by Clara Benson
‘You can’t do this,’ panted Freddy as he tried to wrestle himself free. ‘Nobody will believe it was an accident.’
‘Yes they will,’ said Penk. ‘Everybody saw you up here before. It’ll just look like you slipped. They’ll call it a tragic coincidence. Now, keep still, won’t you?’
He jerked Freddy forward as he spoke. Freddy could hardly breathe, but with a little struggle managed to turn his head towards Penk and free up his air-way. With his left arm he reached up behind Penk’s shoulder, then made a grab for his nose and twisted it hard, at the same time jerking Penk’s head suddenly backwards as far as it would go. With a roar of pain Penk released Freddy’s neck, and the two of them overbalanced and fell over. Now Penk was in a rage. He swung a fist at Freddy’s face, but Freddy rolled out of the way just in time. The two men grappled on the ground, Freddy attempting to poke Penk in the eye again, for he knew he had no chance of beating him in a fist-fight. But Penk was now wise to Freddy’s methods; he jabbed a knee into Freddy’s stomach, winding him, then, still pinning him down with the knee, held his wrists with one hand and cuffed him across the head with the other. He was wearing a heavy gold ring which caught Freddy above the eye, leaving a deep cut that began to bleed.
Then Penk got to his feet and began dragging Freddy with grim determination across the roof towards the edge. There seemed no escape, and Freddy began to consider whether a short prayer might be appropriate in the circumstances. A passing rag-and-bone cart with an old mattress on it would do nicely. Or perhaps he might catch hold of the gutter as he slid over the edge, and cling onto that until help arrived. He kicked with all his might, but his wrists were pinned with a grip of iron. At last they reached the edge, and Penk jerked Freddy upright and prepared to give him a shove, but Freddy took his chance and kicked Penk’s leg out from under him. Down they both went again, this time dangerously close to the edge of the roof. Freddy’s head was dangling downwards into thin air; he could feel blood running into his hair, and he was beginning to feel a little dizzy, as Penk gripped his shoulders and did his best to push him further over. This was the end, surely. Freddy shut his eyes, but just as he was about to give it all up as lost, he thought he heard a shout, and felt Penk loosen his hold. Quick as a flash he opened his eyes again and rolled away from the edge. Through a haze of blood he saw figures running across the roof towards them. Penk was standing by the edge, bent almost double, breathing heavily and clutching at his chest.
‘My heart!’ he wheezed. He had gone blue about the lips and was beginning to sway. As Freddy sat up and wiped the blood from his eyes, he saw Penk totter gently, then sag to his knees and fall sideways. For one dreadful second the top half of his unconscious form hung, motionless, across the edge of the roof, then gravity took effect and the rest of his body followed. It slid down the steeply sloping roof, gathering speed as it went, and then disappeared into the abyss. Freddy winced and looked away. There was a short silence.
‘Are you all right, sir?’ came a familiar voice. Freddy looked up and saw Sergeant Bird and a young constable standing at a cautious distance from the edge of the roof. The constable looked a little green in the face, and as though he had much rather not be there.
‘Ask me tomorrow,’ said Freddy weakly.
‘We’ll get you inside when you’ve got your breath back,’ said Bird. ‘Johnson, go and tell the inspector he’d better close the street off outside. Let’s just hope Mr. Penk didn’t land on anybody.’
The constable went off. Freddy dragged himself a little further away from the edge and got carefully to his feet, and as he did so, he saw Seymour Cosgrove standing there in front of him, holding a camera.
‘Got it all here,’ said Seymour. ‘That ought to make a bit of a splash for you in your paper tomorrow.’
He flashed a brief grin. Freddy stared at him.
‘Yes, I expect it will,’ he said at last.
Two days later Freddy returned to the Abingdon Hotel, at the behest of Cora Drucker, who wanted to speak to him. He waited for her in the lounge, thankful to remain firmly on the ground floor this time—not that he expected a repeat of the other day’s events, but it was better to be safe than sorry. When she arrived she was dressed in tasteful black, and looked pale but composed.
‘Oh, I expect I’ll get by,’ she said in reply to his inquiries as to her well-being. ‘I won’t deny it’s been a shock, but I’m trying to look on the bright side of things. I was very fond of him and all—at least, I thought I was. He wanted to marry me, and he said he didn’t care that I wasn’t in love with him, but would be content with my friendship, if that was all I could give him. I’d almost made up my mind to say yes when it all came to an end the other day. I had no idea he was so wicked.’
She fished in her pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed it to her eyes.
‘I guess I had a lucky escape,’ she said after a minute. ‘I ought to look at it that way, oughtn’t I? He killed Dorothy because she got in his way, and he might have done the same to me one day. What if he decided I was too much trouble to him? I should never have been safe.’
‘I suppose not,’ said Freddy.
‘But listen to me, talking about myself,’ she said with a little laugh. ‘I really wanted to ask how you are, since you’re the one who nearly got killed.’
‘Oh, I’m as right as rain,’ said Freddy. ‘Nothing wrong with me, apart from a few bruises and this little cut above the eye. In a day or two I shall have forgotten the whole thing.’
‘It was lucky for you the police arrived when they did,’ she said.
‘Yes, it was,’ he said. ‘As it happened, I’d left a message at Scotland Yard, and they wanted to speak to Penk anyway, so turned up at the hotel just in time. And fortunately, Seymour had seen us on the roof and thought something was up, so they knew where to find us.’
‘It’s a good thing you found that button,’ she said. ‘Without that, there would have been no proof.’
Freddy considered admitting that he had mentioned the button to Penk on the spur of the moment, and that it had actually fallen from his own jacket some days earlier, but decided against it, for it could make no difference now. There was no doubt that Penk had been the murderer, but as Cora said, there had been no evidence of that, and the button had been the only way Freddy could think of to provoke Penk into action, so he said nothing.
‘Well, I’m very glad you’re all right,’ said Cora. ‘And I have Eugene to thank for one thing, at least.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes. A few days before this all happened, he set up a meeting for me with one of the big studios back in Hollywood. If I can impress them then maybe they’ll give me a contract. It’s a great opportunity for me. Acting is the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do, and now I’ve been given a second chance to make a success of it.’
‘A Hollywood studio, eh? But not Aston-Penk. I suppose that’s no more?’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Cora. ‘The men are talking about it—Henry Aston and Sir Aldridge Featherstone, I mean. But Eugene was the creative force behind the venture, so I don’t know whether the company can continue. As a matter of fact, that’s part of the reason I asked you to come. You work for Sir Aldridge, and I wondered whether you knew anything about it. I thought that if they were keeping the company open, and were still planning to make For Every Yesterday, then they might be looking for someone to fill Augusta’s old part, since I guess she’ll be playing Helen Harper now.’
‘And you’d like to put yourself forward for the rôle, eh?’
Something in his tone must have put her on the alert, for she glanced up sharply. His face revealed nothing, however.
‘Well, I don’t see why not,’ she said. ‘One has to start somewhere. I suppose you think I’m hard-hearted, taking care of my own concerns only a couple of weeks after Dorothy died. But life goes on, and I know she’d hate to think of me sitt
ing and moping over all this. I’ve lost my sister and the man I wanted to marry. I’m alone in the world now, and I have to look after myself.’
‘You do indeed,’ said Freddy. ‘And I expect you’ll do it very well, since from what I’ve seen of you, I should say you’re an even better actress than your sister was.’
‘What do you mean?’ she said.
‘Why, that you’re putting on a very good show now—so good that I should almost believe it if I didn’t know better.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, disconcerted. ‘What show do you mean?’
‘Well, I don’t know what the casting chaps would call it, but I should call this part you’re playing now “The Brave Bereaved,” and it will certainly convince most people.’
‘That’s rather rude,’ she said after a moment.
‘Then there was the one you played on the night your sister died,’ went on Freddy deliberately. ‘I should say that’s best described as “The Cunning Accomplice.”’
She said nothing, and he continued:
‘I’d always wondered what Dorothy was doing on the terrace that night. It was cold out there, and she had a roomful of devoted admirers ready to hang upon her every word inside. We all thought she must have gone out for just a few moments, perhaps for some fresh air, or to talk to someone, but that doesn’t quite fit in with how the murder was done, does it? I mean to say, Penk was hardly going to bother running about on the rooftops just on the off-chance he might find her standing on the terrace by herself. He must have known she’d be there if his plan was to work. And then Basil Kibble said something odd, too: he talked to Dorothy on the terrace that night, just before she died. According to him, Dorothy said she’d been told to wait there. Now, I didn’t know Dorothy well, but one thing I do know is that she didn’t take kindly to being told what to do. She liked to be the one in charge. I wondered about it then, but in the end disregarded it, as I assumed Basil must have expressed himself badly. But then when we were all here the other day having tea, that little girl Ada Neale said something rather interesting. I was only half-listening so I almost missed it, but afterwards I remembered it and started thinking. Ada said that she should like to have a sister, because a sister would arrange surprises for her, as you did for Dorothy. As I said, I wasn’t really listening at the time, but later the remark came back to me, and so I telephoned Patience Neale and asked to speak to Ada. She said she’d seen you take Dorothy to one side at the party, and had overheard you tell her to go into your room and wait outside on the terrace, as there was to be a surprise. She was to stand there out of the way, and pretend she knew nothing about it until it was ready. You said you’d come and fetch her when it was time. When I heard that, Basil’s claim that Dorothy had been told to wait outside made perfect sense. If Dorothy thought she was going to receive a big surprise and be the centre of attention again, then of course she would do whatever she was told.’
Cora opened her mouth as though to speak, but thought better of it, and Freddy continued:
‘A little after that, you were seen by Sarah Rowland going into Dorothy’s room. I imagine you just glanced through the door at Penk and Kenneth Neale on the balcony, to give Penk the signal that Dorothy was now waiting on the other terrace and that he was to get rid of Neale. Then you went back into the living-room. You’d already been running around, talking to people and apparently looking for Robert Kenrick—I expect just to draw attention to yourself and establish an alibi, so that people would remember what you had been doing. As it happened, Kenrick was out on the main terrace, and you went out and tried to persuade him to go in. It was very important that you keep people away from the terrace—or, at least, that part of it outside your room, and so you kept him talking for as long as you could, while at the same time keeping an eye out for anyone else who might take it into their heads to venture outside. Then Gussie and I came out and Kenrick went back inside, while you made sure you stayed with us and stopped us going round to the other side of the terrace. I remember hearing a cry at the time, but thought it was someone laughing. I don’t suppose you heard it, did you? That was the sound of your sister being thrown to her death.’
A tear rolled down Cora Drucker’s face, and she began to twist her handkerchief in her hands.
‘It was all arranged between you and Penk, wasn’t it?’ said Freddy. ‘I shall give you the benefit of the doubt and assume the plan was all his own work. I imagine he’d had the idea some time earlier while he was out on the smaller terrace. He must have noticed, just as I did, how easy it would be to get up onto the roof from there, and what an excellent alibi his presence there would make, since the only way to get from the small terrace to the large one was apparently to come through Dorothy’s bedroom and the living-room. I expect he did a dummy run beforehand, too, to make quite certain he could pull it off. But he couldn’t carry out his plan alone. He needed someone to help him, and that person was you. Your job was to get Dorothy onto the terrace, then keep everyone else away from it while Penk did the deed. I suppose you were both hoping it would be put down to an accident—but if it wasn’t, then there would be plenty of witnesses to say that neither of you could have done it.’
‘I didn’t know what he was planning, I swear,’ she burst out. ‘It was he who told me there was to be a surprise, and that I was to get Dorothy out of the way. I thought maybe he’d arranged a big cake for her, or something, so I went along with it and told her to go and wait outside. Then it all happened and I still didn’t understand that he’d done it—not until afterwards. He said he’d done it for us; that Dorothy had stood in everyone’s way and would do nothing but make our lives a misery. He said I’d never be a star so long as she was alive, as she’d see to it that nobody would hire me, and he said Aston-Penk was in danger too, because Henry Aston was so infatuated with her that he was ruining everything. She’d done nothing to break the terms of her contract, either, so Eugene couldn’t get rid of her that way. He’d had no choice, he said.’ She glanced up at Freddy. ‘I guess you can imagine how I felt when I found out I’d been an accomplice to my own sister’s murder, but I swear to you I had no idea of it. I’ve been living in torment ever since that night. To go through each day, pretending I was as puzzled as everybody else about what happened, when I knew the man who’d done it was sitting right next to me—why, it’s been almost unbearable. I’ve such a weight of guilt on my heart that I don’t know whether I’ll ever get over it. You do believe me, don’t you? You do believe I’d never have done anything deliberately to hurt Dorothy? It was the most dreadful mistake, and now I shall have to live with it for the rest of my life.’
She gazed at him with a look of appeal. He returned her gaze appraisingly.
‘It’s a good story,’ he said at last. ‘I advise you to stick to it.’
Her brows drew together, and for just the briefest of moments her expression reminded him forcibly of the petulant frown he had seen on Dorothy Dacres’ face on that very first day in the street outside the Abingdon.
‘Then you don’t believe me,’ she said.
‘You told me only a few minutes ago that you’d still been planning to marry Penk even after you knew what he’d done. Doesn’t exactly square with your story, does it?’ He held up his hand as she opened her mouth to say something, and went on, ‘You’re right—I don’t believe you. But what does it matter what I believe? Nothing will ever be proved. There’s no evidence, so you can deny it all you like and nobody will ever be able to say your involvement was anything other than unwitting. You’re quite safe. Besides, your conscience is none of my business. You’re the one who has to live with it.’
He stood up.
‘Goodbye, Miss Drucker,’ he said. ‘I look forward to seeing you in your first starring rôle.’
She did not offer to shake hands, but sat and watched him as he left the lounge. When he looked back she was still gazing after him, h
er face expressionless.
Although Freddy was right in saying that there was no proof Cora Drucker’s involvement in her sister’s murder had been deliberate, he decided to mention it to the police in any case. Inspector Entwistle and Sergeant Bird listened to his tale with interest.
‘Cora Drucker, eh?’ said the inspector thoughtfully. ‘Yes, it makes sense. Either Penk was tremendously lucky—which doesn’t seem likely—or someone must have been there to make sure he wasn’t disturbed. You’re right, of course: we’ll never prove it, but I suppose there’s no harm in going along there and questioning her, just to let her know we’ve got our eye on her.’
‘You’ll have to be quick, as she’s returning to the States tomorrow,’ said Freddy.
‘There’s probably just time to do it before lunch,’ said Entwistle. ‘The super wants to see me now, but if he doesn’t keep me too long then I may pay Miss Drucker a visit and see what she has to say for herself.’
‘I dare say she’ll deny it.’
‘I dare say she will,’ said the inspector. ‘By the way, thanks for the tip about the Commercial Street shop. It turns out it was the headquarters of the Carelli gang. We’ve been trying to close them down for some time now, but with this latest raid we’re pretty sure we’ve got all the ringleaders.’
‘Splendid,’ said Freddy. By rights he ought to have given the credit to Corky, who had done all the leg-work in finding the place, but naturally he did no such thing. ‘Any news on the Kibbles?’
‘He’s been much more disposed to talk since he found out he’s not suspected of murder any more,’ said Entwistle. ‘He’s pretty much admitted everything, but he’s already working up his sob-story for the jury. It was all for Birdie’s sake, you see. She took up with the cocaine and goodness knows what else besides during the war. He’d been trying to keep her on the straight and narrow for years, but she would keep relapsing, and in the end he was forced to start dealing in it just to make sure she wasn’t taking the bad stuff. At least, that’s his tale. He still denies giving any of it to Dorothy Dacres, though.’