Thirty
Theories
When I returned from Gledhow Lodge, Mrs Sugden was in the front garden, dead-heading the roses. She continued clipping until I stepped onto the path.
‘That was a long visit. I thought you must have moved in with Mrs Compton.’
‘It felt a bit like that.’ I looked round. ‘Where’s Harriet?’
Mrs Sugden put the secateurs in her apron pocket. ‘She’s round with Miss Merton and they’re getting on so well you’d think they’d known each other in a past life. Harriet will be kept busy for a few more hours yet, and again tomorrow until after the garden party.’
‘That’s a great relief.’
‘Mr Sykes is in the office, writing up his notes.’
‘Will you come through then? I expect we all have something to report.’
Moments later, we were seated around the dining table, comparing notes. I listened to Mrs Sugden’s accounts of meeting Mrs Lloyd, the ventriloquist’s widow, and her granddaughter Lorna. Sykes attempted not to be too superior in having interviewed both Alf Packer the tram driver and Sandy Sechrest.
They were shocked to hear about Beryl Lister being taken to hospital. ‘Will she live?’ Mrs Sugden asked.
‘I hope so. We may have found her in time. I suspect she may have been drugged so as to be unaware of the gassing. I gave a vase to Inspector Wallis where I think the remains of a cup of tea or coffee had been poured. Whoever it was knew their way about the theatre.’
‘You don’t think it was attempted suicide?’ Sykes asked.
‘Definitely not.’ I turned to my housekeeper. ‘There is something about Beryl Lister that reminds me of you, Mrs Sugden. She would be no more likely to give in to life and turn on the gas than you would.’
I also told them about Inspector Wallis asking me for a statement, thanks to Ernest Brownlaw having contacted him about my request that he test the found cigar. ‘He asked me to go in tomorrow morning. I do believe that he just wants me to stew overnight.’
‘Inspector Wallis gave no hint as to what the chemist found?’ Mrs Sugden asked.
Sykes answered for me. ‘Of course he wouldn’t.’
It was time to move on and discuss what we did know rather than what yet remained a mystery.
Sykes had already supplied Mrs Sugden with a list of names gleaned from Sandy Sechrest. While they waited for my return, Mrs Sugden had taken the time to write each suspect’s name on a separate piece of paper. She had snipped the white margins from yesterday’s newspaper into neat oblongs. On each piece of paper she block-printed the name of a suspect in indelible pencil, dipping the pencil lead in an egg cup of water so as not to turn her tongue blue. She divided the names into two: dancers and performers.
These names formed two circles on the table, one exclusively reserved for the Daisy Chain troupe of twelve dancers. The names of the two dancers who left the troupe after the incident of the falling sandbag at the Sunderland Empire were underlined. Mrs Sugden placed them in the centre of the dancers’ circle.
Jenny Crawford Tilly O’Hara
We considered the dancers first.
Mrs Sugden revealed her theory. ‘I’m wondering if the two chorus girls who hopped it after Sunderland conspired to kill Floyd Lloyd.’
Sykes perked up. ‘They would have been agile enough to scale the heights. But why would they want to kill the old ventriloquist?’
‘By his widow’s accounts he was the best kind of absent husband, being mostly absent. He was a kind granddad. He saw himself as an uncle to the younger performers in his troupe.’
‘That’s true,’ I said, wondering where Mrs Sugden’s thoughts led her. ‘Miss Fellini thought of him as an uncle figure, someone she could confide in.’
When Mrs Sugden began by saying, ‘Far be it from me to cast aspersions or speak ill of the dead…’ it was clear that aspersions would follow.
She continued. ‘We all know about men who like to be seen as uncles to young lasses. How do we know he wasn’t a dirty old man? And if he was, his target would be chorus girls. Jenny Crawford and Tilly O’Hara might have had enough and put an end to him.’
‘That would be a bit drastic.’ Sykes shook his head. ‘We’re into flimsy speculation. Miss Fellini saw him as an uncle as well, let’s not forget.’
Mrs Sugden sometimes adopted rather formal speech, to attempt to make Sykes respect her views. ‘I know whereof I speak, so listen to me. There’s a lot of that kind of thing about. When I was fifteen, I was taken up by a magician to be his lovely assistant. He was too fond of searching me for missing playing cards and turtle doves. It didn’t stop until I beat him round the head with his wand.’
Sykes took a moment to gather his thoughts for a comeback. ‘But even you wouldn’t have killed someone for… that kind of thing.’
‘Don’t be so sure.’ Spending time talking to newspapermen had left its mark on Mrs Sugden. She resorted to sporting metaphors. ‘Floyd Lloyd wouldn’t queer his pitch by making a play for Selina. He might try his luck with the chorus girls.’ Mrs Sugden held up her hands. ‘I’m pointing no fingers, I’m just saying.’
For some wee while longer, we considered the dancers. None of us had much of value to say because we knew so little about them. They all lodged together in a large house in Chapeltown, and they stuck together too. From the conversations at the party, I had picked up that the most senior dancer was their choreographer who also acted as chaperone to the younger ones. How good a chaperone she was I did not know. Her ‘minding’ did not preclude two of the dancers wearing little gold boxes of cocaine on chains at their throat. Perhaps we may be missing something important, such as an evil and bored dancer with a penchant for murder. But our discussions led nowhere. It was time to move on. ‘Apart from the Daisy Chain Dancing Troupe, what about everybody else?’
We turned our attention to Mrs Sugden’s second circle of names. She explained her method. ‘In this circle we have the people that Miss Sechrest the memory woman told Mr Sykes had the opportunity to push Douglas Dougan under the tram.’
Sandy Sechrest, memory woman
Floyd Lloyd, ventriloquist (d.)
Dougie (dogs) Dougan (d.)
Billy Moffatt, comedian (d.)
Maurice Montague, master of music
Pip Potter, strongman
Charles de Beauvoir, singer
Powolski twins, acrobats
Selina Fellini
Beryl Lister
Trotter Brockett
Sykes looked at me as being able to query Mrs Sugden’s logic without the least suggestion of offence.
‘Why is Mr Dougan included as a suspect in his own death?’ I asked in as mild a fashion as possible.
Naturally, Mrs Sugden’s logic was impeccable. ‘His name is included in my circle in case he wasn’t pushed or shoved. He may have decided to top himself, with no thought for the poor tram driver or his own dogs. “Accidental death”, the coroner said, remember? And if it was not “accidental” then it might just as easily have been suicide as murder.’
‘I see. Well, that is a possibility, but since two more fatalities followed, Floyd Lloyd and Billy Moffatt, and now an attack on Beryl Lister, perhaps we might simplify our task by removing the dead from our list of suspects, just for the time being.’
Mrs Sugden duly removed Douglas Dougan, Floyd Lloyd and Billy Moffatt. ‘Just as you like.’ She set them carefully aside, not ready to discard them altogether. ‘Floyd Lloyd and Billy Moffatt might have killed Douglas between them and Billy killed Floyd to keep him quiet.’
Sykes never liked to stay silent for long. ‘It’s good to keep an open mind but it’s helpful to narrow the field, at least in the beginning. We can widen the scope of our enquiry if necessary. After what Mrs Shackleton has just told us about Beryl Lister’s accident, shouldn’t we be looking for one person – someone who is still alive?’
I kicked him under the table. It is very annoying that he finds these subtle ways of reminding Mrs Sugden t
hat she is new to the field of investigation. Fortunately, Mrs Sugden was concentrating too hard on her own ideas to take in the snide edge of his remark.
Something had been niggling away and now I knew what it was. ‘Beryl Lister is Selina Fellini’s oldest friend. They were at school together. If it hadn’t been for the generosity of Beryl’s parents, Selina would not have had singing and dancing lessons. She would have gone into the ice cream business, married young and produced a brood of young workers. Beryl tried to protect Selina from what she called “hangers-on” who exploited her good nature. It had crossed my mind that someone else – perhaps even Beryl herself – was getting rid of those hangers-on. Now I’m not sure what to make of it. Certainly Beryl was no hanger-on but an essential part of Selina’s success.’
Mrs Sugden brightened up at this thought. ‘Miss Lister could have turned the gas on herself, to divert attention from what she’d been up to. She must have felt underappreciated and right fed up.’
Sykes consulted his notebook. ‘Miss Sechrest also used the term “hangers-on”. She dislikes them, too. That’s how she regarded Dougan, Lloyd and perhaps Billy Moffatt. Also, my tram driver dreams of a figure dressed in black. We always assume that if someone pushed Dougan it would have been a man. It could equally have been a woman.’
I went back over Selina’s suspicions. ‘Miss Fellini’s real reason for calling on me was not to do with organising a flight. Anyone could have done that. She thought something bad would happen to yet another of her friends. She was right. First Billy dies, and then there’s an attempt to gas Beryl. Whoever is responsible is wasting no time. Just suppose Selina is right, and someone is picking off her friends?’
We looked again at the list of names.
I saw that Mrs Sugden had cut out extra little oblongs of paper. ‘Mrs Sugden, will you please add a name, Jarrod Compton, Selina’s husband.’
She dipped the point of her pencil in the egg cup of water that had now turned blue. She printed Jarrod’s name and placed it in the centre of the circle. ‘It’s always the husband. He’s done away with everyone close to her so that she gives up on her career and dons an apron.’
‘We can’t rule him out. There’s something seriously wrong with the poor man. He can be charming and polite and suddenly turn nasty. Part of him is aware of this and he tries to hide away. If it is Jarrod, it’s not because he wants Selina back in the kitchen and bedroom. He’s written a sort of musical play for her. He left the manuscript on her dressing table yesterday. His mother thinks it might be taken up in California and made into a moving picture.’
Mrs Sugden was reluctant to give up on a theory. ‘He’ll want to put on the performance in a church hall with her as the star and himself as master of ceremonies.’
That was a possibility. ‘He is mentally unwell.’ I described his behaviour and how Selina had called on her brother for backup.
Looking at the names set out in a circle made me think of some Ouija game. Would we in a moment join hands and find ourselves dragged against our will to say snap on the guilty party?
Having eliminated the dead and added the maimed Jarrod, we now had nine names in the circle, with the Powolski twins boosting the number to ten.
Sandy Sechrest, memory woman
Maurice Montague, master of music
Pip Potter, strongman
Charles de Beauvoir, singer
Powolski twins, acrobats
Selina Fellini
Beryl Lister
Trotter Brockett
Jarrod Compton
‘I think we should eliminate Maurice Montague. He wants shut of the whole business and has another job, though I’m not to say anything yet.’
Mrs Sugden thought about the suggestion for a moment and then, acting as monitor of the strips of paper, removed Maurice.
Sykes nodded agreement. ‘Only it could be worth interviewing Maurice Montague again. Miss Sechrest saw him, Jarrod Compton and Billy Moffatt chatting to each other in the garden on the night of the party.’
I made a note. ‘That’s worth checking. I’ll see if I can catch up with Mr Montague and ask him. Now, why don’t we each pick a name?’
Having just entered Jarrod, I did not want to sway Mrs Sugden and Sykes towards him without having considered the others. ‘Let us leave Jarrod out of it for now, and come back to him.’
Mrs Sugden agreed. ‘And it doesn’t matter who we pick, but we have to come up with a reason.’
Well why not? That’s how close we were to finding out anything at all. ‘I’ll pick Pip Potter. He is strong enough to push Mr Dougan under a tram and to drop a sandbag on Mr Lloyd accurately from a great height.’
Sykes looked solemn. ‘Don’t joke about it. Poor Alfie the tram driver dreams he saw a man in black push Douglas Dougan onto the tram tracks. Pip Potter could easily have donned a black cloak over his leopard skin.’
Mrs Sugden intervened. ‘Well you can’t pick him. He’s Mrs Shackleton’s choice.’
‘I am not choosing him. I know nothing about the man, but I don’t believe a strongman would resort to those methods.’ Sykes picked up the Charles de Beauvoir slip of paper.
‘Why him?’ I asked.
‘Because he’s French and he’s a phony charmer.’
‘Oh, you mean Rosie liked him.’
Mrs Sugden waited for silence. ‘You two aren’t taking this seriously.’ She picked up Sandy Sechrest’s name.
We waited for an explanation. She waited to be asked.
Sykes remained silent. It was up to me to prompt. ‘Go on, then, Mrs Sugden, tell us why.’
‘She wears black. She could have been the figure the tram driver saw and she is in a permanent state of mourning.’ She broke her own rule of one suspect and chose another name. ‘This is my second choice, Trotter Brockett.’
Sykes objected. ‘As their manager, he’s hardly likely to do away with his performers.’
‘He was the one who put the kibosh on the plan that half a dozen performers might go on the wireless and do a variety show.’ She made a row of our suspects, in alphabetical order of surname.
Trotter Brockett
Charles de Beauvoir
Pip Potter
Sandy Sechrest
‘Mr Trotter told Floyd Lloyd that taking part in a wireless programme wasn’t practical because of the touring, and their contracts didn’t permit.’
Sykes came to Brockett’s defence. ‘Well perhaps it wasn’t practical. If the performers are touring the country, they may not be able to pop back to a recording studio every week.’
I picked up my pen. ‘Tell us a little more about the visit to Mrs Lloyd. From what you say she was quite forthcoming, and knew a bit about her husband’s work.’
Mrs Sugden gave an account of Mrs Lloyd and her granddaughter folding and packing stockings, and of their house, the colour of the curtains, and the buns Mrs Lloyd brought back from the bakers. ‘But do you know who had the most to say?’
‘Go on,’ I encouraged.
‘That little dummy, Manny Piccolo. He’s a bonny little chap with plump cheeks and bright eyes. The granddaughter, Lorna, she has the workings of him off to a T.’
Mr Sykes intervened. ‘So it wasn’t actually the dummy having the most to say, it was Lorna.’
‘That’s what you might think, but he was so lifelike, and with his own voice, as if he really knew something.’
‘Anything important?’ I asked.
‘There you have me. The grandmother was a little unnerved by it. She made the child take it upstairs.’
There was silence around the table as we pondered the quandary of how best to interview a ventriloquist’s dummy.
Sykes tapped his fingers on the table. ‘So the child knows something. Either she doesn’t want to say outright, or she is unaware of the significance of what she knows.’
‘It could be nothing,’ Mrs Sugden conceded. ‘But she’s an odd girl. If you met her, you’d think she was lacking in some department but when she
sits that dummy on her lap, it’s all change at the terminus.’
A little spark of possibility lit the proceedings. ‘I’ll follow this up, Mrs Sugden. Perhaps we can arrange some sort of private audition with young Miss Lloyd.’
We agreed to make a second choice of suspect. This time, I picked up Jarrod Compton’s name. ‘I don’t have strong reasons such as knowing he was in the right place at the right time. But he is the one who seems to come and go at will, and have a knack for not being seen. All the victims, if it was murder in each case, were close to Selina. He would be a saint not to be jealous and he is unstable. I hope he may be taken for treatment before Inspector Wallis gets around to arresting him.’
Death in the Stars Page 27