Death of a Shadow (An Inspector Littlejohn Mystery)

by George Bellairs

  Littlejohn wondered what Sir Ensor would have to say to that if he were present!

  ‘Kate says you have some news for me.’

  ‘Yes. I’m glad to say that I think your diamonds will soon be recovered for you and brought back …’

  Mrs. Cobb was overjoyed. She clapped her hands, laughed aloud, and then burst into tears. The nurse standing in the background looked ready to terminate the interview, but as Mrs. Cobb cooled off and started to be normal again, she decided to let the talk go on for a little longer.

  ‘The real diamonds, Mr.…’

  ‘Littlejohn, madam.’

  ‘Mr. Littlejohn. The real ones. I won’t have the glass ones back. I told Ensor, the glass ones mean nothing to me. I shall throw them through the window. I want the ones my husband gave me with his love so many years ago. I can tell if I’m given any other …’

  ‘These are the real ones.’

  ‘Did Alec recover them? I’m sure he did. He was that kind of man. Always ready to do anything for me, anything I needed. Mr. Bellin often called, too, and was particularly solicitous about me and the safety of my diamonds. But he wasn’t the same as Alec. Not so kind and understanding. It was Alec?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Which wasn’t a lie.

  ‘How is Alec? Where is he?’

  That was more difficult. Littlejohn bypassed it.

  ‘When did you last see him?’

  ‘Last Thursday afternoon. I know that because it was the day I had the appointment with Miss Pally. Miss Pally is the hairdresser. When Alec called, I was in my bathroom and Miss Pally was washing my hair. Most inconvenient and amusing. I told Nurse Durand, who was here, too, to give him a copy of Vogue and sit him in my bedroom until I was ready. He had to wait almost half an hour and then I came in and saw him with my hair wrapped up in a turban like a rajah. He didn’t stay long. He’d brought me some flowers as he said he was passing through Rolle and couldn’t do so without calling. He was always very nice to me. He stayed about a quarter of an hour …’

  Long enough to take the diamonds from their drawer and pocket them.

  ‘That was in the afternoon?’

  ‘Yes; about half past two. I went back to bed after he left and Miss Pally had finished with me. I was a little exhausted and had some letters to write.’

  ‘Did you see Mr. Cling again after that?’

  ‘No. But the nurse told me that he had called after tea, whilst I was having my nap. He said he left his spectacles by my bedside and asked if he could recover them. He didn’t awake me. Just took them and left. I was a bit mystified when I heard. I hadn’t seen the spectacles at my bedside. Perhaps they’d fallen on the floor as I rummaged among the bottles and papers there.’

  ‘And that was the last time you saw him?’

  ‘The last time he called. As I said I was asleep and didn’t see him. You might tell him to call again as soon as he is able. And now, I’m tired. I’ll have a little sleep. I shall sleep well and please see that my jewellery is brought to me as quickly as possible …’

  The nurse took this as a signal and intervened. They bade Mrs. Cobb good-bye. She seemed to have lost all interest in them now as she contemplated the return of her diamonds and it didn’t seem much use prolonging the interview. They found themselves out in the corridor again, down the lift, and in the main hall before they quite knew what was happening. The technique of removing visitors at Les Plaisances seemed a fine art.

  ‘Shall we call on Nurse Durand whilst we’re here?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I think she’s been transferred to a clinic in Geneva. No doubt, we could arrange for you to see her there before you return.’

  It was approaching lunch time at the clinic, which was obvious from the state of the great hall, which seemed to be overflowing with occupants, waiting for the gong to sound and break the boredom by a good meal.

  16

  Tape Recordings and Other Things

  THE WAY BACK to Geneva from Les Plaisances seemed more light-hearted than the way there. This was largely due to the changed mood of Kate Halston, who appeared to be relieved that some topic or question had not been raised. She grew more talkative and finally Littlejohn began to question her discreetly.

  ‘Does Bellin do your work for Sir Ensor when you’re away from the office?’

  ‘No. They usually bring in someone from another department to deal with the routine stuff.’

  ‘What exactly is Bellin’s job?’

  ‘You might call him Sir Ensor’s man-of-affairs. I am personal secretary, if you understand. Mr. Bellin looks after business matters and also handles confidential details out of the orbit of the government duties, which, of course, are mainly dealt with by the parliamentary and civil service officials. I might say that Mr. Bellin often writes Sir Ensor’s speeches for him. Sir Ensor tries out the jokes in his speeches on Mr. Bellin, too. He loves, when he is that way inclined, to scrap the speech Mr. Bellin has written and deliver one of his own, off the cuff, so to speak. And woe betide Mr. Bellin and me, if we don’t notice what he’s done and compliment him on it and say it was much better than the one written by Mr. Bellin.’

  ‘How long has Bellin been with Sir Ensor?’

  ‘About ten years. The previous secretary was killed in a plane accident. One of Sir Ensor’s school friends recommended Mr. Bellin and Sir Ensor took him on.’

  ‘You and Bellin get on very well together?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Somehow a feeling of constriction entered into the conversation as Bellin was discussed. Something emotional. Either jealousy or affection – or more than that.

  ‘Did Cling have much to do with Bellin?’

  ‘Not very much, but when Cling was seconded to attending on Sir Ensor they naturally saw more of each other.’

  ‘Did they get on well?’

  ‘There was no friction between them, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘I mean more than that. I gather that Cling rather despised Bellin. Was that true?’

  She had grown flushed and angry looking.

  ‘I don’t know why you are asking me all these questions. One would think …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘That you suspected Mr. Bellin of something.’

  ‘I have to cover all the ground concerning Cling’s death. If Cling disliked, almost hated Bellin, I want to find out why. What was between them?’

  ‘Cling was jealous of Mr. Bellin. Naturally, Sir Ensor was too busy to give Cling his orders personally, so it often fell to Mr. Bellin to do it. Cling resented that and didn’t fail to show his resentment.’

  ‘And that was all?’

  ‘Really. Do you expect me to say that Mr. Bellin hated Cling enough to kill him?’

  ‘I expect you to tell me the truth.’

  ‘There is no truth in your suspicions. Mr. Bellin probably didn’t care anything at all about Cling’s opinion of him. He usually treated his offhand manner with indifference.’

  ‘I find that Bellin seems to treat most matters with indifference. Is his casual way genuine or just hiding his real feelings?’

  ‘I can’t say. I find him very different from what you do. He is always polite and efficient, and I don’t know what Sir Ensor would do without him.’

  By the time they reached Geneva, relations were strained between them. Kate Halston obviously resented Littlejohn’s questions and views about Bellin.

  They called at the police station again. Lindemann was out but his deputy was there with a message that he wouldn’t be long away. Meanwhile, Inspector Verdino, the deputy, would give any necessary help.

  ‘I have Miss Halston, Sir Ensor’s private secretary, waiting for me in the police car outside, Inspector. When she arrives at her hotel, I expect she will telephone London. I wish that call and any others, in or out, to be taped and reported back to me.’

  ‘Certainly …’

  Verdino gave the necessary instructions immediately by internal telephone.

  ‘I, to
o, have something to report, Superintendent Littlejohn. A message from London from Inspector Cromwell.’

  ‘I’ll just see Miss Halston on her way and then I’ll return to you right away for your news.’

  Littlejohn went below to where Miss Halston was waiting in the car.

  ‘Well, there’s nothing much for me to do. Inspector Lindemann is out on business, which leaves me some time to spare. Would you care to have lunch with me?’

  ‘No, thank you, Superintendent. I hope you’ll forgive me. I have a headache. The rush and travelling, you know. I’ll have a light meal and then a rest.’

  He’d expected that. Her mood after his close questioning was one of wishing to be politely rid of him as soon as possible.

  ‘I’ll send the car for you around three in time for the plane back. Meanwhile, what have you decided about Mrs. Cobb? Is she to be moved to another clinic or return home with you, as Sir Ensor wished?’

  ‘In view of how we found matters at Les Plaisances this morning, I think I shall recommend to Sir Ensor that she stay on for, at least, another week or so. She seems happy and settled again and, in view of your message about the diamonds, her mind is at rest. If Sir Ensor insists, I can make another trip next week. You are returning by the same plane?’

  ‘Yes. There’s not much more to keep me here.’

  She didn’t seem excited about the news. His poor opinion of Bellin had put them in opposite camps and now she seemed to find no pleasure in his company.

  ‘Till this afternoon, then.’

  ‘Yes. I’ll see you at the airport, Superintendent.’

  Cromwell’s message had been tape-recorded and Littlejohn found Verdino in his office with a machine on the desk, ready to play the tape back to him. As Cromwell’s voice came from the contraption, Littlejohn felt a faint pang of nostalgia. He’d had quite enough of investigating crime on his own in foreign parts.

  ‘Good morning, sir. I hope all is going well …’

  A very formal start, but Cromwell soon lapsed into his casual, humorous style again.

  ‘I thought I’d better look after Bellin myself. He doesn’t know me and I thought I’d like to try the old game again, shadowing suspects. You, I suppose, are keeping an eye on Miss Halston. When I heard that you and she were on the same plane to Geneva, I thought you’d see to everything at that end. I hope that was right by you.’

  A pause.

  ‘Bellin led me a bit of a dance. He spent the day in what I assumed was routine work at Sir Ensor’s office. At five, he emerged and went right away for cocktails at the Blue Feather in the Haymarket. At six, Bellin drove home to his flat in Devonshire Place. I began then to wish I’d put someone junior on the job. He kept me waiting for two hours. Luckily, there’s a restaurant opposite. I got a window seat and ate a full meal, which I hope the cashier will approve when I put in the expenses slip. Then Bellin came out again. He crossed to a garage and emerged in his car. Quite an expensive sports affair, the speed of which didn’t do him much good in the traffic. I followed him in a taxi, wondering what I’d do at the other end, because Bellin was in his dinner clothes. He stopped and parked off Piccadilly and walked the rest, down St. James’s to Delaney’s Club.

  ‘I know Cutforth, who manages the club, very well. He owes me a good turn, so I entered by the private way to his office, found him in, and asked about Bellin. Cutforth didn’t seem surprised. He told me quite a lot about Bellin, who plays there three nights a week and, of late, has lost very heavily. Mr. Bellin seems to have recently been cutting a dash he can’t afford. He owes the club a little short of five thousand pounds. Cutforth didn’t seem greatly upset. Bellin, it seems has connections. Or so he says. I know differently. Records in Special Branch show him as a man of little family background who made his way through school and college brilliantly through hard work. Then, after the war, he became somewhat of a layabout. He’d been a colonel in the army and after his discharge couldn’t settle to a real job. He is fond of women and his wife divorced him six years ago. His father, believe it or not, was once rector of Greyle and a canon in the church. Sir Ensor’s family were patrons of the living and Sir Ensor took Bellin on for his old man’s sake. The old man’s dead.’

  ‘Cutforth told me that Bellin had said that he was shortly to receive a legacy from a family trust which would pay his debts. I found out the name of Bellin’s bank from Cutforth, who’s cashed a few cheques, small ones, for Bellin. I spoke to the bank before I made this call. As usual, the manager was very cagey. Couldn’t divulge anything. But he did say that as far as he knew, Bellin had no expectations whatever. The way the manager said it, I gathered that he’d fully investigated that and every other financial avenue concerning our friend. The manager’s prim manner made me guess that there was an uneasy overdraft somewhere in the main office.

  ‘I stayed at the club till eleven and then thought there was no more I could do. Bellin, it seems, had had a bit of better luck before I left. I must have been his unseen mascot. He’d won two hundred. That won’t go far, I’m sure. But there’s one final surprise. Cling was at the club about a month ago, making similar enquiries about Bellin. Cutforth, who knew Cling well, told him the same that he’d told me. Only then, Bellin merely owed the club three thousand.

  ‘That’s all for the present and I hope it’s helpful … Looking forward to seeing you back very soon …’

  The tape trailed blankly away.

  ‘Could I speak to Scotland Yard, Inspector Verdino, please? The ordinary telephone. Please have them ask for Inspector Cromwell.’

  Littlejohn could imagine his old friend sitting at his ink-stained desk in the room he himself had once occupied in the days when he and Cromwell had worked together on so many cases. The telephone rang.

  ‘Hullo, Cromwell. Yes. I’m coming home by the afternoon plane. See you then. Meanwhile, please have a fullblown tail put on Bellin. If he tries to run for cover, he’d better be detained. No. You can’t charge him with anything. I shall be back at the Yard about six. If he does try anything, just say I wish to speak with him, and you, or whoever does the job, has instructions to invite him to see me. Invite? Yes. Bring him in. But I’ve an idea he might try to brazen out this business. However, we’ll see. Use your own discretion, then, and you have me fully behind you. Right. See you later … By the way, I shall be accompanied on the plane by a lady, Miss Halston. Get a tail on her where I leave off, as well, will you …?’

  Verdino, who had just received another tape from a messenger was gesturing that he had something else for Littlejohn.

  ‘The lady did make a telephone call to London. It was in English and was recorded at the hotel switchboard. Shall I play it over.’

  ‘Please do.’

  It was very brief and cruel.

  ‘Is that you, Roland? Kate here …’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I’m just phoning to say that I shall be back today.’

  ‘With Mrs. Cobb?’

  ‘No. You don’t sound very pleased.’

  ‘Why are you ringing me?’

  A pause, as though emotion had cut short her speech.

  ‘If that’s the way you feel about it, I’ll tell you and leave you. I have been to Les Plaisances with Littlejohn this morning. He asked me a lot of questions about you. He is returning with me tonight and it looks as if he’ll be asking you some further questions. That is all. I thought I’d warn you …’

  ‘Very foolish of you to ring me … You might be overheard. In any case, what have I to be afraid of? What are you worried about?’

  ‘Roland! What’s the matter with you? I thought that you and I …’

  ‘You shouldn’t think!’

  And the phone was hung up.

  Lindemann arrived and he and Littlejohn retired to his office. They discussed together again the pattern of the case and the steps to be taken to bring it to a head.

  Lindemann’s routine work was exemplary. All alibis had been checked, even those of the relatives of Sir Ensor
at Mont-Choisi.

  ‘One more thing, Lindemann. Have you a list of stolen cars for the night of Cling’s death. I hope that gives us an answer; otherwise there’ll be a lot more work among taxi-drivers and hire-and-drive merchants. Dr. Vincent’s Mercedes was removed from Les Plaisances before ten o’clock that night. Whoever took it away, didn’t walk there. It must have been by car.’

  ‘Dr. Vincent wasn’t inside the clinic when the attendant saw his car. So he didn’t drive it there himself. He went to Gex in his small car for a consultation …’

  Lindemann rang the bell and the records were produced.

  Seven cars had been stolen between five o’clock and midnight on the night of Cling’s death. Three hadn’t been recovered as yet; one had turned out to be a false alarm; and the other three had been abandoned in various parts of the district. One as far away as Brig, on the Italian border; one in Berne; and the third in a spinney adjacent to Les Plaisances.

  ‘That’s the one! Funny nobody connected it with the trouble at the clinic.’

  ‘It was only found this morning. Some picnickers came across it, very well hidden. It was at once examined. As in the case of your car, there were no useful fingerprints. The examination is being continued.’

  ‘You might ask them to see if there’s any gravel like that in the drive at Les Plaisances lying about in the car. That would more or less clinch it.’

  ‘We’ll attend to that.’

  ‘By the way, who was the owner of the stolen car?’

  ‘It is a small two-seater and belongs to one of the pathologists at the medico-legal institute.’

  ‘He was at the police dinner?’

  ‘Yes; and left his car, unlocked, along with the rest in the official park in front of the Hôtel du Roi. He had to beg a lift from a colleague.’

  That was as far as it went.

  Littlejohn telephoned Scotland Yard again and confirmed that he would be with Cromwell at six o’clock, if the plane ran to schedule. He also asked that a message be sent to Sir Ensor Cobb, arranging a meeting that evening at Sir Ensor’s convenience.

  Then, he and Lindemann went out for the long promised lunch together.