A Case of Murder in Mayfair (A Freddy Pilkington-Soames Adventure Book 2)

by Clara Benson

  ‘True,’ said Bird, slightly crestfallen.

  ‘No,’ said Entwistle, ‘I think we have to admit that Basil Kibble is by far our most likely suspect at the moment. I only hope the chaps catch him quickly.’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll find him sooner or later,’ said Bird. ‘These actors don’t like staying out of the spotlight for long. He’ll turn up again, you mark my words.’

  For the next few days, Freddy basked in his triumph at the part he had played in exposing Basil and Birdie’s illegal activities. The Kibbles’ disappearance had allowed him to stretch the story out over several days, and there was much speculation among the public as to where they might have gone. Reports came in of possible sightings from all over the country, and Freddy heard that the indefatigable Corky Beckwith had been haring about from Cornwall to Yorkshire, following up all of them, in his determination to be the one to catch the fugitives. Freddy was wanted on another story, and so could not join in the chase—much to his annoyance, for he knew Corky would not hesitate to crow when they next met. The Herald had dedicated a great deal of space to the ‘high society drug scandal,’ as it called it, and Freddy, to his great indignation, had read several stories in which Corky claimed all the credit for the discovery for himself, and hinted strongly that a rival reporter had nearly ruined everything through his own incompetence. By Wednesday, however, the clamour had started to die down, although the Kibbles still had not been found. Freddy wondered whether Basil would be arrested for the murder of Dorothy Dacres when he was eventually caught, for it seemed that here was a possible motive for her death—and Basil had certainly showed that he was prepared to use violence in order to avoid discovery. But since he and his wife had vanished without trace, no further progress could made on the case at present.

  On Wednesday afternoon Gussie called.

  ‘Are you busy?’ she said. ‘If not, come and take me out to tea.’

  She was looking very chic in a smart hat and coat, and greeted Freddy as cheerfully as ever when they met.

  ‘How’s your jaw?’ she said, as they sat down at their table. ‘Better, I hope.’

  ‘Yes, thanks,’ said Freddy. ‘Luckily it wasn’t broken.’

  ‘Look here, I’m sorry about that night at the Maypole,’ she said. ‘I was awfully squiffy, I’m afraid, and I wanted to annoy Seymour, but I never dreamed he’d land you one. Please say you forgive me.’

  She gazed at him appealingly, eyes wide.

  ‘Of course I forgive you,’ said Freddy. ‘You weren’t the one who thumped me, were you?’

  ‘No, but it was my fault he did. Poor Seymour—it’s so terribly easy to work him up.’

  ‘He’s not still in gaol, is he?’

  ‘No. I sent Ken to pay the fine, as Seymour hasn’t a bean, and most likely couldn’t have paid it himself. That’s why he was so angry at what Dorothy did, you see. He’s terribly well respected in Britain, and works so very hard, but he’s useless at asking for money, and so people rather take advantage. This job with the magazine was a tremendous opportunity, and they were simply throwing dollars at him, so he’d never have had to ask for it or send a bill. Now he’s back where he started.’

  ‘Is there no chance of his getting the job now?’

  ‘I don’t think so, because they’ve offered it to someone else instead. And what makes it worse is that it’s Dickie Sanders. The two of them fell out a few years ago, and it sticks in Seymour’s throat to lose a job to him.’

  ‘You’re very fond of him, aren’t you?’ said Freddy.

  ‘Oh, I’m quite desperately in love with him,’ said Gussie. ‘But he infuriates me so with his high-handedness that I had to give him the chuck before I laid into him with a half-brick.’

  ‘Gussie,’ said Freddy suddenly. ‘Where were you on the night Dorothy died? I mean, where did you go after she made her announcement?’

  She looked down, then back up quickly.

  ‘Where do you think I was, you idiot?’ she said at last. ‘I was out on the landing in a flood of tears, of course. But I should have died rather than let anyone see me at it, so I stayed there until I’d got hold of myself. Seymour came out and found me, as a matter of fact, and we had another row.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘I think he was trying to comfort me, but he went about it completely the wrong way. Then he stormed off, and—and—’

  ‘And what?’

  ‘That’s just it,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know where he went after he left me. And I’ve been so terribly afraid ever since that he might have done something stupid.’

  Freddy remembered Seymour’s words on the night of the party. ‘Someone’s going to murder that woman one day,’ he had said. Had he taken matters into his own hands in order to make his prediction come true?

  ‘At what time did he leave you?’ he said.

  ‘Why, I don’t know. When did I come back in and talk to you?’

  ‘Just before eleven, I think.’

  ‘Then it must have been a minute or so before that,’ she said. ‘The silly ass did me one favour at least—he exasperated me so much that I couldn’t think about crying any more, and so I went back into the party almost as soon as he’d gone.’

  ‘I saw him talking to Penk just as the hotel manager arrived, after everybody had rushed onto the terrace, thinking there’d been a motor accident out in the street,’ said Freddy. ‘He didn’t want to look—said it was ghoulish.’

  ‘Then that’s twenty minutes or more unaccounted for,’ said Gussie. ‘I wish I knew where he’d gone.’

  ‘Have you asked him?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’re not strictly on speaking terms, so I couldn’t.’

  ‘Perhaps it doesn’t matter where he was,’ said Freddy. ‘I mean, now that this new information about the Kibbles has come to light. It looks as though Dorothy’s cocaine came from Basil, and once the police find him I expect they’ll arrest him for murder too.’

  ‘Do you really think so?’ said Gussie. ‘Was it Basil who killed her, then?’

  ‘I couldn’t say, but his behaviour has certainly been suspicious enough. I’m fairly sure it was he who planted the cocaine on you at the Maypole, at any rate. When the police arrived he was frightened they’d start searching everybody, so he put the dope in the first place he could think of.’

  ‘Oh, goodness!’ exclaimed Gussie. ‘I believe you’re right. I remember now—my bag was on the chair next to him. It would have been as easy as anything for him to have shoved it in there on the spur of the moment.’ Her face fell. ‘But that doesn’t necessarily mean he killed Dorothy, does it?’

  ‘No,’ said Freddy.

  She toyed forlornly with a spoon.

  ‘I do wish Seymour and I hadn’t rowed that night,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I should so like to know where he was for that half an hour. I dare say I’ll never find out now. Perhaps I’ll never even see him again.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Freddy with a start, for he had just seen Seymour Cosgrove himself come in through the door of the café. He moved his chair back and glanced about hurriedly, looking for an easy means of escape, but there was none. Seymour made a bee-line for their table and stood before them.

  ‘Hallo,’ he said.

  Freddy was relieved to see he was looking much less hostile than he had on the night at the Maypole.

  ‘Seymour! What are you doing here? Did you follow me?’ exclaimed Gussie indignantly. ‘How dare you?’

  ‘I couldn’t help it. I was outside your house, making up my mind to knock, when I saw—’ he indicated Freddy. ‘Too late again, I suppose. I know I oughtn’t to have followed, but I’d made up my mind to talk to you and I won’t funk it, although I should far rather have done it in private.’

  ‘Talk to me about what?’

  ‘I don’t—
’ he paused uncomfortably. ‘If you must know, I wanted to apologize to you.’

  ‘You did, did you?’ said Gussie. ‘What did you want to apologize for?’

  ‘For being a fool. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry, Gussie.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said, a little mollified. ‘Well, then. But I think you ought to apologize to Freddy first.’

  ‘What?’

  She stared at him imperiously down her nose. He stuck his chin out.

  ‘All right, then,’ he said grudgingly at last to Freddy. ‘I’m sorry I punched you. But you were kissing my girl.’

  ‘Only because I asked him to,’ said Gussie.

  ‘Yes, well I could hardly punch you, could I?’ said Seymour.

  ‘I should think not! Very well, if you promise you’ll behave you may sit down.’

  Seymour took a seat gingerly. Freddy turned his chair a little more, so as to allow for a quick escape should it prove necessary, but Seymour did not seem inclined to continue the fight. The three of them sat in an uncomfortable silence for several seconds, then Freddy said with some trepidation:

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask him?’

  ‘You ask him,’ said Gussie.

  ‘What, and get another biff on the chin for my pains? No thanks.’

  ‘Ask me what?’ said Seymour in surprise, looking from one to the other of them.

  Gussie hesitated, but there was no going back now.

  ‘Seymour,’ she said, twisting her hands together. ‘Do you remember the night Dorothy died?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ he replied.

  ‘And you found me on the landing and we had a row.’

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about that,’ he said quickly. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, never mind that,’ she said. She hesitated, then said all in a rush, ‘Where did you go after you left me?’ He stared, and she went on hurriedly, ‘It’s just that nobody seems to have seen you after that, and I—I’ve been awfully afraid that you—that you might have—’

  ‘Might have what?’ he said. Then he seemed to realize what she meant, and his eyes widened. ‘You don’t mean to say you think I went off and chucked Dorothy over the edge, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘You were so very angry with her, and then Ada said she’d overheard you threatening to kill her. I was almost sure you hadn’t meant it, but I thought—I thought—’

  ‘Well, you can stop thinking about it,’ he said firmly. ‘I was furious with Dorothy that night because she started laughing at me again about the magazine. She still hadn’t understood what she’d done, and thought I ought to laugh about it too. Well, I didn’t. I told her exactly what I thought of her. I dare say I might even have threatened to kill her, but it’s one thing to say something like that in the heat of anger and quite another to do it—and I assure you I didn’t. If you want to know where I was after I left you, I went into the maid’s room with Bob Kenrick. He’d had a row with his girl too, and we both needed bucking up, so I nabbed a bottle of whisky off the table at the side of the room, and we went and sat down for a drink and a smoke and some peace and quiet—although we weren’t there long because then all the commotion started. I didn’t say anything because he didn’t mention it, and I thought perhaps he didn’t want it getting around that he’d been upset. I’d have spoken up if necessary, of course, but the police didn’t press the matter so I kept quiet. You didn’t really think I killed Dorothy, did you?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Gussie. ‘I mean, I hoped so very much you hadn’t, but I couldn’t help thinking that perhaps you’d seen I was upset after losing the part, and that you’d gone and done something rash.’

  ‘Oh, Gussie, how could you?’ said Seymour. He reached out and clasped her hand. ‘I promise you I didn’t do it. Please tell me you believe me. It would kill me if I thought you didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course I believe you!’ said Gussie eagerly. ‘How could I have doubted you? Oh, Seymour, I’m sorry I was angry with you.’

  ‘You had every right to be. I know I’ve been an ass, but it’s only because I adore you so.’

  They seemed to have completely forgotten Freddy’s existence. Freddy blew out his cheeks and stared hard at the wall as they leaned towards one another, gazing deeply into each other’s eyes.

  ‘Promise me you don’t doubt me,’ said Seymour. ‘Tell me again you know I didn’t kill Dorothy.’

  ‘Of course I know it, and I was a fool to have thought it even for a second,’ said Gussie. There was a pause, then she lowered her voice and whispered, ‘But would you have done it if I’d asked you to? Would you have done it for me?’

  He fixed her with a look of great intensity.

  ‘You know I’d do anything for you, my darling,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, Seymour,’ she breathed.

  Then suddenly there was a crash of crockery and teaspoons as they lunged at one another and started kissing madly across the table. Freddy counted slowly to twenty, but they did not appear inclined to stop, and so in the end he stood up and left quietly, consoling himself that at least one of his questions had been answered. Not that they seemed to care, but it now looked as though neither Gussie nor Seymour could have killed Dorothy Dacres.

  Although things were quiet for the next day or so, Freddy still could not get the Dorothy Dacres case out of his mind. He was relieved that Gussie had not done it—a possibility which had been worrying him for some time—while Seymour Cosgrove also appeared to have an alibi of sorts, if he really had been in the maid’s room with Robert Kenrick after eleven o’clock, since there was no way of getting onto the terrace from there. In that case, assuming Basil had not done it—and Freddy was by no means convinced he had—now that Gussie and Seymour seemed to have been exonerated, it looked rather as though the only person who had been in the right place at the right time was Robert Kenrick himself, for he had been out on the terrace for a good twenty minutes at around the same time that Dorothy had gone missing. Until they knew when Dorothy had died, they would not know exactly when an alibi was needed for, but it could not be denied that Kenrick’s presence on the terrace at the right time looked very suspicious. Freddy could not help remembering the conversation he had overheard between Dorothy and Kenrick, in which it sounded very much as though she were threatening him, and realized he had never yet mentioned it to the police. He supposed he ought to do so, although the idea made him uncomfortable, since he knew Kenrick must already be under suspicion given his lack of an alibi. Somehow he could not see Robert Kenrick as a murderer, for he lacked the ruthlessness that seemed to lie behind Dorothy’s death. That would not prevent the police from arresting him, however, if they found any other evidence to support the theory—always assuming there were any such evidence to be found, for whoever the killer was, he had hidden his tracks well, and had left no trace of his crime.

  There was nothing to be done at present, but Freddy was restless, and had a nagging feeling that the answer to the mystery lay at the Abingdon. He was almost certain he had overlooked an obvious clue, and so he left his desk and went to Mayfair, with no particular purpose in mind but to stand and stare at the hotel in case some idea should strike him. There was a bustle of people coming and going when he arrived, and it occurred to him that the recent dramatic events here must have been good for business. A number of people had benefited from the death of Dorothy Dacres. Surely it could not have been an accident, since her demise appeared to have helped so many? It seemed far too much of a coincidence to be possible.

  He was still gazing at the hotel entrance when a taxi drew up outside the door, and out of it stepped the Neales, with their daughter Adorable Ada. The little girl waved when she saw him.

  ‘Hallo,’ she said, as he crossed the street to join them. ‘We’re going in to tea. Mummy, look, it’s that man. The one with the funny face.’

&n
bsp; ‘Don’t be rude, darling,’ said Mrs. Neale. ‘People can’t help the way they look. Hallo, you’re Augusta’s friend Freddy, aren’t you?’

  Freddy acknowledged that he was.

  ‘I was supposed to be meeting someone here,’ he said on the spur of the moment, ‘but she hasn’t turned up.’

  ‘Oh, what a pity,’ said Patience. ‘Perhaps you’d like to join us instead. My husband has come to see Mr. Penk, and we tagged along as we had nothing else to do, but the men will be talking about all sorts of dull stuff that we don’t care about, so you’re welcome to come and sit with us if you like.’

  ‘Oh, yes, yes,’ agreed Kenneth Neale, on a nudge from his wife.

  Freddy indicated that he should like nothing better, and they went in. Once in the opulent hotel lounge, they sat in deep-cushioned chairs and listened to a string quartet, while Ada gazed about her with distant interest. Kenneth Neale, who, in his slightly shabby suit, looked out of place against the tasteful surroundings, was just glancing at his watch and beginning to remark on the time-keeping of Hollywood folk, when Eugene Penk strode in, accompanied by Cora Drucker. As always, Penk looked unmistakably American in his air and his dress, while his stocky build and fighter’s stance spoke clearly of a man who meant business. His eyebrows were drawn together in an expression of great purpose, until he caught sight of Neale and his expression relaxed. He came over, grasped the director in a firm handshake, and immediately began talking of money, then the two men wandered off to sit at another table, leaving Cora Drucker to sit down with the remaining group. Freddy was surprised at the change in her since he had last seen her. He had noted her as a pretty girl but not much more, for her beauty had been eclipsed by that of her sister, of whom she had seemed but a pale imitation. Now, however, with Dorothy’s death, it looked as though she had emerged to shine in her own right. She was dressed in an emerald green afternoon dress which was cut to a nicety and flattered both her complexion and her figure. Her hair was smooth and glossy, and her skin without flaw, and she almost glowed. What a change! Was Cora another person who had seen Dorothy Dacres’ death as an opportunity rather than a tragedy? It certainly seemed so, for although she spoke with apparent sincerity of the trials of the past week or two, there was no denying that she had blossomed in quite spectacular fashion.