‘That was taken in 1935. My father’s there in the middle of the group. The men on either side of him were the senior staff in our Hong Kong office at the time. It was his birthday. He’d invited them to his house. Wing is on the right at the edge of the picture. You can see he’s not really one of them. He’s standing apart. But that was Stanley Wing all over. He was always the fly on the wall, the lizard on the rock . . . always watching . . . waiting his opportunity . . .’
Madden studied the photograph.
The men, all Europeans apart from Wing, and all dressed informally in shirtsleeves and straw hats, stood in a loose group on a lawn in front of a sprawling house painted white and fronted by a long veranda. Wing, wearing a black suit and tie, stood a little away from them and, as Jessup had said, at the very edge of the photograph. Slim in build, with black hair plastered so close to his head that it resembled a skull cap, he was observing the group through narrowed eyes. The other men, conscious that they were posing for a snapshot, were smiling.
Madden handed the picture back.
‘All I’ve been told so far was that Wing was a business associate of your father’s,’ he said. ‘That doesn’t sound as though he were an employee. But if he didn’t work directly for Jessup’s, what was his position exactly?’
‘A good question.’ Sir Richard laid the photograph down. ‘And to tell the truth I was never entirely sure myself. He and my father went back a long way. Officially he was one of our consultants. But even that doesn’t begin to cover his many . . . activities.’
He had hesitated over the word—as though he might have chosen another—and then continued, shrugging as he did so.
‘Look, there’s a great deal I could tell you about Stanley Wing. But I’m not sure it has any bearing on this business. He was never a suspect, was he?’
‘Not that I’m aware of,’ Madden replied. ‘But, then, neither was anyone else who was staying at the house that week-end. What I mean is none of them was ever questioned in any detail by the police. Norris was arrested almost at once and confessed soon afterwards. What bothers both Mr Sinclair and Derry now is that the case might have been wrapped up too quickly.’
‘The others who were at the house . . . ?’ Jessup reacted sharply to the word. ‘Do you mean one of them might be under suspicion?’
‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
Surprised by his host’s response, Madden sought to reassure him. Up till that moment Sir Richard had seemed relaxed and at ease with the conversation they were having.
‘It’s more a matter of widening the original investigation. I’ve mentioned Wing’s name. But there were other people staying as your father’s guests, weren’t there? I was wondering if you could tell me something about them, including where they are now, in case I need to get in touch with any of them. And also whether you could give me a picture of that week-end, what impression you had of it.’
‘That’s an odd request.’ Jessup seemed intrigued by the question. ‘Have you asked anyone else about it, anyone who was there?’
Madden shook his head.
‘Well, first of all you should know that properly speaking I wasn’t one of the guests. I had been coming down to Kent from London to see Father nearly every week-end that year. He hadn’t been well for some time—he had a heart complaint—and he’d been in the process of handing over the company’s reins to me. Although I wasn’t due to take over as managing director until the following year, I was already acting in that capacity, and we had a great deal of business to get through. And there was a further complication, if you can call it that.’ He smiled. ‘My marriage to Sarah was set for September. The wedding was to take place in America, and we had agreed to take a full month’s honeymoon afterwards. So there was the pressure of time, and since my father couldn’t come to town—he simply wasn’t well enough—I had got into the habit of going down to see him regularly, and the fact that he and Adele had guests that week-end was neither here nor there. We simply got on with our business, which was detailed and burdensome.’
He paused. ‘I take it you know who I mean by Adele?’
‘Mrs Castleton?’
Jessup nodded. ‘I must say when I arrived shortly after lunch and she told me who was there I was taken aback. I couldn’t imagine what had possessed my father to invite Wing. The previous year I had spent some months in Hong Kong going through the company’s books and looking into all its business dealings, and among the conclusions I came to—the most important in many ways—was that we had to sever our ties with him. I’d prefer not to say anything more about that. It doesn’t concern the inquiries you’re making. But the upshot was that I finally convinced my father that we had to cut him loose and he wrote to Wing informing him of our decision and also gave appropriate instructions to our management in Hong Kong. They were to have no more dealings with him. You can imagine my surprise then at discovering that he was one of the guests that week-end.’
‘Did you know that he was in England?’ Madden asked.
‘Oh, yes. I’d heard that he was in London, and happened to bump into him at a party earlier that summer. Our encounter was cool, as you might imagine, but he told me he was over here on private business and I guessed it was linked to his interest in jade. I happened to know that he had been active in that area for some time.’
‘Selling jade jewellery?’ Madden asked. ‘Is that what you mean?’
‘Not exactly; no.’ Jessup eyed his listener. ‘Though he let me think he was. One of the things I discovered when I went out to Hong Kong—it was more in the nature of confirming a long-held suspicion—was that Wing had been dealing on his own in the procurement and sale of jade antiques from the mainland, objects of historical interest and value that had almost certainly been pilfered from graves. The trade was illegal, and although our company hadn’t profited from these dealings, Wing had had no scruples about using Jessup’s name and his own connection to the firm to further his business.’
He laughed.
‘I hadn’t intended to tell you that, but you might as well know. And it was only one of the areas he’d been active in, using Jessup’s name whenever it was useful to him, and only one of the reasons I had for getting rid of him. When I met him in London he claimed to have gone into the jewellery business and said he was trying to interest local dealers in buying jade pieces from him. I didn’t believe a word of it. I thought it very likely he was renewing old contacts with collectors, people to whom he had sold antiques in the past in order to reassure them that the fact that he was no longer connected with Jessup’s made no difference: that he was still in business.’
He shrugged.
‘I hasten to say I’ve no evidence of that. It was only a guess. But I certainly didn’t credit his story about selling jewellery. Jade has never been a particularly popular stone here and the prices it commands are relatively low. He was up to something else, I’m convinced, but I doubt it ever got off the ground given that the war started the following year and probably put a stop to any scheme he had.’
Jessup frowned.
‘I’m sorry. I’m digressing. You don’t want to hear all this. What I meant to tell you was that when I ran into Wing at that party he had Miss Blake with him. She was wearing various pieces of jade and Wing gave me to understand that she was working for him, displaying the pieces at parties and functions to which he’d been invited, stirring up interest in them.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘Well, if you could believe that, you would believe anything. I certainly didn’t. But since we were no longer affected by what he was doing, I didn’t give much thought to it. I heard later on that he’d appeared at several social functions during the summer and each time he had had Miss Blake with him.’
‘What was their connection exactly?’ Madden asked. ‘They weren’t a couple, were they?’
‘Good heavens, no.’ Jessup laughed. ‘It�
��s quite impossible to imagine Wing in that role. I don’t know if one can ever truly say of anyone that they’re sexless, but Stanley Wing certainly came closest to it. He seemed to belong to another species. I had no idea then or now what stirred his blood, what might have set his pulses racing. He was an enigma to the last.’
‘You’ve not seen him again?’
‘Not since that week-end, in fact. I heard later that he had gone back to Hong Kong. Then, as I say, the war came. And when I finally got out there later—I mean after the Japanese occupation was ended—he was already in prison.’
He saw Madden’s startled look.
‘You didn’t know? I assumed the police here must have told you. But perhaps they don’t know. After all, why should they?’
He mused on the thought for a moment; then he shrugged.
‘He was arrested soon after the Japanese occupation ended. He was charged with collaborating with the enemy and pleaded guilty. I gathered he’d been up to his old tricks selling jade art to the occupiers, but also assisting them in other areas, some of which were regarded as vital to the war effort. He was sentenced to six years in prison. He’s still inside.’
Jessup smiled wryly.
‘Forgive me. I’ve gone off on a tangent again. You wanted to know about that week-end. I didn’t see any of the other guests when I arrived, which was shortly after lunch. My father and I settled down to work in his study. But I already knew from Adele that Wing was there, and after I’d changed for dinner I sought him out and we had a brief conversation alone, out on the terrace. I was blunt with him. I asked him what the devil he was doing there. He was smoothness itself. He said he had simply come down to pay his respects to my father. There was no question of any recriminations. He accepted that he was no longer a part of Jessup’s and only wanted to express his thanks to the man who had done so much for him. It was very much the sort of act I had come to expect from him over the years and I decided to take it at face value. No more was said and we went inside to join the others.’
He paused to collect his thoughts.
‘You’ll want to know about the other guests, I expect. Besides Wing and Miss Blake they were Lord and Lady Cairns, old friends of Father’s, and a younger couple called Rex and Margaret Garner. Harry Cairns died in 1946. I don’t think they can be of any interest to you. Rex Garner I’ve known since boyhood. He and Margaret had got married a couple of years earlier. The local vicar and his wife were also dinner guests. I’m afraid I can’t remember his name, but he was quite an elderly man and I was told he passed away during the war.’
He took a deep breath.
‘And now we come to the dinner itself, which I imagine is what you’ve been waiting so patiently to hear about.’
‘Have I?’ Madden laughed. ‘I wasn’t aware of that.’
‘Do you mean you know nothing about it?’ Jessup looked startled. ‘I thought you were bound to ask me about it. No one’s mentioned it to you?’
‘I’ve only spoken to the two detectives I’ve told you about—Derry and Mr Sinclair—and to Miss Cooper. She couldn’t have known anything about that week-end.’
‘No, of course not. . . . I hadn’t realised.’ Jessup bit his lip. ‘Well, then I’d better set you straight. Not to beat about the bush, it was a nightmare; hideously embarrassing; and the cause of it all was Portia Blake. Earlier she had appeared in the most extraordinary dress. Not just revealing: the degree of décolleté was breath-taking. She was a pretty girl with a good figure, and the effect, on all the men, at least—and I won’t exclude myself—was deplorable. We simply goggled at her. What’s more, she was wearing that infernal pendant, and when we sat down at the table she proceeded to play with it throughout the meal, leaning over the table, revealing even more of herself, dangling the thing between her breasts.’
He shook his head in wonderment.
‘As I say, I’d only encountered her briefly before, when I met Wing at that party, but I remembered she had been a little too loud then, a bit too sure of herself, talking too much and acting as though she were one of us, which she wasn’t.’ He grimaced. ‘That’s a cruel thing to say. But you know what the English are like. You either belong or you don’t, and even though she seemed to know a number of people there, particularly the men, she was obviously a fish out of water; and the same was true of that evening at Foxley Hall. She was all wrong, and the sad thing was she hadn’t the faintest idea of the effect she was creating.’
He bit his lip.
‘The dinner seemed to last an age, and the person who bore the brunt of it was Rex. He was seated opposite Miss Blake and she spent a good part of the meal flirting with him in a rather clumsy way and dangling that pendant in front of his eyes like a hypnotist’s toy. By the end he actually did seem mesmerised. His wife, meanwhile, had got more and more angry with the way Miss Blake was carrying on, and heaven only knows what Harry Cairns and his wife made of it, never mind the vicar. I think the only person who enjoyed the performance was my wicked old father. I could see him chuckling.’
He spread his hands.
‘So there you have it. That was the prelude to the poor young woman’s death, her last performance, you might say, though I can’t imagine it had anything to do with her murder.’
‘Nor can I,’ Madden agreed. ‘But I’m interested by your choice of word. A performance, you say. Is that how it struck you?’
‘Not at the time: not in the sense you mean.’ Jessup cocked an eye at his visitor. ‘You’re wondering if she was deliberately putting on an act.’
‘Yes, and was Stanley Wing behind it? He was the one who brought her down there, after all. That’s something that’s puzzled me from the start. She seemed out of place. What was she doing there?’
Madden’s question hung in the air between them. Jessup had fallen silent. He seemed to have drifted off for a moment.
‘Do you know, I asked my father that same question the following day.’ He collected his thoughts. ‘He simply laughed it off. He said Wing had rung him a few weeks earlier and asked if he could come down and see him. He confirmed what Stanley had told me the day before. He had simply wanted to pay his respects to my father before he returned to Hong Kong. They had set a date for the visit, but then a week before Wing was due to come down he had called Father again and asked if he could bring a young lady with him. My father, like me, had never associated Stanley with a woman and he was so intrigued by the notion that he immediately agreed and said she would be welcome. Quite simply, he was curious. He couldn’t wait to see what Wing would produce in the shape of a female companion, and he allowed that he’d been well entertained by the goings-on at dinner the previous evening.’
Jessup’s smile was rueful.
‘But that, I’m sorry to say, was my dear old parent all over. He had a mischievous side.’
‘Did you see her the next day—Miss Blake?’
‘Only briefly. I had spent the morning with Father—we still had some business to get through—and I’d intended to leave immediately to drive back to London. I didn’t fancy witnessing a repeat of the previous night’s antics, and in any case I had an engagement in town. But Adele begged me to stay for lunch. She thought my presence would help to keep a lid on things. But as it turned out, Rex had had a similar reaction. He had left the house soon after breakfast to drive into Canterbury, telling Adele that he was going to look up an old friend. Just before we were due to sit down he rang to say he wouldn’t be back. He was lunching with his friend. I think our American cousins call it “chickening out”.’ Jessup smiled bleakly. ‘So lunch passed off peacefully and I left as soon as it was over without waiting for coffee to be served. I got back to London in mid-afternoon. I had a place at the Albany then, and when I arrived I found that the hall porter was holding a message for me. It was from Adele. I was to ring her at once. When I did she told me about Miss Blake’s murder, and I turned round and dro
ve all the way back. The house was full of police. They were taking statements from everyone—guests and staff—with the aim of finding out where each and every one of them had been during the afternoon. I gave my statement to one of the officers—it was brief, obviously—and then went in search of my father. I found him in bed, quite broken up, shattered. He was appalled by what had happened to the poor girl and felt he had somehow failed her. She had been under his roof, after all. It was very like him.’
Jessup bowed his head.
‘I spent the night there and the following two days, mainly to comfort Father and do what I could for Adele, who had to cope with everything. I did have a brief word with Wing, but he professed to know nothing about what had happened. He had last seen Miss Blake at lunch, he said, after which he had gone to his room to rest.’
‘Did he show any emotion?’ Madden asked.
‘Good heavens, no.’ Jessup’s laugh was harsh. ‘But, then, I’m not sure I ever saw Stanley Wing display feeling of any kind. His face was like a mask. You never knew what he as thinking.’
‘You said he and your father went back a long way: what did you mean by that?’
Jessup hesitated. For the first time he seemed reluctant to reply.
‘It wasn’t something my father liked to talk about, and I’ve tried to respect his wishes.’ He spoke at last. ‘What’s more, I’m sure it has no bearing on this case. Do you really want to hear it?’
‘Please.’
‘Well, if you insist . . .’ He paused, gathering his thoughts, it seemed; or perhaps choosing his words. ‘They met when Wing broke into my father’s house in Hong Kong.’
‘Good heavens!’ Madden was astounded.
‘It was, as I say, years ago. Stanley was just a boy, no more than twelve or thirteen. He’d been living on the streets, keeping himself alive through petty thieving. My father caught him as he was forcing a window, and then had to hold him at gunpoint, because Stanley was armed with a knife and seemed quite ready to use it. “He was as quick as a cobra and twice as dangerous,” was how Father put it when he described the incident to me. Any other man would have called the police, but Father always did things his own way. He made Stanley sit down and he began to question him. To his amazement he discovered that the boy spoke fluent English, and when he learned the reason why, he was as good as hooked.’ Jessup smiled bleakly. ‘Stanley’s mother had been an English governess employed by a wealthy Chinese business man to raise his children. Unfortunately for her she caught the eye of his younger brother, and their affair, if you can call it that, ended when she became pregnant, at which point her employer dismissed her and she was left to fend for herself. For whatever reason, the prospect of returning home didn’t appeal to her and she had her baby in Hong Kong. My father never discovered precisely how she survived after that but it seems that both communities—British and Chinese—turned their backs on her and eventually she was forced into prostitution. Still, somehow she contrived to raise her son until she died quite suddenly of what sounded like typhus, and Stanley was cast adrift. With no home any longer he was forced to take to the streets, and from then on he lived by his wits.’
The Death of Kings Page 10