The Case of the Diamond Shadow

by Sophie Masson

  The Italian took something out of his coat pocket. He handed it to the detective, who scanned it rapidly.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I will talk to you first, then, sir. Please come this way.’

  ‘Look at that! He must be a detective, too … or a policeman …’ Daisy said, excitedly.

  ‘Goodness me,’ said Mr Meyer, rather faintly, ‘how many of them are there here?’

  At that moment, the ambulance officers arrived. Gently, they lifted Olivia Marlow onto a stretcher and put a blanket over her. She winced a little and sought Harry Golightly’s hand. There was a pleading look in her eyes. ‘May I escort her to the hospital? I’m a medical student, you see,’ said the band leader.

  ‘Very well,’ shrugged the ambulance officer. ‘But only you. We don’t need crowds,’ he said, sternly.

  ‘We can visit later, can’t we?’ said the detective. ‘I will need a statement from Miss Marlow.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ said the ambulance man, firmly. ‘Once the doctor’s had a look at her. Now then, sir, are you ready?’

  Harry Golightly put on his coat and followed them out of the room.

  Daisy frowned. There was something… some detail that she couldn’t quite remember, but which she somehow felt was important. Ah well, if it was important, she’d remember it in time.

  ‘Let’s get this over with, ladies and gentlemen,’ said Woodley-Foxe, shepherding the guests to the table where George sat ready with paper and pen. Signor Felici had already given his statement and left. Daisy and Victor joined the queue, just behind Mr Meyer.

  He said, fretfully, ‘Dear, dear — this is going to take rather a long time …’

  ‘Well, at least we’ll all have a great story to tell,’ said Victor, gaily. ‘It’s not every day someone tries to steal the Blue Moon!’

  Daisy suddenly remembered their captive. ‘Victor! She might have woken up, she might even have escaped!’ She saw Mr Meyer’s startled expression.

  ‘An intruder I caught … upstairs … in my room … and in Room 21…’ she garbled in explanation.

  ‘Room 21?’ squeaked Mr Meyer. He had paled. ‘Oh, dear, that’s my room! Oh, and I haff confidential papers from my firm!’ He wrung his hands. ‘I must go up and check nothing is missing! Please tell the detective that I will be back down in a minute!’

  ‘Wait, Mr Meyer, we’ll come with you,’ said Daisy, but she was speaking to thin air. Mr Meyer had already fled.

  ‘We’d better tell Mr Woodley-Foxe what we’re doing,’ said Victor, looking over at the detective, who was sifting through the broken glass the staff were sweeping up. As they approached him, he said, ‘Ha! I thought so!’ and held up a cork triumphantly aloft. Daisy and Victor’s eyes met. What was so exciting about a champagne cork?

  ‘It’s from a pop-gun,’ said Woodley-Foxe, confidently. ‘Someone shot at that chandelier near the bandstand, with a pop-gun. That’s the sound we heard — and it was designed to draw attention to the dance floor, and away from Miss Marlow’s table. If it was found, it could pass, to the uninitiated, as just a cork from a bottle. But those wicked crooks reckoned without Philip Woodley-Foxe!’ His keen eyes gazed into the distance. ‘Ah! I can just see it now, the whole execution of the crime. It was planned very carefully, in a very tight timeframe. There must have been at least three of them in it. One to pick the lock of the switchroom downstairs and put out the lights; one to fire the pop-gun to distract us; and one to attack Miss Marlow.’ At last, when he’d finished speaking, Woodley-Foxe noticed the expression on Daisy and Victor’s faces. ‘What’s the matter?’

  After they told him he gave a low whistle. ‘Well, well, well. This backs up my theory. The Shadow is the mastermind behind a whole gang of crooks. I will come with you,’ he said. ‘George can hold the fort. I must speak to this intruder of yours.’

  Nineteen

  Daisy opened the door and turned on the light. She half-expected to find the room empty, but the intruder was still tied up where they’d left her. Her eyes were open, however, and were of an unusual violet shade. They were bright and intelligent, and quite transformed her ordinary face. These were not eyes you would easily forget. Behind Daisy, the detective gave an exclamation and started forward.

  ‘Good Lord, Miss Miller, what have you done!’ He knelt down beside the prone figure and rapidly untied her bonds, while Victor and Daisy watched in stupefied amazement. ‘My dear Mrs Ashfield,’ he went on, helping her to her feet, ‘what a surprise to see you here!’

  ‘And a pleasure to see you, Mr Woodley-Foxe. I was conducting research and er … I intended to get well clear of here before now,’ said the woman, grimacing as she rubbed feeling back into her numb hands and feet. She had a light, musical voice.

  ‘I presume you were on the track of The Shadow, too, Mrs Ashfield?’

  ‘Yes, I was. I was expecting him to strike any day …’

  ‘Well, The Shadow struck tonight!’

  She gave an exclamation. ‘Ah! The Blue Moon Diamond! It was stolen then!’

  ‘No, they failed, though they tried hard enough! Miss Marlow successfully fought off the thief. And I think I can say that the revelation of my own presence here was enough to make the thief flee. The Blue Moon Diamond is safe and sound.’

  An astonished expression leapt into the woman’s eyes. ‘Really! How extraordinary! Do tell me what happened, Mr Woodley-Foxe.’ He explained. When he’d finished, she nodded. ‘Goodness, how really very extraordinary … I’d never imagined it would happen like that.’

  Woodley-Foxe indicated Daisy. ‘I’m sorry you missed it all. This young lady thought you were The Shadow, Mrs Ashfield! She hit you with her hand mirror, knocked you out, tied you up …’

  Mrs Ashfield looked rather wryly at Daisy. ‘And so I missed all the big excitement. Laid out with a hand mirror — if it gets around, I’ll be a laughing-stock, and deservedly so!’

  ‘Oh, never, Mrs Ashfield,’ said Woodley-Foxe, with great gallantry.

  Daisy finally found her tongue. ‘Wh … who you … a-are y — you …’ she stammered.

  Before she could answer, Woodley-Foxe cut in. ‘This is Mrs Clara Ashfield, of Fletcher’s Advice Bureau. Once a character actress and widow of my dear old Scotland Yard pal Fletcher Ashfield. She’s now one of my rivals in the field of private inquiry! Oh no, you won’t have heard of her agency. It’s never mentioned in the papers. Mrs Ashfield runs a very tight and secretive little ship. Advice bureau, indeed! Your little joke, Mrs Ashfield.’

  Mrs Ashfield smiled faintly. ‘No joke, Mr Woodley-Foxe. I just er … give advice in cases where discretion must be assured. On occasion — such as in this case, I do a little more, but I’m surely no rival of yours. Everyone knows you’re the best in the country — all the papers say so. I just run a little place. I only take on a few cases. I certainly can’t deal with anything like the volume and scale of cases you take on.’

  Woodley-Foxe looked gratified. ‘Mrs Ashfield, you know my offer still stands … if ever you’d like us to join forces … I’d be proud to have you on board.’

  The woman smiled. ‘It’s very kind of you, Mr Woodley-Foxe, but I am quite attached to my shabby little Fletcher’s.’

  ‘Well, if ever you change your mind …’

  Daisy had suddenly remembered the card in Mrs Peabody’s guidebook. ‘Oh! Did Mrs Peabody come to see you then?’

  Mrs Ashfield looked surprised. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘Mrs Peabody,’ said Daisy. ‘My boss. She … I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her at all today. But I found your card in one of her books when I was … er … when I was snooping around the other day.’

  ‘Did you now!’ exclaimed Mrs Ashfield.

  ‘Yes — along with a circled entry, and a letter, and a strange book … And I saw her following Olivia Marlow, at the British Museum …’ Quickly, she told them all about Mrs Peabody and her mysterious behaviour.

  Mrs Ashfield nodded. ‘You are an observant and resourceful girl,�
�� she said, slowly. ‘You have a natural talent for investigation, I think.’

  Daisy met Mrs Ashfield’s eye. There was something there that puzzled her. But before she could speak, Woodley-Foxe cut in.

  ‘I wonder, could this so-called Mrs Peabody actually be the mastermind, the head of this gang? Female crooks can, I believe, be much more ingenious and calculating than the male variety, though no doubt she had male accomplices. What do you think, Mrs Ashfield?’

  ‘It’s been observed many times that the female of the species can be deadlier than the male,’ said Mrs Ashfield. ‘You think we are dealing with a gang, then, Mr Woodley-Foxe?’

  ‘Yes. All the signs point to it now. An international gang with a female mastermind.’ He sighed. ‘It’s likely your Mrs Peabody was the one who doused the lights. We will of course go and check if she’s in her room, though it’s my feeling she must have flown the coop by now. But if we can go quietly, we may lay a hand on her accomplices. Then I’m sure it will only be a matter of time before we track her down. We already have an idea who they may be, because of that cigar smoke.’ Mrs Ashfield looked blank. He explained. ‘So you see, we had several suspects,’ he finished. ‘Mr Cornelius Meyer, Mr Luigi Felici, and er …’ He looked quickly at Victor, ‘Er, the Countess St-Remy.’

  Victor said, angrily, ‘Are you crazy? Are you accusing my grandmother of …’

  Mrs Ashfield waved a hand. ‘No, no, Mr St-Remy, I am sure Mr Woodley-Foxe doesn’t mean anything of the sort.’ She smiled. ‘In any case, I can set your mind at rest on that score. You see, the Countess St-Remy is my client. It was she who engaged my services to track down the thief.’

  They all goggled at her. Victor was the first to speak. ‘But she … she said nothing to me,’ he said, faintly.

  ‘She didn’t want to worry you. But as she was one of The Shadow’s first victims — the practice run, so to speak …’

  Victor stared. ‘You surely don’t mean the diamond ring she lost last September, in Biarritz? But she mislaid it … it wasn’t stolen …’

  ‘Oh yes it was. She asked me to investigate then, very discreetly.’

  ‘But she found it!’

  ‘Not found,’ said Mrs Ashfield, quietly. ‘It was sent back to her, with a printed note. A note saying The Shadow regretted the inconvenience to her.’

  ‘She didn’t tell me that!’

  ‘No. She didn’t tell anyone. Except me. She asked me to keep investigating, try to find out who this Shadow was. But she didn’t want it generally known that I was on the case.’

  ‘Not even by me?’ said Victor, rather angrily.

  Mrs Ashfield’s violet eyes rested thoughtfully on him. ‘She didn’t want to worry you, dear.’

  ‘Well, that eliminates one suspect, anyway,’ said Woodley-Foxe. He sighed. ‘We can also eliminate Mr Felici …’

  ‘Who is working for the Princess Hildegarde,’ said Mrs Ashfield, coolly.

  Woodley-Foxe stared at her. ‘Why, yes, you are quite right. He told me that, just now, downstairs.’

  ‘So Miss Marlow was being spied on!’ Daisy said.

  ‘Well, let’s just say the Princess was hoping she might do something disreputable,’ said Mrs Ashfield. ‘She’s used Felici before. He’s a private agent, from Florence, and both very discreet and very adept at digging up dirt.’

  ‘What a horrid woman she must be!’ said Daisy, warmly.

  ‘She is that, dear,’ said Mrs Ashfield.

  At that moment the door burst open and George came in. ‘Mr Woodley-Foxe,’ he began, waving a piece of paper, ‘I have just finished the list, here it is, I think you should look at …’ He took in the scene for the first time. His eyes widened. ‘What on earth …’

  ‘Come in, come in, George,’ said the detective, impatiently. ‘Close the door behind you. We were just about to learn some very important information from my esteemed colleague Mrs Ashfield here.’

  ‘She’s a colleague?’ said George, astounded. ‘Another detective, you mean?’ Woodley-Foxe nodded. George faltered, ‘But we thought she was The Shadow!’

  ‘Yes, yes, but you were wrong. I’ve told you before, lad, you must not leap to conclusions! Mrs Ashfield, this is my assistant, George Dale. You can talk freely in front of him.’

  ‘George, Mrs Ashfield was hired by the Countess St-Remy, to investigate a theft by The Shadow,’ Daisy said, quickly.

  ‘I do believe, Mr Dale, that you look disappointed. Did you have me tagged as the daring jewel thief? Well, I am flattered!’ said Victor, in an amused voice.

  ‘Hmph,’ grunted George, scarlet with embarassment.

  Mrs Ashfield looked from one face to the other. She was smiling, faintly. ‘What I was about to say was that when I was engaged in my er … investigations in a certain gentleman’s room, I came across something rather odd.’

  ‘Gentleman?’ exclaimed Woodley-Foxe. ‘I thought you meant Mrs Peabody.’

  ‘No …’ Mrs Ashfield got up, a bit groggily, and walked to the bathroom. She took up Daisy’s pair of tweezers, under the mirror. She opened the cupboard, and reached in. They crowded around her.

  The back of the cupboard was made from some flimsy wood that had a gap at the top. Mrs Ashfield cautiously felt down with the tweezers. ‘These kinds of cupboards make a good hiding-place for papers. ‘She slowly pulled out something from the gap — a sheet of tracing-paper. It was a little crumpled. She smoothed it out. ‘I did not take the original with me. It would have alerted its owner. I can sketch a little, so I made a copy of it when I was in the room.’

  Behind her, George exclaimed, ‘Oh, my goodness! I just knew that comic strip had something to do with The Shadow! I’ve got copies of the first two instalments — number two was published only this week. I just knew it was some kind of code.’

  Mrs Ashfield laughed. ‘Well, Mr Woodley-Foxe,’ she said, ‘it appears we have both been shown up by the younger generation!’

  The detective was studying the drawing closely. ‘I think George is right. This is a coded message of some sort. I am sure it was devised by the mastermind of this gang as a way of keeping in touch with gang members. When was the first one published, George?’

  ‘A month ago,’ he said, swelling with pride.

  ‘Ha! That figures. That was about the time The Shadow began committing depredations in this country.’ Turning to George, he went on, ‘But wait. You said the second one wasn’t published till this week.’

  ‘That’s right, sir — the day after the outrage at Lady Eleanor Charlton’s, though I only bought the magazine after we returned from Paris.’

  ‘Ah!’ Woodley-Foxe’s eyes narrowed. ‘The mastermind — whom we’ll name Mrs Peabody, though that’s just her alias, no doubt — was getting in touch again with the gang, congratulating them and setting them up for the next time. Which was the theft of the Blue Moon Diamond! This one’ — he pointed at the paper — ‘must have been the next stage. We will have to discover if there is perhaps a diamond called the Diamond of Destiny, or Fate, or whatever. Mrs Ashfield,’ Woodley-Foxe said, sharply, ‘whose room did you find this in, if it wasn’t Mrs Peabody’s?’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Daisy, her hand flying to her mouth, ‘it was Mr Meyer’s room, wasn’t it? He looked very startled indeed when I told him I’d caught someone snooping in his room … He said he had to go and check … important papers … Oh, dear, I suppose I tipped him off …’

  But she never finished her sentence, for Woodley-Foxe, Victor and George had already raced out of the room. Daisy and Mrs Ashfield were left alone.

  Twenty

  ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Ashfield,’ said Daisy, after a little silence.

  ‘Sorry, Daisy? What about?’

  ‘Hitting you … and tipping off Mr Meyer … and … spoiling your investigation. He’s probably got away, now, hasn’t he?’

  ‘I’ll be surprised if he hasn’t,’ said the woman.

  ‘But why would … Mr Meyer is a respected diamond merchant in Amsterdam
…’

  ‘I think we’ll find he’s not who he says he is,’ smiled Mrs Ashfield. ‘A telegram will be sent to Amsterdam to find out if there is indeed a diamond merchant named Cornelius Meyer. And if there is, whether he has been out of Amsterdam at all.’

  Daisy stared at her. ‘Do you mean … do you mean the Mr Meyer I met … do you mean he’s an impostor?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’ Mrs Ashfield nodded.

  ‘Oh. He seemed so nice!’

  ‘Such men often are,’ said Mrs Ashfield, gently. She paused. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. I am sure he will be found, eventually. As to hitting me, well, I did ask for it, didn’t I, coming unannounced like this. And there’s no lasting harm done, though my head does ache a little. Don’t think twice about it, my dear.’

  Daisy looked around her gloomily, remembering all the dreams she’d had, the golden future Mrs Peabody had made shimmer before her. Well, it was likely back to Charlton Wells and Miss Grantley for her now. If the old dragon would have her! ‘Do you think Mrs Peabody’s gone?’

  ‘I suppose she probably is, dear.’

  ‘I don’t suppose she’ll be back, if she is really the gang mastermind, will she?’

  Mrs Ashfield shook her head. ‘I doubt it. Shall you be sorry?’

  Daisy thought about it. ‘Yes,’ she said, at last, slowly. ‘And it’s not just because of the job. I … she was an interfering, bossy, loud show-off. And when I started to suspect her, I began to feel a little frightened of her. And I suppose she lied to me and has let me down. But still … there was something I liked about her, too. She had so much character. So much life. Nothing was ever dull, with her around.’ She paused. ‘Besides, without her, I would never have met Victor,’ she added, very softly. ‘So yes, I am sorry.’

  Just then, there was a knock on the door. Irene Taylor’s voice said, ‘Miss Miller? Are you there?’

  ‘That’s Miss Taylor, Mrs Peabody’s maid,’ said Daisy, jumping up to open the door.

  Irene Taylor, still in hat and coat, stood there. She looked a little flustered. Before Daisy could speak, the maid said, ‘Miss Miller, I wondered if you knew where Mrs Peabody was, she doesn’t appear to be in her room, and …’ The words died in her mouth. She stared at Mrs Ashfield.