Gallows Court
Page 10
To cover his confusion, he stammered, ‘But… how do you know my name, and where I work?’
‘Your lady friend introduced you, surely you’ve not forgotten? She was obviously very proud of your work as a reporter. Somehow or other, you… stuck in my mind.’
‘You have quite a memory, Miss Delamere. So what can I do for you? Of course I’d love to help, if I can.’
‘You’re good at asking questions, Mr Flint. Answering them may take a little time.’ She glanced at Peggy, whose mouth had dropped open as she listened shamelessly. ‘Is there somewhere private we could talk? It won’t take long. Tonight I’m performing at the Inanity as usual, and I daren’t be late. To tell you the truth, I shouldn’t be here at all.’
A tremble had come into her voice. What was she afraid of?
‘We can go across the road, and have a drink in the Wig and—’
‘No, please.’ She breathed out, visibly striving to calm herself. ‘Do not take this amiss, but we must not be seen in public together.’
‘But a private club…’
‘No.’ Incredibly, she was pleading with him. ‘It is not… safe.’
He thought quickly. ‘There’s an empty office at the back of this building. Nobody will disturb us there.’
‘Thank you, Mr Flint… May I call you Jacob?’
‘Please.’
‘And I’m Sara. Oh, I’m so grateful to you, Jacob. I had to talk to someone, and I couldn’t think of anyone else. Your report in this morning’s paper spurred me. I felt I could rely on you.’
Sara might have the jitters, but he found it hard not to swagger as he led her down the narrow corridor which ended at Tom Betts’ door. The office remained as Tom had left it, a jumble of papers, books, and chewed pencils. This chaotic haven was his refuge from the austere tidiness of the flat off Farringdon Road. On the cluttered desk, tucked under the typewriter and barely visible, was a dusty photograph. Jacob tugged it free, and found himself looking at Lydia Betts perhaps fifteen years earlier, smiling shyly at the camera.
Sara Delamere wriggled out of her coat, and he hung it up on the door. She wore a striking gown of gold tissue, furred at the neck and wrists with long-haired, creamy fox. An outfit more in keeping with his idea of an actress’s clothes, if hardly as daring as Queen Nefertiti’s stage costume. He pulled up a chair for her, and settled himself behind the desk. It felt almost indecent to take the place of a man hovering between life and death, but Betts himself had said that no journalist could afford to be sentimental.
‘You have a story to share, Miss Delamere.’ Having recovered his composure, he bestowed an encouraging smile. ‘Please tell it in your own way and your own time.’
She cleared her throat. ‘It’s funny, you know. On a stage, I can lose myself in the performance. Talking to you is different, somehow.’
He felt himself colouring again. ‘Well, I don’t bite.’
She cast him a shy glance. ‘My upbringing wasn’t easy, but I set my heart on going on the stage. As a child, I found stories about witches and wizards, and the spells they cast, entrancing. I became fascinated by magic. John Nevil Maskelyne was my hero. Eventually, William Keary heard that I was a half-decent conjuror. You must know of him.’
Jacob nodded. ‘They say he’s the most versatile performer in the West End. Also the richest. Owns the Inanity, doesn’t he? With a finger in plenty of other pies.’
‘Mr Keary – William – gave me my break. Over time, I climbed up the bill. Eventually I dreamed up Queen Nefertiti. By then, though I say it myself as shouldn’t, I’d become adept as a magician. I adored ambitious illusions. Levitation, bringing automata to life…’
‘Elaine and I enjoyed your finale, the cremation trick,’ Jacob said. ‘How you did it, I’ll never know.’
She gave a little giggle. ‘I’m afraid that must remain my little secret, Mr Flint, but thank you kindly. William showed faith in me, and I’ll always be grateful, but…’
‘But?’
‘I don’t care for the company he keeps.’ She swallowed. ‘There were two men in particular who had a stake in the theatre. One was Claude Linacre.’
Jacob sat up straight. ‘The man who murdered Dolly Benson?’
‘That’s right.’ Sara shivered. ‘I detested him. For all his wealth and education, his behaviour was disgraceful. Called himself an artist, and one day he asked if I’d like to be his muse – sauce! I told him where he could stick his paintbrush. He took a shine to Dolly, but of course, I never imagined he’d kill her when she spurned his advances. You may recall her fiancé, George Barnes, works as a stagehand at the theatre. He’s a hot-tempered fellow, and the police thought he’d suffocated Dolly in a fit of rage after she broke off their engagement. If I’d spoken out sooner, he would have been spared the misery…’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself. You’re speaking out now.’
Her smile shone with gratitude. ‘Then there was Mr Pardoe, the banker. He was another I never cared for. Careless about where he put his hands whenever he talked to any of the girls in the show.’
‘What about Pardoe?’
‘I heard him talking to William the day before that poor woman was butchered in Covent Garden. That’s why I’ve come to see you. I read your article in the Clarion. You were there when Pardoe’s body was found. And your report mentioned Judge Savernake.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Pardoe talked about a woman called Rachel Savernake. He became very heated and loud, that’s how I happened to overhear. It was just before the show was due to start, and I was in my dressing room. William’s room is next door. You know which part he plays?’
Jacob shook his head. ‘His name wasn’t in the programme. Elaine was disappointed not to see him.’
‘It amuses William to keep it a secret, but he’s Nefertiti’s foil at the climax of the show. You remember Anubis?’
‘The god of death, with the jackal’s head,’ Jacob said. ‘The creature Nefertiti destroys, only to bring him back to life.’
‘Exactly. Well, I heard Pardoe demanding whether William knew what this woman was up to. William must have said no, because Pardoe started yelling. He said Rachel Savernake should stop prying into other people’s business, or she’d pay for it. If he didn’t deal with her, others would. William tried to pacify him, but Pardoe ranted like a madman, it was horrible. In the end, William told him to leave. The show was due to begin, but I could see he was distressed. When we were alone, I asked what was wrong, but he brushed it off, and said he’d never felt better.’
‘You didn’t mention what you’d heard?’
‘Absolutely not!’ Her face creased in horror. ‘I’d hate him to think I was a nosey parker. I worried myself sick, trying to decide what to do. And then I read your report, and discovered that Pardoe was a murderer. The beast who killed that poor woman in Covent Garden.’
‘Was William Keary on good terms with Pardoe?’
‘William is the life and soul of any party. Five minutes after you meet him for the first time, it’s as if he was a lifelong friend. Pardoe was a dull dog, and slimy with it. They had nothing in common.’
‘Except money.’
She sniffed. ‘I suppose so.’
‘I’m still not clear why you came to see me.’
‘Because I’m afraid for this woman, Rachel Savernake. I can’t pretend to understand what I heard, but Pardoe was a murderer, and so was Linacre. I believe there’s a threat to her life, even though Pardoe is dead. He was in cahoots with some vicious folk.’
‘Have you considered going to the police?’
She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Out of the question!’
‘Because of your loyalty to your employer?’
Her slender body was shaking. ‘You don’t understand, Jacob. All I will say is that, by giving me a chance at the Inanity, William Keary rescued me from… personal humiliation. I am forever in his debt.’
‘You’re right, I don’t quite…’
He didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry that…’
‘No, I’m sorry. Coming here was a mistake. I presumed too much on the slenderest acquaintance.’ She sprang to her feet. ‘Thank you for listening to me, Mr Flint. I apologise for disturbing you. Please forget this conversation ever took place.’
As she opened the door, he said, ‘Wait a moment!’
She turned to face him. Tears filled her eyes.
‘I’d like to help you. I simply don’t know what you want.’
‘I’m not sure I know myself. It was stupid of me to come here. Too much of a risk. I should keep my nose out of other people’s business. Goodbye, Mr Flint.’
She trotted out into the corridor, but he raced after her, and caught up before they reached the entrance lobby. ‘Please,’ he panted. ‘Just tell me – what you want me to do.’
Her face crumpled, and he felt sick in his stomach. Could this fragile, frightened woman really be the Egyptian Queen of Magic and Mystery, who strode around the stage with panache, holding audiences in the palm of her hand with her dazzling blend of prestidigitation and showmanship?
‘I’m all of a muddle, Mr Flint. How can I tell whether what I overheard meant something or nothing? Pardoe’s death may have finished the whole rotten business. I’m probably torturing myself for no good reason.’
‘You don’t really believe that.’
‘No.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I suppose I don’t.’
‘Then – what?’
Her voice shook. ‘Remember what happened to Dolly Benson and Mary-Jane Hayes. I’m sure Rachel Savernake will be next.’
Juliet Brentano’s Journal
1 February 1919
Henrietta is my only visitor. She’s kindness itself, and knows better than to mither me about keeping the room clean and tidy. It’s not as if she hasn’t enough on her plate. In the village, people despise the Judge. Anyone who works for him risks being treated as an outcast. That is why, when he tried to hire a butler, he finished up with Brown, the coarsest man I have ever met. I don’t believe Brown is really a butler at all. I saw the way he looked at my mother, and even at the odd-job man’s sister, whenever she was dragooned into lending Henrietta a hand.
It’s hard to believe that barely a week has passed since my father rejoined us after his long absence. He looked twice as old as the boisterous soldier who said the fighting would be over by Christmas, and promised us escape from the city while he taught the Hun a thing or two.
I’d never met the Judge before I came to the island in 1914. Nor had Mother. We didn’t belong in decent society, though I never realised until Rachel told me so.
The night before my parents disappeared, I overheard them talking as they shared a bottle of wine. My father said how bitterly he regretted sending us to Gaunt. He’d just had his first glimpse of Rachel’s true nature.
‘The little minx claimed she felt a burning pain close to her heart, and pleaded with me to… examine her. When I declined, and said we must call a doctor, she flew into a vicious fury. I said I’d tell the Judge how she behaved.’
‘A waste of time,’ Mother said wearily. ‘The old man’s brain is mush, and she twists him around her little finger. I never knew a child so intent upon controlling people, like marionettes in a puppet show. She hoped to lure you into an indiscretion, so she could blackmail you into doing her bidding. That’s how she enslaved that vile beast Harold Brown.’
‘I must take you both away from here.’
‘At low tide tomorrow, please. There’s no time to lose. If you have rebuffed Rachel, she will not take it kindly.’
My father snorted. ‘What can a child do?’
I could understand his scorn. He’d survived the war; what threat could be posed by a fourteen-year-old girl?
But the next morning, Henrietta told me my parents were missing.
11
William Keary held Rachel’s hand for five seconds longer than politeness between strangers customarily allowed. She guessed he’d intended to bestow a kiss, before thinking better of it. Such restraint was not in his nature, but not even he would take liberties with a Savernake.
A fragrant young waiter had ushered Rachel to her host’s table, discreetly situated in a corner at the rear of the Restaurant Ragusa. Taking their places in the opposite corner were members of a classical trio. The hanging silk balloon lights, lush vermilion carpet, and patterned yellow brocade curtains created a mood of luxurious self-indulgence if not outright decadence, while the display of a massive bottle of 1860 liqueur brandy emphasised that the glories of the Restaurant Ragusa encompassed alcohol of rare distinction as well as the most lavish and expensive fare in London.
‘You enjoyed your visit to the gallery?’ he asked.
‘It was… memorable.’
‘Perhaps one day you will grant me the privilege of taking a look at your… works of art.’
Rachel smiled. ‘Equally, I’d love to attend one of your performances at the Inanity.’
‘You shall have the finest seat in the house! A marvellous show is running at present. My role is rather… untypical. A welcome respite from sketches and song-and-dance routines.’
‘Did I hear that you’re collaborating with a female illusionist?’
‘Nefertiti, yes – the dear girl is wonderfully gifted. Capable of making any man believe in magic. Her speciality is making automata behave like human beings that live and breathe. Together we offer an even more dazzling spectacle.’ He leaned across the table, and dropped his voice to a sombre whisper. ‘I play Anubis, God of Death and the Afterlife. Nefertiti cremates me… and then she gives me the gift of life again.’
‘How marvellous,’ she whispered, ‘to possess such power over life and death.’
Holding her gaze, he picked up the menu. ‘May I recommend the Dalmatian curry? An unlikely confection of onions, tomatoes, and fruit, with eggs mixed in at the end of the cooking, and rather splendid. In either case, I’m tempted to suggest chestnut chocolate Ragusa as a suitably sinful dark dessert.’
At the snap of his beautifully manicured fingers, the waiter materialised, a genie summoned from a bottle. A hint of musky perfume clung to the boy’s skin. High cheekbones attested to Slavic origins, and Rachel noticed that his colleagues were all cast from the same mould. Slender, pretty, and not a day over twenty-one. As the boy disappeared into the kitchen with their order, Keary confided that the esoteric tastes of the proprietor, an exile from the Balkans, were by no means confined to food and drink.
‘Luko is a born artist. One deduces as much from his choice of decor, even if one is not by nature inclined to play the detective.’ He threw a glance at her. ‘Speaking of which, a little bird told me that you interested yourself in the dreadful tragedy that befell us at the Inanity.’
‘I have a lifelong interest in crime. Perhaps I should blame heredity.’
‘The Judge owned the finest private library in Britain, did he not? His collection of books about crime and criminals was his pride and joy.’ Keary chuckled. ‘During those long winter nights on that lonely island, I suppose you spent many hours browsing among the titles.’
‘You suppose correctly,’ she said. ‘Almost everything I know, I owe to that library. I devoured any book I could lay my hands on, from Blackstone to Sir Richard Burton, from Defoe to Dumas. Only lately have I developed a taste for Mr Austin Freeman and Miss Sayers.’
The classical musicians started to play, and Keary tapped his fingers on the table. ‘Do you care for Schubert?’
She smiled. ‘I prefer Rudy Vallee.’
The waiter arrived with their meals, and fluttered long lashes at Keary as he poured the wine for tasting. The Irishman sniffed thoughtfully before granting approval with a grin a
s warm as a furnace. The curry was hot and sweet, and Rachel savoured each mouthful. At length, Keary pushed his plate to one side.
‘You were so shocked to hear about poor Dolly’s murder that you set about finding the man responsible?’
‘I never met her,’ Rachel said, ‘but such savagery cannot be allowed to escape unpunished. Did you know Dolly well?’
‘No better than any other member of the chorus. Girls come and go all the time, as you can imagine. When Dolly vanished, we assumed she’d run off with an admirer. She was lovely, but had a name for being wilful, and perhaps a little foolish.’
‘Didn’t someone once say that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool?’
Keary shifted in his chair. ‘Nobody suspected anything untoward.’
‘Yet she abruptly ended her engagement.’
‘Poor George Barnes,’ he said with a heavy sigh. ‘Decent enough fellow, and an accomplished craftsman. He was older than Dolly, and took the whole business very hard. It seemed she’d met some rich fellow who had spirited her away. The other girls said she’d become secretive, and they suspected her of dallying with someone more exciting than Barnes. The only question was whether she’d gone forever, or would come creeping back after her new boyfriend found fresh fields to conquer. When her body was found, we were all stunned. Especially when Barnes was arrested.’
‘He was a scapegoat.’
‘I can’t find it in my heart to blame the police. The case against Barnes was that Dolly had made him jealous, and so he resorted to violence. He has a fiery temper, and once broke the arm of a colleague who made an improper suggestion to Dolly. I smoothed over that little contretemps, but after Dolly’s death, the police soon came to hear of it.’
‘You didn’t believe Barnes was a murderer?’
‘I felt duty-bound to look after him. He was a loyal servant of the Inanity. Of course, I paid for him to have legal representation.’
‘I heard whispers of that, despite your efforts to keep your generosity secret,’ Rachel said. ‘A kind gesture.’