The Death of Kings

by Rennie George Airth

  Jessup caught Madden’s eye.

  ‘My father was a very lovable man,’ he said. ‘He had a big heart and a bottomless well of generosity which could be extended to almost anyone, but particularly to those he felt were in need. Without any further consideration, and starting that same night, he took Stanley under his wing. Although he didn’t formally adopt him, he found a Chinese family for him to lodge with—needless to say they were well rewarded—and sent him to a good school. And although he was away from Hong Kong for long periods, he took care to keep in touch with the boy, and when Stanley turned eighteen he took him into Jessup’s as a trainee. He probably saw this as just another act of charity; but it came to seem like shrewd judgement on his part.’ Sir Richard smiled. ‘Stanley turned out to be very bright. Perhaps his earlier life on the streets had taught him things you can’t learn at school, but he soon proved adept at dealing with the local administration, where he developed the kind of relationships that were invaluable when it came to steering lucrative contracts our way.’

  He stroked his cheek; pensive now.

  ‘I have to be careful here,’ he said. ‘Doing business out east has always involved a certain amount of what we might call corruption, but can also be seen as simply acts of gratitude in return for favours granted. There are times when one simply has to turn a blind eye to whatever’s going on. It would be fair to say that the management at the time—and I include my father—were well aware that we were sailing close to the wind and must have decided that the risk was worth it. In the event, we ran into trouble eventually with the authorities and had to pay some heavy fines. The reputation of the firm suffered, and in the years leading up to the war it got into serious difficulties, though none of that affected Stanley Wing, who had managed to feather his own nest quite successfully by then and had already moved on to the next stage in his career, leaving the mess he had been partly responsible for behind him.’

  ‘The next stage . . . ?’

  ‘He’d been working for Jessup’s for a dozen years or so when he decided to branch out on his own, and proceeded to do so with my father’s blessing, which went so far as to grant him official status as a consultant of Jessup’s and allow him to put that on his business cards; a grave mistake, in my opinion. It wasn’t easy convincing Father later on that his protégé had turned out to be no better than a crook, and right to the end he continued to harbour the illusion that Wing had simply been unlucky. He died in 1939 so he never knew about the Japanese occupation of Hong Kong. But he continued to worry about Stanley and asked often if I had any news of him.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘Not at that stage, no.’ Jessup shook his head. ‘I was called up early when war broke out. Earlier I had toyed with the idea of a military career. I had a commission in the Guards and was on the reserve list. The management of the company passed into other hands. Of course I kept in touch with them as much as I could, but I had more than enough to worry about without inquiring after Wing.’

  He fell silent again, and this time Madden took the opportunity to put a question he’d been waiting to ask.

  ‘I can’t quite square the picture you’ve given me of Stanley Wing with this person who seems to have been quite at home in London society. You say you bumped into him earlier that summer at a party. How did that come about?’

  ‘I should have explained.’ Jessup acknowledged the question with a nod. ‘During the years when Stanley seemed to be doing so well for the firm—gaining us contracts and helping to expand the business—Father took him back to Europe with him on several occasions and introduced him to some of his business colleagues and friends in London. Knowing Father, I believe it was out of genuine goodwill towards Stanley. He meant to treat him as he would any promising young man regardless of his background. Unfortunately Wing took advantage of it in the worst possible way: it was during those early visits that he made the contacts he was able to exploit later.’

  ‘You’re referring to the sale of pilfered antiques?’

  Jessup nodded. ‘They were mostly rich men, collectors and antique dealers, and it was through them that Stanley gained access to society in a more general way; it was how he got invited to people’s homes, and even to some of their parties. But from what I heard he was never remotely at ease at them; I knew from others that he was regarded as an oddity.’

  He grimaced.

  ‘I realize you’re curious about him. But do you really believe he might have had a hand in Miss Blake’s death?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Madden shook his head. ‘Or rather, I have absolutely no opinion on the subject one way or the other. I still think the man they arrested was the most likely killer. But Wing seems to be a dubious character at best, and we still don’t know why he took Miss Blake down to Kent with him.’

  He hesitated.

  ‘Are you sure he’s still in prison?’

  ‘I’ve no reason to believe otherwise.’ Jessup shrugged. ‘My people out there have standing orders to let me know the moment he’s released. I don’t fancy the idea of Stanley Wing running around free without my knowing what he’s up to. But why do you ask?’

  ‘Based on what you’ve told me about him, I’d say he’s the most likely person to have sent that pendant and the letter to Derry: the one most likely to have cooked up a scheme like this.’

  ‘I see what you mean.’ Jessup ruminated in silence. He caught his visitor’s eye. ‘I take it the British police won’t be making any inquiries about Wing?’

  ‘Would they get in touch with the Hong Kong authorities, do you mean? Would they try to have him interviewed in prison?’ Madden shook his head. ‘I very much doubt it. They have no reason to. Of course it would be different if the investigation were re-opened.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ Jessup grunted. ‘Look, if you feel it’s worthwhile, I can ask my people in Hong Kong if they have any news of him.’

  ‘That might be helpful.’ Madden bowed his head in thanks. ‘And while we’re on the subject of Stanley Wing, do you happen to know if it was he who gave the pendant to Miss Blake?’

  ‘No, I don’t.’ Jessup shook his head. ‘I mean, I’ve no idea. But I rather assumed it was, given that it’s jade. Are you sure it belonged to her? Couldn’t it have been one of the pieces she was showing on Wing’s behalf?’

  ‘Miss Cooper seemed certain it was Portia’s. She didn’t know who had given it to her, though.’

  ‘Then I’m sorry—I can’t help you.’ He spread his hands.

  Madden glanced at his watch.

  ‘I’ve only one other question,’ he said. ‘I hope you won’t take it amiss.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t.’ Jessup smiled. ‘And may I say that all in all this has been a fascinating afternoon. You’ve forced me to delve into my memory. These are things I haven’t thought about for years.’

  ‘I was wondering if Wing and your friend Rex Garner were acquainted. Had they met before that week-end?’

  ‘Is that what’s bothering you?’ His host seemed amused by the question. ‘Yes, they had. Rex worked briefly for Jessup’s when he was a young man. We were friends from our days at Eton and Father knew him well. He was sent out to Hong Kong as a trainee and spent a year there. I remember him talking about Stanley when he came back. “That Wing fellow of yours,” he said, “he’s an odd bird, but useful.”’

  ‘What did he mean by that?’

  ‘I didn’t care to inquire.’ Jessup’s tone was dry. ‘I knew enough about Stanley Wing to assume it was probably disreputable.’

  He saw the look in Madden’s eye.

  ‘Yes, all right. I’ll be more explicit. The key to Stanley’s success has always been his ability to acquire whatever it is that his customers want. He’s by nature a procurer, and since I also knew that Rex liked to have a girl on hand and wasn’t too particular in that respect, I didn’t care to delve too deeply into whatever so
rt of relationship they might have struck up. But I had a pretty good idea what it involved.’

  ‘Garner only stayed there for a year, you say.’ Madden had taken a moment or two to digest the other’s reply. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘Well, to put it bluntly, he was no good. Rex has never been one to put his shoulder to the wheel. He rather expects things to fall into his lap. The management out there said they couldn’t rely on him for anything: that quite often he didn’t even bother to turn up for work. In the end it was gently suggested to him that he might seek his future elsewhere.’ Jessup smiled. ‘Why are you asking me about him?’

  ‘It occurred to me that if Portia Blake was putting on a performance that evening, it seems to have been directed at him. I was also going to ask, too, whether they knew each other?’

  ‘Rex and Miss Blake? You mean, was there anything between them?’ Jessup bit his lip. He seemed unhappy with the question. Madden watched as he sat frowning and rubbing his chin. Finally he spoke. ‘Not that I’m aware of; though I admit I did wonder at the time. Margaret had been away in Scotland for a few weeks during the summer and I knew how Rex’s eye tended to stray when she was out of town. I even asked him about it, but he swore to me that he only knew Miss Blake casually. He’d run into her once or twice at parties; that was all. He said he’d been embarrassed by the way she had gone at him over dinner. He had no idea why she’d done it, but he’d decided to make himself scarce the following day. He didn’t want a repeat performance at lunch. I told you about his driving into Canterbury.’

  ‘What time did he get back?’ Madden asked.

  ‘Around mid-afternoon, I gathered. By then Miss Blake’s body had been discovered. You’re not thinking . . .’

  His expression changed.

  ‘No, that’s absurd. People don’t go around murdering other people just because they’re put out. Rex was cross with her, certainly, but that was all.’

  His bright gaze stayed fixed on Madden’s face. It was as though he were trying to read his thoughts.

  ‘Given the way Miss Blake behaved at dinner, might Garner’s wife have suspected that they had had an affair?’ Madden asked.

  ‘I can’t answer that. I’ve no idea. But it wouldn’t have surprised her . . . not eventually, anyway.’

  ‘Eventually . . . ?’

  ‘The marriage was always troubled. Rex was a rotten husband. He only married Margaret for her money and he was never faithful to her for long. She was very unhappy. Rumour had it she was going to divorce him, but then she died suddenly. That was in 1944. Rex was home on leave and they had a flaming row—or so he said—and she ended up taking an overdose of sleeping pills.’

  He was silent for a moment.

  ‘People were surprised when they got married. Margaret was a shy girl, and quite plain. But if you knew Rex as well as I did then, I’m sorry to say it made perfect sense. He was on the look-out for a rich wife. It was as simple as that. We were great friends when we were boys, but all that’s past, I’m afraid. Sarah can’t abide him, and I can understand why. Truth to tell, we don’t see much of each other now. And when we do, it’s usually because Rex wants to borrow money from me. He’s managed to go through most of what Margaret left him—and it was a lot—but he still tries to keep up appearances, play the part of a rich man about town. It’s all a front, though.’

  ‘Does he live in London?’ Madden asked.

  ‘He’s got a house near Shepherd Market; heavily mortgaged, I believe. Are you planning to talk to him?’

  ‘I might. It rather depends on whether Mr Sinclair thinks this inquiry is worth pursuing.’

  ‘You’re welcome to mention my name if you do,’ Jessup said. ‘I’ll get Miss Harmon to give you his address and telephone number.’

  He rose to his feet. Madden did the same.

  ‘I’d like to thank you for being so frank with me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a much clearer picture now of that week-end.’

  ‘I’m glad to have been of help.’ Jessup responded with the open smile that Madden had come to expect from him. ‘And please feel free to get in touch with me again if you need to.’

  About to move to the door, he checked his stride. He saw that his visitor had something further to say.

  ‘There is one more favour I’d like to ask of you.’ Madden had hesitated before making the request. ‘Could you possibly put me in touch with Mrs Castleton? She’s someone I’d like to talk to.’

  ‘But of course. I should have thought of that myself.’ Jessup’s smile broadened. ‘Nothing could be simpler. She lives near Kew Gardens. She’d been staying at our house in Hampshire taking care of the children while Sarah and I were in the United States, but she’s home again now. I could have spent another hour talking to you about Adele. She’s a wonderful woman—and far and away the best thing that ever happened to my father. In the few years they were together she made him happier than he’d ever been in his life and I’m glad to say she’s still very much a part of our family. Sarah thinks the world of her, and so do the children. As far as they’re concerned she’s their real grandmother, and I dread the day when I’ll have to tell them that she’s not.’

  He chuckled.

  ‘Unfortunately I’ll be away on the Continent for the next fortnight on business. But I’ll write her a note before I go telling her who you are and that I fully support the inquiries you’re making. I’ll give you her address and telephone number, too, so that you can get in touch with her. I’m sure you’ll find her helpful.’

  • • •

  ‘It wasn’t just that I liked him, Angus. I was impressed by him. It must be a huge responsibility running a concern like Jessup’s. Yet he carries it all so lightly.’

  ‘And you don’t feel he was keeping anything back?’

  ‘About Rex Garner? No, I don’t. He doesn’t believe Garner could have had anything to do with Miss Blake’s death. He made that clear. But he was quite open about his womanizing.’

  They were speaking on the telephone. Madden had rung the chief inspector when he got back from the City and was standing now in a hall stripped of all furniture save for the small table where the phone rested. Even the painting that had hung on the wall above—and which Madden was accustomed to gaze at whenever he used the instrument—had disappeared. It was the study of Westminster Bridge, which Alice had claimed for her own, and it appeared that she had already taken possession of the object. In its place now there was only the ghostly outline left by the frame on the wallpaper behind it.

  ‘I was interested to learn that Garner also knew Wing,’ Madden went on. ‘That might be a line of inquiry worth pursuing.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We still don’t know why Wing brought Portia Blake down to Kent with him. But bearing in mind that scene at dinner, and the way Miss Blake carried on, it’s possible it was somehow linked to Rex Garner being there at the same time.’

  ‘Would Wing have known that; before he got there, I mean?’

  ‘I don’t know. But it’s something I can ask Mrs Castleton when I see her. And I’ve a lot more to tell you about Mr Wing . . .’

  Madden broke off at the sound of footsteps above. Looking up he saw Lucy coming down the stairs.

  ‘Yes, go on.’ Sinclair’s voice sounded in his ear. ‘What about him?’

  ‘Look, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not talk about it now.’ Madden replied after a moment. ‘I’m a bit caught up at present. Let’s discuss it at the week-end. We’ll have plenty of time then.’

  ‘Was that Angus?’ Lucy asked when she had reached the bottom of the stairs and Madden had replaced the receiver. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t listening in.’

  ‘Listening in . . . ?’

  ‘Only I wouldn’t want you to think I was eavesdropping.’ Lucy’s blue eyes were the image of her mother’s and at that moment her gaze was guilt-ridden and apologetic. ‘I
know you don’t want to talk about this case in front of me anymore and I understand why. I shouldn’t have babbled on in that way.’

  ‘My darling, I don’t want you to feel shut out . . .’

  Madden was at a loss for words. In the wake of the events of the previous Sunday he had been suffering from an attack of guilt: he felt he had been too harsh with his daughter, and Lucy’s uncharacteristic meekness since then, the burden of sackcloth and ashes she wore, her penitent’s expression, had only added to his feeling of remorse.

  ‘It’s just that . . . that . . . I prattle on without thinking, I know. I must be more careful in the future. This has been a good lesson for me.’

  She took his arm.

  ‘I’ve given Alice the evening off. I’m going to make you dinner. You probably don’t know, but she managed to squeeze two pork chops out of the butcher this morning. Such riches! Let’s go into the kitchen and decide what we’re going to do with them.’