A Medal For Murder: A Kate Shackleton Mystery

by Frances Brody

  A loud knocking came from the front door. For a second Meriel froze. Then she said, ‘Why doesn’t the captain answer?’

  ‘Perhaps he’s not in.’

  ‘He’s always in.’

  As the knocking started again, Miss Fell’s Pekinese began to bark.

  Meriel scooted up the back stairs, shot back the bolt on the inner door, and listened. A moment later, she ran back downstairs.

  ‘Miss Fell’s answered them. It’s the police, asking to talk to me.’ Alarm flickered in her eyes. ‘What do they want now?’ She moved the flower vase from the table to the corner of the room.

  ‘It won’t be about that,’ I said. ‘Perhaps because they’ve arrested Monsieur Geerts, they have further questions.’

  ‘Why me?’

  Footsteps came along the hall, followed by a gentle tapping on the door at the top of the back stairs, ‘Miss Jamieson?’ Miss Fell’s voice trilled. ‘A visitor.’

  ‘We’ll go,’ I said. ‘Leave you to it.’

  ‘One sec,’ Meriel said. ‘Take something to the Grand for me would you? Save me breaking my arms carrying all my worldly goods.’

  She grabbed a carpet bag, dropped a pair of shoes into it, scooped skirts and blouses from the tea chest, a small attaché case and theatre scripts from a pile on the floor. ‘Just save me a trip. I shall collect it later, when we meet up for our drink.’

  Sykes took her bag, and picked up mine. ‘Of course, if it helps.’

  ‘Shoo, shoo,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to be caught up.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘They’ll probably want to speak to me again too. Good luck.’

  We left by the side door, walking up the outside steps as she mounted the inner stairs to let the policeman come down.

  ‘What’s she up to?’ Sykes asked as we walked to the Jowett.

  ‘Search me.’

  ‘I’d rather search this bag. I know she’s your friend . . .’

  ‘I don’t fool myself that she’s my friend. When she soars in theatrical circles, I’ll never hear from her again.’

  Sykes laughed. ‘Unless you book a room at the Grand Hotel.’

  ‘And champagne. Though I’m sure she’ll have her fill of that from her badger boy.’

  We got into the car. I sat in the driver’s seat, Sykes in the passenger seat. The carpet bag loomed between us.

  ‘You or me?’ Sykes asked.

  I pulled on my gloves. ‘If you’ll put the clothes in the back . . .’

  With the shoes, clothes and scripts removed, the attaché case sat lonely at the bottom of the bag. I lifted it onto my lap, half-expecting to find a set of matching knives, missing the one which had been left in Mr Milner’s heart. Though what motive could Meriel have had for murdering Mr Milner? After all, he had taken out a full-page advertisement in her programme and his son had proved an able leading man, as well as stumping up twenty guineas.

  The catch did not give.

  Sykes went to the rear of the car, taking the carpet bag and the clothing with him. He returned with a set of small keys.

  The fourth key opened the case. The two blue cloth bags contained three watch chains, a diamond bracelet, two wedding rings, an emerald and pearl ring and a set of gold cufflinks and tie pin, and two pocket watches.

  I started the car. The last thing we needed was to draw attention to ourselves.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Sykes asked. ‘The bobby will already have spotted the car.’

  ‘Yes but we needn’t rub it in. Don’t want to be sitting here admiring stolen jewellery when he comes out. ’

  I did not drive far, turning the corner and drawing in a few yards, towards the gates of an athletic club where two other cars were parked.

  Sykes climbed out and retrieved the carpet bag. Carefully, I replaced the attaché case in a nest of skirts and dresses next to a pair of dance pumps.

  ‘Do you remember that Mr Moony described a heady smell, like polish and roses, when the robber brought out a handkerchief to wipe his brow?’

  ‘Yes,’ Sykes said.

  ‘It was from Meriel’s Darjeeling tea chest.’ Fury with Meriel tightened every muscle in my body. Stealing milk, eggs, flowers, I could understand. I had even pitied her poverty. But this was in a different league. ‘And the false address she gave Mr Moony when pretending to pawn a watch chain – she knew I lived in Headingley.’

  ‘Yes,’ Sykes agreed. ‘It was the first thing that came into her head. Your friend’s next theatrical production will be in Holloway. Do they have a theatre there?’

  ‘Not last time I looked. Anyway, she’s not my friend. She made use of me – to provide free photographs for her production, chat to her main programme sponsor and butter up her producer friend. The captain’s right. She’s an adventuress.’

  ‘But you can’t help liking her,’ Sykes said.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘A lot of criminals are charming, Mrs Shackleton,’ Sykes said gently. ‘Not the everyday fools and knaves, but the smart ones.’

  ‘Our priority is to return the goods to Mr Moony. Ask him to confirm that these are the stolen items.’

  ‘And have Miss Jamieson arrested on suspicion,’ Sykes said.

  A whopping snowdrift of reluctance hit me in the chest. ‘I want to confront her about this now, but without the complication of a Harrogate bobby on the scene.’

  ‘He’d be a good witness,’ Sykes said thoughtfully.

  ‘We’re the ones holding the stolen goods. She’ll deny all knowledge.’ I could picture the puzzled shake of Meriel’s head, and hear her denial, “Nothing to do with me. Can’t imagine where that’s come from.”

  ‘Mr Sykes, I’m getting to know her. Too well. I don’t want her to have the opportunity to wriggle her theatrical bottom out of this one.’

  Sykes jumped out of the car. ‘I’ll tell you when the coast is clear.’

  After a few moments, he returned. ‘The bobby’s gone.’

  I turned round the car and headed back to number 29.

  I walked slowly round to Meriel’s flat, Sykes behind me. Through the window, I saw that Meriel was packing a second bag. The dismay at seeing me and Sykes lasted no longer than a fraction of a second. A glowing smile lit her face as she opened the door.

  ‘Kate, do you mind if I see you down at your hotel? Apparently I’m wanted at the Prince of Wales for a further interview. The police have set up an HQ there. Don’t they just like to be mysterious? I expect they’ll want you too. I’ll need to tell the police where I can be contacted in case I’m needed for poor Mr Milner’s inquest or anything of that sort.’

  ‘Just a couple of questions first, Meriel.’

  Reluctantly, she opened the door.

  Sykes swung her carpet bag onto the table. He opened it. I lifted out the attaché case.

  ‘Goodness me, what dramatic gesture is this?’ Meriel asked.

  Sykes stepped back, leaving the two of us to confront each other across the table.

  ‘What were you doing last Monday morning?’

  ‘Monday morning? Having my breakfast probably.’

  ‘Meriel, you know what’s in this attaché case. Do you have anything to say about it before we call the police?’

  ‘No idea what’s in it. I’m looking after it for someone.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘I’d rather not say, especially since it’s causing you to turn puce and nasty.’

  Sykes stepped behind Meriel and silently delved into the tea chest. Meriel had begun to transfer its contents into a suitcase. He held up a man’s suit jacket in a thin grey stripe, a pair of grey flannel trousers, and a pair of Oxford brogues. ‘Were you going to leave these behind?’ Sykes placed the jacket, trousers and brogues on the table. Meriel dropped the shoes onto the floor. ‘It’s unlucky to put shoes on a table.’

  ‘Only new ones,’ I said. ‘And I think your luck’s run out, Meriel. Mr Sykes, check the suitcase for a man’s shirt and tie. Oh, and the
re should be a darkish raincoat and a homburg.’

  ‘Oh for heaven’s sake, Kate, it was a spur of the moment action. I went to the pawnbroker’s as a favour to Lucy. She told the mad old bird upstairs she’d redeem a pledge for her. I wanted Lucy to rest and not break her concentration. She’s worked so hard on being Anna. I couldn’t risk her turning in a bad performance because she’d been trotting about all day on the old fool’s errand.’

  ‘So you dressed up as a man, got a watch chain from somewhere . . .’

  ‘Borrowed it.’

  ‘Borrowed from?’

  ‘From Dan Root.’

  ‘Did he know you’d borrowed it?’

  ‘I don’t have to answer all these questions.’

  ‘Oh but you do. And straight answers too, for once. You even gave Mr Moony an address in Headingley, near me.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t know you’d come hunting me down. I was going to pawn Dan’s chain till we had our week’s takings, that was all. He kindly said I could. You don’t know what it’s like to be on your uppers. Dan does. You can’t imagine how hard it is to put a production together when you’re hungry and don’t know where your next meal is coming from. And you’re being hounded to pay the rent by a mean old tartar. Do you know how much our dear sweet captain of a landlord tries to extract from me for this place? Eight shillings a week! That’s robbery if you want robbery.’

  ‘You terrified Mr Moony.’

  ‘Never. I wouldn’t hurt a fly. Honestly. I just gave in to temptation, seized the opportunity.’

  ‘You throttled him.’

  ‘What?’ She looked genuinely surprised. ‘I studied stage fighting, it’s true, but I never throttled anyone in my life. That I do swear to. He was fiddling about with his bags, and I’d got myself into this pickle because I’d paid some small bills from the money to redeem the diamond ring, and while he was fiddling I just . . . well, it took me two minutes to nip round the counter and snatch the bags. It was temptation. He should have been more careful.’

  I felt like hitting her. ‘You committed a serious crime. These are precious items, entrusted to the pawn-broker because the owners were hard up. Don’t you feel any remorse?’

  Remorse. The word touched a chord in Meriel. She knew how to play remorse. Her hand went to her heart. ‘I’ve had an ache here ever since it happened. Didn’t you notice last night how I tossed and turned? Why do you think I entrusted this damned attaché case to you? I couldn’t think what to do with it.’

  Sykes cut through in his flat matter-of-fact policeman’s voice. ‘It can be tricky, divesting yourself of stolen goods. And you don’t get a fraction of the true value.’

  Meriel placed the palm of her right hand on the table, as though it were a bible and she were swearing her oath. With deep earnestness, she said, ‘I am truly so glad you opened that case. I was working out how to return the goods. It’s hard to know how to go back on something, change the past, turn around a situation.’

  Sykes looked at me quickly. I knew what he was thinking. All thieves squeal, he would say. This was a just a variation on the theme. All shoplifters ask to be let off because of their special circumstances.

  ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Something I have to get from the car,’ I said.

  Meriel’s sheer effrontery and her manipulative way of pretending remorse infuriated me. She had played me for a fool.

  Well, it was completely straightforward. We must return the recovered pledges to Mr Moony, and inform the police.

  Meriel looked askance when I returned with my camera and handed the flash gun to Sykes. She was not the only person who could act a part. In my best prison wardress voice, I said, ‘Mr Sykes, please turn your back while Miss Jamieson dons these items of male attire.’

  ‘No! I won’t do it. What are you playing at?’ She took a step back.

  ‘I’m not playing. Just put on your robber costume, Meriel, and I shall take your photograph. Or would you prefer Mr Sykes to catch up with the constable? It’ll thrill him to bits to arrest a jewellery thief when he was only here to deliver a message. Promotion in no time.’

  Sykes turned his back.

  Meriel said, ‘Kate, I’ll do anything if you’ll just understand that it was completely out of character for me to steal those jewels.’ She divested herself of her skirt and pulled on the trousers, hitching the braces over her shoulders. ‘And there was nothing sinister about my dressing up like this. I often do it. Makes it so much easier to travel about without all the restrictions and stares that attach to being female.’

  ‘The tie,’ I said. ‘Same kind of knot as last Monday. Windsor knot, probably. Funny isn’t it how it’s the knot we women always go for. And slip on the jacket. We’ll have the attaché case in the picture. And now, the raincoat.’

  Once fully dressed in her jewel thief outfit, she thought better of the situation. She shook her head. ‘Dear Kate! You can’t do this to me. Take the jewellery, just take it and go.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Can I turn round now?’ Sykes asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I answered.

  ‘Two choices,’ Sykes said, raising the flash gun. ‘Do as my gaffer says or I’ll manage to find a pair of handcuffs in one of these pockets and we’ll drive you to the station.’

  Meriel gulped. ‘I can’t!’

  ‘Yes you can.’

  ‘Dash it all, Kate. You’re supposed to be on my side.’

  ‘I’m working for the pawnbroker. Where’s the hat? A homburg, I think?’

  ‘Haven’t got it. Left in wardrobe at the theatre. Wish I’d done the same with this lot.’

  ‘Ready, Mr Sykes? Miss Jamieson only has to put on her shoes and open the attaché case. I’ll set the attaché case just here, in the centre of the table. We’ll have a fine shot. In fact, it would be rather good if you’d sit on the edge of the table, then I get the shoes in. Where’s the key?’

  She drew a slender chain from her neck and lifted it over her head. ‘This is it.’

  ‘Then open the case.’

  Her face turned to stone. She did as I asked.

  Sykes clicked the flash. I took the photograph.

  She said, ‘You’re trying to humiliate me.’

  ‘I think we’ll have a signed admission, too. Photographs aren’t always trusted these days.’

  Meriel reached for my arm. ‘If I help you to find Lucy, will you let me off?’

  ‘I don’t need to find Lucy, not now that we’ve recovered the stolen property. Lucy’s out of the picture.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Escort you to the police station,’ Sykes said sharply.

  I cleared my throat. ‘Mr Sykes?’

  We stepped out onto the path into the stillness of the evening. Somewhere a fire had been started in a back garden. There was a faint whiff of smoke.

  I told Sykes my idea. ‘I think we should deal with this matter ourselves. Mr Moony wants his pledged goods returned. He may not want publicity, not to say the ridicule of having it known that he was robbed by a woman who denies she did any more than snatch and run.’

  He shook his head emphatically. ‘No, Mrs Shackleton. We can’t let her off. She’s committed a felony.’

  ‘Let’s not be hasty. We need time to think. Our priority is to return the goods to Mr Moony. He will have his first good night’s sleep since the robbery. Let him decide whether to press charges.’

  ‘With all due respect, that is no way to go on. The woman’s an out-and-out thief. And if we don’t grab her now, she’ll be gone by tomorrow.’

  ‘I will know where to find her.’

  Sykes gritted his teeth.

  I went back inside. ‘You’re not out of the woods, Meriel. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

  As I closed the door and stepped outside, I caught the smoke, which gave off an acrid stench. Sykes beckoned to me from further along the path. I followed him to the rear of the house, hearing the crackle of a fire.

  ‘Is that t
he captain?’ Sykes asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  The old man stood by a fiercely blazing bonfire, piled with flaming papers, scorching coats, boxes and caps. A strong whiff of paraffin told me he meant business. As we moved closer, he tossed the last contents of a cigar box into the flames. Photos curled at the edges and turned black.

  ‘You were right about him,’ Sykes said softly. ‘He’s burning the evidence of the past.’

  ‘And we’re too late to do anything about it.’

  Although I had asked Miss Fell to keep him talking while I had taken my second look at the secrets in the attic, his sixth sense must have come into play. No longer would he leave himself open to discovery.

  It was still a puzzle to me. If he really were the batman who had taken the place of his captain, who was Lucy?

  I stepped up to the fire. Red sparks flew skywards as the captain poked a half-burnt sheet of parchment with a stick. It flamed and turned to ash.

  ‘What are you doing, Captain?’

  He glanced at me. In the absence of a hat to raise, he touched his forehead in a polite gesture. ‘Sorry I was a little hasty earlier, Mrs Shackleton. I know you were only doing your best. Only you see, I don’t need your help now.’

  ‘Have you heard more from Lucy?’

  ‘No.’ Once again, his attention was on his fire. ‘But I shall be at the designated place on Monday, at the designated time. I know what to do now.’

  I let Sykes drive back to Leeds in the hope that it would keep him quiet. As a learner driver, he had not fully mastered the art of driving and talking. For a while, that worked – until we reached the turnoff to Pannal where I had visited Miss Weston earlier in the day, bearing chocolates and the news that she may never see her uncle’s watch chain again. Just as I considered a detour to reclaim the chocolates, Sykes, unfortunately, found his tongue. He returned to his theme.

  ‘Meriel Jamieson is a thief, Mrs Shackleton. We can’t let her get away with it.’ With an air of great patience, he began to explain why. ‘This isn’t like searching for missing persons, where no crime has been committed. Miss Jamieson attacked Mr Moony. And don’t let her kid on it was spur of the moment, otherwise why did she go in disguise, dressed as a man?’