The Death of Kings

by Rennie George Airth

  ‘Now . . . after all this time?’

  ‘Maybe he’s bored,’ Derry suggested. ‘Perhaps he thinks he’s so far separated from the murder in time that he can afford to have some fun at our expense.’

  Madden weighed the question.

  ‘But would he really take such a chance simply to amuse himself?’ he asked. ‘Surely it would be better to let sleeping dogs lie.’ Pondering the question, he chewed his lip. ‘But he’s playing some sort of game, isn’t he?’

  Derry snorted. ‘In that case, I wish he’d be kind enough to tell us the rules.’

  Madden glanced at his watch.

  ‘We’d better be getting back to Canterbury. My train leaves in half an hour.’

  He put the pendant back in its bag.

  ‘I will take this with me if you like. I’ll ring that woman Portia Blake shared a flat with next week and try and arrange to show it to her. There’s no point in us racking our brains until we know whether it’s the same pendant. Let’s hope she can help.’

  ‘And take this, too, while you’re at it.’

  Derry pushed the file across the table.

  ‘I’ve done all I can from this end.’

  4

  BILLY STYLES SAT BACK from the table with a sigh. He rubbed his stomach appreciatively.

  ‘My word that was good, sir! Pheasant, you say?’

  ‘But only out of a tin.’ Madden was apologetic.

  ‘Still . . .’ Billy sighed again. ‘The truth is I can’t remember what the real thing tastes like. It’s been so long.’ He reflected. ‘You keep thinking it’s going to end, don’t you, the rationing and the queuing and the shortages, but it just goes on and on. It’s like the war never ended. At least that’s what Elsie says.’

  He was referring to his wife, whose complaint was one heard often these days. Towards the end of the preceding year the government had suddenly relaxed controls on a wide range of products, prompting hopes that the corner had at last been turned: that the relentless burden of economic austerity which a war-weary Britain had borne since the end of hostilities in 1945 would finally be lifted. And so it had seemed—for a while. Then, in March of that year, the meat ration, pitiful though it was, had been cut yet again, and while sweets had come off the ration the following month, to the delight of millions of children, they had gone back on the restricted list almost at once thanks to the huge demand for them. In the circumstances, Madden couldn’t help but feel guilty over the relatively sumptuous meal he had been able to offer his old protégé, whom he had invited to dinner at St John’s Wood after learning that he was living a bachelor life, Elsie having taken their three children up to Bedford to spend a fortnight of the summer holidays with their grandmother.

  ‘It’s time I confessed to knowledge of a grave offence which I’ve kept silent about for years,’ he said now as they rose from the table. ‘I’m sorry to say Aunt Maud was a shameless exploiter of the black market. There’s a cupboard in the kitchen full of questionable items. I’ve never had the nerve to tell you. You might have felt obliged to arrest her. I did raise the issue with her several times, but to no effect. She seemed to take the view that at her age she was safe from the clutches of the law.’

  ‘She was probably right.’ Billy chuckled. ‘I can’t see anyone having the nerve to haul an old lady like her into court. Mind you, it’s turned into something of a joke now, rationing; a bad joke, that is. It’s not only spivs who break the law; regular grocers do the same if they think they can get away with it. Elsie says she’s seen them slip stuff under the counter to favoured customers. It used to be that everyone was prepared to go without—it was the patriotic thing to do. Not any longer.’

  Madden sighed. ‘Be that as it may, I must get rid of this stuff before the estate agents start showing the house. I’m going to put it in the hands of a couple of them starting at the end of the month. You wouldn’t care for a tin or two of caviar, would you?’

  ‘I don’t think so, sir.’ Billy’s grin widened. ‘For one thing I’ve never tasted the stuff, for another Elsie would want to know where it came from and next thing the neighbours would be talking about it and then the whole street would know.’

  ‘I see your point. But there’s a fine Stilton sitting in there which I hope you’ll take home with you when you go. Elsie won’t object to that, I’m sure. And I can offer you a glass of good cognac now. Aunt Maud bought only the best.’

  Madden led the way into the sitting-room and, having seated his guest in one of the two armchairs that still remained—the process of getting rid of the furniture was already under way—busied himself at the drinks tray.

  ‘I must say Lucy’s looking lovelier than ever.’ Billy smothered a yawn. ‘She’s what the Yanks call a knockout.’

  Madden’s daughter had joined them earlier for a quickly swallowed meal before going out. She had been collected by a young man driving a sports car.

  ‘Is that the boy friend?’ Billy had asked. Treated since time immemorial as one of the family by the Maddens—he had held their baby daughter in his arms—he felt entitled to ask the question.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so.’ Madden had dismissed the notion. ‘He’s not special so far as I know. None of them seems to be.’ He mused on his words. ‘Just between us I think she takes after her mother. According to Lady Violet, Helen had a string of admirers when she was Lucy’s age; all full of hope, all doomed to disappointment.’

  ‘She was waiting for the right man, then, was she?’

  Billy caught his old chief’s eye and smiled. Madden handed him his glass. Billy sniffed the rich fumes.

  ‘Before I go, sir, can we have a last word about this Portia Blake business? I’m still not sure what you think. Do you agree with Mr Sinclair and Mr Derry that the investigation should be reviewed?’

  Although they had talked about the case at length over dinner, Billy felt he still hadn’t plumbed the depths of Madden’s mind on the subject. His old chief had been open enough about the former superintendent’s misgivings following his return from Canterbury, but had given little indication of his own views.

  ‘I’m quite ready to raise the matter again with Mr Chubb if you think that’s on the cards. But I should warn you he’ll need something more than that pendant if he’s going to change the AC’s mind.’

  Madden picked up the object, which was lying on a low table beside him, and held it up to the light. Earlier he had shown the small jade Buddha to Billy and pointed out the faint flaw in the dark green stone.

  ‘I realize that,’ he said, ‘and to answer your question, I’m still not sure. Derry seems to feel if we can show that it’s the same piece as the one that belonged to Portia Blake, that should be enough to get the wheels of the law moving again. But I don’t agree. It doesn’t necessarily follow that they arrested the wrong man. It all depends on who sent the pendant to Derry and how he acquired it in the first place. One can’t rule out the possibility that whoever is behind this has no connection to the original police investigation: that having come into possession of the pendant in some way and being familiar with the details of the case, he has either seen a way of using it to his advantage or is simply bent on making mischief. But let’s stick to the facts.’

  He put down the pendant and picked up the folder Derry had given him.

  ‘Assuming that we can establish that this is Miss Blake’s pendant, the next step would be to look at the guests who were staying at the house that week-end. Their names are all in this file. I imagine you’ll find them in your own records. If Cradock changes his mind and gives the go-ahead for the investigation to be re-opened, I can hand it all over to the Yard. But it might be as well in the meantime if we try to ascertain now just who these people are and where they are living.’

  ‘I could help,’ Billy said. ‘It wouldn’t be going against orders just to locate them, and we can do that a lot more easily than
you can.’

  ‘Most of them should be easy enough to find.’ Madden had the file open. ‘They include a Lord and Lady Cairns and a Mr Rex Garner. I don’t know who they are but Derry said they were all society figures. Garner’s wife was there with him, but she died during the war. Sir Jack’s son, Richard Jessup, was present at dinner on the Saturday night. He had come down from London, but he didn’t stay the week-end. He left directly after lunch the next day; at that point Portia Blake was still alive. The local vicar and his wife were dinner guests, but he passed away during the war according to Derry. Sir Jack himself died in 1939, but the lady he lived with—a Mrs Castleton—is still with us. She might be worth talking to and the son as well, Sir Richard, as he is now. He took over the chairmanship of Jessup’s before his father died. They’ve got an office in the City.’

  He looked up.

  ‘As I said, if Cradock has a change of heart I’ll leave it all to you. But if he keeps digging in his heels I might have a word with one or two of them myself, particularly if they’re here in London. Angus will expect it of me. I hope Charlie won’t take offence.’

  ‘I’m sure he won’t.’ Billy tossed off the last of his cognac. ‘He hasn’t said so, but I get the feeling he’d like to move on this. He just needs a good reason.’

  About to rise, he paused. He saw that Madden had something more to say.

  ‘There’s one more name in here and I’ve left it till last.’ He tapped the folder again. ‘He’s going to present the biggest problem, but unfortunately he may turn out to be the most important from your point of view. His name is Stanley Wing. He was a business associate of Sir Jack Jessup’s, an oriental, part Chinese. Derry took against him. He didn’t like his manner. While that might simply have been a reaction to the fact that he was foreign and had “a touch of the tar brush”, as Derry rather unfortunately put it, I think there was more to it than that. Tom Derry had a lifetime of experience in dealing with criminal types. If he felt there was something off about this man Wing, I’d be inclined to take him seriously. The trouble is the Jessup family’s business is based in Hong Kong and I suspect that’s where Wing is most likely to be found. That might involve sending an inquiry to the police there. You’d have to check with Charlie before you could do that.’

  ‘Did Mr Derry have any reason to suspect him?’

  ‘Not that I’m aware of. But he brought Miss Blake down from London with him. What’s not clear is how well they knew each other. Derry was shocked by how little reaction he showed to her death. But that may just have been his way.’

  ‘The inscrutable oriental, you mean?’ Billy grinned.

  ‘Something of the sort.’ Madden’s tone was dry. ‘Anyway, if this inquiry is re-opened he’s bound to figure in it one way or another so we’d better try to locate him. As Derry pointed out, there’s been a war since Miss Blake was murdered, and among other things Hong Kong was occupied by the Japanese. Most of the Europeans living there were interned in camps; a number of them didn’t survive the experience and there’s no telling what might have happened to Wing, where he might have ended up. He was closely associated with them.’

  He put down the file.

  ‘There’s no evidence he was involved in Portia Blake’s death. But it was he who brought her down to Kent and one has to wonder why. She wasn’t well known as an actress; not a name to conjure with. And it’s unlikely that she knew Jessup personally; she wouldn’t have been part of his set.’

  He looked at Billy.

  ‘So what was she doing there? Perhaps Wing can supply the answer. But you’ll have to find him first.’

  5

  ‘YOU DIDN’T WASTE ANY time, did you, George?’

  Madden’s voice held a wistful note. He cast a regretful glance over the scene before him.

  ‘You’ve certainly been busy in my absence.’

  When last he had stood where he was, beneath the arched entrance to his stable yard, the surrounding fields had been gold with ripened corn. Now harvested, but not yet ploughed for next year’s crop, the bare, stubbled acres wore a desolate look.

  ‘We couldn’t wait, sir.’ George Burrows, his farm manager, was apologetic. ‘There was no telling how long the fine weather would last. We didn’t want the harvest spoiled.’

  ‘I understand. And you were quite right. I was stuck in London. I couldn’t get away.’

  ‘It was a better year than last, sir.’ Burrows sought to cheer his employer. ‘And we’ll be getting a good price for it.’

  That much at least was true. With food subsidies still high up on the government’s list of post-war priorities, farmers remained a pampered segment of the population. But Madden’s personal satisfaction derived from humbler roots. Like a boy with a new toy, he had been looking forward to watching the Deere harvester they had bought in the spring, an American machine shipped to England during the war, second-hand but with relatively little wear and tear on it, go about its work. Now he would have to wait another year.

  He glanced at his watch. Although it was only mid-afternoon, too early to think of going home, he felt the prick of conscience. He had returned from London the previous day and, with the excuse of having much to catch up with both at home and here at the farm, had managed so far to avoid dropping in on Angus Sinclair, who he knew would be waiting anxiously for any news he might have brought back.

  ‘I’ve really nothing to pass on to him that he doesn’t know already,’ Madden had told his wife. Helen had been at the station to meet him and Lucy when they had returned home for the week-end. ‘He’s bound to be disappointed.’

  Later that evening, at supper, he had brought them both up to date on the inquiries he had been making on the chief inspector’s behalf.

  ‘Did you ever know Jack Jessup?’ he had asked Helen. ‘He must have been a figure in society before and after the First World War. I was thinking you might have run into him.’

  ‘Daddy’s being diplomatic.’ Lucy had interrupted. ‘He means when you were going to all those parties with Violet.’

  ‘Thank you, my dear. I’d never have guessed.’ Helen smiled sweetly. She turned to her husband. ‘No, I don’t think I did. He would have been quite a lot older than the people we went around with. But I remember what they called him: Black Jack Jessup. He was supposed to cut rather a dashing figure.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t have known his son, of course?’

  ‘He would have been too young. He can’t be much more than forty now. Why do you ask?’

  ‘I may have to go and see him, though I want to talk to Angus about it first. As things stand there’s really nothing more than that pendant to indicate that they might have arrested the wrong man, and it’s not enough in itself. The Yard won’t move on this unless something more turns up.’

  ‘Then why are Angus and Mr Derry pushing so hard to get the case re-opened.’ Helen had put the same question that Billy had asked earlier. ‘They must know that.’

  ‘I’m sure they do.’

  ‘Then why?’ Lucy had persisted with the query.

  Madden had hesitated before replying. It was a question he had asked himself, and he was still not sure that he had the right answer.

  ‘It’s not that easy to explain,’ he said, ‘and I may be wrong. But it’s to do with the feeling they both have that they may have made a mistake. Bear in mind these were two very experienced detectives who had every reason to believe at the time that they were dealing with an open-and-shut case. Norris wasn’t just the obvious suspect: he almost begged to be arrested and charged. He was close to the scene of the crime; he admitted to stealing jewellery from the victim’s body; he had a record that appeared to single him out as precisely the kind of violent criminal they were looking for; and to cap it all, he confessed. In the circumstances there can’t be many detectives who wouldn’t have come to the same conclusion as they did. I know I would.’

 
‘Even though this man Norris tried to retract his confession?’

  ‘Even so. Remember that only happened when he came to trial, and as every policeman knows—and judges, too—it’s a ploy criminals often try. That wouldn’t have been enough to sway me.’

  ‘Then what’s behind it?’

  ‘Something they both find hard to put into words, though Derry gave me a clue to it when we talked. It’s Norris’s confession—not the fact of it, but the way in which it came about. He wasn’t bullied into talking. Derry assured me of that, and even if he hadn’t, I worked with Angus long enough to know he would never have permitted such a thing to happen. Derry was convinced Norris wanted to confess—that he was just waiting for an opportunity to do so. Now he wonders—and perhaps Angus does, too—what brought that on. Was it simple guilt, as they assumed at the time, or something more complex? His life was in ruins, after all. His family had disowned him. Had he come to the end of himself? That’s what Derry wondered. Had he had enough?’

  Madden paused to let his words sink in.

  ‘What I think is that Norris’s behaviour may have left a seed of doubt in both of them, something they weren’t really aware of at the time, something subconscious. It’s been lying there all these years and the pendant turning up this way has reawakened it. Now they both want the investigation reviewed, and if it turns out they were wrong it can only do harm to their reputations. Yet they still insist on it. That fact alone speaks louder than words.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘But it’s only a supposition, and I’m not going to put it to Angus. For all I know I may be wide of the mark and I don’t want to upset him even more. All I can tell him at present is that Chubb and Cradock are both aware of the situation, and that Charlie at least is open to any suggestions. However, I doubt that will be enough to improve Angus’s mood and I expect to be hauled over the coals when I pluck up the courage to go and see him.’