Lonely Road Murder

by Fearn, John Russell

  “Knock on the wall if you want me, Rosemary. Goodnight, dear.”

  I climbed into bed. Elly had given me a pile of American magazines a few weeks ago, and so far I hadn’t had a chance to look at them. Propped up comfortably I started flicking through their glossy pages.

  After reading about thirty advertisements, urging one to smoke various brands of tobacco, I was mesmerised into wanting a cigarette, and reached out a lazy hand for my case. The lighter as usual was not in working order, and I was forced to leave my warm bed and search in my other handbag until I found a box of matches.

  Back in bed, armed with the ashtray for good measure, I went on reading, but something at the back of my mind was worrying me, and I couldn’t concentrate. Eventually I gave up the attempt, and tried to think what it was. A picture was forming slowly in my brain. I could see the Blue Cellar, the band, the dancing couples, the tables — The tables? It came to me then in a flash. Every table had a box of matches fixed above the ashtray. A box covered in blue paper with “B.C.” stamped on it in gold.

  I picked up the box I had taken from my handbag. The one Bob had given me in Charlie’s a few nights ago. It was exactly the same!

  Completely puzzled, I gazed at it. Bob said that he had never been to the Blue Cellar before tonight, yet he had given me these, last Sunday. That friend we had met, who thought he had seen Bob there last week — A little shiver went through me and Inspector Nevil’s words came back with added emphasis, “One of you three may hold the key to it all. Take no chances!”

  The blue matchbox was still clutched in my hand when I woke next morning. In a sudden gust of anger I flung it across the room. It had given me a restless night and a troubled mind. This case must be getting me down, when I began to suspect Bob on the strength of a stupid little clue like that.

  There were a thousand and one explanations for its being in his possession. Mary or John could have given it to him weeks ago. He might have found it, and absently pocketed it. Oh, I was just looking for trouble.

  Viciously kicking the pile of magazines out of my way, I got up and made some tea. It was only half past seven, and I quailed at the prospect of another idle day. My “rest cure” was in a fair way to killing me with boredom. I thought of Sally and the rest of the girls at the office with positive affection. There must be an awful lot of work to do at the office — Stephen would be there too — I decided to go back at once!

  The decision made, my spirits lifted magically, and by the time I was ready to leave, I found myself really looking forward to a hard day’s work! Obviously I was a born toiler.

  The newspaper boy on the corner was yelling unintelligibly and waving his newspapers in the faces of the bus queue. I bought one. Taking my place, I glanced casually at the headlines. A political scandal had driven our case right off the front page, and there was only a slight mention of it inside. A column further down caught my eye. I gave a little gasp and gripped the paper tightly. “Les Roberts, Band Leader, involved in car crash. Early this morning Mr. Roberts well-known band leader from the Blue Cellar was seriously injured. He was taken to St. George’s Hospital, where his condition is reported as very grave”.

  Half an hour later I was outside the hospital. Of course, I was too early for visiting hours — I didn’t even know if they’d let me see him, but I could at least make some inquiries.

  The porter told me to wait, and obedient to his instructions I sat twisting my gloves. After a long time he returned, accompanied by a nurse. She spoke kindly: “Are you a relation, Miss Lennox?”

  “No, only a friend. I read about the accident, and came to see how he was.” She frowned slightly.

  “I’m afraid you won’t be able to see him yet. The doctors are still with him. But if you’ll care to come with me and wait in the visitors’ room, I’ll let you know if you can go in, when they’ve finished.”

  She led me down a labyrinth of passages until we reached a door labelled “Visitors”. I went in. It was a very severe room. Chairs lined the walls, and there was a large table, bare, except for a medical journal. Still it was warm and I sat down, prepared for a long wait.

  Ten minutes passed and the door opened again, to admit a small dark-haired girl. She took the chair opposite me, and stared out of the window.

  I glanced at her curiously. There was something familiar to me about her, but I couldn’t place where I had seen her before. She looked round at that moment and caught my glance. Flushing awkwardly, I said: “Excuse me staring but I thought I knew you.”

  “No, we’ve never met, but I have seen you. You came to the Blue Cellar last night.”

  I stared openly now. “The Blue Cellar! Oh — I remember. Aren’t you the vocalist with — ”

  “Les Roberts? Yes, I took over a few days ago.” She smiled faintly. “It’s a small world isn’t it?”

  I felt suddenly foolish. Obviously we were both here on the same errand. This girl at least, had some right but I had only met the man once, and here I was foisting myself into his private life. I should never have come.

  Some instinct had drawn me on, the feeling that he would be lonely and friendless, and would welcome my visit.

  As if divining my thoughts, she moved restlessly on the hard chair and said, “I had to see him. The report said he was gravely ill. I was so worried.”

  “I know. It was a terrible thing to read just like that. I only came to enquire, we’re not old friends, or anything. I knew his other singers, that’s why we were at the club last night.” I stumbled on with my explanations, getting more and more involved. Turning to her rather desperately in the midst of a long sentence, I saw to my horror that she was crying.

  She made a little gesture, to hide her tears, and fumbled for a handkerchief. My heart melted towards this girl. She was young. About eighteen, I suppose. Her hair was untidy and she had obviously dressed in a hurry. Everything spoke of anxiety and haste and now while I burbled on, she had broken down into those piteous tears I went over and put my arm about her. She sobbed against my shoulder like a child and I held her tight until the storm passed.

  Sitting up straight she wiped her eyes and gave me a watery little smile. “Thank you. I’m better now. It’s not knowing how he is.”

  There was a rigid “No smoking” notice on the wall, but I ignored it and offered her a cigarette, my own hands shaking as I held the match. “He’ll be alright,” I said reassuringly. “You mustn’t upset yourself so. He wouldn’t want you to.”

  “He wouldn’t want anybody to be upset,” she sighed hopelessly. “He probably doesn’t want to live anyway,” her voice quickened. “For years he’s been in love with another woman. He never noticed me, of course I was only a kid, but I always loved him. This other woman she was the one you knew. The singer, who was killed. I thought he was getting over it. He took a bit of time teaching me, he said I was growing up. I began to hope — and then all that terrible tragedy happened, and he was heartbroken for her.” She shivered, then went on:

  “I’ve been so wicked. Do you know how I felt?” her voice dropped to a whisper. “In my heart I was glad! Glad that she was dead. I knew he’d need another vocalist quickly, and I was ready to take my chance. To take her place. And now — ” The tears came again.

  I soothed her as best I could. Poor little thing, she was so desperate, so unhappy. If only we could get some news. This waiting was unendurable. As if in answer to my prayer, the door opened. The nurse who had spoken to me came in briskly. We gazed at her speechlessly, and to my great relief she smiled. “Mr. Roberts is out of danger and can have a brief, very brief visit. Only a few minutes now, and only one of you, I’m afraid. Now, who is it to be?”

  I picked up my handbag. “This young lady has first claim. Thank you for bringing us the good news so quickly, nurse.” The tearful dark haired girl gave me a grateful glance.

  I patted her arm. “Go ahead. Everything’s going to be alright now,” and watched as she followed the nurse across the hall. My own eyes were
suspiciously moist, and I gave them a surreptitious pat with my handkerchief as I left the hospital.

  It was eleven o’clock. To go in to the office now would create a stir, so perhaps it was best to make it tomorrow. I had just turned away when a man’s voice hailed me, and to my astonishment I saw Inspector Nevil standing by the hospital steps. A thousand guilty thoughts rushed through my mind as I greeted him, and his opening remark did nothing to allay my fears. “Good morning, Miss Lennox. I have been waiting for you, you see!”

  “I’m just going to work!” I lied hastily.

  He smiled “So late? I don’t think that would be very wise. Why not let me take you home? I should like to have a little talk with you.” Impossible to do anything but agree, and accompany him.

  We arrived at my flat, and I left him in the living room, while I put some coffee on. Spruce and neat in a dark grey overcoat, as always, his personality invaded the room. Silently I handed him his cup and sat like a guilty criminal awaiting judgment while he drank it.

  He gave me an oblique glance. “I was not aware that you were in any way connected with Mr. Roberts?”

  “I’m not really. I only met him last night. When I saw the accident in the papers. I thought I’d inquire how he was.”

  “Indeed?” He cleared his throat and I saw that the time had surely come. “Now, Miss Lennox, let us not beat about the bush. I want the whole story with nothing held back. A few days ago, you had never seen the man, yet today I find you at the hospital, obviously upset. How did it all come about?”

  I hated to tell him, but the truth couldn’t be held back any longer. Quietly I explained. How Bob and I had decided to investigate, how we had found the cigar butt and gone to the Blue Cellar, and talked with Les Roberts. He heard me out, never interrupting, but letting me tell the story in my own words, and when I had finished sat thoughtfully staring into space.

  The silence lengthened. I could feel myself trembling. At last I stole a look at his face. It was very angry.

  “There is no need for me to tell you I hope, that you acted very wrongly, Miss Lennox,” he began in a stern voice. “This is purely a police matter. You should have come to me immediately that piece of evidence was found. I shall forbid Mr. McDonnell to enter the Francis’ flat again. He has violated my trust in him.”

  I hung my head and said miserably, “I know it was wrong of us, but we so wanted to help.”

  He softened slightly. “You must leave these matters to us. I don’t wish to be unkind, but warnings seem to have no effect upon you. You placed yourselves in grave danger. Mr. Roberts has, as it happens, told us of his misstatement, and that he did leave the club that night. But we are no further advanced. It has not assisted the case as yet.”

  An idea had occurred to me while he was speaking.

  “This accident,” I said slowly. “I suppose it was an accident, not — ?”

  Inspector Nevil eyed me severely. “I think we can safely assume that the lorry which crashed into Mr. Roberts’ car, did so accidentally. Don’t let your imagination colour everything that happens, Miss Lennox, or you will find yourself in more trouble.” He gave a little cough and rose to his feet.

  “I must be going now. Thank you again for the coffee.” At the door, he paused and fixed me with a stern eye. “No more investigating, Miss Lennox?”

  “No more,” I promised solemnly, and satisfied, he went downstairs. I watched until the doors swung to behind him and he was gone.

  *

  At a quarter to one I phoned Stephen. He lunched after the office staff and this was the time to catch him.

  “Rosemary!” he said, and I beamed as I heard the pleasure in his voice. “My dear, I was just this minute going to call you. How about meeting me for lunch in half an hour?”

  “Oh, that would be lovely, darling,” I cried eagerly. “I’m so bored and it’s ages since we had lunch together.”

  “Well, make it at Robinson’s. I’ll meet you inside the entrance in half an hour then, darling. Goodbye.”

  I scuttled back upstairs, and began a lightning transformation. When I reached Robinson’s, I was five minutes late, but my morale, bolstered by sheer nylon and my best black suit, was high. Stephen was waiting patiently and his face lit up as I came towards him. “Rosemary darling! The rest has done you good, you’re looking a little better.”

  This was not quite the greeting I had hoped for, but I felt his intentions were good, so I squeezed his arm, said how pleased I was to see him, and we went in.

  Stephen has a gift for ordering food. Everything goes smoothly, there are no arguments, and the meal is always perfect. Over lunch we talked. There was so much to tell him, and he listened carefully as I poured out the story. “I don’t like the idea of you interfering like that, Rosemary,” he said finally. “The Inspector is quite right.” Seeing he was taking it in that way, I cheerfully laid the blame at Bob’s door and excused myself of any such intentions.

  After this was settled, the conversation took a more personal trend. We discussed my proposed stay at his home. It transpired that the weekend could not be managed, his Mother had relations staying so it was to be deferred a week. Fervently hoping that my relief was not too apparent. I proffered polite verbal messages to her and Stephen seemed quite happy. I too was content, feeling like the prisoner in the condemned cell who is suddenly granted a stay of execution.

  The time went by all too quickly, and after a glance at the clock, we rose regretfully. I walked a little way with him and said goodbye at the corner. He arranged to ring me the next day and then hurried back to the office.

  I went to the cinema. It was a beautiful afternoon, just right for a walk in the park, but I am not the athletic type and though it was a shocking waste of my best costume in I went!

  It was a terrifying film! My evil star had led me to the cinema on the circuit showing a horror film!

  The sensible thing to do in a case like that, is to leave and promptly, but I was held riveted in my seat by a fascinated horror, and I saw it through. Needless to say, Rosemary Lennox was not her usual happy self as she walked out of the cinema!

  All the shops were shut, so I made my way home. Elly was in now. I could hear her bustling about next door. She had company. A woman’s laugh rose above the clatter, and I guessed it was one of Elly’s relations.

  My flat was in an awful mess. My housework had been very sketchy of late, and the whole place needed a thorough cleanup. I put away my finery and going to the opposite extreme, I dug out an old boiler suit and a sloppy Joe woolly. Thus attired, I went ahead like two women, sweeping and polishing every inch. I was rummaging energetically under the bed, when someone knocked on the door — Now, whoever could that be? Stephen would be home by now, and Bob was out. Muttering to myself I crawled out, straightened my back, which ached slightly, and marched, duster in hand, to the door.

  It was Bob, after all. He grinned. A particularly aggravating grin. “Doing some housework, Rosie?”

  “Oh no,” I said sarcastically. “I’m just off to a Ball at the Mansion House!”

  “The Lord Mayor will be surprised,” he murmured and not waiting for an invitation, walked in. To be quite truthful, I was glad of the excuse to stop, and sank gratefully down on the settee.

  “Not used to it, eh?” Bob chuckled. “Now, now, don’t show that nasty temper! Uncle Robert will make you some tea. Sit there like a good girl.”

  Reclining my aching back against the cushions, I listened to the pleasing sound of the kettle being filled, and the clatter of cups. Soon he came in. “Uncle Robert’s cure for housewives. Never been known to fail!” he announced pushing a steaming cup towards me. Then lighting two cigarettes, and handing me one, he flopped into the chair opposite.

  “I hear you met our friend the Inspector today.”

  “Oh, has he phoned or something?”

  “Not only the dread Inspector, but Old Moneybags too! They’ve both been dinning the error of my ways to me.” I sat up at that and looke
d guilty. He shook his head sorrowfully. “It appears I dragged the unwilling, protesting Miss Lennox into my schemes, when all she asked was a little peace!”

  “Well!” I said weakly, “you know what Stephen is. I had to say something.”

  Bob laughed silently for a few minutes, then sobered a little. “I was sorry to hear about Roberts. He’s alright though I take it? What in the world made you go to the hospital, Rosie?”

  “I don’t know really, just felt sorry, I suppose.” I told him about the girl in the waiting room and he sighed thoughtfully. “Well, it may work out, you can never tell.”

  “It seems we’re back where we started Bob. Our investigation didn’t bear a lot of fruit, did it?”

  “No — and the killer, whoever he is, is still at large — well, I’m off.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked, startled by his abruptness.

  “Freda’s holding a little “shindig” and I said I’d drop in. Bye Rosie. See you sometime.” Patting my head in a fatherly way, he strolled out.

  This Freda of Bob’s was figuring more and more often in his conversation lately. He always seemed to be meeting or phoning her. I’d tried to like the girl, but it was quite useless. The very mention of her name annoyed me. She was not the one for Bob.

  A few minutes later, Elly knocked, and stood talking, admiring the results of all my hard toil. The flat certainly did look better. The floors and furniture shone, and the carpet was spotless. “Very nice, dear,” she said approvingly. “Did I hear Bob go downstairs just now?”

  “Yes, he’s gone out with Freda,” I replied. “Did you want him?”

  “Only to return his raincoat. He left it in my room the other day, and I’ve been meaning to give it back to him.”

  “Oh, give it to me, Elly, I’ll run up with it later, I can hang it on that fancy doorknocker he’s fixed up.” We both laughed, Bob’s doorknocker was a gruesome gargoyle. It had taken his eye and despite all opposition he’d nailed it firmly on the door. I took the coat, said goodnight, and went inside.