‘No, I’d best not. I’ve got shopping to do if we want to eat tonight. I’m not very good at remembering.’
‘I’ll just get that file,’ said Alastair. ‘Shan’t be a minute.’
‘Yes, please do. Bye, Clare. And now I think we must have a serious talk with Miss Bagshaw. She might not have pinched the stuff herself but if Miss Herring’s theory is to be believed, which I think it is, it seems likely she was involved,’
‘Here, wait a minute!’ they heard Alastair cry, ‘We don’t know you, do we? Hey! Where are you going with that?’
As Rattigan would later say, Felix was out of the door like a greyhound from a trap. The fortuitously returning sergeants also gave chase to the interloper, as did Constable Cribb and Iwan Parry; the latter turning across the stage while a puffing Rattigan cantered heavily up the centre of the auditorium.
Felix, overtaking even the long-legged Alastair, was first onto the street, rapidly catching up with the departing Clare. ‘Clare, has anyone passed you running?’
‘No-one has passed me.’
‘Sure?’
‘Positive.’
He turned back into the sideway that led to the stage door where he met Nash coming the other way. ‘Anything?’
Nash shook his head. ‘Nobody.’
They gathered outside the main entrance, no-one quite knowing what to do next.
‘What did they look like, Bethencourt?’
‘Dark coloured overcoat and trilby. Faster than me. Fairly flew up those stairs.’
‘Tall?’
‘Average, I’d say.’
‘All right everyone, spread out. Best look as much for a small, brown case as the man carrying it. They might pass it on to someone else.’
‘Betty Bagshaw!’ said Rattigan, suddenly. ‘Anyone can pinch an overcoat and a hat.’
‘Look for a deep-chested man, then?’ said Alastair dryly. ‘In a frock.’
‘She might have put on trousers,’ said Rattigan defensively.
‘It’s not impossible,’ said Felix. ‘Cribb, you know Miss Bagshaw better than most. Search the theatre for her. If she’s not there, chances are that Rattigan’s right.’
‘What about Haigh, sir?’
‘Leave him until later.’
◆◆◆
‘Ports, railway stations, the jewellery trade, all warned,’ said Chief Superintendent Polly. ‘All forces alerted and fifty officers searching the West End and surrounding areas. Can you think of anything else?’
‘Probably not,’ sighed Felix. ‘The A/C will have my guts for garters.’
‘These things happen. I’ve lost stuff myself, though admittedly not to the value of a small mansion. I doubt he’ll do more than break you to constable.’
‘Thank you for those words of encouragement, sir. I’d rather you bawled me out frankly.’
‘What good would that do? However, this may interest you. Came in this morning from Coventry Police. “Elizabeth Mary Fielding. Marital status: single. d.o.b. 30/10/1900. Height: five foot ten and a quarter inches. Weight:150 pounds. Eyes: blue. Hair: fair. Complexion: clear. No distinguishing marks. Well-spoken. Parents: Captain Edgar Fielding of Second Bengal Lancers and Mrs Hilda Fielding, both deceased. Known to use various accents, aliases and disguises. Modus operandi is to persuade men to burgle under her direction a property or premises. She then makes off with the proceeds. One conviction for receiving (section 33).” Sound familiar?’
Felix nodded. ‘Almost certainly her, I should think. India and everything. She said she was twenty-three and would certainly pass as that.’
‘There we are, then; we’re getting somewhere. Quite a striking-looking woman from her photo.’
‘Yes, she is, but likely to be in disguise now, possibly as a man, which is ironic when you know the whole case. Did they send a photo of their own?
‘Yes, but it’s a poor thing, as usual.’
‘Well, bear in mind that in ours she’s dressed as Prince Charming. They’d managed, somehow, to flatten her very handsome figure.’
Polly chuckled. ‘I’ll make a note of that. Next job is to find her accomplice or accomplices. I’ve asked if they have more details. How is your murder going?’
‘In view of your information, sir,’ said Felix, ‘I think we can assume the two cases are connected. Can you send me Coventry’s picture?’
He put down the phone. ‘He’s put all the usual in place. Sorry to impose another name on you, gentlemen, but Miss Bagshaw’s real name appears to be Lizzie Fielding. She’s almost certainly involved and is very likely the ringleader. I shouldn’t be entirely surprised if it were she who went down into the shop; the entry hole is quite small. She’s been operating in the Midlands apparently. Probably got too hot for her there. I’ve scribbled a few notes but there’s a written description to follow.’
‘Unlikely she’ll escape the net,’ said Rattigan, trying to decipher his boss’s handwriting.
‘No, I agree, but the jewels might. I’m more worried about that at the moment.’
‘If we assume a male collaborator, sir,’ said Yardley, ‘doesn’t it seem likely we already know them?’
‘Yes, it does, though it’s by no means certain. It occurs to me to wonder who originally suggested that Sullivan approach the Regent theatre. Was it advertised, Bethencourt?’
‘Not formally,’ said Alastair. ‘The company all knew how we were fixed and I encouraged them to put it about.’
‘Then who did it come from?’
Alastair looked embarrassed. ‘It seems to have been the Hubbards. They were very keen that we should find a backer – they wanted their rent, of course – and Mr Ezra was quite insistent that I consider Sullivan. I was inclined to reject the unsuitable Miss Bagshaw, and thus Sullivan’s offer, generous though it was, but he twisted my arm. I wish I’d stuck up for myself now. However, having incriminated my own landlords I’ll go and make trouble elsewhere.’
‘This’ll be Hubbard Junior presumably,’ said Rattigan, watching him go. ‘Shouldn’t think the old fellow does much now. Have him in?’
Felix cogitated for a moment. ‘I think in view of his scandalous behaviour we’ll visit him at home. A little embarrassment can work wonders. Set it up will you, Teddy? But first I want to speak to Mr Haigh.’
‘Dialling already,’ smiled Rattigan.
‘Thought you would be,’ said Felix. ‘Mr Haigh? Chief Inspector Felix. Sorry to trouble you so soon . . . My apologies, sir, I won’t keep you. Can you just tell me if Mr Sullivan possessed a gun? . . . What make might that be? . . . Thank you, that’s most helpful. I’ll let you re-immerse . . . I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t comment on that . . . Yes, of course. Did he habitually carry it, do you know? . . . Is that so? Then I’ll wait to hear from you. And thank you again . . . Yes, goodbye.’
‘Got him out of the bath,’ he reported. ‘Don’t suppose they have baths in narrowboats.’
‘Then it was probably Sullivan’s?’
‘Yes. He kept it for protection from racecourse hoodlums and so on, but since retiring he’d left it in a drawer in his bureau. He’s going to see if it’s still there, which I don’t think it will be. I don’t remember seeing it when we searched.’
‘Nor do I. Shot with his own gun?’
‘Well, as Benyson said, it fits, given the position of the wound. He comes at someone waving it about, there’s a struggle to get it off him and bang!’
‘Hmm. I can see young Betty in this, can’t you? He arrives to find his girlfriend in the embrace of a rival, challenges him and it all ends in tears.’
Felix nodded. ‘Has to be that, doesn’t it? Nothing else would stir him to such lengths, probably.’
‘And you think it’s Hubbard — the rival?’
‘Well, he needs to be ruled out. Tolerably good-looking, in his thirties and probabl
y wealthy — by her standards anyway. Just the sort she’d go for. We know he’s interested in her and, thanks to the Nashes, that he was there.’
The telephone rang.
‘Chief Inspector Felix here . . . Hello again, sir . . . I see . . . Yes . . . Probably . . . No, not particularly. Yes, it could well be . . . Yes, of course . . . Just me and Rattigan at the moment . . . Yes, I agree . . . I think so . . . Yes, I will . . . I’ll report as soon as there’s any news, sir.’ He slammed down the receiver. ‘Come on, chaps, before it rings again. He led them out to his car. ‘Safe enough here, I should think.’
‘From being overheard?’ queried Nash.
‘Yes, which we may well have been. Polly twigged, fortunately. I regret to inform you that Sam Snow is dead, never recovered consciousness, so if we didn’t have a murder before, we’ve got one now. However, we’ve received some disturbing information about one of Betty’s unnamed accomplices. Seems unlikely it’s our one, but best not to take any chances. Now, listen carefully to what I’m going to tell you. Then you and I, Teddy, are going visiting.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Impressive,’ said Rattigan as they pulled up outside chez Hubbard.
‘If you like that sort of thing.’
It was a substantial Victorian house, garnished with contrasting courses and exotic-looking corner towers, set in substantial gardens. A maid in uniform answered the door.
‘Chief Inspector Felix to see Mr Hubbard.’
‘He’s expecting you, sir. If you would like to come this way?’
She led them into a small anonymous room and departed.
‘Keeping us away from the missus?’
‘Probably,’ said Felix. He cocked an ear. ‘Here he comes.’
‘Gentlemen! What can I do for you?’ said Robin Hubbard, breezing in. ‘You were lucky to catch me; this is my busy day of the week.’
‘We have a full schedule ourselves, sir,’ said Felix. ‘Just a couple of questions, if I may. Was it you, by any chance, who introduced the late Mr Sullivan and his protégé to Mr Bethencourt?’
‘Er, yes it was, in a manner of speaking, although all I did was to pass him on. I didn’t recommend him or anything; I didn’t know the fellow.’
‘Did Sullivan say who suggested he contact you?’
‘No, he just said he understood the Players were looking for funds. I didn’t think he sounded quite the right sort – bit of a rough diamond, you know – but it wasn’t for me to turn him away.’
‘All right, thank you. And can you tell me what you were doing at the Regent Playhouse last Friday evening the fifth of January, and whom you saw there?’
Hubbard frowned. ‘I wasn’t at the Regent last Friday, I told you that.’
‘I think you are mistaken, sir. You were seen there.’
‘By whom?’
‘By their official photographer. She was photographing in the dressing-room corridor after the dress-rehearsal.’ He tapped his pocket. ‘I have the print here.’
Hubbard’s expression abruptly changed. He sat down heavily, leapt up again, opened the door and peered out. ‘Yes, all right, I was there. But only for a minute of two. Then I left.’
‘I understand you were visiting a member of the cast. In her dressing room.’
‘Yes.’
‘And what did you do there?’
‘Nothing! The, er, cast member was entertaining Mr Bethencourt.’ He lowered his voice. ‘She was on his lap! I was shocked, frankly, given his position. They were so engrossed in each other I don’t think they even saw me.’
‘Was this lady expecting you?’
Hubbard shook his head. ‘I called on the off-chance. I closed the door behind me and immediately left the theatre. The corridor was full of people milling about. I didn’t think I’d been noticed. Or that it mattered.’
Felix made to leave. ‘You knew later that it mattered, sir. You must have realised when I spoke to you on Sunday. Come on, Rattigan.’
‘Yes, all right, I did. I’m sorry, Chief Inspector. I hope you won’t hold it against me.’ He opened the front door for them. ‘Er, how much of me did she photograph?’
‘Your sleeve,’ said Felix. ‘Did you want to see it?’
‘My sleeve!’
◆◆◆
‘Damned hypocrite!’ said Rattigan, turning the car. ‘What did he think he was going to do. As for that confounded Bethencourt. To think that all this time he was pulling the wool over our eyes, listening to every word that passed between us very likely. I feel a proper fool.’
Felix smiled. ‘Well, he was an actor, and there may be no more to it than Miss Fielding’s apparently irresistible sex appeal. This surely tells us who was there for the shooting, though, unless they were queuing up, if not who actually pulled the trigger. As for the burglary, I can’t see Bethencourt breaking into Tillotson’s roof, can you? He’d get his clothes dirty.’
‘Hard to imagine, I’ll grant you. But if it’s not him or Hubbard – who acted like a frightened rabbit just now – and if it’s not Haigh, we’ve got our man, haven’t we? Still no objective proof though. Or is there?’
‘Not that I know of. If he’s that dangerous, potentially anyway, we’d best just pull him in first and ask questions later. First, though, I’ve a couple more visits to make. I suspect they may help.’
◆◆◆
They parked with the usual difficulty in the busy street and pushed through the narrow entrance of the Folies Bergère. A squat, tough-looking character in black tie accosted them.
‘Are you gents members? This is a private club.’
‘Police,’ said Felix, walking past him.
‘That doesn’t mean you can just shove in here!’
The room was busier than last time but it was still only five o’clock. The band’s pianist was quietly playing, as if to himself, and the other musicians were getting settled for the evening with their instruments. A scattering of patrons, all men, sat at the tables or at the bar.
‘Well, look who it ain’t!’ said the barman. ‘What can we do for you this time?’
‘Be so good as to find me Salome,’ said Felix. ‘We need to borrow her.’
The barman and doorman exchanged glances.
‘She ain’t ’ere tonight,’ said the doorman.
‘That’s rather unfortunate because you have two minutes to produce her.’
‘Or you’ll what?’
‘Close you down until you do.’
‘What do you want?’ asked Salome, stepping from behind a curtain. She was wearing a variety of beads and bangles and what were presumably her seven veils, tastefully distributed.
‘Isadora Duncan to the life,’ grinned Rattigan.
‘Good afternoon, miss. You’ll remember me, no doubt. Kindly get your street clothes on. We need you to identify the gentlemen you saw talking to Miss Ossipova.’
‘I’m just about to do my act!’
‘I’m sorry but this is urgent. You can do it later.’
‘Suppose I refuse?’
‘Then I’ll be forced to ask for your birth certificate.’
◆◆◆
‘Where are we going?’ demanded Salome, who looked even younger under the streetlights and distressingly afflicted with acne.
‘The Regent Playhouse, Shaftsbury Avenue. But first we have to make a short visit. Don’t worry, we’ll send you back in a taxi.’
‘How long is that going to take? I’m losing money.’
Felix sighed and reached for his wallet. ‘How much do you reckon to earn in a night then?’
‘Could be five pounds,’ said Salome hopefully.
‘How many dances does that represent?’
‘Five or ten, but it doesn’t work like that. I might —’
‘You might what?’
&nbs
p; ‘Nothing,’ pouted Salome.
He gave her ten shillings.
The Bethencourts lived in a spacious mansion flat, not far from the theatre, the door being answered by Moira Bethencourt herself. An elegant and well-dressed woman, she was about the same age as her husband, which is to say, in her mid-forties.
Felix introduced them.
‘Is it about the murder? Alastair will be at work.’
‘Yes, it is. It’s actually you I wanted to see.’
‘And this young lady?’
‘Miss Smith is helping us with our enquiries.’
‘Then you’d better come through.’
She took their coats and led them into a tastefully appointed sitting room. Framed playbills decorated one wall and actors past and present gazed down at them. A cosy fire burned in the grate.
‘Do sit down. How can I help? I’m familiar with the case, of course. Have you found him yet? Or her, I suppose I should say.’
Salome who’d been gazing about her with worldly insouciance, wandered over to the grand piano with its collection of family photographs. ‘That’s him’, she said, ‘the tall one.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, completely.’
Mrs Bethencourt seemed amused. ‘I think you were supposed to tell him later, dear,’ she said, ‘when I wasn’t around. It’s all right, Mr Felix, I know what he gets up to.’
‘You mean —’
‘He goes with women? Yes. We no longer live as man and wife, haven’t done for years, so you mustn’t worry about upsetting me. Not that it’s exactly a secret. Most of the company know for a start, but they’re all very protective of him as you’ve probably discovered. He has a certain personal charm, I’ll admit, and of course he absolutely lives for the Players and they know it. If it wasn’t for Alastair – and me, a bit – they’d have gone bust years ago.’ She inclined her head towards Salome. ‘I’m a bit surprised about this one, though. She’s frightfully young.’
‘Miss Smith works in a nightclub Mr Bethencourt frequents,’ explained Felix. There is no other connection, that I’m aware of. I’m actually here to ask you if you know this person.’ He showed her Clare’s photograph of Lizzy Fielding, alias Vladlena Ossipova, alias Betty Bagshaw.
Death and Cinderella (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 11) Page 10