Bright Young Dead

by Jessica Fellowes

  Guy pushed into the house, feeling a sharp pain on his cheek and kicks at his legs as he went past the women, but he barely noticed, not caring if he was attacked now. All he knew was that he had to get to Louisa and Daniel; he had to try. Inside it was dark but for a gaslight in the hallway, and all around were noises of chaos and fighting, shouts from men of anger and pain. He started up the stairs. On the first floor a man turned around as Guy approached and made a startled movement when he saw him. He tried to push past Guy to go back down the stairs but Guy blocked him and threw a punch that landed with a satisfying crack on his jaw. The man fell and stumbled down the steps, his feet catching on the rips of the shabby carpet.

  ‘Get him,’ commanded Guy, not looking back but ahead. There was only one closed door, behind which he knew he’d find Louisa, and he needed to be the first man there. Socks had heard his master and leapt at the escaping man, his teeth bared, a growl deep in his throat. By the time Guy was pushing at the door on the second floor, four policemen had come behind him and grabbed the man. Socks turned round and flew up the stairs past Guy, barking at the last closed door.

  * * *

  Marie looked up at Louisa and they held each other’s gaze, their ears as alert as a cat’s on a mouse hunt. They heard the distant sound of a police siren, but one that was coming closer.

  Then the thump of boots coming up the stairs. Louisa sat on the floor, her back to the chest of drawers, her feet up on the side of the bed, using all her strength to press back against the door. Her eyes squeezed tight with the tension and it was all she could do to prevent herself from yelling out in fear and pain. There came heavy footsteps of one man or two, she couldn’t be sure – it was hard to hear above the crowd, the ever-closer sirens, the fight in the room below. A dog began barking outside their door, alerting the man, or men, to the presence of humans and then Louisa felt the pressure of the door being pushed against her. With all her might she pushed back until she heard the man shout: ‘Is Daniel in there? I’m not with them, let me in. Let me in, I say.’ Still, Louisa couldn’t be sure, couldn’t trust the voice.

  Outside there were shouts of ‘Police’ and then the cries started to die away as the mob scattered.

  The pushing against the door stopped and Louisa heard the footsteps run in the hall, away from the door and then towards it at speed before there was a massive shove, one that dislodged Louisa’s feet too. She leapt up, ready to rush at the door, when it opened inches more and she heard the voice calling for Daniel. She knew now who it was. The door was pushed open a tiny bit further and Socks darted in, barking, his claws scrabbling as he skittered on the rug.

  Quickly, Louisa moved the chest away from the door, enough to let Guy in. As the sirens drew up outside she threw herself against his chest and let his strong arms wrap around her. Tears flowed down her face as he bent his head close and spoke softly into her ear. ‘I’m here, the police are here. I’m sorry, so sorry. It’s over now.’

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Guy, and he helped pull Marie off the bed, handing Daniel to her, who was whimpering quietly. ‘Brave boy,’ Guy whispered to him kindly. They could hear that already the noise had died down and there were only the pained shouts of William and Eddy, who had been badly injured. Policemen were all over the house and there were various calls about an ambulance, the need for bandages, a cry for water. On the first floor, the young man who had tried to get past Guy was pinned by two sergeants, and he yelled and kicked out hard. Finally he was brought to stand so that Guy, Marie and Louisa could get past him, but as they did, Daniel cried out, ‘Billy!’

  Everyone had turned to look at the boy, except for the restrained man who twisted his head away.

  ‘Hang on a minute,’ said Guy to the policemen. He walked up to the man who had gone completely quiet and was breathing hard, staring down at the floor.

  ‘Look at me,’ said Guy, adrenalin, fear and relief flooding his body like a medical cocktail to induce invincibility. ‘Look at me.’

  The man lifted his head, though he kept his eyes averted, and Guy saw the grey, rat-like features of the man he had arrested after he had seen him selling drugs outside the 43. ‘Samuel Jones?’ asked Guy, doubt having set in now.

  Marie came up to the man too. ‘That ain’t no Samuel Jones,’ she spat. ‘That’s Billy Masters.’

  * * *

  Down at Tower Bridge police station, there was jubilation when the officers realised that key members of the Forty Thieves and the Elephants had been caught and arrested. But in spite of the celebrations, Guy had been frustrated in his attempt to interview Billy Masters. At Johanna Street, while Billy was being bundled into the police car, Louisa had filled him in about what had happened at the seance and he was keen to know more.

  ‘It’s not your patch, is it?’ one particularly supercilious DI had said, practically elbowing Guy out of the station. In the end, he had had to telephone DI Cornish who had been in the middle of a particularly delicious spotted dick with custard at his club. Eventually, it was agreed that Guy could talk to Billy as part of his own ongoing enquiries into the Forty, and DI Cornish acquiesced to share his leads and information on Alice Diamond’s gang with the Tower Bridge police if it meant getting enough evidence together so that ‘she can be locked up before we throw the key into the Thames’.

  By the time Guy, a plaster on his throbbing cheek, was sitting opposite Billy Masters in an interview room it had already been a long night for them both. A uniformed officer stood in the corner, with Socks curled up by his feet. Billy had been found with a knife in his possession and identified by Eddy Long as one of his attackers: these charges were going to be pressed and taken to trial as quickly as possible. This was in no doubt. What Guy needed to find out now was if he was a murderer, too. DI Cornish sat in on the interview, his black bowtie undone and a cigar out on the table between them.

  ‘We’ve met before, as you recall,’ said Guy.

  Billy, his wrists handcuffed behind the chair, stared back; only the tiniest movement of his shoulder proffered his agreement.

  Guy had his notebook out in front of him and never had he been more grateful for his assiduity in recording details, in spite of the fact that Harry had teased him for being a swot. ‘On the night in question, the fifteenth of December, you were witnessed making a sale of cocaine to a guest of the 43 nightclub and, on arrest, gave your name as Samuel Jones of 48 Maryland Street.’

  Billy made no response to this. Cornish took up his cigar and tapped it on the table top before lighting it slowly, both hands unnecessarily cupped around the flame as if they were on a windy cliff and not in the airless back room of Tower Bridge police station. More style than substance.

  Guy carried on. ‘We can confirm now that your name is William, or Billy, Masters. Is that correct?’

  ‘If you say so.’

  Guy knew this was going to be difficult but Billy Masters didn’t know how determined he was. This was Guy’s moment and he wanted DI Cornish to witness it.

  ‘The cocaine supply you relied upon for your sales to the guests of the 43, and elsewhere no doubt, came from Mr Albert Mueller. Is that correct?’

  ‘I want my lawyer.’

  ‘Look, sonny,’ said Cornish, an effortless bad cop. ‘You haven’t got a lawyer. You’ll get one when you need one. Right now, I suggest you answer these questions if you want a prison sentence and not a hanging. Got it?’

  Billy said nothing but a twitch started up in his right eye.

  ‘Mr Albert Mueller has already confessed that he supplied the illegal drugs to you, as well as identifying the potential customers that you might sell these goods to.’ This was a lie on Guy’s part but one that he felt was necessary. He needed Billy to feel more cornered than a chicken in a shed with a fox. Make that two foxes. ‘I suggest you tell us the truth here, because I’ve got some harder questions coming up for you and you may find it beneficial if you have earned our trust first.’

 
‘I ain’t talking,’ said Billy. He was nothing if not devil-may-care in the face of the law.

  ‘Fine,’ said Guy, flicking over the pages of his notebook. ‘It may also be noted that I’m fairly confident that if I talk to Mrs Sofia Brewster of 92 Pendon Road, she will identify you as a supplier of stolen materials. Goods that appear to have been taken from Debenham and Freebody and Liberty’s, to name but two. Shoplifted by various members of the Forty Thieves and passed on to you for a quick sale. Busy lad, aren’t you?’

  The twitch picked up its pace.

  Cornish lit his cigar and started talking even as the smoke was still streaming from his mouth. ‘The point is, we’ve got Alice Diamond and the rest of them are going to fall like dominoes. Her reign is over and for the likes of you, there’s nowhere to go. If you talk we can make sure the judge looks on your sentencing with lenience. Or, we can force it out of you. Which do you prefer?’

  Guy wished Cornish would leave this interview to him and keep the bullying tactics out of it but he couldn’t begrudge the man. That the queen herself had been arrested tonight, on charges that would stick, was already a cause for celebration. And that Guy had been the one to call the police had earned him a slap on the back. This had been immediately tempered however by Cornish noting the call had been made from a telephone box en route, after Guy’s tip-off from Louisa, and not as a direct result of any investigation.

  ‘Do you or do you not admit to supplying Mrs Brewster with stolen goods, ones that had been passed to you by members of the Forty Thieves?’ directed Guy.

  Billy exhaled. ‘I might’ve gone to Mrs Brewster’s and helped her out with a bit of this and that.’

  There was a pause while Guy weighed up whether or not to press on with the real matter in hand. But, really, what was he waiting for? Courage? Hadn’t he proved he did have that after all?

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  ‘Where were you on the night of Friday twentieth November?’

  Billy looked up sharply at this. ‘What?’

  Guy repeated his question.

  ‘I don’t know. Soho or somewhere, if it was a Friday night.’ But he didn’t look as sure of himself as before.

  ‘Do you know a Miss Dulcie Long?’

  ‘Sort of,’ Billy croaked.

  ‘You see, we think you arranged to meet Miss Long in the bell tower of Asthall Manor, where she was due to hand you jewellery stolen from the house that night.’

  Billy was struck silent but fear showed in his eyes as clearly as a torch light.

  ‘Only, she wasn’t to know that you had already made arrangements with some of the guests at the party that was happening that evening. Lord De Clifford, for one, engaged to Miss Dorothy Meyrick of the 43. Perhaps you were intending to supply the guests with some cocaine – as you usually did for Mr Sebastian Atlas and Mr Adrian Curtis—’

  ‘No!’ Billy shouted but couldn’t move, his own arms pinning his body to the chair.

  ‘You took these cufflinks, didn’t you, in lieu of payment?’ Guy pulled out from his jacket the lapis lazuli cufflinks he had taken off Billy that night; he’d carried them around with him since, like a talisman, hoping they would bring him luck or divine inspiration to solve the connection. Perhaps it had actually worked.

  ‘Only, it wasn’t enough and when Mr Curtis, whom you had arranged to meet in the bell tower, did not hand over the money you were expecting, you got into an argument and pushed him off.’

  ‘No, no, I didn’t.’ Billy was afraid now, his face flushed. Guy saw now how young Billy was. For all his bravado before he looked barely old enough to shave.

  ‘Or did he fall?’ Cornish interrupted. Guy hid his annoyance but he didn’t need Billy to be given a get-out clause like that.

  ‘It didn’t happen like that.’

  ‘Like that? So how did it happen then? Enlighten us please, Mr Masters.’ Guy felt in control now. From here it could only go smoothly. He’d got his man and soon Cornish would be promoting him to CID.

  ‘Yes, I knew that lot would all be there at the party, and I had some idea of supplying them with a bit of cocaine. Nothing much, just a little extra on the side, you know how it is.’

  Guy and Cornish stared at him. Their look told him they did not know how it is.

  ‘Not that they knew I’d be there but Dulcie’d told me about the party. And yes, I’d already arranged to meet her. I’d been told by…’ He stopped and grunted, as if forcing the words out of himself. ‘Has Alice Diamond really been arrested?’

  Guy and Cornish nodded in perfect symmetry.

  ‘Right, well, Alice told me that Dulcie was doing a job for them, so we spoke on the telephone and sorted it to meet at the bell tower. The maids always get their rooms searched first, you see, when stuff goes missing.’

  ‘Carry on,’ said Guy.

  After another pained grunt, Billy said: ‘I was all set to meet her at two o’clock in the morning, so I’d driven down and left my car about a mile down the road and walked to the church. Only I’d misjudged how long it would take and got there a bit early. I went up into the church but before I got to the tower I could hear there was some sort of fight going on, between two men, and I didn’t want no part of whatever was going on there. So I ducked down in between the pews and then a few minutes later it all went quiet and I put my head up a bit and I saw…’

  ‘What did you see, Billy?’ Guy could feel himself on the brink of something major here, as if a crowd was around them, ready to burst into thunderous applause.

  ‘I saw a man running off.’

  That was it? A man running off?

  ‘You didn’t see Dulcie Long?’ asked Guy.

  ‘No, I never saw her. I was early and I’d lent her a watch, to be sure she’d get there on time.’

  ‘Then why haven’t you said anything before? If she’s one of the Forty, why haven’t they found a way to help us prove her innocence?’

  Billy swore under his breath. ‘You lot know nothing, do yer? Because it suited them to have her out of the way. They told me she was threatening to get out and go straight, and that sort of thing makes them nervous. I was told to keep quiet.’

  ‘This all seems very convenient,’ said Cornish. ‘You didn’t do it but you saw “a man” running off.’

  Billy yelled out as if in pain. ‘It wasn’t me! Look, you’ve got me with Mrs Brewster and all the rest of it. And I do a bit of work for the Forty, and a bit of this and that at the clubs. But I’m not a killer, I’d never do that.’

  ‘So who was it, who was the man?’ Guy had to stop himself from turning over the table in frustration.

  ‘I don’t know. It was pitch black in that church, and he had some sort of cloak on, a hood or something. I just know it was a man and he was running fast.’ Billy’s breathing came and went in staccato bursts.

  Cornish stood up and did up the buttons on his jacket. ‘Right, I’m off. Sullivan, get this man arrested and charged for the various confessions here. You’d better let the local DI near Asthall Manor know about this, and I expect he’ll take it from here. Might want to interview Mr Masters himself.’ He nodded to the uniform in the corner. ‘Night, all.’

  It wasn’t Dulcie Long and it wasn’t Billy Masters.

  Who killed Adrian Curtis?

  Guy was going to have to go to Asthall Manor and find out.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  The Evening Standard, Thursday 24 December 1925

  STREET DOOR SMASHED IN

  HOUSE INVADED BY MEN AND WOMEN

  REMARKABLE POLICE COURT STORY

  A remarkable story of a raid on a house by over a score of people was told at Tower Bridge Police Court, London, yesterday, when Alice Diamond (23), Bertha Scully (22), Billy Masters (23) and Phillip Thomas (30) were charged on remand with being concerned together in maliciously wounding William Long and Edward Long, his son, at Johanna Street, Lambeth, on Monday night, December 21st, by cutting them on the head and arms with some sharp instrument. Scully and Masters w
ere charged also with assaulting Sergeant Sullivan, and Scully with obstructing the police. All were now charged with causing malicious damage at 33, Johanna Street, to the value of £8 17s. 6. Maggie Hughes, aged 27, was also in the dock to answer the first and last charges.

  * * *

  Lord Redesdale folded the newspaper and put it down on the side table next to his armchair. ‘Seems your friend Sullivan was quite the hero,’ he said drily. The news that Louisa had had a part in this riot had been received coolly by her employers. She knew it had unsettled them to discover that she had kept close ties with Dulcie Long.

  All of the Mitford children and their parents were gathered in the library for tea, and Louisa had brought in the newspaper, by way of breaking further news. It was Christmas Eve but the rush of parties was over, with Lady Redesdale content to refuse any further invitations for the week except for shoots. As far as she was concerned, this was when no work was done, except by the servants. The younger girls, Unity and Decca, had already started to take on the glazed look of overfed piglets, resistant to their father’s insistence that they go outside and instead lying on the sofas reading until he swore they’d go blind with it. An enormous jigsaw puzzle lay on a long table at the back of the library, two-thirds completed, and Debo sat below the heavily decorated tree, picking up and shaking each wrapped present. Diana and her aunt, Iris, were deep in conversation, talking at length and seriously though Louisa suspected it was about nothing more earth shattering than the latest fashions and hairstyles. Diana made no secret of the fact that she was already preparing for her debutante season, a mere two and a half years away, in spite of her frequent moans that she would die of boredom long before that.