A Case of Blackmail in Belgravia (A Freddy Pilkington-Soames Adventure Book 1)

by Clara Benson

  He stopped, and turned to the other, looking him searchingly in the eye.

  ‘If only one could get into the house,’ he said. ‘I’d go myself, but that wretched servant of his was under instructions not to let me in after we nearly came to blows last time, and I don’t suppose anything’s changed just because he’s dead.’

  ‘Do you wish me to go and see what I can find out?’ said Mahomet.

  ‘Would you? Will his man speak to you?’

  ‘I do not think so. He has made disparaging remarks about my brown skin in the past,’ said Mahomet with perfect equanimity. ‘But there are—other means of finding out what one wants to know.’

  Atherton smiled.

  ‘You’re a wily one,’ he said. ‘I have no doubt that you’ll find a way.’

  ‘There is always a way,’ said Mahomet.

  ‘Very well. You know what to look for,’ said Atherton.

  Mahomet gave a little bow and left the room, and Captain Atherton was left to consider his next move.

  AT TWO O’CLOCK that afternoon, Lady Bendish was gazing mournfully out of the window at her house in Curzon Street, while her son walked up and down the room impatiently. Larry Bendish was dark-haired and handsome, and resembled his mother greatly, although there was an inner energy to him which his mother lacked, and which came from his father.

  ‘You say they don’t know how he died?’ said Larry.

  ‘No,’ said Lady Bendish, without turning away from the window.

  ‘Then there’ll have to be a post-mortem examination. That’s what they do when there’s a suspicious death. They cut them open and poke about, looking for signs of what might have caused it.’

  ‘Please, darling,’ said Lady Bendish, with a pained expression. ‘Must we?’

  ‘Sorry, Mother,’ said Larry. ‘It’s rather fascinating, that’s all.’

  ‘Anyway, I don’t suppose there’s the slightest mystery to it,’ said Lady Bendish. ‘He ate far too much and it was probably some sort of apoplexy. I noticed he was pink in the face and breathing heavily when we all left Babcock’s, but thought nothing of it at the time. Perhaps Cynthia Pilkington-Soames will know something. They went off together in a taxi, so she must have been the last person to see him alive.’

  ‘I hope you’re right about the cause of death,’ said Larry. ‘It’s just queer that the police seem to think it was foul play.’ He threw his mother a look which she did not see. ‘What shall you do now?’ he went on lightly, as though there were nothing in the question.

  ‘Do?’ she said. ‘What is there to do? We must wait, that’s all.’

  ‘Wait for what?’ he said quickly. ‘The police to come? But surely this is the time to act, before—’

  She looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Before what?’ she said. There was the slightest touch of alarm in her tone, and he dared not go on. He looked at the floor.

  ‘Nothing. I just thought you might want to go to his house and pay your respects in person,’ he said.

  ‘To whom? To that manservant of his? What could I say?’

  ‘I don’t know. That you’re very sorry, and that you’ve come to collect—the thing you left at his house.’

  ‘What thing?’ She was even more alarmed now. ‘Really, darling, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t left anything at his house. There’s nothing at all—’ here she broke off, then set her jaw. ‘Why should you think Ticky’s death affects me in any way?’

  ‘I don’t,’ he said. ‘Not if you say it doesn’t.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m sorry he’s gone, of course, but it’s not as though he was a close friend, and I won’t pretend to mourn him. We shall just have to wait and see what happens.’

  Larry sighed. There was no use in trying to continue the conversation, since it was perfectly obvious that she had no intention of being open with him.

  ‘Very well, then, let’s wait,’ he said. ‘I only hope that whatever does happen isn’t too awful.’

  He then left the room, and she gazed out of the window once more.

  ‘I dare say something will turn up,’ she murmured to herself, with furrowed brow.

  BLANCHE VAN LEEUWEN examined her face from all angles in the looking-glass. The new face-powder she had bought from the exclusive and costly shop on Bond Street was a most flattering shade of peach, she decided, and made a mental note to order some more. Her daughter, Amelia Drinkwater, sat curled up in an armchair and observed her dispassionately.

  ‘You don’t seem particularly upset,’ she said.

  ‘I’m not upset at all,’ said Blanche. ‘In fact, I’m as light as air. He was such a bore. It was quite a torture to have to sit next to him for the whole evening.’

  ‘Why did you go, then?’

  Blanche opened her pale blue eyes wide.

  ‘Because one does, of course. And the Pilkington-Soames woman was going, and I couldn’t let her see I was at all bothered by those beastly lies she wrote about me. But the food was dreadful—you know how I hate eating in the evening—and I had to watch him shovelling the stuff into his mouth as though he hadn’t been fed in a week. I’m certain he ordered the most expensive things deliberately, just because he knew he wouldn’t be paying for it. Well, he did pay for it in the end, didn’t he?’

  Here she gave a heartless laugh. Amelia made no comment, but plucked at a loose piece of thread on her sleeve.

  ‘Why was Ticky so popular, anyway?’ she said after a moment. ‘I never liked him myself. He oozed.’

  ‘What an extraordinary word, darling,’ said Blanche, arranging a curl of hair artfully across her cheek.

  ‘Oh, but it’s true. He was rather ghastly. And he didn’t smile so much as leer.’

  ‘One oughtn’t to speak ill of the dead like that, my sweet. If nothing else, it’s terribly unladylike.’

  ‘But you just did it yourself! You said he was a bore.’

  ‘And so he was, I can’t deny it. But let’s not talk about him any more. I’m sick to death of the subject.’

  ‘All right, then, I won’t if you won’t,’ said Amelia. ‘By the way, when’s Andrew back from Singapore? Monday, isn’t it? Do you want me to come with you to meet him?’

  ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you? I had a telegram from him this morning. The business is taking longer than he thought, so he won’t be back for another month at least, and perhaps more.’

  ‘Then why don’t we go and join him? You keep promising me that we’ll travel one day. And then it’s not far from Singapore to Australia. Can’t we go, Mummy? I should love to see Sydney, and all the places you’ve told me about.’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Blanche. ‘I have no intention of going back, so there’s no use in asking me about it.’

  Amelia knew when her mother had made up her mind.

  ‘But won’t you be bored without Andrew for another month?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I can always find something to entertain myself,’ said Blanche, a satisfied smile playing around her pretty mouth. She glanced at the clock. ‘Speaking of which, isn’t it time you were going out to this reception of yours?’

  ‘I’m waiting for Ann and Larry,’ said Amelia. ‘They said they’d call for me, but they’re late.’

  ‘Ann and Larry?’ said Blanche, stopping what she was doing for a second, and turning to look at her daughter. ‘You will be all right, won’t you darling?’

  ‘Of course I will,’ said Amelia.

  ‘I mean, your heart isn’t broken, or anything?’

  ‘Don’t be silly. It was just a childish thing. Ann is my pal, and she and Larry will make a marvellous couple,’ said Amelia stoutly. ‘I shall sit in the front row at their wedding and cheer them on. Figuratively speaking, of course.’ She looked up at her mother. ‘You’re wrinkling your brow, by the way. You know you oughtn’t to do that. Are you worried about me? I told you, there’s no need.’

  ‘I’m not worried about you, darling—or anything el
se for that matter,’ said Blanche, as the doorbell rang and Amelia jumped up. ‘After all, I’m sure nobody will be interested in a few old newspapers,’ she added in a murmur.

  ‘What?’ said Amelia, throwing on her scarf.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Blanche. ‘Now, off you go, and have a lovely time.’

  ‘It will probably be deadly dull,’ said Amelia, and went out.

  FREDDY ARRIVED LATE at Mrs. Belcher’s reception, having gone home for a bite of lunch and unaccountably fallen asleep afterwards, so it was gone four o’clock when he arrived at Sir Aldridge Featherstone’s mansion in Grosvenor Square. The first thing he saw on being ushered into the grand salon was his mother and Nancy Beasley, in earnest conversation with Marjorie Belcher herself. Cynthia spotted him immediately, but affected not to and went on talking, and he narrowed his eyes in exasperation. An enthusiastic woman with a collection box advanced upon him, and within five minutes he had spent seventeen shillings and ninepence on raffle tickets and other donations, and had narrowly avoided being tricked into signing a temperance pledge. He escaped the clutches of the enthusiastic woman, and went across to a long table, spread with a white cloth, behind which two or three slightly defeated-looking young women of the lower classes were standing, waiting to serve him tea. Several others of their kind were standing in a gaggle in one corner, looking and evidently feeling out of place, having been given their tea separately in the less valuable china. They bore patiently the stares of the guests and the loud remarks of the charity ladies, as they were pointed out at every opportunity as shining examples of what a pledge to abstain from drink could do. One of them, Freddy noticed, was eyeing an unattended silver teaspoon with interest.

  Since it was obvious that his mother would be engaged for some time to come, he made a bee-line for someone he recognized. It was Larry Bendish, who was standing in conversation with Ann Chadwick and another young woman.

  ‘Hallo, Freddy,’ said Larry. ‘What are you doing here? Oughtn’t you to be plugging away at a typewriter? Or did they send you to write a story about the evils of the demon drink? Dreadful bore, this sort of thing, but I promised my mother I’d come, and so here I am. You know Ann, don’t you? Of course you do.’

  Freddy said what was proper, and then Ann said:

  ‘Have you met Amelia?’

  Freddy turned to see a girl with neat brown hair and wide, pale blue eyes, and was instantly smitten.

  ‘Amelia Drinkwater. Pleased to meet you,’ said Amelia.

  ‘Oh, I say, what?’ said Freddy idiotically, and forgot to introduce himself.

  ‘I expect you’ve heard about Ticky,’ said Larry Bendish.

  Freddy closed his mouth with a snap and pulled himself together.

  ‘Ticky Maltravers?’ he said, as though he knew several Tickys. ‘Yes, the paper sent me along there this morning.’

  ‘And what did you find out?’ said Amelia with the greatest curiosity. ‘Did you speak to the police? Do they really suspect foul play?’

  ‘They wouldn’t say,’ said Freddy. ‘I don’t expect they know themselves, yet. They’ll have to do a post-mortem to find out how he died.’

  ‘I understand he dropped dead outside his own house,’ said Larry.

  ‘As a matter of fact, it was the house next door,’ said Freddy. ‘He didn’t make it as far as home.’

  ‘But why were the police called at all?’ said Amelia. ‘I mean, who decided his death was suspicious?’

  ‘Ticky’s doctor, I gather. He—er—seemed to think the body had been moved, and thought it needed looking into,’ said Freddy uncomfortably.

  ‘He was moved after he died, do you mean?’ said Larry in surprise. ‘Why would someone do that? And where was he moved from?’

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ replied Freddy, for to tell the truth was obviously impossible.

  ‘Well, it’s all very mysterious,’ said Amelia. ‘I shall be poring over the newspapers to find out what happens next. I do love a good murder.’

  ‘Murder!’ said Ann, laughing. ‘Why, Amelia, I believe your imagination is running away with you. What on earth makes you think he was murdered?’

  ‘I have an instinct for these things. Just you watch—I’ll bet that some time soon we’ll read that they’ve found out he was poisoned or something, and then the police will be all over the place, and Mummy will become even more impossible than she is now. She was at Babcock’s with him last night, for his birthday,’ she explained, in reply to Freddy’s questioning look.

  ‘Really? So was my mother,’ he said.

  ‘And mine,’ said Larry.

  ‘How funny!’ said Amelia. ‘Then we already have three murder suspects. Not that I believe for a moment that my mother would kill anyone, of course.’

  Freddy said nothing, since he could not speak quite so confidently about Cynthia.

  ‘It’s five, if you include Mr. and Mrs. Beasley,’ said Ann. ‘And Captain Atherton was there, too—you know, the explorer.’

  ‘You mean the one who discovered that lost tribe in the Amazon jungle?’ said Amelia. ‘Goodness! Well, that makes six. I expect one of them put something in his food. I wonder which of them it was.’

  ‘I don’t really suppose it was any of them—or anybody at all, in fact,’ said Ann. ‘And I don’t know that it’s a good idea to be talking about murder at this stage. There might be a perfectly ordinary explanation for what happened, and we don’t want people gossiping and pointing fingers at innocent people, now, do we?’

  ‘How sensible you are!’ said Amelia. ‘No wonder Mrs. Beasley can’t do without you.’

  ‘She’ll have to, soon,’ said Larry. ‘I can’t do without her either, and husbands come first.’

  ‘When is it to be?’ said Amelia. ‘And won’t it feel strange to move out of that enormous house in Charles Street, and into a little place of your own?’

  ‘Ann prefers a smaller house, don’t you, Ann?’ said Larry. ‘It’ll be easier for her to look after, since we won’t have a great deal of money to start with, and shall have to struggle along for a little while.’

  ‘I don’t mind that,’ said Ann cheerfully. ‘I’ve always been poor, and I’m used to making do.’

  She and Amelia began to talk of weddings and gowns, and other subjects of interest only to the female mind, and Freddy’s eye wandered away for a moment—fortunately for him, for he just then saw his mother, who was quite obviously trying to sidle out of the room without being seen. Excusing himself quickly, he ran out after her, and caught up with her at the bottom of the marble staircase.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he said.

  She started guiltily.

  ‘Oh, there you are, darling!’ she said. ‘I was just about to go outside and have a cigarette. You know how Mrs. Belcher disapproves of smoking, but there are some things one simply can’t give up, however good the cause.’

  ‘All right, then, I’ll come with you,’ he said.

  ‘There’s no need for that. In fact, I’d far rather you didn’t. I need someone to distract her before she notices I’m missing. I’ll only be five minutes.’

  She made as if to leave, but Freddy caught hold of her arm.

  ‘Not so fast,’ he said. ‘If you think I’m letting you run off, you’re very much mistaken. I want a word with you.’

  Cynthia pouted.

  ‘You’re being very tiresome,’ she said, then sighed as she saw she had been fairly caught. ‘All right, then, if you must. I expect you’re going to bother me about that silly business last night.’

  ‘That silly—’ exclaimed Freddy. ‘Do you call skipping about with a corpse in a toy cart a silly business? I’m living in fear of my life. Why, if the police catch me, who knows what they’ll accuse me of? Aiding and abetting in a murder? Kidnapping? Or will they settle for a lesser charge of dangerous driving with an overloaded vehicle, do you suppose?’

  ‘Shh!’ said Cynthia, glancing about. ‘Not so loud! Don’t be ridiculous. Nobody need know about
it except ourselves, as long as you keep quiet.’

  ‘Except that the police are already investigating,’ said Freddy. ‘Ticky’s doctor saw at once that he’d been moved after he died, and it’s only a matter of time before they find out who did it.’

  Cynthia put her hand to her mouth.

  ‘Oh, goodness!’ she said. ‘Are you sure? Is that why the police were called? I had no idea.’

  ‘Of course that’s why the police were called. Why did you think it was?’

  ‘Why, I don’t know,’ she said vaguely. ‘I can’t say I’d given it much thought.’

  Freddy suppressed the urge to give his mother a good shake.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘You can’t wriggle out of this one. I don’t know what you were thinking of, but it’s perfectly clear we’ve made things ten times worse by doing what we did. If you’d called a doctor straightaway, then everything would have been so much easier. They’d probably have put it down to a heart attack and nobody would have been any the wiser. Now they’re suspicious, and as soon as they find out where he was last night they’ll be sniffing around, asking awkward questions, and then what shall you say? You’ll have to admit everything.’

  ‘I? What have I to admit? You’re the one who did it,’ said Cynthia sweetly. ‘I shall tell them I had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘You wouldn’t!’ he said, aghast.

  ‘Just watch me.’

  As Freddy spluttered with indignation, she put her hand on his arm.

  ‘Look, darling,’ she said persuasively. ‘I expect you’re right—I probably ought to have called a doctor, but the thing’s done now, and if we don’t want to get into trouble, it’s in both our interests to say nothing. Even if they suspect, they can’t prove it, and it’s not as though either of us killed him, is it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Freddy. ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘Of course I didn’t kill him! What a dreadful thing to suggest of your own mother! Freddy, I’m quite shocked at you.’

  ‘I wouldn’t put it past you.’

  ‘Well, I didn’t. It all happened exactly as I told you. He didn’t feel well in the taxi, and then he collapsed outside our house and I—well, I suppose I panicked at the mention of poison.’