The Kit Aston Mysteries (All Five Books)

by Jack Murray

  ‘Name?’ demanded Mrs Rosling in a tone of voice that suggested she had guessed exactly what her husband’s view of the new arrival would be and wasn’t happy about it, no siree.

  ‘Tanner, ma’am,’ replied Mary.

  ‘Where have you come from, Tanner.’

  Mary took her through the pre-arranged story, careful to be brief. The fact that she had conveyed the information efficiently without excess of detail seemed to impress the lady of the house. She nodded to Miss Carlisle. Mr Rosling saw this tacit communication and sought to regain some degree of control of an appointment he would, of course, have little say over.

  ‘Yes, well, very good. You can go,’ said Mr Rosling, pretending to return to his newspaper. Carlisle looked at Mary and indicated with a jerk of her head to exit stage left immediately.

  Happy that the cattle parade was over, Mary needed no second invitation and sped like a gazelle to the door. As she opened it, she bumped into someone coming in. The someone in question was six feet tall and a male of the species. The young man quickly informed Mary and had his arms around her slender waist in the blink of an eyelid as if to stop her falling over. Mary suspected this was the younger Rosling. Not bad looking either, she thought.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the young man in a voice that was as delighted as it was certainly unapologetic. He quickly released Mary but the smile on his face couldn’t have been wider than if it started in Norway.

  Mary returned the young man’s gaze for a moment before remembering she was not Mary Cavendish, and then shot out of the room without saying anything. The meeting with the two Rosling men confirmed in Mary’s mind that their interpretation of her role in the house would almost certainly be wider-ranging and more eclectic than the narrow remit envisaged by Miss Carlisle and Mrs Rosling. The wisdom of Caroline in dressing down was looking increasingly astute, even if her purpose was to rob them.

  A little later that evening, Mary assisted Grantham in serving dinner. Much to Mary’s surprise, the Americans also dressed for dinner. Perhaps they were not as uncivilised as her reading novels on the wild west as well as occasional visits to see moving pictures by D.W. Griffith had led her to believe.

  Thanks to Rose’s sterling work, the dinner menu would have gone down just as well in a Parisian salon never mind with three emigres from the new world. An onion soup was followed by a cold salmon first course. The main course was duck with a sauce Mary had never seen before. It smelled delicious. Mary hoped there would be some left over at the end.

  Conversation around the table was surprisingly lively and piqued Mary’s interest. In Britain one rarely talked of commerce or politics over dinner when women were present. Mary resented this and felt excluded from subjects she felt just as qualified to comment on. Here, the three Americans talked of nothing else but business and politics, including Mrs Rosling. For all her petty pretensions to be a grande dame, she was clearly an intelligent, formidable woman. Mary also found herself admiring the level of respect afforded by her companions for her opinions.

  The most interesting part of the evening for Mary came when they talked of Mr Rosling’s impressions from the London conference. Unsurprisingly, Mr Rosling’s views were forthright.

  ‘It would be funny,’ said Mr Rosling, ‘If it weren’t so transparent how Britain is trying to lock France out of access to oil.’

  ‘Typical British trick,’ replied the young man before remembering the presence of the two English servants.

  This brought a stern look from Mrs Rosling, but Mr Rosling ignored him and carried on.

  ‘The more I see of the Europeans negotiating together, the more I think that their time is up. The new world will be our world. Mark my words, America’s time is coming. Europe and all their damn, sorry, Isabelle, colonies will go the way of the Greeks and the Romans and the who knows what.’

  ‘I think you’ve hit the nail of the head, uncle,’ continued the younger man. ‘I’ve been to this gentleman’s club with some of my pals, Sheldon’s. You have to see some of these people to believe them.’

  Mary resisted smiling at the mention of Kit’s main club in London. This’ll be interesting, she thought.

  ‘It’s full of the old lords, their silly ass sons and military types that sent tens of thousands of men walking into a hail of lead.’

  ‘It’s not so long ago we were doing the same, Whittaker,’ pointed out Mrs Rosling.

  Whittaker? Mary immediately covered her mouth lest they see the amusement that Rosling’s name caused her.

  ‘They certainly didn’t learn from us then,’ added Rosling senior. ‘That makes them damn fools in my eyes, sorry Isabelle.’

  The rest of the evening confirmed Mary’s fears regarding their interest in herself. Both Rosling men were on their best behaviour, obviously keen not to tip their hands too soon, especially in the presence of Mrs Rosling. However, men in these matters have as much proficiency at disguising their intentions as an army that has ceased its three-day artillery bombardment and follows this by the blowing of dozens of high-pitched whistles. The overt ignoring of Mary by the two men was understood and apparent in Mrs Rosling’s permanent scowl over dinner.

  However, the evening did throw up one piece of information that Mary was keen to share with her accomplices in Grosvenor Square. Mrs Rosling was wearing a spectacular diamond necklace.

  -

  The sound of crying woke Joe Ryan from a deep slumber. Initially he thought it was young Ben and then he realised it was Sally. He immediately rose from the bed and went to the living room. His wife looked up at him with tears staining her face.

  ‘What’s wrong, Sal?’ asked her husband.

  ‘Sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean to wake you.’

  Ryan looked at the time and saw it nearly four in the afternoon.

  ‘I’d have been leaving soon anyway, love. What’s wrong?’

  Sally dried her eyes and tried to regain her composure.

  ‘I was just looking at Ben outside. He’s with Alice and some of the kids, Grace from number eleven is keeping an eye on them. He just sits there, like he hasn’t the energy to play. All the kids are so nice to him, but he doesn’t seem to have the energy to respond. It breaks my heart, Joe, it really does. What’s going to ‘come of him?’

  Ryan hugged his wife tightly. He thought about this often. This was something he could not share with his wife. She needed his strength. He needed to convey a certainty he did not feel. His own fears he buried deep within. If they ever surfaced it would enfold his family in a darkness which no light would ever enter.

  ‘He’ll get better, Sal. He will. When I was a young ‘un I knew loads of kids who had asthma. They coped. Ben isn’t any worse than they were. You’ll see, Sal.’

  These words had their usual effect. How true they were was another matter, but this wasn’t the issue Ryan had to deal with in that moment. Keeping his family’s spirits up was paramount. He had enough to deal with at work without any additional burden.

  Two hours later Ryan was standing opposite Abbott at the conveyor belt waiting for the waves of cigarettes to arrive.

  ‘I think I’ve found someone who is interested in taking bulk from me. We’ll earn less for the snout, but he can pay,’ said Abbott.

  ‘As long as he has the money, that’s fine,’ replied Ryan. He was about to add something else when Abbott moved his head slightly to indicate someone was coming.

  ‘All right?’ said Johnny Mac looming over them both.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ replied the two men in unison.

  ‘You want to stay here or move to another part?’

  ‘Fine here, boss,’ said Abbott but not too quickly, ‘How about you, Ryan?’

  ‘Me too, boss,’ added Ryan more casually than he was feeling. The big Ulsterman always gave the impression that he was as likely to stab you as pat you on the back.

  Johnny Mac nodded and walked away without saying anything. Ryan looked at Abbott and asked, ‘What do you think that was about? ‘

/>   ‘Nothing, I’m sure. But to be safe, we’ll lay off the snout tonight.’

  ‘D’you think they suspect something?’

  ‘Let’s not be caught out if they do.’

  ‘I agree,’ nodded Ryan.

  The rest of the night went as slowly as ever. Both men’s senses were on heightened alert for either Johnny Mac or, his Rottweiler assistant, Rusk. Neither spoke much over the course of the shift. Neither had to, it was clear that they were under surveillance. Both were scrupulous in not giving any appearance that they were aware of this. At the end of the shift, Rusk called the two men over.

  ‘Follow me,’ said Rusk curtly.

  The two men glanced at one another and followed Rusk into Johnny Mac’s office.

  ‘Wait here.’

  Rusk went out and returned a few moments later with Johnny Mac.

  ‘Take off your coats,’ said Rusk. Both men did so and handed them to Rusk. A quick inspection followed revealing no cigarettes.

  Johnny Mac nodded to Rusk to hand the coats back. Taking a risk, Ryan stepped forward and held his arms up by his side. Neither Rusk nor Johnny Mac moved, both seemed confused.

  ‘Do you want to search me?’ asked Ryan, keeping his tone neutral, neither mocking nor fearful, although he certainly was fighting a battle to avoid trembling.

  Johnny Mac turned and walked out of the room without saying anything. Instead, Rusk shook his head and said, ‘Go.’

  Ryan and Abbott made their way out of the plant silently. When they were outside, Abbott risked a triumphant laugh. Ryan remained quiet. They had managed to avoid detection, but it was a problem now. This potentially lucrative side-line was now closed off.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Abbott, eyeing Ryan closely.

  ‘I don’t see what there is to celebrate.,’ replied Ryan gloomily.

  ‘We live to fight another day, Ryan. We don’t be greedy; we keep our heads down and we earn their trust.’

  Ryan nodded. This made sense, but his sense of impatience was almost overwhelming as he thought of his boy. His mind began to wander to those dark places where hope was extinguished, and anxiety grew; he felt a nudge from Abbott.

  A lorry pulled into the cigarette factory. Abbott pulled Ryan in a different direction and they walked towards a different part of the road to find a better view of what was happening at the back gate of the factory.

  Looking through the fence, they had a clear view of the lorry backing onto the dispatch doors. Both doors were open. Johnny Mac and Rusk loaded a dozen boxes containing forty boxes of cigarettes onto the lorry. They closed the doors of the lorry and banged the side. A moment later the lorry took off. The whole process had taken less than a couple of minutes.

  Abbott looked at Ryan with a grin as unattractive as it was wily.

  ‘Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say our bosses have their own little racket going on.’

  Chapter 16

  February 16th, 1920: London

  Kit woke a little later the next morning. The feeling of emptiness hit him immediately and was almost palpable. When Mary returned, he resolved that they should fix a date for the wedding as soon as possible. He would suggest it take place at Little Gloston, the village near Cavendish Hall, with Reverend Simmons presiding. This would have the dual profit of making Mary happy and irritating his own family. He realised he had never personally told them he was engaged. Perhaps he would just let them find out from The Times. Another task for when Mary returned. Any sense of contriteness was momentary as Miller brought in his tea.

  ‘Plans for today, sir?’

  ‘Pining, I think, with a dash of self-pity,’ said Kit.

  ‘Very good, sir. Shall I bring you a revolver?

  ‘Yes, nice and quick, that’s the trick.’

  Miller smiled sympathetically and asked, ‘Have you thought about going down to Sussex yourself? It wouldn’t take long. You could be there in two to three hours.’

  ‘I’ve already suggested this,’ said Kit glumly. ‘I mentioned it to Lady Mary on the phone last night, but she said she’d be back very soon.’

  In fact, the phone call in question had been as brief as it had been, on reflection, perturbing. It was clear she did not want him to speak with either Richard or Esther. She was also a little too quick in moving the conversation on to the case and away from discussion of Esther. Although it was only a minor niggle, it was not something he disregarded altogether. Kit had relied on these spider senses to save his life on many occasions. He decided he would press her on this later.

  All of which still left him somewhat at a looser end than he would have liked. If he was not exactly disgruntled, he was hardly very gruntled either. He had always hated inactivity. The spate of cases over the last two months had fed his need for excitement and mental stimulation. The last year had hardly allowed him to draw breath.

  A year previously, he’d been in France, averting a potential assassination attempt on the British Prime Minister; from there he went to India, once more at Spunky’s request which meant yet more exposure to murder and the dangers facing the empire.

  Mary’s recovery potentially pointed Kit in a new direction in life. However, he suspected his fiancée was going to prove every bit as immune to inactivity as he was. There would be no respite with this young lady around. This presented a happy dilemma for him. He recognised that his desire to protect Mary from danger would go down like champagne at a funeral. These thoughts were broken by Miller asking him of his plans for today.

  Without thinking he replied, ‘Probably Sheldon’s for lunch.’

  -

  Mary woke to the sound of Caroline Hadleigh’s alarm clock. The previous evening, Mary had fallen asleep before Caroline had returned from attending Mrs Rosling, meaning she hadn’t had time to make any conversation with her new roommate.

  ‘Hello,’ said Mary brightly, sitting up from the bed, ‘I’m glad you’ve an alarm clock. I left mine behind.’

  Caroline laughed. It was an agreeable sound.

  ‘It would wake up the dead. Sorry if you found the ticking too loud. I’m usually so zonked from the day I’m out for the count pretty quickly.’

  ‘Same here,’ replied Mary rising from the bed, ‘I was bedding the night away as soon as I lay down.’

  Caroline grinned, ‘Well first day behind you. What did you make of them?’

  Mary frowned a little before replying, ‘They seem very serious, Mr and Mrs Rosling, that is. Young Mr Rosling looks like he could be a little too much the other way. Perhaps I’m being unfair, but I think he could be a handful.’

  Caroline shook her head and smiled, ‘No, I think you’re being entirely fair. Look Miss Tanner, I must tell you something in confidence.’

  This was interesting. Mary wondered if she would admit who she was. She leaned forward and said, ‘Mary, please call me Mary.’

  ‘Mary be careful with the two men. They both,’ Caroline hesitated for a moment.

  ‘Take liberties?’ suggested Mary with a smile.

  ‘Yes,’ said Caroline, not sure of how to interpret Mary’s light tone.

  ‘Thanks, Miss Hannah,’ replied Mary.

  ‘Charlotte,’ interjected Caroline.

  ‘I’ll be fine, Charlotte,’ continued Mary. ‘I don’t like it if men think they can do as they please with me just by grinning inanely and uttering ridiculous flattery. I can be polite but firm when I need to be.’

  ‘I’m glad you said that Mary,’ nodded Caroline, ‘Believe me, you’d come off worst. Miss Carlisle won’t have it and nor will Mrs Rosling.’

  ‘I don’t blame her. For all her grandiose manner, I found myself quite impressed with her. She’s quite formidable.

  Caroline nodded her head, ‘Yes, formidable is the word. But in a good way. She’s very smart.’

  Mary had a feeling that she was going to like Caroline more than her role might allow. She moved on to more practical matters.

  ‘Do you need to go to the bathroom first or shall I?�
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  ‘Do you mind if I go first? Her highness will be expecting me in about fifteen minutes. The servant bells aren’t working well so I like to make sure she doesn’t have to ring for me.

  Mary gave a flamboyant wave of her hand which made Caroline laugh as she left the room. Good start thought Mary. Unquestionably, if Caroline Hadleigh really was the new Phantom, bringing her to justice might not be much fun.

  It was with such unhappy thoughts that Mary spent the morning helping serve breakfast to the elder Roslings and then tidying their rooms. After finishing Mr Rosling’s room Mary stepped outside and ran, once again, into the younger Rosling. Mary doubted this was pure chance. The young man used the opportunity to put his arms around Mary’s waist, before quickly releasing her with a sheepish smile.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ said Mary, in an effort to remain neutral when her instinct ran more towards moderate violence bordering on actual bloodshed.

  ‘No, my fault entirely,’ laughed Rosling. ‘It’s Tanner, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Mary.

  ‘Is there a first name to go with Tanner?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Mary, then after some hesitation, she added, ‘Mary.’

  ‘Well, I don’t quite go in for the formality of my aunt and uncle so if it’s all right with you I’ll stick with Mary. I must say, I think you’re a swell addition to the staff.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ responded Mary, turning to walk away. As she did so she was aware of the young man lightly brushing his hand against her the base of her back. She ignored it and walked ahead without breaking her stride. This undercover business was proving more difficult than she had imagined.

  -

  The morning for Sir Nevil Macready had started off with an argument with a senior level mandarin, was followed by spilling tea on his trousers, just missing the old horsebox. He felt sure things were unlikely to improve anytime soon. The principal evidence for this was the upcoming meeting.

  In the normal course of events, raking a subordinate over the coals was one of the perks of the job. After all, what would be the point of being the top man if you couldn’t enjoy a good bawling out on occasion? This was all fine if the object of your righteous indignation was a fatheaded ass. Unfortunately, for once, the object of ire for the Commissioner of the Police for the Metropolis, was very far from being either fatheaded or any other ‘headed, for that matter: he was one of Macready’s best men. Worse, for the Commissioner, he entirely sympathised with the problems his Chief Inspector was facing.