The Death of Kings

by Rennie George Airth

  ‘The truth is George can manage perfectly well on his own,’ he had lamented, with a sigh, only the night before when Helen and he were preparing for bed. He was speaking of his farm manager, George Burrows. ‘I’d like to think I was missed spending all this time up in London seeing to Aunt Maud’s house and trying to sooth Angus’s fevered brow. But everything seems to be running quite smoothly without me. If things go on this way I’m going to find myself turning into what I’ve always dreaded most becoming: a gentleman farmer.’

  Spurred on by these guilty thoughts, Madden armed himself with a saw the next morning and walked down to the orchard at the bottom of the garden. He had marked out several branches on the older trees the evening before and was engaged in the agreeable business of removing them (and covering himself with sweet-smelling sawdust in the process) when he heard Helen calling to him from the terrace.

  ‘John . . . John . . . you’d better come up.’

  ‘What is it?’ He shouted back to her.

  ‘Just come up. There’s something you have to see.’

  Baffled, he laid down his saw and walked up the long lawn to the terrace. Helen was at the table under the trellis, and when he got there he found that she had the Sunday newspapers on the table in front of her. Delivered by the Highfield newsagent’s son, who made a leisurely tour of the houses outside the village on his bicycle, they included not only the Sunday Times for Madden and Helen but the News of the World as well, ordered at the request of Helen’s maid of many years, Mary Morris. She had taken up residence with them following the death of her mother two years previously and occupied a sunny room on the upper floor of the old, half-timbered house with a view of the long wooded ridge called Upton Hanger, which rose like a green wave beyond the stream at the bottom of the garden. It was this last journal that Helen was looking at, and as Madden approached she pointed to a story displayed on the front page.

  Madden bent over her shoulder to peer at it.

  ‘Oh, lord!’

  He stared aghast at the headline.

  Murder of Actress Called into Question—Missing Pendant Found—Was the Wrong Man Hanged?

  Farther down, and in slightly smaller type, were the words “Society figures involved.”

  A photograph of Portia Blake accompanied the story, which gave a full account of the murder and the trial that had followed as well as the names of all the guests who had been present at Foxley Hall that week-end. Clearly a picture taken for publicity purposes, it showed her in an off-the-shoulder dress sitting in a chair with her legs crossed and her hands laced about one knee. Her smile was suggestive.

  ‘I can’t believe Violet has been talking about it,’ Helen said. ‘She promised me she wouldn’t.’

  She glanced up at her husband. Madden’s eyes were still glued to the page.

  ‘Could it have been one of the people you’ve been speaking to: Sir Richard Jessup, perhaps? All it would take for the story to get out is one careless remark.’

  ‘No, I don’t think it was Jessup. It’s the last thing he’d want to see happen.’ Madden went on with his reading.

  ‘What about that actress, Audrey Cooper?’

  ‘I thought of her at once. She’s spiteful enough to take pleasure in starting a rumour of this kind. But if it was she, I can’t help feeling she’d make sure that her own name cropped up in the story somehow, if only for the publicity it would give her. And I was careful to tell her that the police weren’t interested in re-opening the case.’

  ‘Tell me it wasn’t Lucy,’ Helen pleaded.

  Madden shook his head, laughing.

  ‘No, it’s not Lucy.’ His smile faded. ‘I think it’s the same person who sent Derry that note.’

  ‘Why? I mean, why do you think that?’

  ‘It’s the language the reporter uses.’ He pointed a finger at the page. ‘“Confidential sources have revealed that the jade pendant sent to the police is the same one that disappeared from Portia Blake’s body in August 1938,”’ Madden quoted from the article. ‘“There is a slight flaw in the figure that enabled it to be identified.’”

  He looked up.

  ‘That’s almost word for word what was in Derry’s letter: except now it’s being stated as an established fact that the two pendants are one and the same. Whoever sent it to him hasn’t got the reaction he was hoping for. There’s been no sign of any renewal of police interest in the case. He’s decided to take the bull by the horns and drag the press in. It’s easy to see what he’s up to. He wants to force the issue. But what is he really after?’

  Madden’s scowl had returned.

  ‘And who the devil is he?’

  11

  ‘WELL, ANGUS HAS GOT his way.’ Charlie Chubb eased himself into his chair. ‘Cradock’s had to accept that the case must be looked at again. I’ve just been speaking to him. Or being spoken to, I should say. He’d come from seeing the commissioner, and if the way he talked to me was anything to go by, I reckon he’d just had a bollocking. Oh, and he had a few words for you, too.’

  The chief super pointed a finger at Madden, who had arrived only a few minutes before and was sitting in front of his desk beside Billy Styles, who had also been summoned to the meeting and who had greeted his old mentor with a smile and a warm handshake.

  ‘“Tell Madden to keep his nose out of police business,” he said. “This is not the first time he’s interfered. But it had better be the last. And tell him to hand over that pendant as well.”’

  ‘Surely he doesn’t think I had anything to do with leaking the story.’

  Stung by the words, Madden pulled the object from his pocket and passed it across the desk to Chubb. He had intended to pay a visit to Scotland Yard later in the week. But the story that had appeared in the News of the World had spurred him into ringing the chief super as soon as he got up to London that Monday morning. Chubb had asked if he could come down to the Yard right away.

  ‘It looks to me as though the newspaper received the same sort of letter as Derry did,’ Madden went on. ‘The language is similar. And it’s equally obvious it was sent by the same person. Whoever he or she is, they want the case re-opened.’

  ‘It’s partly my fault,’ Chubb admitted. He held up the pendant to the light and peered at it. ‘I told Cradock that at least we wouldn’t be starting cold: that you’d been speaking to some of the people involved as a favour to Angus. That set him off. He said it must have been you that caused the leak to the press. I tried to explain about the note Derry had received and how some of the wording in the newspaper report was the same, but I don’t think he was listening. Mind you, his mood wasn’t improved by the way the dailies have taken the story up. Have you looked at them, John?’

  He gestured to the newspapers spread out on his desk, two or three of which Madden had already glanced at on his journey up to London by train.

  ‘The Daily Mail’s the one that really got him going. “Is there a murderer still at large among us? Yard tight-lipped.”’

  The chief super chortled.

  ‘One of their reporters rang up yesterday and got hold of the CID duty officer, who said he couldn’t comment on the story in the News of the World and they’d have to wait till today for any reaction. That’s being tight-lipped for you. I’ll be issuing a statement later saying the investigation is under review.’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Anyway, the word from on high now is that we have to get this business cleared up once and for all. Styles has already told me about your visit to Kent and what Derry had to say. But you’ve seen a few more people since then, I gather, so if you wouldn’t mind telling us what you’ve learned, and whether you think it amounts to anything, I’d be more than grateful.’

  ‘I’ll do my best, Charlie. But tell Cradock that if he’s got any more remarks to make about me he can say them to my face.’

  His words brought a chuc
kle from Chubb. He cocked his head on one side and peered at his visitor’s scowling visage.

  ‘I don’t think he’d dare.’

  Chubb settled himself in his chair.

  ‘So if anyone’s in the frame, it looks like it would be Garner,’ he said. ‘But does the fact that he might have had an affair with Miss Blake really constitute a motive? What’s your view, John?’

  ‘It could, I suppose—if he thought his future was at stake.’ Madden tugged unhappily at an earlobe. ‘He was upset by the act Portia Blake put on at dinner the night before. You’ve got both Jessup and Mrs Castleton as witnesses to that. If, in fact, he did arrange to meet Miss Blake the following day so that he could have it out with her in private, I suppose you could argue that she might have pushed him even further; taunted him, and perhaps driven him to an act of violence. Both Derry and Angus thought at the time that Norris had probably killed the girl by mistake: that he’d tried to choke her into submission and gone too far.’

  ‘Grabbed hold of her scarf in a fit of anger, you’re saying, and killed her almost before he knew it?’

  ‘Something of the sort.’ Madden shrugged. ‘According to Mrs Castleton he displayed that kind of anger, that lack of control, before when he assaulted the woman in Hong Kong. The same thing might have happened with Portia Blake, and if in fact Garner killed her—and if the pendant was a present he gave her—then it’s easy to understand why he might have taken it from her body. But how could it have turned up again in this way? That’s another unanswered question. Did he lose it? Did it fall into someone else’s hands? Surely he would have wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible.’

  The chief super stirred uneasily in his chair. He cleared his throat.

  ‘But on balance, don’t you agree that Garner is the most likely suspect?’ he asked.

  ‘Other than Norris, you mean?’ Madden frowned. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Although we still haven’t dealt with the problem of opportunity: how little time there was for him to have committed the murder before Norris arrived on the scene. That’s assuming he wasn’t the killer. Either Garner’s spurt of homicidal rage happened at just the right moment to allow him to escape unseen, or we may have to look for another explanation.’

  ‘Or at someone else who was in the vicinity,’ Chubb suggested. He cocked an eye at his visitor.

  ‘You mean Stanley Wing.’ Madden grunted. ‘Angus said the same thing. Yes, I can picture him killing Portia in cold blood. But why should he do such a thing? We’re still stuck for a motive there. And as I told Angus, if he is the man you’re after, I doubt you’ll get him to admit it, no matter how hard he’s pushed.’

  Chubb muttered unintelligibly. He and Billy had listened to Madden for close on an hour while he gave them a detailed account of his interviews with Richard Jessup, Audrey Cooper and, finally, Mrs Castleton. Now and then one or the other had put a question. But for the most part they had stayed silent. Finally, at the conclusion of his long recital, Madden had taken a sheaf of folded foolscap papers from his jacket pocket and handed it to the chief super.

  ‘This is a summary of the various conversations I’ve had. It includes all the points I think are significant, though you can make your own judgement as far as that’s concerned.’

  The chief super turned to his younger colleague.

  ‘What’s your opinion?’ he asked. ‘How do we go about this?’

  ‘We should look at both Garner and Wing.’ Billy had his answer ready. ‘We can question Garner about any prior connection he might have had with Miss Blake now that this is out in the open. We can certainly ask him to confirm his alibi for that afternoon. As for Wing, I reckon we’d better get in touch with the Hong Kong police about having him questioned. Sending a detective all the way from London would be an expensive business. I can’t see Cradock authorising it.’

  ‘While we’re at it we can ask them about that business between Garner and the woman he beat up,’ Chubb observed. ‘It’d be interesting to find out if it’s on their books, or if Wing was able to arrange things so that the police weren’t involved.’

  ‘As far as Wing is concerned, Jessup has offered to help.’ Madden interrupted them. ‘He said he would ask his people out there if they had any news of him.’

  ‘Should we question him, do you think; Jessup, I mean?’ Chubb asked the question. It brought a shake of the head from Madden.

  ‘I don’t think that’s necessary; at least, not at present. He wasn’t one of the guests that week-end. He was down there to talk business with his father, and he left well before Miss Blake was murdered. He’s been very cooperative so far, with me at least. I noticed from the papers that his name has already come up, but only in passing, as it were. They still seem to be fixated on his father and the people he mixed with. Black Jack Jessup has a ring to it, after all; not to mention the Prince of Wales. I’m planning to ring him to explain how this business became public—how I believe the newspapers came to learn of it. I wouldn’t want him to think I had anything to do with it; not after he was so helpful. He’s still away from London on business, but he should be back by the end of the week.’

  The chief super ruminated. He had been making notes on a pad while Madden spoke earlier and he glanced at his jottings now.

  ‘What about this actress—Miss Cooper? Has she got anything more to tell us?’

  ‘She might have.’ Madden spoke after a moment’s thought. ‘I’m not sure she was altogether truthful with me. There was a moment when I thought she might be keeping something back, though I’m not sure what. It was only a feeling, mind you.’

  ‘How about Mrs Castleton?’

  ‘I’ve told you what she told me. I doubt she has anything to add. But she might know what became of the staff at Foxley Hall after Jack Jessup died and she moved out. I imagine you’ll want to track them down, if you can.’

  The chief super made another note.

  ‘Any other thoughts?’ he asked.

  Madden hesitated. ‘Mrs Castleton said she doubted that Wing was behind the display Portia Blake put on at dinner and she instanced the remarks she overheard him make when she walked by Portia’s room later. “What is this game you’re playing?” she heard him say. He sounded very angry.’

  ‘Yes . . . and?’

  ‘I think she was right, but only up to a point. What seems to have angered Wing was that Portia took matters into her own hands: it sounds as though her performance at dinner was her own idea, one she hadn’t consulted him about. But I think he was pulling the strings, just the same. I think he had a plan hatching. There’s still no explanation for why he brought her down to Kent with him.’

  ‘Unless it was what we’ve been talking about,’ Chubb pointed out. ‘Unless it was to blackmail Rex Garner in front of his wife: to put pressure on him. I know Garner wasn’t rich in his own right, but he was married to a wealthy woman. Wing might have reckoned he could get his hands on a hefty sum if he needed to.’

  Madden was slow in responding.

  ‘Look, there’s a bigger problem here—for me, at any rate.’ Finally he spoke. ‘I can’t quite see what Wing was supposed to have been threatening him with. Even if Garner had been forced to admit to this wife that he’d had a fling with Miss Blake, would it really have been so serious? Granted, it might have made things sticky between them for a while, but he could have claimed quite reasonably that their liaison was brief and that he’d recognized his error and corrected it. He’d broken off with the girl. I just can’t see that it’s the basis for any serious blackmail threat.’

  He looked questioningly at his two listeners.

  ‘You’re saying there must be more to the whole business?’ It was Billy who spoke.

  ‘Or nothing at all, and we’ve been making too much of it.’ Madden shrugged. ‘I just feel there’s a large hole in the theory as it stands.’

  Chubb’s growl signalled his displ
easure.

  ‘What about that girl in Hong Kong, though? We don’t know what happened to her. Could Garner have killed her? Was that something else Wing had over him?’

  ‘It’s possible, I suppose.’ Madden scowled. ‘But the only people who might be able to help you there are the Hong Kong police, and as far as we know they never took any action over the matter.’

  • • •

  ‘Well, at least it’ll bring a smile to Mr Sinclair’s face.’

  Billy Styles lifted his glass of beer in a silent toast to the absent chief inspector. A grin accompanied his words.

  ‘But I gathered from what you were saying, sir, that you don’t think we’ve got much chance of overturning the original verdict.’

  ‘Not as things stand, Billy.’ Madden sampled his beer. ‘You’ll need more than a suspicion that Garner may have had a part in Portia Blake’s death. The same goes for Stanley Wing. And the fact that all this happened eleven years ago only adds to the difficulty. Short of a confession by one or the other, I can’t see you making much progress.’

  Following their meeting with Chubb—and since it was the lunch hour, and Billy free to take a break—the two men had repaired to a nearby pub to exchange last thoughts on the problem that had occupied Madden’s mind for the past fortnight and was now the CID’s responsibility.

  ‘But what will matter to Angus is that the effort is being made,’ Madden continued. ‘Once the Yard has announced that it’s looking at the case again, he’ll feel better.’

  ‘Even if it changes nothing? Even if we decide that the right man went to the gallows after all?’

  Madden shrugged. ‘Norris is still the most likely culprit. Angus knows that. Nothing I’ve turned up points decisively to anyone else. It’s possible that whatever scheme Wing was hatching was somehow connected to Portia’s murder. But it may have had nothing to do with it.’