jacket, wincing as he tried to move his hands. ‘Wallet is gone.’

  Matt noticed he still had his watch, which looked as if it was quite an expensive piece. ‘Would you like us to call a doctor?’ he asked as Bobby let out another groan.

  ‘No, no quacks,’ he snapped.

  ‘Did you see your assailant?’ the constable enquired.

  Bobby carefully shook his head. ‘Nope, told ya fella jumped me from behind. I did my best to fight him off, but he kicked me when I was on the floor. It was dark and it happened really quick.’

  ‘Why were you on the embankment?’ Matt asked. ‘I know you usually stay and watch all of Vivien’s performances.’

  Bobby squinted at him irascibly through bloodshot eyes. ‘I needed some air. It was kind of muggy in there.’

  ‘At what time were you attacked, sir?’ The constable licked the end of his pencil, ready to add to his notes.

  ‘About half an hour, an hour ago? I don’t know, think I passed out.’