“Alice Dodds may not be easy to find,” suggested Goron. “You have only a postmark giving the postal district.”
“Quite true, but there is a division of police in each of these postal districts and through them I shall find the woman.”
Verneuil entered the lobby at this moment and greeted them in his usual petty officer’s manner. They climbed the stairs to his office and when the door was shut Goron enquired without preamble: “Did she talk?”
“Yes, at great length. She gave me information, but I doubt whether any of it was true. According to her version she did nothing in this business but supply hats to the wives of those two men. They were exacting clients—returning over and over again for trifling alterations in the trimmings. When I pointed out that their requirements amounted to converting ribbons, she said that she had nothing to do with the eccentricities of her customers. She admitted having received letters at her shop for them but it was natural for her to oblige customers in this way. Finally, my friends, I decided that if we were to get any further a short sojourn at La Roche would be the only method of persuasion.”
“Your method was an inspiration,” said Goron, “but we are to lose our British colleague almost immediately.”
“Impossible!” said Verneuil. “Just at this moment when our efforts are so soon to be crowned with success. Surely your chiefs can spare you a little longer.”
“It is that I have another clue to follow in London. This drug business seems to have wide ramifications, but as you know my main task is to discover the whereabouts of those two Americans. This clue may help.” He handed the letter found in Madame Germaine’s letter box to the ex-petty officer, who read it with growing excitement.
“A double quantity on the first of August? I suppose that you will take steps on your side of the Channel to intercept this merchandise.”
“Indeed we will.”
“Of course, we have given orders to all the French ports about these two men, but that is not to say that they won’t slip through. Duprez is not the only man who has a fast motorboat.”
“I shall arrange for orders to be circulated on our side of the Channel, but, as you say, these motorboats can slip in anywhere.”
“Well,” said Goron, “your plans are settled and while you’re away we shall not be inactive on our side. You remember that the mayor of St Malo told us of a deputy who was protecting these young people, for a consideration that is well understood. We must make it our business to find this gentleman and hear what he has to say on the subject.”
“That will be a task for you, my friend,” said Verneuil. “Deputies are quite outside my province; they require delicate handling.”
“Very well,” said Goron; “I will occupy myself with the search for him and also I will send instructions to the Sûreté officer stationed at Cannes to interview those two women and see what he can get out of them.”
“If you should come across the tracks of their husbands I hope you will not fail to send me a telegram,” said Vincent; “and if I find them I shall, of course, let you know at once.”
They parted with mutual expressions of good will. Vincent, who had already booked his passage by air, was in time to catch the afternoon airplane to Croydon. He had telegraphed to Sergeant Walker asking him to meet the plane at Croydon and bring with him the latest reports bearing on the case in which they were interested.
“I have a car here,” said the sergeant.
“Very good; then we will talk as we go.”
“Well, I haven’t been idle while you were away. I have been interviewing the bank officials. Pitt’s defalcations amounted to a large sum. The enquiries are not yet complete, but he had certainly made away with a good many thousand pounds. On the other hand, the amount was not large enough to cover the expenses he incurred in his way of living and we’ve been wondering whether he had not got some other source of supply.”
“He had,” said Vincent. “I discovered that while I was abroad. He was dealing in drugs.”
Sergeant Walker whistled. “That explains a good many things. In following up the tracks of Bernard Pitt, of Hampstead, I found that he had another banking account at the National Insurance Bank, which account he closed on the day before he was murdered. The money was paid to him in Bank of England notes, of which the numbers were known, and one of these notes for ten pounds was brought into a Hammersmith bank and changed for treasury notes. The woman who brought it was made to sign her name on the back—Alice Dodds.”
It was now Vincent’s turn to whistle. “This is a lucky coincidence. I am hunting that woman at this moment. Have you found her?”
“No, not yet; the information reached me only half an hour ago. Why are you interested in Alice Dodds, Chief Inspector?”
Vincent gave him a brief account of his own doings in Paris. “This woman must be found and made to account for the possession of that note. A C.I.D. officer at Holland Park will do that for us; you see the postal district is W.11. Will you attend to that part of the enquiry while I am seeing Chief Constable Richardson? You can take this letter.”
“I’ll drive you straight to the Yard and then go on to Holland Park. You’ll be in time to catch the chief constable; he very seldom leaves his table before eight o’clock.”
On being admitted to his chief’s room, Vincent delivered all the polite messages from France with which he had been charged by Verneuil.
“My friend Verneuil is a rough diamond, but he has a warm heart and an unrivalled knowledge of the French criminal, particularly the Parisian variety. How did he strike you?”
“Well, sir, I can’t imagine how he would behave in a drawing room, but he is a good man for a British police officer to know. He can be very useful.”
When Richardson had heard his chief inspector’s report, he said: “Of course, you did quite right in coming over, but I don’t think that those two men that we want will venture to set foot in this country. I agree with you that the woman Dodds must be found; she may prove to be very useful to us. Have you any other plan to work upon now you have come back?”
“Yes, I thought of rounding up the friends of the murdered man—that is, Bernard Pitt, of Hampstead. He must have been supplying some of them with drugs and they might very well give shelter to Blake and Lewis now that the country is getting too hot to hold them.”
“You have, of course, warned the port officers?”
“Yes, Sergeant Walker is doing that, but they won’t try to come in in the ordinary way; they will come in a motorboat and may land anywhere.”
“What about the coast guard?”
“Sergeant Walker is seeing to that also.”
“Yes, because it is quite possible that one of the coast guard may spot this motorboat and report the landing of these people. They would, of course, be passed on to the police as having landed illegally, but we ought to be told of it.”
“The Newquay police got into touch with their local coast guard about the motorboat that the two men escaped in, but so far no information has come in.”
“You have seen Sergeant Walker and he has posted you in the developments on this side of the Channel?”
“Yes sir, he has. My present idea is to get hold of the servants who were at the Hampstead house— the man Anton for choice and the chauffeur.”
Richardson consulted the file of papers lying on his table. “This is the file of the Bernard Pitt case and it gives all the information we have. You had better run through it.”
“Very good, sir, I will. The dead man’s chauffeur is the person most likely to be able to give me the information I want—the names and addresses of Pitt’s associates. I did not interview one of his friends at the beginning of the case, but in the light of the drug-traffic information I ought to see others.”
“That’s the right line of enquiry. See if we have his address in that file; I haven’t yet had time to go through it.”
Vincent took the file and ran through it with a practised eye. “I see by this
that Anton has been allowed to remain in the Hampstead house as a kind of caretaker. I suppose we shall have to pay him something out of ‘incidentals.’”
“Yes, he can’t live on air.”
“I don’t see the chauffeur’s address in this file, but no doubt Anton will be able to give it to me when I see him. I shall go straight out to Hampstead now.”
Vincent did not stop to pick up Sergeant Walker. He took a taxi straight out to the house in Hampstead and rang the bell. Anton, who answered it, was wearing a worried look.
“The telephone has been ringing many times today,” he said. “Some ask for Mr Blake and some for Mr Lewis. I tell them they are not here, but oh, sir, it is anxious work for me all alone in this big house. This was not what I came to England for.”
“No, but you will have to endure it for a little longer, my friend,” said Vincent.
“I ask myself why these people ring up Mr Blake and Mr Lewis when it is known now that my master, their friend, is dead.”
“Probably they think that these men, Blake and Lewis, may be hiding in this house now that it is empty. I suppose that none of these people would give their names?”
“No sir, though I always ask them; some of them were ladies.”
“You told me the other day that your master never entertained ladies. Are you quite sure of this?”
“Quite sure, sir. If he entertained ladies it must be at some restaurant.”
“I suppose the chauffeur will be able to tell me more about these visits to restaurants.”
Anton gave a short laugh. “That chauffeur could tell you, sir, but he will not speak. He never speak to anyone and he has no friends. He hated all of us.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“No, he told no one where he was going. All the others, I know where to find them, but not that chauffeur.”
“The car is still in the garage?”
“Oh, yes sir; nobody take the car out: the police have the key of the garage.”
Just then the telephone bell began to ring persistently. Vincent quickly made up his mind on a course of action.
“Answer the call and if they ask for Mr Blake or Mr Lewis, say that you will call them and come for me.”
He listened to the half-conversation.
“I can call Mr Lewis to the telephone, madam, if you hold on.” With frantic dumb play Anton signalled to Vincent, who among his other accomplishments could talk American.
He went to the instrument and cried: “Hallo!”
A woman’s voice answered: “Is that you?” It was a quavering voice, shaken with emotion of some kind, and without waiting for the answer she went on eagerly: “Have you got it?”
In his best American accent Vincent replied: “I must know who you are.”
“Oh, you know, I’m Dodds—Alice Dodds. I want it for myself and her as well. God knows we want it badly enough.”
Vincent realized that this woman was in a state in which drug addicts throw caution to the winds. He answered: “Come round to this house right now.”
“It’ll take me a good part of an hour to make the journey.”
“Never mind; I’ll wait for you.”
He put down the receiver and turned to Anton. “A lady is coming to see me. If the telephone bell rings again do not answer. Let them go on ringing.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Meanwhile I am going to look over the house again.”
Vincent did not expect to make any fresh discovery, but he always found that bodily activity of some kind stimulated thought. These continual telephone messages, what did they mean? Obviously Blake and Lewis must have given the dead man’s Hampstead address as a rendezvous and that meant that they intended to use the house, which they supposed would be empty, as a hiding place. If that theory was correct they would first ring up to make sure that the house was empty; that was why he had given Anton the order not to answer the phone. By the letter from Alice Dodds found in Madame Germaine’s letter box it was clear that the men were expected on August 1st, and this was July 31st. Almost he began to wish that he had not taken steps to have the men stopped at whatever port they came to, but it was now too late to rescind the order.
Having made a perfunctory second search of the house without result he went down to the ground floor and rang the bell for Anton.
“As I told you, I am expecting a lady. When she comes, go to the door, and if she asks for Mr Lewis show her into the dining room and fetch me. I shall be in that little smoking room opposite.”
He had not long to wait. His visitor had been better than her word. When the bell rang Anton followed his instructions, showed the visitor into the dining room and fetched Vincent.
She was a walking example of what addiction to heroin will reduce a self-respecting woman to. It was obvious from her speech that she belonged to the upper servant class, but she was ill dressed and untidy in her person and there was an air of entire indifference to her appearance. She did not rise when he entered the room, but looked at him with lacklustre eyes.
“Where’s Mr Lewis and who are you?”
“I’m here to see you instead of Mr Lewis.”
A dark cloud of distrust and suspicion was evident in her expression. “Has he let me down?”
“You mean, has he failed to bring what you expected?”
“He’s got it all right, but he wants to frighten me into paying more than the regular rate. He thinks that she will always pay anything he chooses to ask.”
Vincent realized that this lack of caution was characteristic of the addict in the later stages. She had taken it for granted that he was one of Lewis’s associates. He decided to drop all play-acting, together with his assumed American accent.
“Mr Lewis is not here, madam, but now that you have come I have some questions to ask you.”
Her attitude changed: she shook with fear, not the fear of being questioned, but the fear that she was not going to receive what she had come for.
“When do you expect him here?” she said with a kind of wail in her tone.
“We’ll talk about Mr Lewis later on. First I want you to answer my questions. Why did you expect Mr Lewis to be here?”
“Because he answered the telephone.”
“Why did you telephone to him here?”
“Because his letter said this house on August 1st and tomorrow is the first. She said he might arrive earlier.”
“Who is she?”
“I’m not going to answer your questions,” she said rudely.
“Very well, just as you like, only unless you do you’ll have to come with me to the police station.”
“No, don’t take me there,” she said, cringing with alarm. “They took her there once when she was put on probation and she’s never forgotten it. She went through hell.”
“Is she your mistress?”
“She was once, but I’m not in service now.” She assumed a boastful air. “I’m a lady living on my own now.”
Vincent decided to adopt another method of attack. “Who gave you that ten-pound note which you changed for treasury notes at the bank in Holland Park?”
“Oh, I picked it up in the street, and finding’s keeping, you know.”
“When you pick up valuable property in the street you should take it to the nearest police station.”
“Oh, I can’t be bothered with all these silly rules. I often pick up money in the streets.” She went on to recount wild stories of wealth she had picked up in the gutter; of jewels worth a fortune dropped by ladies getting out of taxis. Vincent gave her five minutes with her imagination and then began to question her again. For another five minutes he plied her patiently, but with no good result. Sometimes she behaved as if she hadn’t heard him.
“Did you hear what I said?” he asked.
“Yes, but I can’t be bothered answering questions.”
Vincent decided that the proper course was to take her to the police station and let the police surgeon deal with her
. He went to the door and signalled to Anton.
“Ring up a taxi,” he whispered, “and when it arrives, come in and announce it. I shall take this lady away, but I shall come back because I intend to spend the night here.”
To Vincent’s great relief the woman followed him to the taxi without demur. He gave the address of the nearest police station and they drove off together.
Chapter Fourteen
THE POLICE SURGEON was sent for and while the woman was in charge of the matron Vincent explained the situation to the doctor.
“Of course, you know all about the symptoms of drug addicts when they have been deprived of their favourite poison.”
“I ought to; if I don’t it is not from lack of practice.”
“Well, I have questions to put to this woman and I can get nothing out of her in her present state. She can be held for the present on another charge: she was in possession of a stolen ten-pound note.”
“Very good. I’ll see to her and I’ll ring you up as soon as she is in a state where she can usefully be questioned. I suppose if I ring up the Yard you will get the message?”
“Yes,” said Vincent. “I’m going back there immediately, but I may not be able to stop there long.”
“Oh, that’s all right. The woman will sleep here tonight and I shan’t want you until the morning.”
Vincent found Walker in the sergeants’ room at the Yard and called him into the chief inspectors’ room.
“You and I have got a busy night before us. We’ll have to take it in turns to keep watch in that house at Hampstead, because it is quite possible that our American friends, thinking the house empty, will take the liberty of breaking in: it will save a deal of trouble if they do. Anton tells me that the telephone bell has been busy and I think that the clients are expecting those two, and that they have been given that address.”
“Unless they’ve already landed, I think they’ll have difficulty in getting through. I have warned the coast guard people as well as the port officers and there’ll be a sharp lookout everywhere.”
“Then we’ll be off and trust to Anton to provide us with some kind of meal.”
The Milliner's Hat Mystery Page 12