‘Blimey! Is that the time? It was good to meet you again, George; but if it’s alright with you, I’ll leave it in your hands now. I’ve got to be back at the Yard for three—some emergency briefing the Commissioner wants me at.’
‘Really?’ said Harley, looking knowingly at Pearson. ‘Well then, perhaps we’ll be bumping into each other again sooner than you think then, Danny.’
‘Hmm … looks like you know something I don’t. And I expect there’ll be a bit of roughhouse involved, if you’ve got anything to do with it. Oh well …’
Bristow now grabbed his gabardine from the back of a particularly elegant Ruhlmann armchair. He rubbed his hand across the soft, chestnut-coloured leather.
‘Just look at this place—how the other half live, eh? God! If Mrs. Bristow ever laid eyes on this I’d never hear the end of it. You seen the kitchen? Fully electric, in there—cooker included. I can’t keep up with it all myself—it’s like something out of H.G. Wells, what with all the knobs and fandangles. Don’t for the life of me know how that little slip of a maid manages to cope with it all.’
‘It’s progress, Danny—nothing to be scared of,’ said Harley, smiling at the confused look on Bristow’s face.
‘Well, that’s all well and good until you come home to find your missus has been electrocuted by a shepherd’s pie! Right, I’m off … it was good to meet you Pearson. Look after yourself, George!’
‘The SIS?’ asked Pearson, once Bristow had gone.
‘Can’t talk about it, I’m afraid, Albert,’ said Harley, shaking his head.
‘Yes, well—that answers a few questions I had rattling around. You’re a dark horse, George Harley—there’s no denying that … So, anyway, what do you reckon, then? If Kosevich was responsible for the previous bombings, who do you think sent this particular stick of dynamite?’
‘Shush! Not ’ere Albert—we’ll talk later. Let’s have a little word with the maid, shall we? D’you reckon that was Pembroke’s Austin 7 she saw earlier?’
‘Well, there’s got to be tens of thousands of Baby Austins in London, hasn’t there? It’s one of the most popular cars going. Besides, I thought the theory now was that Kosevich blew himself up? Surely Pembroke wasn’t involved—he is a vicar, after all.’
‘That don’t butter no muffins with me, Pearson, you should know that by now. But anyway, let’s not talk about it here. Come on—let’s go and see little Violet.’
They found the maid busy at the kitchen sink, filling the kettle.
‘Hello, Violet,’ said Harley, removing his hat. ‘You remember us, don’t you? We called the other day.’
‘Of course I do! You’re the gentlemen from the police—Mr. Harley and Mr. Pearson. I wrote it down at the time; so as I got it right when I told her Ladyship.’
‘Well, you’re looking like you’ve recovered a bit, after the shock.’
‘Yes, I’m feeling a bit better now, thanks. I thought you might like a cup of tea?’
‘You come and sit down—I’m sure Pearson can do that.’
‘Oh no, I couldn’t let you—’
‘Nonsense! Come on, come and sit here. I bet you’ve been up since the crack of dawn. Go on, Albert—help the lady out there.’
Pearson gave Harley a quick disgruntled look and then relieved Violet of the kettle.
‘There, now. That’s better, ain’t it?’ said Harley taking a seat next to the young woman at the kitchen table. ‘I bet it’s all been a bit of a palaver, ain’t it?’
‘Oh, Mr. Harley, you don’t know the ’alf of it! I’ve been beside meself all day. I just can’t get it out of my head. To think how I nearly killed that wonderful lady—and her one of the nobility, an’ all!’
‘What do you mean, how you nearly killed her?’
‘Well, who brought the bomb in? Who stuck it on the occasional table, right here, in the middle of this lovely home? …’ The tears were returning now, and Violet conjured her slightly damp handkerchief from the sleeve of her tunic. ‘Mum’s always saying I don’t pay enough attention. I should’ve known there was summit wrong; I mean—who just leaves a parcel on the doorstep, and runs off?’
‘Now you listen up, Violet—you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong. D’you understand? You get those silly thoughts right out of your head this instant! After all, you were just doing your duty, right? I mean—how’s it gonna look if Lady Euphemia comes home and finds her post just lying about on the deck in the corridor for anyone to help themselves to, eh?’
‘D’you really think that, Mr. Harley? That I done nothing wrong?’
‘’Course I do—I wouldn’t be saying it otherwise, would I? And it’s George, by the way, remember? The way I see it, Violet, you were in just as much danger as Lady Euphemia … more so, really, seeing as you took the bloody thing in.’
‘Cor, lummy! I never thought about it like that … and what about her Ladyship?’ said Violet, wiping her little red cheeks dry. ‘D’you think she’ll see it the same way? I dunno what I’d do if I lost this job, really I don’t.’
‘I’m sure she’ll see it exactly as I do. In fact, I’ll make sure she does.’
Violet allowed herself a little smile.
‘Oh, you’re ever so kind, Mr. Har … George, I mean.’
‘There we are—that’s what we wanna see! That’s definitely a face for smiles, if ever I saw one.’
But now Violet’s brow wrinkled in contemplation.
‘Gawd—I did, didn’t I? I nearly died! … See, when I picked the parcel up I gave it a little shake, just to see if I could guess what was inside. Oooh, it makes me weak at the knees just to think on it! I mean—what would Mum ’ave said? After losing her sister in the Silvertown explosion during the war; then for me to go and get meself blown up an’ all—she’d have killed me, she would!’
‘Right—that’s enough of that now! No more morbid thoughts … Look, maybe you should give Pearson a hand; I think he’s having a few problems. It’ll take your mind off things.’
‘It’s this electric stove,’ said Pearson, staring at the controls on the oven. ‘I’ve never used one before. How do you light the hob?’
‘Oh no, Mr. Pearson!’ said Violet, immediately forgetting about her recent brush with death and rushing out of her seat to grab the polished chrome kettle from the stove. ‘You mustn’t put it on there—you’ll melt the feet! That was two pound ten, from Selfridges, that was!’
‘Don’t mind him, Violet,’ said Harley, enjoying the look of confusion on Pearson’s face. ‘He’s recently had a bash on the bonce—it’s obviously done some damage.’
‘Well, how am I supposed to boil the water for the tea, then?’
‘It’s an electric kettle, Pearson, you plug it in,’ said Harley with a chuckle.
‘Well, I don’t know, do I? I’m all at sea in the kitchen, to tell you the truth. Mrs. P deals with all that kind of thing in our house.’
‘Yeah, I can see that. Come and sit down, leave it to the professional.’ Harley broke out the cigarettes. ‘Do you smoke, Violet?’
‘Ooh, I mustn’t—not on duty; well, not when her Ladyship is home, anyway.’
‘Go on—I’m sure she’ll understand, in the circumstances.’
‘Do you think? Alright, don’t mind if I do—ta very much!’
She lit the cigarette and blew a plume of smoke towards the ceiling in an affected manner. ‘Mum don’t like me doing it, really,’ she said, breezy now as she continued to prepare the tea. ‘But I sing in the choir at the weekend, see, and they say it’s good for the throat, don’t they? Besides, Marlene Dietrich smokes, don’t she? I love Marlene, she’s so statuesque, ain’t she? I read that in the Movie Classics the other day. It’s her to a “T”, don’t you think? Statuesque.’
‘She is that,’ said Harley, smiling at Pearson.
Violet paused for a moment in her chattering to fill the small milk jug from a bottle out of the fridge and place the rest of the tea things on the table.
‘Tell
me something, Violet …’
‘Yes, Mr. Harley?’
‘The car you saw driving off, after the parcel had been left—was it definitely an Austin 7?’
‘Oh yes, I’m sure of it. Uncle Brian’s got one, you see—he takes us all out on a Sunday, if the weather’s nice. We went all the way down to East Malling last year—hopping for the week. Lovely, it was. Although the bedding in the digs was a bit lively, if you know what I mean. Dad said that we went down there hopping and came back jumping! He’s a proper card he is, my Dad.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ said Harley. ‘But what about the colour? Do you remember what colour this Austin 7 was?’
‘No, I can’t rightly say. I think it was a dark one though.’
‘Dark blue? Or red, maybe?’
‘I dunno … It might have been red—but I’m afraid I couldn’t say for sure … Do you think it was really them—in that car? These anarchists that have been in the paper? Why would they want to blow up the mistress, Mr. Harley?’
‘We don’t know who’s responsible at the moment. But we’re aiming to find out, Violet, don’t you worry about that.’
‘It gives me the willies just to think about it,’ she said, pouring the boiling water into the teapot which she then placed on the table with a cosy over it.
‘What about recent visitors? Anyone come calling in the past fortnight or so?’
‘Well, there’s the Reverend, of course—but then, that’s not unusual.’
‘The Reverend? Reverend Pembroke?’
‘Yes, that’s right—Mr. Pembroke. He’s very involved with the welfare drop-in, you see. And him and her Ladyship are childhood friends, you know … Right, let’s have a drop of this tea, shall we? Both take milk, yes? There’s sugar there, in the bowl.’
‘And how do you find Reverend Pembroke?’ asked Harley, adding sugar to his tea.
‘Oh, he’s awfully nice, really he is … Although …’
‘Yes?’
Violet now leant in close again, and lowered her voice. ‘Well, I don’t like to gossip, but I’m sure I overheard them having a row about something last week. First time I’ve ever heard her Ladyship raise her voice. She normally just gives you a bit of a stare when you’ve done something wrong.’
‘Do you know what they were arguing about?’
‘Ooh no! I wouldn’t ever eavesdrop—wouldn’t be right, would it? Although, between you and me, I think the Reverend has got a bit of a crush on Lady Euphemia.’
‘Well,’ said Pearson, with a sideway glance at his partner. ‘She is a very attractive lady.’
‘She is that,’ said Violet, sipping at her tea with her little finger conspicuously extended.
Just then there was a call from the living room.
‘Oh crumbs!’ squeaked Violet, hurriedly extinguishing her cigarette. ‘That’s her Ladyship! Don’t let on about the fag now, will you?’
‘Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with us, Violet. Of course, it’ll have to go in our report.’ Harley noted the look of horror on the maid’s flushed face. ‘Oh don’t be daft! I’m only playing with you!’
Violet gave him a playful slap to the shoulder and then bustled out towards the living room.
‘So,’ said Harley, when she’d left. ‘Our Reverend Pembroke had a little tiff with Lady Euphemia, did he? And he’s got a crush on her.’
‘Oh come on, Harley! You don’t really think Pembroke’s got anything to do with the dynamite, do you?’
‘What, just because he’s a vicar?’
‘No, not just that. Because he’s also an old childhood friend of hers. And because he’s a man that spends a lot of his time helping others less fortunate than himself.’
‘Hmmm … By the way—have you had any luck in trying to track Pembroke down?’
‘No. I contacted the Bishop’s office—they said there’s a possibility that he’s at a three-day seminar in Wells. They’re getting back to me to confirm.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t necessarily rule him out of anything, Pearson. Remember how he reacted at the soup kitchen? You’ve got to ask yourself why a vicar would be so wary of the police. And then there’s the Austin 7 connection … We know this special delivery to Effie can’t have been down to Kosevich. And all of the other bombings attributed to the Wild Cat International have been just that—actual bombings, all displaying a certain amount of experience with explosives. This one was something entirely different.’
‘But it was the same dynamite though, wasn’t it? You saw that sketch of the Russian stamp—there’s obviously a connection. And what about this character she’s seen skulking about in the shadows? He’s got to be a suspect, surely?’
‘What—the phantom whistler of old London Town? I dunno what to make of that; since she told us about him I’ve been trying to imagine what someone whistling an Indian folk tune would sound like. Can’t for the life of me conjure such a thing, to tell you the truth. But let’s not rule anything out. Maybe Pembroke’s connected to the previous bombings as well. Maybe our mystery whistler’s involved—maybe they’re one and the same bloke.’
‘But where’s the motive?’
‘I dunno yet. But we’re not gonna find out sitting here nattering like old women over our tea now, are we? Come on, let’s get in there and see if we can get anything else from the lady of the house.’
In the living room they were surprised to find a very different Lady Euphemia to the one they’d previously met. No longer looking like the conscientious charity worker, or the professional nurse, here she appeared as a fitting addition to the beautiful furnishings and works of Art—lounging in the doorway, resplendent in a chic Chinese silk dressing gown which clung tightly to her curvaceous form.
‘My goodness, George! You’ve caught me unawares! I was under the impression that everyone had left.’
For the sake of modesty she attempted to pull the sheer material of her dressing gown together at the front, but this merely resulted in giving greater definition to the generous line of her breast.
‘I imagine, gentlemen, that you’re here because of our little surprise delivery?’
‘That’s right,’ said Harley, trying his best to resist gazing at the flash of thigh and stocking-top that could just be glimpsed through the split in the side of the silk gown. ‘We’ve just been asking Violet a few questions.’
‘Well I hope you haven’t been too hard on the poor girl; she’s had quite a shock, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh no, miss,’ said the maid, who was busying herself tidying the coffee table. ‘They’ve been ever so nice, really they have. It was more like a little chat really, over a cup of tea.’
‘Well, that’s as maybe, Violet, but I imagine you’ve had quite enough excitement for one day. Why don’t you finish early, get yourself off home? That’s if Mr. Harley and Mr. Pearson have finished with their questions, of course.’
‘Absolutely,’ said Harley. ‘Thank you, Violet—you’ve been a great help.’ He turned to Pearson and gave him a surreptitious wink. ‘Albert, I wonder if you wouldn’t mind escorting Violet downstairs? And if any of those nice detectives in their Q cars are still stationed outside, perhaps you could persuade them to give her a lift home?’
Pearson gave Harley a resigned sigh and held out his arm to the maid.
‘Come on then, Violet. Let’s see what we can do, eh?’
‘Thank you, miss—much obliged!’ said Violet, giving Lady Euphemia a little curtsey before turning to the policeman. ‘I’ve just got to get my bag first. It’s Camden Town—that won’t be too far, will it, Mr. Pearson?’
‘I’m sure that’ll be fine, Violet,’ he said, ushering her out of the living room.
‘She’s a funny little thing,’ said Euphemia, taking a seat in one of the chic armchairs and indicating that Harley should do the same. ‘A little garrulous at times, but conscientious with it … But, of course, I don’t suppose you approve of the employment of domestic staff, do you, George?’
Harley
smiled. ‘Who’ve you been talking to?’
‘Oh, I’ve just been asking around a little; trying to get the measure of you.’
‘I can’t imagine that you’d know anyone who’d have a clue who I was.’
‘Oh, you’d be surprised …’
‘Go on then—what did you find out?’
‘That you’re possibly the kind of person who doesn’t approve of domestic staff?’
‘Well, things are a lot different now to what they were before the war. And I suppose it depends on what the relationship is, doesn’t it? If it’s just a job, on mutually agreed terms, if each party treats the other with respect—’
‘Oh, come now, George! We both know that what you’re describing is far from Violet’s situation. You’re avoiding the question.’
Harley gave a chuckle. ‘Maybe I am.’
The artful smile that Euphemia now gave him once again reminded Harley of Cynthia—Cynthia in one of her playful, seductive moods.
‘I see you and Mr. Pearson have been exposed to more violence—nothing too serious I hope?’
Harley had forgotten about his black eye. He now probed the tender place on his cheekbone, a little embarrassed at how it might make him appear.
‘It’s nothing—comes with the territory. Pearson’s was a bit more serious, but he’ll bounce back alright … So, tell me—why would you be asking around after me?’
‘Oh, I don’t know—let’s just say you intrigue me.’
‘Is that so?’
She leant forward and opened a lacquered box on the table, exposing a strip of creamy white thigh in the process.
‘Cigarette?’
‘Gold-tipped? Very impressive.’
‘Yes; awfully extravagant, aren’t they? They were a present from Freddie, actually. He gets them made up in St James’s—he was so excited when he discovered it was the same place that Wilde used to get his from.’
‘I take it you haven’t heard from Freddie since we last spoke?’
‘Not a whisper, I’m afraid. Although I think it’s likely he’s abroad—something that my aunt let slip in conversation. He’s safe at least, I know that.’
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