‘Someone who knew her has described Peggy Bedford as a high-class tart, Miss Long,’ Mike interjected bluntly. ‘In other words, a society call-girl. Are you suggesting that you were unaware of this side of her activities?’
Miss Long had winced at Mike’s bluntness. She looked so unhappy at having to answer the question that Linda intervened. ‘It doesn’t really matter, does it, Mike? Let’s leave it that Peggy suddenly came into the money. How did she explain this, Miss Long?’
‘She said that a friend had died and left her three thousand pounds. She called it a pleasant little windfall. I pointed out that her windfall would soon disappear if she tried to live it up at that rate, but she only laughed and said there was plenty more where that came from. I didn’t understand what she meant, but she wouldn’t enlarge on the subject so I dropped it. Then, just as I was leaving, she gave me a parcel. “This is for you, darling,” she said. “Just a little present to help patch up our silly quarrel.” I took the parcel home, but I was too tired to open it until the next morning. You’ll never guess what was inside that parcel …’
‘I think I can, Miss Long,’ said Mike dryly. ‘A pair of shoes.’
Irene Long’s eyes widened and she seemed momentarily at a loss.
Apparently ignoring her reaction Mike continued, ‘And when did Peggy give Lucy Staines her present?’
Irene Long shook her head helplessly.
‘But she did give Lucy a pair of shoes too, didn’t she?’ Mike persisted.
‘Yes.’
‘Were they the same as yours?’
‘They were similar.’
Mike turned to Linda and explained. ‘The Cordoba pendant was stolen by Larry Boardman, alias Leslie Bradley, alias a score of other names. It was common knowledge that he’d stolen it, that’s to say the grapevine of the underworld knew it for a fact, but the police couldn’t pin it on him. The most they could do was watch him. Of course, Larry Boardman realised he was being watched. He knew there was no point in trying to get rid of the pendant whilst the hue and cry was on. But a few months later he died. Before he died, however, he sent for a dear friend of his …’
‘Peggy Bedford?’ Linda suggested.
‘He told her that the pendant was worth at least eighty thousand pounds. But he was too wily to hand it over. He told her that it must remain hidden for two or three years, until the heat was off.’
‘But if Peggy didn’t have the pendant …?’
‘She had something almost as good; a strip of microfilm showing the exact hiding-place.’ He turned to Irene Long. ‘Have I made any mistakes so far?’
She shook her head. ‘No, it’s all correct, though how you’ve been able to piece all this together I can’t imagine.’ Then, with a noticeable effort, Irene Long forced herself to go on with her sorry tale.
‘At first Peggy didn’t know what to do with the microfilm. I think it dawned on her that she’d bitten off rather more than she could chew. This was brought home somewhat forcibly to her when she got home one day and found her flat had been ransacked. She realised that other people were still actively interested in the Cordoba pendant; not only the police. She decided to cut the microfilm into three parts and she put each part into the heel of a shoe. I had one of the shoes, the second she gave to Lucy, and Peggy kept the third part herself.’
‘Did you know about the film when she gave you the shoes?’
‘No, it never entered my head. But she told me the whole story much later – just before Lucy was murdered, in fact.’
Mike nodded and was silent for a moment. Then he said, ‘In view of all that’s happened, don’t you think you’ve been rather lucky?’
‘Lucky? How do you mean?’
‘Lucy Staines was murdered. Peggy Bedford also came to a sticky end. Nadia Tarrant was strangled.’
‘I don’t know anything about Nadia Tarrant.’
‘You’d better think again, Miss Long. She was murdered and one of her shoes was also stolen. You met her once or twice at La Pergola. Saltoni saw you, and Corina himself confirmed it to me yesterday.’
The unhappy woman opened her mouth as if to contradict him, then thought better of it and with a heavy sigh continued, ‘I sold my part of the film to Nadia Tarrant. How she found out that it was in my possession I never discovered. But I decided that some hard cash was preferable to the huge risk of hanging on to the film. She paid me a thousand pounds for it. After a while I decided I’d been foolish and had let it go far too cheaply, so I saw Nadia and … well, asked her for more money.’
‘I think “put the pressure on her” would be a more exact description of your actions, Miss Long; even “blackmail” is not too strong a word. However, that is past and your dubious dealings have brought neither of you very much satisfaction. Tell me, was Nadia Tarrant buying the film for herself, or was she buying it on behalf of someone else?’
‘She said she was acting as a go-between.’
‘Did she name the other party?’
‘No, she was much too cagey.’
‘I see. Well, I imagine it’s clear to you just how stupidly you’ve behaved in this matter. The moment you knew what was on that film you ought to have taken it to Scotland Yard.’
Irene Long gave a hollow laugh. ‘It’s easy to be wise after the event. If you’ve got any charity in you at all, Mr Baxter, which I doubt, you would understand how easily a person in my position can be tempted. I’ve always had to work hard for what I’ve got, and it seemed an easy way of making a quick thousand pounds. I couldn’t see I was committing a very heinous crime. I hadn’t stolen the pendant, and I didn’t even keep the film.’
Mike shook his head reproachfully. ‘The Lord protect me from feminine logic! Have you never heard of “aiding and abetting” – not to speak of your sordid attempt to blackmail the Tarrant woman? You knew what was on the film. No honest person would have had a moment’s doubt about the correct thing to do.’
‘I still count myself as an honest person, Mr Baxter. That was the only stupid action in my whole life. I was just too weak to resist the temptation, that’s all.’
Mike eased himself out of his chair and walked over to the window, lost in thought. Miss Long shot Linda a beseeching look and watched Mike anxiously. Linda knew Mike would disapprove of any signs of soft-heartedness, but as she looked at the nervous wreck of a woman who had always been such a model of bright efficiency she felt a pang of pity surge through her. She was on the point of putting in a plea for Miss Long when Mike turned, his mind apparently made up. His voice was no longer so stern and relentless.
‘I don’t know how the police will look at it, but I’m prepared to do what I can to help you if you co-operate with me from now on,’ he offered. ‘I haven’t forgotten that you did me a good turn by warning me not to go down to Reading. Since then I’ve received precisely such an invitation. I’m grateful for having been warned in advance.’
‘Who invited you to Reading?’ Irene Long asked.
‘Corina. Didn’t you know?’
‘I was just coming out of the ladies’ powder room at La Pergola when I heard two men talking outside. I didn’t recognise their voices, but I heard enough of the conversation to gather they meant you some harm.’
‘I see.’
‘What do you mean by “co-operating” with you, Mr Baxter? Just what is involved?’
‘Nothing very strenuous. I just want you to give a cocktail party. At my expense, of course.’
Irene Long blinked with surprise and looked relieved. ‘When?’
‘Tomorrow evening. Here, in this flat.’
‘All right. Whom do you want me to invite?’
‘Everybody who’s had anything to do with the Weldon case. Victor Sanders, Hector Staines, my wife and me, Inspector Rodgers, and Superintendent Goldway.’
‘Will they come?’
‘That’s up to you. I rely upon your persuasive powers to see that they’re all here. As you don’t know Goldway I’ll arrange that. But you’re r
esponsible for all the others. Is that clear?’
‘You did say cocktails? That means it would be fairly early?’
Mike considered briefly. ‘Say, seven o’clock. Oh, one more guest. I think you’d better invite Charles Corina.’
She nodded without speaking, then Mike picked up his hat and, taking Linda’s arm, left the room.
Chapter Fourteen
By no stretch of the imagination could Irene Long’s cocktail party the following evening have been described as a jolly occasion. Despite their hostess’s liberal hand with the cocktails not one of the guests seemed able to relax. Linda’s description of the party, delivered privately to her husband afterwards, was that it had reminded her of a group of rival bidders at an auction, each stalking the others suspiciously round the room, each fearful one of the others might steal a sudden advantage.
There were eight people in the room – eight people and one who was only there in spirit: the one who had brought them all together. On the outcome of the party depended whether he would leave Pentonville alive.
Irene Long did her best. Darting to and fro with a forced smile on her heavily made-up face and the cocktail shaker in her hand she tried in vain to get the various groups to mingle. Superintendent Goldway and Inspector Rodgers made a stubborn pair near the door, the latter looking a trifle uncomfortable in a stiff white collar and a dark suit, too tight for him, which he clearly detested having to wear. Victor Sanders glared suspiciously at all and sundry from a lone post near the drinks cabinet, which he evidently judged to be the sole tolerable position in the room. Charles Corina was assiduously applying his Continental charm on an uneasy Hector Staines by trying to talk to him about some of the nondescript pictures hanging on Irene Long’s walls, but it was obviously heavy going. The Baxters sat on the settee, at ease with themselves like two contented theatre-goers waiting for the curtain to go up.
It was Victor Sanders, red-faced and testy, who raised the curtain. ‘Look here, Baxter,’ he barked in an ear-cracking voice that brought instant silence, ‘I wish you’d put me in the picture! What the devil’s all this in aid of?’
Mike pretended wide-eyed innocence, at the same time trying to suppress a smile as Linda murmured in his ear, ‘Smartly to attention when you’re spoken to.’
‘Miss Long thought it would be nice if we could all get together for a little chat, that’s all.’
‘My good man, we’re not children, you know. It’s perfectly obvious you’re the one who dragged us here this evening, not Irene. She looks ready to drop. I can’t imagine why she allowed herself to be talked into such a scheme.’
This was true. Irene Long looked haggard. No amount of cosmetics could hide the drawn lines of her face, the dark rings under her eyes. She began with a nervous laugh, ‘Please, Victor—’ but Corina cut her off.
‘I must confess I tend to share Mr Sanders’s views. Are you just indulging your talent for melodrama, Mr Baxter, or perhaps you are short of material for your crime stories?’ He gave a thin smile, his eyes glinting with the prospect of verbal fencing to come. He seemed very sure of himself.
‘If I were,’ Mike answered, ‘the Weldon case has certainly provided me with plenty of food for thought.’
‘Have you something to tell us, Mr Baxter?’ Staines said unsteadily. ‘If so, I wish you would get on with it.’
Mike fixed him with a narrow-lidded stare and Staines shifted uncomfortably on his feet and looked away. ‘Someone in this room has something to tell us, Mr Staines. I’m waiting for him to speak up. Let me refresh his memory: in May this year Lucy Staines was murdered, and her fiancé, Harold Weldon, was arrested and convicted of the crime.’
‘It was a false conviction!’ Sanders put in hotly. ‘Harold was not the murderer.’
‘Correct. He was not.’
‘Perhaps you would like to tell us who did it, Mr Baxter?’ Corina suggested with a trace of irony.
‘We’ll come to that in a few moments. Have patience. It is true that Weldon did have a row with Lucy. Mr Staines and others heard them. But in view of the fact that Weldon did not subsequently carry out a murder this quarrel has no significance whatsoever. We can forget it and look elsewhere for the motive and the killer. The seeds of that motive are to be found in a photograph of a well-known jewel-thief, which I found in Peggy Bedford’s flat after her death.’
‘Larry Boardman, I take it you mean?’ put in Goldway.
Mike nodded his agreement. ‘Otherwise known as Leslie or Leonard Bradley at the time he was friendly with Miss Bedford. The grapevine of the underworld credited Larry Boardman with the theft of a valuable piece of jewellery – the Cordoba pendant. I believe the police knew this too, Inspector?’
Rodgers made a sour grimace. ‘We knew of it, yes, but we didn’t have enough evidence to pin it on Boardman. We were watching him, then suddenly he died; of natural causes, strange to say.’
‘Exactly,’ Mike went on. ‘But just before he died Boardman gave his girlfriend, Peggy Bedford, a strip of microfilm which indicated the hiding-place of the Cordoba pendant. Several attempts were made to get hold of the film, and in desperation she cut it into three parts and hid each part in the heel of a shoe. Realising she was still sitting on something too hot for her, she gave away two of those shoes—’
Staines cut in excitedly, ‘To the two girls who got killed, Lucy and Nadia Tarrant!’
‘To Lucy, yes, Mr Staines. But not to Nadia Tarrant.’
‘Just a minute, Baxter,’ Sanders interrupted, putting down his glass and advancing towards the settee. ‘If the Tarrant woman did not have one of the shoes then she did not have one third of the film!’
Out of the corner of her eye Linda caught a glimpse of Irene Long holding unsteadily on to the mantelpiece. She wondered if Sanders was thinking at that precise moment of his abortive telephone call which she, Linda, had answered.
Mike answered imperturbably: ‘I simply said that Peggy Bedford didn’t give it to her. But Nadia Tarrant had a third of the film, because she’d managed to buy it from … someone.’
‘Who would that be, Mr Baxter?’ Rodgers asked patiently. ‘Surely not from Lucy Staines?’
‘No. Someone who shall be nameless, for the time being, at any rate.’
Corina broke the taut silence. ‘May I ask the chairman of this little meeting a question? Where does the elusive Mr Bannister fit into the picture? You have professed a keen interest in this mysterious gentleman.’
‘My interest is as keen as ever, Corina. The unknown gentleman passing himself off under the name of Bannister knew that Larry Boardman had given Peggy the microfilm. He was determined to get it, cost what it may. He commissioned Nadia Tarrant, who was no plaster saint, to buy one of the pieces of microfilm. Then Bannister murdered Lucy Staines—’
‘You’re quite sure about that, Mike?’ Goldway inquired anxiously.
‘Quite sure. And a few months later he faked the Peggy Bedford incident to make it look like suicide—’
Staines gave a cry of surprise. ‘Do you mean Peggy was murdered?’
Everybody in the room gazed at him, stunned by the vehemence of his reaction and by the unexpectedness of Mike’s statement. Staines was plainly taken aback; he was gripping his stick as though on the point of lashing out at someone. With a flash of feminine intuition Linda became absolutely certain that the old man had been desperately in love with the murdered girl, despite the difference in their ages and the dubious quality of Peggy’s background.
Goldway said quietly, ‘I must ask you again, Mike – are you quite certain you’ve got your facts right?’
‘That’s a statement of some consequence, Mr Baxter,’ Rodgers added. ‘I hope you’ve weighed up the possible insinuation of your remark?’
Mike nodded calmly. ‘Let’s leave the details till later, and continue our examination of the movements of Mr Bannister. He now had two pieces of the film, and Nadia Tarrant had managed to buy the third piece for a thousand pounds. As soon as she handed
over the third strip he would have what he wanted – knowledge of the hiding-place of the Cordoba pendant, a cluster of diamonds worth eighty thousand pounds. He must have thought he was nicely home … But his ship ran aground – stuck on the reef of a woman’s greed: Nadia Tarrant refused to hand over. She wanted a share of the profits too. “When thieves fall out …” There was only one way of getting his ship under sail again. He had to murder Nadia Tarrant. He lured her into meeting him at a quiet spot in some woods near Farnham, whilst at the same time arranging for an impersonator to dress up like Miss Tarrant and search her digs in Soho Square.’
Sanders boomed, ‘Then this swine Bannister, whoever that is, faked the evidence against poor old Harold?’
‘Of course. He primed Nadia Tarrant with photographs of Weldon so that she would know what he looked like, then when Weldon was accused of the murder she had no difficulty in picking him out at the police identification parade and claiming that she’d seen him running away at midnight from the scene of the strangling. The rest of the evidence wasn’t hard to fake, and he made a very neat job of it. Weldon played into his hands by his open quarrel with Lucy and by making a false statement about his alibi to the police.’
There was a strained silence, in which Inspector Rodgers lit himself another cigarette and Corina strolled casually over to the drinks cabinet to pour himself another cocktail. The cabinet was placed against the wall in one corner of the room, so that Corina faced them all as he turned round and said pleasantly, ‘A fascinating tale you make of it, I must say, Mr Baxter. Have we indulged your sense of drama sufficiently to be told who, in your opinion, is this mysterious Mr Bannister?’
Mike eyed him narrowly. There was no trace of sound in the room except Staines’s heavy breathing and the slight tap of glass on wood as Corina placed his glass on a ledge of the cabinet and relaxed in an attitude of gentle mockery.
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