The Loophole

by Vera Morris

‘Ah, something to do with that missing boy you found? I thought there was more to all those deaths than appeared in the press.’

  She held her breath, but Frank kept a straight face and didn’t say anything.

  ‘That’s why I’m asking for your help. I was very impressed when you found David Pemberton.’ He turned to look at her. ‘And I must say, Miss Bowman, I’m full of admiration for the way you fought off the mad headmaster last September.’ His eyes twinkled. Perhaps he admired more than her fighting abilities.

  ‘I can assure you of our complete discretion,’ Frank said, casting a swift glance at the other three, who nodded in agreement.

  ‘Would you like some coffee before you tell us why you came, Mr Salter?’ Dorothy asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Perhaps afterwards. I need your help. I don’t want to involve the police, not at this stage. If you discover what I fear, then of course, they’ll have to be told.’

  Frank leant forward, his green eyes gleaming with interest. ‘What is it you’re concerned about?’

  Salter placed his hands on the edge of the table and leant towards them. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware, but I mainly live at Selbourne Park, near Orford. Five years ago, I built an exclusive holiday camp in the grounds. It’s different, adults only, no one below eighteen years of age allowed. The entertainment is more sophisticated.’

  What did sophisticated entertainment mean?

  Frank’s eyes widened and a slight smile appeared.

  Salter laughed. ‘I can see what you’re thinking, Mr Diamond. Nothing like that.’ His face darkened. ‘In the last two years, 1969 and 1970, during the holiday season, two young women, both staff members, suddenly disappeared, one each year. We notified the police, but they weren’t interested, as they both took all of their belongings with them. They haven’t been seen since, and they haven’t contacted their parents.’

  ‘Is there anything to connect them?’ Frank asked.

  Salter looked down at his hands; his knuckles shining white through the stretched skin. ‘Yes. Me. I’m a widower, and I have to admit I’d taken a shine to both the girls. I know they were much younger than me, but they were -are, nice girls, they reminded me of...’ He broke off, looking as if he wished he hadn’t said that. ‘I didn’t think too much of it when Lucy went, although I was upset, but when Bobby, Roberta, disappeared last year, I began to wonder.’ He paused. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?’

  Dorothy pushed an ashtray towards him. He took a gold cigarette case and lighter out of an inner breast pocket. As he opened the case, diamonds in the form of his entwined initials, S and S, caught the light. He saw Stuart staring at it. ‘Cost me a packet. I lost one just like it a few years back. I had to replace it: my late wife gave me the original.’

  He lit a cigarette and greedily sucked on its untipped end, then blew a stream of blue smoke towards the ceiling.

  The smell of cheap tobacco filled the room.

  Frank wrinkled his nose.

  ‘Sorry, I got used to gaspers in the war. Can’t stand these new mild, tipped cigarettes.’

  ‘Woodbines?’ Frank asked.

  He nodded.

  ‘What do you think has happened to the girls?’ Laurel asked.

  He turned to look at her, the lines in his forehead deepening. ‘I’m not sure, but something makes me think... they’ve been murdered. I’m worried sick another woman might go missing this summer.’

  Chapter 3

  Frank looked at Salter, trying to make up his mind about him. There was a sheen of sweat on his high forehead, and he’d had difficulty framing the words about the missing women. As soon as Salter wanted to meet them Frank had contacted Detective Inspector Revie, who they’d worked with on the David Pemberton case, to ask if he’d any background information on Salter. Whenever Salter was in the news, the press always mentioned he had mixed with criminals in his youth, and married the sister of a well-known London gangster. Revie had said Salter had mended his ways and was now a respectable member of society, well known for charitable work.

  ‘Can you tell us a little about the missing women, Mr Salter?’ he asked.

  Salter gulped and fiddled with the knot of his tie. ‘Yes. The first to go missing, in 1969, was Lucy Milne. She was working as part of the entertainment team; you know, the ones who organise games and activities. They wear striped jackets, green and white, a cut above the jackets of other holiday camps. We call them Stripeys.’

  ‘How long had she worked at the camp?’ Laurel asked. ‘She’d been with us three years, but it was her first year at Sudbourne Camp. She came in February, 1969. I have a policy: only the key workers stay in one place for any length of time, all the juniors rotate round the camps.’ ‘Keeps them on their toes, does it?’ Stuart asked.

  Salter inclined his head. ‘Stops them forming cliques and getting more interested in each other than in the campers.’

  ‘What did Lucy look like?’ Frank asked.

  ‘I’ll show you a photo. All the staff have photos taken at the beginning of the season; we put them on the main notice board so campers can see who they are.’ He bent down, picked up his briefcase and, holding it on his knee, opened it so the contents were hidden. He took a coloured photo, four by six inches, from it.

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘She was twenty-two when she went missing.’

  ‘ So, twenty-four now.’

  Salter nodded, gazing at it for several seconds before he passed it to him.

  She was a lovely girl with an oval face, a pale smooth complexion, a small straight nose and beautiful almondshaped eyes, clear blue with dark eyebrows matching her almost black hair. Frank’s heart contracted. She reminded him of Carol Pemberton, the mother of the missing boy, David. He’d been strongly attracted to her, and let their relationship go too far. Lucy had the same blue eyes, black hair and porcelain complexion. There was a slight smile on her face, but she looked a serious girl, and although he shouldn’t make a judgement based on a photograph, she looked honest and trustworthy. He passed it to Laurel.

  ‘Lucy looks a nice girl,’ she said. ‘Have you a photo of Roberta?’

  Salter nodded. He was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute and he wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Very warm in here.’ He took out another photograph from the briefcase and passed this to him. ‘Roberta Dodd, Bobby. She worked in the camp’s office.’

  This girl had the same colouring as Lucy. The face more elongated and the lips fuller, but the similarities between the two girls were striking. It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it?

  Frank passed the photograph of Lucy to Stuart and looked at the one of Roberta. ‘Mr Salter, you said these girls reminded you of someone; it sounded to me as if this was someone you were fond of. Who did they remind you of?’

  Salter glanced down at the briefcase he was still hugging. ‘I, er...’ He raised his head and looked at him. ‘My late wife, Patsy.’ His head dropped again. ‘I’m sorry, I find this difficult to talk about.’

  ‘When did Roberta go missing?’ Frank asked.

  ‘Er. last September, towards the end of the season.’

  ‘Why have you left it until now to bring this case to us? It’s the beginning of June; the camps must be busy already,’ Frank said.

  Salter put his briefcase on the floor and sat up straight. He looked offended, his small eyes narrowing. ‘I have my reasons.’

  ‘I suppose you were waiting to see if Roberta turned up?’ Laurel said, smiling at him.

  She obviously thought he was being too blunt, and was trying to retrieve the situation. There was something about the man he disliked; he couldn’t put his finger on it, but was the man honest? Was he telling the complete truth?

  Salter smiled back at Laurel. ‘That’s right. In fact, it was my son, Stephen, who persuaded me to take some action. He could see it was preying on my mind. He suggested bringing the problem to you.’

  Salter seemed attracted to Laurel, but then who wouldn’t be? Since she
and Oliver Neave had started seeing each other, there was a new radiance about her. Was it Dr Neave, or Dr Neave’s Labrador, Billy, that was the main attraction? He hoped it wasn’t serious; he didn’t want to lose his main partner. Perhaps he’d better try and be pleasant.

  ‘Mr Salter, if we take the case, have you thought about how we should deal with the investigation? I can’t believe you’d want us questioning staff or campers; it wouldn’t be good for business, would it?’

  Salter patted his face with a handkerchief again. He looked uncomfortable. ‘You’re right, it wouldn’t. I said that to Stephen. If it gets out girls are disappearing from the camp, people will stop coming to us. I take pride in looking after our customers and making sure they’re safe.’ Frank stood up. ‘I suggest we have a coffee break, and if you don’t mind, Mr Salter, I’d like to talk privately to the rest of the team. I have an idea I’d like to put to them.’ ‘Why not put it to them now?’

  Frank shook his head. ‘Bear with me, Mr Salter. I’ll take you to the sitting room and we’ll bring you some coffee. We’ll be as quick as we can. We’ll let you know if we’ll take the case and if we do, how we’ll deal with it, as you have no preference in the matter. Then you can decide if you want us to start working for you.’

  Salter looked mutinous, his bottom lip sticking out. ‘Very well, but don’t take too long. I’m a busy man.’

  He noticed, as he led Salter from the room, Laurel was giving Stuart an old-fashioned look, as much as to say: ‘Who’s being bossy now?’

  Laurel finished a slice of Mabel’s sponge cake, sliding a finger round the plate to gather up the last crumbs. Stuart Elderkin was doing the same. She’d missed Mabel’s cooking last week; she hoped she wouldn’t turn into a permanent housewife who devoted herself to making apple pies for Stuart. Not only did she make life easy for the rest of the team by doing all the cooking and housekeeping, but her homely and common-sense presence added a note of realism, which was sometimes needed.

  Dorothy piled everything onto a tray. ‘Right, Frank let’s have your brilliant ideas. We can’t keep him waiting too long.’

  Frank looked at each of them in turn. ‘I’m not completely sure we should take this case on. There’s something about Salter I don’t trust.’ He paused, rubbing his upper lip. ‘However, we haven’t got a major case at the moment, although there are a few minor things we’re working on —’

  ‘I think we should take it,’ Laurel said. ‘Two women are missing. Suppose another goes missing this summer and we didn’t help. I wouldn’t be happy about that.’

  Stuart was filling his pipe. ‘Me, too. Also, it would be profitable; he’s not short of money.’

  ‘If we do take it, I think there’s only one way we can successfully try and find out what happened to those girls.’

  ‘So, what’s your idea, Frank?’ Stuart asked.

  ‘I think you, me and Laurel will have to become part of the staff at Sudbourne Camp.’

  There was a stunned silence.

  Laurel laughed. ‘I bet you’ve got me down as a Stripey coat! I wouldn’t mind that -lots of physical activities; I can get really fit!’

  ‘That’s a frightening thought,’ Frank said.

  Stuart looked worried. ‘We could be there weeks! Months! I don’t think Mabel would be too keen on me being away for such a long time at the moment. After all, we’ve just come back from our honeymoon.’

  Dorothy peered over her glasses. ‘What about the rest of the business we’ve taken on? Who’s going to look after that?’

  ‘It’s true, Frank. If we became undercover staff we wouldn’t be able to come and go as we please. Personally, I wouldn’t mind, I haven’t got any serious ties,’ Laurel said.

  So, Oliver Neave wasn’t that important. Good. ‘I can see your reasoning, Stuart. Perhaps it would be best if Laurel and I take on this case, and leave you,’ he nodded to Stuart, ‘to carry on with the business at this end.’

  Stuart sighed with relief. ‘If you don’t mind, Frank, that would be helpful.’

  ‘Dorothy?’

  She looked not only cross but offended; her arms tight over her chest and her mouth in a straight line.

  ‘Dorothy?’

  ‘I’d like to be considered for a role.’

  Miss Piff -secret agent. Frank couldn’t stop a laugh bubbling up.

  ‘It’s all right you sniggering, Frank Diamond, but I’d like to remind you I served in the war, I’m used to dealing with people and I could work in the camp’s office; there’s no better place for picking up gossip than the works office. Also, that’s where Roberta worked. I’m not afraid of danger, and I’d like to play a more positive role in the agency. I’d like to think I’ve helped in bringing a murderer to justice, if that’s what happened to these poor girls.’

  Frank reached out and took her hand. ‘Please forgive me, Dorothy, I had a mental picture of you wearing a deerstalker with a bloodhound on a leash.’

  She gave a wry smile. ‘If that’s what I need to do to convince you I’m capable of detective work, I’ll buy both immediately.’

  ‘I think you’d be excellent, Dorothy’ Laurel said. ‘How about a Labrador instead of a bloodhound?’

  Frank raised his eyebrows.

  Laurel continued, ‘However, I wouldn’t want you to get into any of the situations I’ve managed to get myself into during the last two cases. Sometimes things go wrong, and if the girls have been murdered, whoever did it might not worry about adding a third victim to their list, if they thought you were a danger to them.’

  Dorothy’s chin came up. ‘I faced danger during the war, and now, well... there isn’t anyone I need to think about. I haven’t anyone to be responsible for.’ She looked at Laurel. ‘I don’t mean I’m not fond of all of you, and I’m proud of the work we’ve done. but you know what I mean.’

  Stuart got up and patted her on the back. ‘I think you’d be a great asset as an undercover office worker. Mabel and I can look after the business side while you’re away sleuthing. Mabel’s good with figures and my typing’s not so bad. We can keep things ticking over.’

  Dorothy looked at Frank. ‘Well?’

  Frank shook his head. ‘It’s a stitch up. I agree.’

  Dorothy also got up and gave Frank a hearty kiss on the cheek. ‘You won’t regret it.’

  Laurel pointed a finger at Frank. ‘So, I’m a Stripey coat, Dorothy’s in the office, but what role will you take?’ ‘Security? Possibly?’

  ‘What do we do now?’ Dorothy asked, looking pleased with herself.

  ‘We put this to Mr Salter. He may not go for it, or he may baulk at the cost. Three of us on a permanent basis for possibly several weeks is going to be very expensive. Also, we’ll need to be able to have regular meetings to exchange findings. It’ll be complicated.’

  Dorothy tapped the table with a pencil. ‘H’m. We’ll have to sleep in the camp, won’t we?’

  Frank nodded. ‘If we don’t, the rest of the staff will soon rumble us. I think we’ll have to arrive one by one. Too suspicious if we all came together.’

  ‘We mustn’t appear to know each other,’ Laurel said. ‘Also, someone might recognise one of us; we did get a lot of publicity from the last two cases.’

  ‘I’m beginning to think this might not work,’ he said.

  Dorothy slapped the table with her palm. ‘Don’t be such a pessimist, Frank. Let’s put it to Salter and see what he says.’

  He smiled at her. ‘You’re dying to have a go, aren’t you?’

  ‘I certainly am. Shall I get Mr Salter?’

  The other three nodded.

  Laurel watched Sam Salter’s face as Frank told him his thoughts on how they would investigate the case. At first, he frowned, then he nodded knowingly, and when Frank suggested Laurel might be suitable as a Stripey coat, he laughed.

  ‘I shall have to vet your suitability, Miss Bowman.’

  ‘What for? My skills as a detective, or had you something else in mind?’

&
nbsp; His face reddened and he pulled at his tie. ‘Sorry, out of order.’

  ‘I’ll forgive you -just this once.’

  ‘Miss Piff,’ Frank said, ‘would you like to explain your possible role?’

  Dorothy straightened her back. ‘If you could find me a job in the main office, Mr Salter, I’m sure I’d be able to hear many matters the secretaries wouldn’t perhaps discuss with you. What do you think?’

  Salter nodded, sweeping his hand round the room. ‘I can see you’re a tower of efficiency, you’d be an asset in the office, plus sleuthing at the same time; sounds a bargain to me.’

  Dorothy’s smile got even broader. ‘Thank you. Are there a lot of staff in the office?’

  ‘There are usually four; I’ve a personal secretary, Miss Tweedie, Belinda Tweedie, she’s been with me for several years, and three other girls, two full time and one part time. That’s one area I don’t move staff round. They deal not only with Sudbourne Camp, but with correspondence between the other camps and my office in London. Stephen, my son, is based there.’ His voice rang with pride as he named him.

  ‘Mr Salter, we’ll need a list of all the staff who were at the camp both in 1969 and 1970. At this stage I think we’ll have to assume holiday makers were not involved in the disappearance of these women. However, if we draw a blank with the staff, would it be possible to have a list of the holiday makers who were in the camp in both 1969 and 1970, on the dates the women disappeared?’

  Salter blew out air through pursed lips. ‘It’s possible.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Frank said.

  He hadn’t used his favourite word all day. His mood must be improving, she thought.

  Salter tapped his nose. ‘This is opportune, I was going to advertise for a new secretary; one of the girls is leaving soon, going to have a baby. I can speed that up.’ He seemed to catch the look on Dorothy’s face. ‘Don’t worry, she won’t lose out. I think you could start next week. Is that all right?’

  ‘Excellent,’ she said.

  Frank bit his lip.

  Salter leant forward, rubbing his fingers over his forehead. ‘As for you, Miss Bowman, how’s your swimming?’