by David Adkins
When I reached Ladywell Station I started to wonder if I was still being followed for I did not wish to lead any potential danger towards Cassie. I looked around nervously and I was extra careful ducking occasionally into shop doorways and taking stock of the situation. I was convinced that I was not being followed but that did not mean my house was not being watched. I must not take Cassie to my home just in case. I had given my word to Smith that I would drop the investigation but he would probably rightly not take my word at face value so I still had to be careful.
*
It was nearly 5 pm when I reached the George Inn and I entered the small foyer and rang the bell at reception. I waited a few moments and then I was greeted by an elderly woman with a curt manner and her gray hair tied in a severe bun. “Can I help you sir?” she inquired.
“I am here to see Cassandra Mitchell who has a room here,” I announced.
She looked at me dubiously. “Gentlemen are not allowed in the rooms of single ladies. I will go and fetch her and you will have to speak with her down here.”
“Of course,” I replied.
“We are a respectable establishment,” she continued brusquely.
“Of course,” I repeated.
“Wait here then.”
A few minutes later she returned with Cassie. I beamed when I saw her beautiful face. “I have missed you so much.” I took her arm and led her into a corner where we could not be overheard.
She returned my smile. “I have missed you too, Steve.”
“She is a bit of an old dragon,” I whispered.
Cassie laughed and I was falling under her spell all over again. “She is even scarier than that Mr Smith,” she confided.
I breathed out a sceptical laugh. “I don’t think so. Is everything alright?”
“Yes all has been quiet since I arrived in Lewisham but I have been a bit scared of late with all that has been going on and it is boring here with nothing to do.”
“We need somewhere we can talk properly. It would still be risky for you to come to my home for it is possible Smith is having it watched.”
“You have a wonderful cinema in Catford just a short walk from here. I noticed it from the top of the bus when I came from Farnborough.”
“You mean the Hippodrome. It is a rather grand building.”
“They are showing the African Queen with Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn. I like a good love story and this one is set in Africa,” she enthused.
“It is ages since I went to the pictures, Cassie.”
“Then it is time you did.”
“We can hardly talk in there.” I pointed out.
“We can talk on the way there and on the way back and we can talk in the concourse.”
I nodded, only too willing to give in to her enthusiasm. “Then we shall go to the pictures tonight.”
“Wonderful,” she smiled.
“I must return home first and leave this bag there and get ready,” I said.
“I will meet you outside here at 6.30 and we’ll catch the 7.00 showing.” She noticed a grimace I couldn’t quite supress. “What is the matter, you look a little doubtful?”
“I was worried about being followed. However, I know how to shake off any would-be pursuers and it will be dark by then.”
“All right. I’ll see you at 6.30 then.”
“See you at 6.30, Cassie.”
I left and walked up George Lane, feeling pleased with myself. I was going to the pictures with Cassie and it seemed like a real date. Even the sleet had stopped.
I had an hour to get ready and have a wash. I kept looking out of my window to see if there was any sign of spying eyes. There was a car parked across the road but I could not make out if anyone was in it. Perhaps I was getting paranoid but I was determined not to take any unnecessary chances with Cassie’s safety.
At 6.15 I exited my house by my back door and climbed into my neighbour’s garden as I had previously done to avoid detection and used back roads toward the George Inn. I was annoyed that I had got my black polished shoes a little muddy but that could not be helped. Cassie was waiting for me when I arrived.
We were fortunate that the sleet of earlier had now completely ceased and the sky was clear and full of stars. She put her arm in mine and we made our way towards the Hippodrome Theatre in the cold night air. I had only been to the Hippodrome a few times previously but I had been impressed with the splendour of the place. It had been opened decades earlier as a music hall but in recent times had started to show films for movies were now very big business. We chatted generally avoiding for the moment the question of Max Lucas and the sinister Mr Smith. I found Cassie so easy to talk to and I revelled in her company.
We soon found ourselves standing outside the large impressive picture palace. “This is some place, Steve. I would like to perform here.”
“You would certainly be a grace on the stage but these days they show films rather than live music hall.”
“Then I’ll to star in a film,” she said airly and laughed before going quiet. “That’s another dream, you know.”
“You would put Marilyn Monroe to shame,” I commented.
“You say the nicest things. Perhaps I could be the new Marilyn,” she laughed and then turned more serious. “I get very bored in that hotel.”
“It is not for much longer. Let’s go in,” I suggested.
I bought two tickets at the box office for the 7.30 show. I also bought some doughnuts, some lemonade and two bags of popcorn. We managed to find two seats in the foyer while we waited. I handed a doughnut to Cassie. “Your dinner,” I joked.
“Thank you, that is most thoughtful,” she laughed.
“I saw Max today,” I said more seriously.
“How is he?”
“He is fine, particularly when he heard the news I had for him.”
“That sounds good, tell me,” she enthused.
“I found the dark-haired woman who was in the room when Nesterman was killed. She told me how she had killed Nesterman and, though she will not be in court to give evidence, I will. We also have some witnesses who saw Nesterman with the same girl just hours before he was murdered. Max will walk away free.”
“That is wonderful.”
“My colleague James Butler will represent Max and Lester Bruitt will be sacked.”
“Bruitt was an arrogant pig,” she smiled sweetly. “How does Smith fit into this?”
“He and the police wanted a conviction, but why they have gone to such lengths I do not know,” I lied. It seemed that like Jenna I was now also protecting everyone from the truth.
“It is strange,” she observed.
“It is very strange,” I agreed. “But don’t worry, I think we are both finished with Smith now.”
“That’s a relief. The man frightened me.”
“I am sure you are safe now but we should continue to be cautious,” I assured her.
She sipped at her lemonade. “Thank you Steve. For all you have done.”
“Do not go to see Max again, for the trial is only a week and a half away. You can stay at the George until then.”
“And suffer that old dragon and the boredom.”
I laughed at the disgruntled look on her face. “A small price to pay for your safety. Now finish your drink and doughnut and we can go in.” I nodded to the theatre entrance. “They have just opened the doors.”
We showed our tickets and went into the stalls clutching our bags of popcorn. I was already finding this a very pleasurable evening and the films had not started yet. “In here,” giggled Cassie, and I followed her into the very comfortable back row of the stalls with a nervous grin. Not long into the short film that ran before the main event, I decided it wasn’t the most enticing plot, but the back row of the stalls started to liven up. I watched as courting couples took advantage of the relative seclusion of the darkness.
Cassie leaned over and put her head on my shoulder. I breathed in her scent and felt her blond ha
ir tickle my cheek. I reached out and put my left hand on her knee.
“Really Steve, what are you doing?” she whispered.
I withdrew my hand quickly. “I am sorry Cassie.”
“Do not be silly, I was just teasing you.”
She kissed me on the cheek and took my hand and placed it back on her knee. “I quite like it there.” She placed her head back on my shoulder. “Now shall we watch the film?”
At last the B film finished and I bought two ice creams from the usherette who paraded her wares up and down the aisle. By the time The African Queen started the ice creams were consumed, my hand was back on Cassie’s thigh and her head was back on my shoulder. I settled down contentedly to watch the main attraction. Even I knew that this film was getting some very good reviews.
The African Queen did not disappoint with two tremendous performances by the two main stars. At last the film drew to a conclusion and I could see that Cassie had been very taken with the love story and the African panoramas. “I would like to go to Africa one day — though I didn’t like the leeches,” she said stretching and smiling. “In fact I dream about travelling around the whole world.”
“Another great dream, Cassie,” I replied smiling. The organ started to play and we stood up to the stirring words of the National Anthem. It was belted out with gusto for most who attended knew only too well that the Anthem and our whole way of life had so recently been threatened by a determined and brutal enemy. If Jenna killed Deepdale it was certainly no less than he deserved.
“You are looking very thoughtful,” she commented as we queued to leave the theatre.
“I have a busy day tomorrow working on Max’s case.”
“We had better get you home then, for you will need to be alert.”
We emerged from the Hippodrome onto Rushey Green. It was sleeting again and there was a bitter cold wind blowing. I put my arm around Cassie and she almost disappeared into my coat. “It is freezing,” she said.
We walked for a bit before I brought up tomorrow. “I will be working all day on the case, but I will be home in the evening and I would like to come to see you then.”
She nodded and huddled closer as we hurried the short distance from the Hippodrome to the George Inn. Once there we stood just inside the entrance to the small hotel to shelter from the inhospitable weather.
“Thank you for a lovely evening, Cassie.”
“Thank you.”
I kissed her on the lips and though she did not pull back she did not respond quite as enthusiastically as I had hoped. “It is still early days, Steve so please give me a little more time.”
“And I was hoping you would ask me in,” I half joked.
“I could not do that for you would be consumed by the fires of that old dragon,” she smiled. “I will see you tomorrow.”
“I am growing to love you, Cassie,” I confessed.
“I know,” she said and turned inside the door to the hotel. “See you tomorrow, Steve.”
I cursed myself as I walked the short distance up George Lane to my home. Why had I said that and possibly ruined what had been an excellent evening. I was disturbed by the kiss too for though she had not rejected my advance she had not responded as fully as I would have wished. It seemed to me she kind of blew hot and cold. Perhaps she was right and I should give her a little more time. Her previous boyfriend of just a few weeks earlier was locked up in Pentonville Prison on a murder rap. I cursed myself again for being insensitive.
Chapter 10
Wednesday 21st and Thursday 22nd February
I was awake early to greet the new day and I felt somewhat rejuvenated. Things did not seem quite as bad as they had seemed of late. I had had a wonderful evening with Cassie and the plan to save Max was progressing nicely. It was in that more positive frame of mind that I eventually left my home to get to my interview with Lester Bruitt. It would give me great pleasure to reinforce what he should already know, which was that he had been sacked from the Lucas case.
I stood outside the new, impressive and part glass edifice in New Oxford Street which was the building that was home to the renowned company of lawyers, Bruitt and Son. I smiled in anticipation of the outrage of Lester Bruitt at being sacked from the Lucas case. I believed that being told that their services were no longer required would probably be a new experience for such an illustrious firm. I entered the building and approached the reception desk. “I am here to see Lester Bruitt. I know where his office is.”
She nodded. “Please go ahead, sir.”
I walked over to the lift, pressed a button and waited a few seconds for it to arrive. “The third floor, please,” I said to the liftman when the doors opened.
I made my way along the third floor looking out over New Oxford Street from the large glass windows that seemed to decorate this very modern building. “Steve Coulson, I am here to see Lester Bruitt,” I said to the woman at the Bruitt reception desk.
“The door over there,” she said pointing at the door across the lobby. “You may go in.”
I knocked and opened the door and entered into his office unannounced. “Good morning,” I smiled.
“Oh, it’s you. Take a seat.” It was hardly the pleasant greeting that I had received last time I had paid him a visit but that was not surprising under the circumstances.
He did not offer a handshake and nor did I. I sat smiling as he deliberately kept me waiting or so it seemed. Minutes passed as he perused a document on his desk with great care. “Would you excuse me, I need to get my secretary to do some important typing.” His portly frame waddled out of the office and the picture came into my mind of a giant duck heading eagerly for the lake it called home. It was an exaggerated image, of course, but it appealed to me. He returned five minutes later and sat opposite me. “Now, how can I help you?”
“I assume you received a telephone call from Max Lucas yesterday to inform you that he no longer required your services.”
He snorted a little. “I did but I do not intend to take any notice of it. The poor man is obviously deranged and it would be immoral of me to no longer look after his best interests.”
I was taken aback a little at the audacity of the man but it was sort of what I expected and the reason I was here was to put him right. “You must surely be aware that it is Mr Lucas’s perfect right to sack you as his lawyer.” I put a slight emphasis on the word sack.
He leaned back in his chair. “It is not as simple as that, Coulson.”
“It is,” I corrected him. “Mr Lucas has appointed James Butler as his new lawyer and he will be representing him from now on.”
“I have a very good case for proving that Lucas murdered Nesterman while not in his right frame of mind. He had gambling debts and a failed relationship that had pushed him to the brink of madness. If that is the case then he is hardly compos mentis to tell a lawyer of my stature that I am no longer required.”
The man was beginning to irritate me. “That has not been proven and so his state of mind does not come into the equation. James Butler is handling the case as of now.”
“I am fed up with playing games, Coulson. Butler and Robinson must withdraw immediately from the case. Butler will inform Lucas that he will not be representing him. If he does not withdraw then believe me Butler and Robinson will cease to exist. Butler will be told this in no uncertain terms and he will have more sense than you because, to be frank, your opinion is worthless. He will agree to withdraw.”
I took a sheet of paper from my pocket and placed it on the desk. “This should make interesting reading,” I suggested.
Bruitt looked down and reluctantly read it.
Michael Stewart July 1949
Peter Brindley March 1950
Isaac Webber September 1950
“What is this?” he spluttered.
“Max Lucas is not the first client you and your company have sought to have convicted while you have put on the pretence of defending them. Furthermore like Max Lucas, it seems they w
ere all of unsound mind. I know why you are doing this in Lucas’s case. I have not researched the others in detail but I am sure there would be much of interest that would come to light if I did. Of course, I could just pass it over to a newspaper friend. Can you imagine the scandal that might ensue, Bruitt?”
He had gone quite white. My bluff and my threat had worked. “I do not know what you are talking about,” he blustered.
“I think you do,” I smiled.
He stared at the paper as if willing it to go away and then he screwed it up and tossed it in his bin. “You would not dare. We could destroy you.”
“Try me and by the way it was just a copy. There are others held by people just waiting to act.” My bluff worked again and he was visibly shaking.
“You must not do that, Mr Coulson.”
“Then withdraw from the Lucas case.” I pressed home my advantage.
The door to the office suddenly opened and Bruitt’s receptionist poked her head around the door. She looked a bit shocked. “The police are here to speak with Mr Coulson.”
Two plain clothes police officers and two uniformed constables entered the room. “I am Chief Inspector Styles and this is Deputy Chief Inspector Solcombe,” he announced.
“I have met Inspector Solcombe,” I answered, surprised at their sudden appearance.
I noticed that Bruitt seemed eager to speak with Styles privately. He took his arm and led him into the reception area. When Bruitt had taken his document to have it typed he had obviously told someone to ring the police or had done so himself. I wondered what they were up to. “What little conspiracy are they hatching?” I said to Martin Solcombe.
“I really do not know what you mean, sir.”
I actually believed him. “Why do you want to speak with me?”
“I will let Inspector Styles tell you that when he returns.”
A few minutes later Styles stepped back into Bruitt’s office. “Steve Coulson you will accompany us to Charing Cross Police Station where you will be questioned with regard to the murder of Clive Deepdale at the Mayfair Hotel yesterday evening.”