by T E Kinsey
I, on the other hand, was keen for more of any sort of flattery and blandishment and rather fancied being compared to a proper detective again.
‘What’s our next move?’ I asked. ‘Do we rattle Richman’s cage? Thumbscrews and Chinese water torture till he squeals?’
The inspector laughed. ‘Or we could just sit him down and ask him a few more questions. All calm and polite, like.’
‘Or that,’ I said. ‘But I know a few ways of hurting him that’ll leave no marks if you want.’
He gave me a puzzled frown. ‘I’ll bear that in mind, miss. But if you could just fetch him without causing him any damage, that’ll do for now.’
‘Righto, sir,’ I said, brightly. I turned to Lady Hardcastle. ‘He’s not nearly as much fun as I thought, you know.’
They both laughed.
Once again, Roland Richman was sitting in the dining room at The Grange, but he didn’t look nearly so comfortable and self-assured as he had last time.
‘Well, then,’ he said, almost nervously. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this second meeting? Has something happened? Do you know who did it?’
‘Not quite yet, sir,’ said the inspector. ‘But a couple of things have come to light which need some clarification.’
‘If I can help, Inspector, you know I shall.’
‘Thank you, sir. I wonder what you can tell us about Mr…’ he consulted his notebook. ‘Mr Praveer Sengupta.’
‘Praveer Sengupta,’ said Richman, thoughtfully. ‘Name rings a bell. Indian gentleman, I take it? Have we performed for him? I vaguely recall playing an engagement at a do in Cheltenham with some ex-Raj types. Was that it?’
‘Not quite, sir, no. This particular gentleman has just been arrested in Paris. Have you ever been to Paris, sir?’
‘More than once, Inspector. But I don’t recall–’
‘You see, sir, I’ve been in communication with my opposite number in the Sûreté in Paris. I’ve been told that you met Mr Sengupta in a bar in Montmartre last month.’
I’d been wondering how he was going to reveal what we knew without dropping Skins in it. And without actually lying, too. Clever chap, that Inspector Sunderland.
Richman, meanwhile, didn’t seem nearly so delighted.
‘Ah,’ he said, at last.
‘“Ah” indeed, sir. Shall we start again? What business did you conduct with Mr Sengupta?’
‘It was some… ah… some courier work,’ said Richman.
‘Delivering messages around Paris, sir? Was the music not paying so well?’
‘Not as such, Inspector, no. It was more, ah…’
‘To put you out of your misery just a tiny bit, sir,’ said the inspector, ‘perhaps I should tell you that I’ve also been in contact with my colleagues at Scotland Yard. They, in turn, have close contact with His Majesty’s Customs to whom you are well known on account of your occasional smuggling exploits. Once again, sir, your dealings with Mr Sengupta?’
‘Oh, very well,’ said Richman, impatiently. ‘Sengupta paid me to bring a little something into England.’
‘And would that “little something” be a Nepalese emerald, by any chance?’
‘Good God, Inspector, how did you–?’
‘I believe the customary response is, “I’m a detective, sir; it’s my job to know.”’
Richman looked defeated.
‘There are some other things I know, too, sir, but there’s a dismaying number of things which still elude me. I know, for instance, that you brought the gem into the country in a secret compartment in the late Mr Holloway’s trumpet case. I strongly suspect that there was some sort of trouble in London – a rival gang, perhaps – which necessitated your sudden flit to Gloucestershire. I know that Mr Haddock is a fence and so I suspect that he’s involved in the deal somewhere. But I still don’t know who rifled through your traps and bludgeoned your friend, and I don’t know where the gem is now. I have more than enough to charge you with some serious offences, Mr Richman. Will murder be one of them?’
Richman sat in silence for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. Finally he spoke.
‘You must understand, Inspector, that I never for a moment anticipated that any of this would happen. I’ve known Praveer for a long time; he’s another ragtime enthusiast. I knew he was a dealer in, shall we say, “unusual” Indian objets, and he knew of my lack of squeamishness concerning moving things across borders. When he approached me in Paris I thought it was just going to be a simple matter of bringing a gemstone to London and passing it on to his buyer. Nothing to it. Easy money. And so it seemed. At first. We got it past Customs without a hitch and I was waiting in London for Praveer’s man to contact me. But that was when it all started to become a little unpleasant.’
‘Unpleasant how, sir?’ prompted the inspector.
‘My flat was broken into. Twice. At first I thought, as you did, that some London gang had got wind of our venture and had decided to try to acquire the gem for themselves. But then I met The Giant.’
‘And who is “The Giant”, sir?’ asked the inspector, though I suspected he had guessed as well as I.
‘No idea what his name is, but he’s a huge Indian bloke. And I mean really, really huge.’
‘And what happened when you met him?’
‘It was during the third burglary. I came back from a rather successful night at a club in the West End to find the door to my flat wide open. By this time I was a little spooked, I can tell you, so I’d taken to carrying a cosh in my pocket. If someone was going to try it on, I was going to make sure I could give hime what for. So I crept cautiously in, holding the cosh ready to strike, and there he was, in my front room, larger than life and twice as terrifying. I said, “Now listen here, what do you think you’re doing,” and brandished the cosh at him. He just put down the cigarette box he’d been looking in, and sort of lumbered towards me. I went to strike him but he just brushed me aside like I was a rag doll and lumbered out.’
‘He didn’t say anything?’
‘Not a word. He didn’t look especially concerned, either. He just went out, down the stairs and out into the street. I looked out of the window and saw him just casually waddling down the road.’
‘And you’ve no idea who he was?’
‘None whatsoever, Inspector. But I can put two and two together as well as the next man. I’d smuggled a jewel on behalf of a man known for dealing in those “unusual” items–’
‘Shall we stop being so coy and just admit that they’re stolen, sir?’
‘If you like, Inspector,’ said Richman. ‘Although they’re not always stolen, as such. Sometimes it’s just that their removal from their country of origin is prohibited, even by their legitimate owners. Praveer isn’t averse to shifting the odd bent item, and I’d be lying if I tried to paint him as some sort of saint, but he’s more often an agent for people who find themselves unable to liquidate their assets because of some interfering local laws about removing national treasures.’
‘As you wish, sir. So you knew you were in possession of an “interesting” item…’
‘Yes. But I hadn’t twigged until that point who might be interested in it. It looked for all the world like the gem’s original owners might be wanting it back.’
‘Why not just pass it on to the buyer in London?’ asked Lady Hardcastle. ‘Then it would be his problem.’
‘That was exactly what I was going to do. But the buyer in London, or his agent at least, had gone to a party in Gloucestershire. At the house of a family that I’d introduced him to.’
‘The redoubtable Mr Haddock,’ said the inspector. ‘And so you called Clarissa Farley-Stroud, offered your services, and got down here as quickly as you could.’
‘It seemed to kill two birds with one stone,’ said Richman. ‘I could get out of London and away from that monster, and I could offload the gem to Fishface and make it, as you said, his problem.’
‘And all this time the gem had been in Mr Holloway�
�s trumpet case?’ I said.
‘Seemed the safest place,’ said Richman. ‘I managed to get in touch with Fishface and we arranged to meet in the interval; you know, try to keep it casual, like an incidental meeting if anyone saw us. I was going to take him into the library, get the gem, give it to him, collect the rest of my fee and try to forget all about it.’
‘So what went wrong?’ asked the inspector.
‘No idea. He never showed up.’
‘I’ve asked you this once before, sir, but I think we both know I didn’t get an honest answer. Would you now tell us, please, exactly what happened when you left the ballroom that night.’
‘I went round to the library and waited outside–’
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘Couldn’t say, Inspector. There was a man in the corridor, up by the far door of the library by that ghastly Chinese cupboard, but he had his back to me and was walking away so I don’t imagine he noticed me. I hung around for as long as seemed safe, but there was no sign of Fishface or Nelson, so I got back to the ballroom before anyone wondered why I was hanging around in the passageway.’
The inspector made a few more notes, but he seemed to be done for now.
‘Right you are, then, Mr Richman. There’s a superintendent from Scotland Yard on his way to interview Miss Montgomery, but I’m sure he’ll want a word with you, too. You can go, but stay in the house.’
‘Interview Sylvia?’ said Richman.
‘Oh, yes, sir, sorry, more bad news. Your songbird is well on her way to being a jailbird. She’s a jewel thief.’
‘She’s a what?’
‘She’s Olive Sewell, a well known jewel thief, sir. She lifted some of the hostess’s jewellery while you were trying to offload your stolen gemstone. You might consider a name change for the band. How about Roland Richman’s Reprobates’ Revue?’
‘Very droll, Inspector, very droll. I’ll be in the ballroom.’
He left, looking very dejected.
‘I wonder how keen he’d be to stay if we told him the “Giant” was here in the house?’ I said.
‘Just as well we didn’t mention it,’ said the inspector. He sighed, looking suddenly very tired. ‘I suppose we’d better speak to Haddock again,’ he said, wearily. ‘Although I don’t feel we’re getting any closer.’
‘Nonsense, my dear Inspector,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘We’re nearly there now. Just one or two more things to iron out and then we can nab our man.’
‘We can?’ he said, doubtfully.
‘Indubitably.’
‘My breath is duly bated,’ he said, still without conviction. ‘Miss Armstrong, would you do the honours, please?’
‘Certainly, Inspector. One grilled haddock, coming up.’
I found Mr Haddock on the terrace, playing backgammon with Captain Summers. There were drinks on the table and they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
‘Aha,’ said Captain Summers, catching sight of me. ‘The daring lady’s maid. I say, Haddock, did you know this one threw an Irish prize fighter to the ground? Tiny little thing like that. Don’t know what the world’s coming to.’
Haddock leered at me. ‘What can we do for you, my dear?’
‘Inspector Sunderland would like to talk to you, Mr Haddock,’ I said.
‘What a shame,’ he said. ‘I was rather hoping you’d come to join us.’
I said nothing and waited for him to rise and follow me.
‘Well, Summers, my lad,’ he said at length. ‘Time and Inspectors of Police wait for no man. We shall finish our game presently, but for now I have to accompany this delightful girl to the dining room.’
He rose unsteadily to his feet and followed my in through the French windows of the ballroom. As we neared the door he caught up with me and put his hand on my behind.
‘I’m sure we have time to get a little better acquainted before I see the inspector,’ he said. ‘What a pretty little thing you arrgggghhh.’
There were only two punches and a kick, and quite gentle ones at that. As I helped him to his feet I said, ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Haddock, it’s this ballroom floor. Very slippery. I must have lost my balance a little. Are you quite all right?’
He glared at me.
Still grasping his hand I leaned in close and spoke very softly in his ear. ‘Please don’t touch me again, sir. The floors are quite slippery throughout the house now I come to think about it. Who knows how disastrously I might lose my balance the next time.’
He said nothing for the rest of the short walk to the dining room.
‘Ah, Mr Haddock,’ said the inspector as we entered. ‘Sorry to have to drag you in here once again, but there are still one or two matters to clear up. Oh, I say, you look a bit bedraggled, sir, are you quite all right?’
‘Slipped in the ballroom,’ he said, glaring at me.
Lady Hardcastle caught the glare and gave me a questioning look of her own. I grinned and she smiled.
‘Treacherous things, ballroom floors,’ said the inspector, though I think he caught the silent exchange between me and Lady Hardcastle and had his own idea of what might have happened. ‘But to business. Would you mind telling us again why you came to The Grange?’
‘I came at Sir Hector’s invitation to appraise some of his objets d’art.’
‘And nothing else?’
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Inspector.’
‘If I were to mention the names Roland Richman and Praveer Sengupta in conjunction with the Nepalese jewel known as the Emerald Eye, would you have a clearer idea of what I might mean?’
‘No, Inspector,’ he said belligerently. ‘Not a clue.’
I took a half-step towards him and he flinched.
‘Keep that vicious little harpy away from me,’ he whined.
‘I’d love to,’ said the inspector, ‘but she doesn’t work for me. I’ve tried to keep her under control, but you know what it’s like with women these days. Law unto themselves, they are.’
‘Just keep her away from me and I’ll tell you what you want to know.’
‘Good lad. She’s quite reasonable. I’m sure she’ll not harm you. At least not while there’s anyone watching. So tell us again about your visit to The Grange.’
‘It’s true that I was invited down here by Sir Hector,’ he said. ‘But on the day of the party I got a telegram from Richman saying that he was going to be playing and that we should complete our business down here.’
‘Your business being the sale of the Eye,’ said the inspector.
‘Yes,’ he said, resignedly. ‘I have a buyer lined up in London but Richman was getting into some hot water over it all, so we decided to make the transfer here, then I’d complete the whole deal when we got back. No one would be looking for it at my place.’
‘And you arranged to meet him in the interval.’
‘You seem to know all about it, Inspector. I don’t really see why I have to go through it all.’
‘Indulge me. You arranged to meet in the interval, but you didn’t show up.’
‘I got delayed, that was all. I went to the… er… you know. I told you before. When I got back to the library Richman wasn’t there.’
‘So you just left it at that?’
‘No… I… er…’
‘You, er, what, sir?’
He sighed. ‘I went into the library.’
‘And what did you see?’
‘Chaos, Inspector. Chaos. The band’s things had been torn apart.’
‘Did you see Mr Holloway?’
‘No. No, I stayed long enough to see what had happened and got out. Richman had told me about The Giant and I was afraid he’d followed him down here, so I wasn’t going to hang around for him to tear me apart, too.’
‘I see,’ said the inspector. ‘Did you see anything else?’
He paused. ‘I think I heard the far door clicking shut as I came in, but I can’t be certain.’
‘And it never occurred to you to mention this
when we questioned you before?’
‘Oh, come on, Inspector. It wouldn’t have taken you long to find out my reputation. And then how would it look? I reckoned it would all blow over and I’d be long gone before you sussed who I am and then there’d be no awkward questions and no unpleasantness.’
‘I see. Well, if what you say is true, then aside from being a lying little toe-rag, I’ve got nothing to hold you on, but don’t leave The Grange until I say you can. On your way, Haddock.’
‘Charming,’ said Haddock.
‘Don’t push your luck, “sir”,’ said the inspector.
I shifted my weight slightly and he was out the door like a startled rat.
Inspector Sunderland slumped in one of the dining room chairs and massaged his temples.
‘I just can’t seem to piece it all together,’ he said, dejectedly. ‘The jewel is the key, but no one involved seems to have had cause to pinch it and kill Holloway in the process.’
‘Apart from Mr Verma’s servant,’ I said.
‘He was my main suspect for a while,’ he said. ‘But then I asked myself why Verma would have come to you and told you the story if he already had the gem. He’d have done a moonlight as soon as they had hold of it and would have been heading east before the sun was up. Richman and Haddock are a couple of chancers out of their depth. Montgomery-Sewell is a tricky little thief but seems genuinely fond of her colleagues so I can’t believe it’s her. The – what did he say they were – the “rhythm section” seem like pleasant young blokes with nothing on their mind but girls and music. No one saw anything. No one knows anything. We’ve got a murder weapon and a motive, but no real suspects. I don’t mind telling you, ladies, I’m stumped.’
‘Well,’ I said. ‘When you put it like that–’
There was a knock at the door and once again the cheerfully respectful face of Jenkins peered round. Lady Hardcastle waved him in.
‘Come on in, Jenkins,’ she said. ‘What can we do for you?’
‘It’s more a matter of what I may do your you, my lady,’ he said, proffering his silver tray. ‘Another telegram has arrived.’