Murder at the Ritz

by Jim Eldridge

  ‘I think we should fix it for sooner rather than let it drift on,’ he said. ‘It’s wartime and it won’t be long before the bombs start really raining down on us. Let’s get married before that happens.’

  ‘When do you suggest?’ asked Rosa.

  ‘Next week,’ proposed Coburg.

  ‘That soon?’

  ‘Next week you’re still in London. The week after you’re off to Scotland, and who knows what will happen after that.’

  ‘Can we get married as quickly as that?’ asked Rosa. ‘I thought it took weeks after the banns had been read.’

  ‘That’s for church weddings,’ said Coburg. ‘I’m sure we can do it if we go for a registry office, but I’ll check it out.’ He looked at her, concerned. ‘You’re sure you still feel the same about it?’

  ‘More than ever,’ she said. ‘But I don’t think we should rush it like that.’

  He looked at her, puzzled, and worried. ‘Why not?’

  She reached out and put her hand on his and squeezed it.

  ‘Honey, I’ve seen too many cases – especially in my business – where people rush into marriage and six months later it’s all over. I don’t want that for us. Yes, I believe you love me, and I sure love you. But a marriage is more than just about being in love. I want to get to know you properly first. Meet your family and your friends. I want you to meet my family too, and as they’re in Scotland that’s going to take time to organise.’ She squeezed his hand again. ‘This isn’t me having second thoughts, it’s me determined that this marriage isn’t going to be a flash in the pan. I want it to last. OK, a bomb may finish us off in the next month, but I’m not going to use that as an excuse.’

  Coburg was silent for a moment, then he smiled at her, a genuine smile of love.

  ‘I thought I was supposed to be the sensible one and you artistes were the impetuous, take-a-risk types.’

  ‘I am, but not with something like this. This is too important.’

  He squeezed her hand. ‘I am the luckiest man alive.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Wednesday 28th August

  Next morning, as they left Coburg’s small block of flats, three men stepped out from behind the nearest corner of the building. Each was holding a pistol pointed at Coburg and Rosa. Coburg’s heart sank as he recognised Anton Xhemel. No! he thought. Not now!

  Rosa looked at the men, startled, then at Coburg.

  ‘Edgar—’ she began.

  ‘Quiet!’ snapped Xhemel. ‘No talking.’ He scowled at Coburg. ‘You know who I am?’

  Coburg nodded, his mind racing. What could he do? He no longer had the pistol on him, that had been returned to the armoury. And even if he still had it, they’d shoot him and Rosa before he had a chance to use it.

  ‘You are the detective from Scotland Yard,’ said Xhemel flatly. ‘Coburg.’

  ‘Whatever you want me for, this young lady is nothing to do with anything,’ said Coburg.

  Xhemel gave a sarcastic smile. ‘Far from it. She is our guarantee you will behave. If you do not, we will shoot her first and then you.’

  Rosa looked at Coburg in alarm.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Coburg with a confidence he did not feel. ‘We’ll go along with it.’

  Inside, his mind was racing. Whatever Xhemel’s plans for them, he assumed that keeping them alive was not part of it. The only thing he could do was pretend to go along with it, all the while looking for an opportunity to get away. Or, at least, to get Rosa away to safety.

  ‘You will drive us in your car to the Soviet embassy,’ said Xhemel. ‘Your Intelligence people are watching the building, but they will not stop a police car. You will drive and the woman will sit next to you. We will be sitting in the back. Our guns will be aimed at you. Any tricks and we will shoot you both.’

  ‘There’ll be no tricks,’ said Coburg.

  As they walked to the police car, he wondered if he’d be able to start the engine and drive away before the three men got in, but any hope of that vanished as Xhemel’s two henchmen climbed into the back first.

  ‘In,’ Xhemel ordered Coburg and Rosa curtly.

  Coburg slid behind the steering wheel and Rosa got into the passenger seat next to him.

  ‘This is a bad move,’ said Coburg. ‘As you say, the embassy is being watched. You’ll be caught. Why not just walk away now? Make for somewhere else.’

  Xhemel gave his sarcastic laugh again. ‘So you can chase us? No. Drive to the embassy.’

  Coburg set the vehicle in motion. The Soviet embassy occupied three adjacent terraced properties which together formed a magnificent, large white building at the junction with Bayswater Road. It was surrounded by a high fence of spiked metal poles, behind which were tall trees. Coburg assumed that Xhemel must have already made contact with someone inside the embassy so that the gates and the heavy front doors could be opened on his arrival, and he and his companions could disappear inside. And what then? Would they have already gained diplomatic immunity, preventing them from being arrested? And what would they do with Coburg and Rosa when they arrived?

  They’ll take us in with them, Coburg realised. They would be bargaining chips. Hostages. The embassy staff would claim that the Albanians had burst in and held them at gunpoint. The Soviets were powerless, prisoners in their own embassy, would be their defence. There was no collusion. They would warn the British authorities against trying to enter the embassy because that would risk the lives of Coburg and Rosa.

  And then what? They’d keep this stalemate situation going in the hope that their ally, Nazi Germany, would invade England, and then it would be all over and Xhemel and his friends would walk free.

  Or perhaps not? Coburg knew that beneath the embassy ran tunnels, some linked to adjacent buildings. Had they an escape planned?

  One thing Coburg was intent on, he would do everything he could to make sure Xhemel didn’t get away. But he had to make sure that Rosa was safe. At all costs, he had to make sure she didn’t set foot inside the embassy, even if they managed to drag him in through its doors. Once they got her inside the risks to her became even worse.

  He reached across and patted Rosa’s thigh. ‘We’ll be all right,’ he assured her.

  ‘No talking!’ grunted Xhemel.

  As they drove to the embassy, Coburg considered smashing the car into something, another vehicle, but he dismissed the idea. Xhemel would shoot at once. Instead he continued to Kensington Park Gardens. There were some cars parked at the side of the street, but a space had been left clear right in front of the gates. Coburg saw that some of the parked cars had men in them, and guessed they were Hibbert’s crowd keeping a close watch on the embassy, staying alert for Xhemel to appear. If he could prevent them going into the grounds, there was a chance that Hibbert’s men would move in. But how would Xhemel react? He was a man with nothing to lose. The likelihood would be that he’d start shooting. Coburg assumed that Hibbert’s men, unlike the regular police, would be armed.

  Coburg pulled in to the kerb, hoping that his arrival would catch the attention of Hibbert’s watchers. It was a police car, after all, and he hoped they might wonder why such a vehicle was calling at the embassy. After he’d stopped the car, he let the engine idle for a moment, doing his best to gain time, but there was no sign of movement from the parked cars.

  I’ll have to see if I can stall him once we get out of the car, he thought.

  ‘Out!’ ordered Xhemel, and he flourished his pistol at them.

  Coburg took Rosa’s hand and squeezed it, then they both got out of the car. Xhemel and his two comrades also exited and waited until Coburg and Rosa had set foot on the pavement before moving to join them. It was just a short distance across the pavement to the gate, which had been left open. Coburg looked beyond the gate and saw that the front door was also ajar.

  They were expected.

  He stopped.

  ‘We’re here,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘We’ve delivered you. Now—’

/>   ‘You are playing for time!’ hissed Xhemel. ‘In!’ And he prodded Coburg in the back with his gun to urge him forward.

  This was the moment Coburg had been waiting for, for Xhemel to be up close with the gun. Immediately he struck out, knocking the gun sideways with one hand and swinging his other arm up and backwards, smashing his elbow into Xhemel’s face. There was the sound of a gun going off up close, and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rosa stagger and then fall. He swung round and saw one of Xhemel’s men holding a gun with smoke coming from the barrel, and he threw himself at the man, but Xhemel lurched forward, his gun aimed at Coburg’s head.

  BANG!

  Xhemel’s head suddenly disappeared in an explosion of blood which sprayed into Coburg’s face. There was another shot, and then the man who’d shot Rosa dropped to the ground.

  ‘Gun down!’ shouted a voice, which Coburg recognised as Fleming’s.

  The other man immediately dropped his gun and put his hands in the air. Coburg turned and ran towards Rosa, who was lying face down on the pavement, her clothes soaked in blood.

  ‘No!’ he howled.

  He dropped to his knees and lifted her up and turned her over.

  ‘Ow!’ she said, her face twisted in pain. ‘I think my arm’s broken.’

  He looked and saw blood where the bullet had torn through her arm.

  ‘Bang goes my week at Ciro’s,’ she said, forcing a painful grin.

  ‘The bastards!’ barked an angry American voice. Coburg looked up at Raymond Harris standing next to Fleming, a gun in his hand.

  Other men were appearing, running towards them from the parked cars, some armed. Coburg shot a look towards the embassy and saw the heavy wooden door close.

  ‘Is she all right?’ asked Fleming.

  ‘Thank you, whoever you are,’ muttered Rosa. ‘I can talk for myself.’

  And then she fainted.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Coburg walked down the ward at St Thomas’s hospital to where Rosa lay in bed, her left arm in plaster from her shoulder to her wrist, and put the bunch of flowers and box of chocolates he’d brought on the bedside cabinet. He leant forward and kissed her.

  ‘This is against the rules,’ she told him. ‘They’re very strict about keeping to visiting hours. You’ll get me into trouble.’

  ‘I’m not a visitor,’ said Coburg. ‘I’m a detective chief inspector on an investigation come to talk to the victim of a crime.’

  ‘Do you bring flowers and chocolates to all the people you have to talk to? And kiss them?’

  ‘It’s part of my special interrogation technique,’ said Coburg.

  ‘I bet you’re a wow at Scotland Yard,’ she said.

  ‘How’s the arm?’

  ‘Still broken. Fortunately, I’m on some very strong painkillers, but they say it’s going to be a while before I’m up and about.’

  ‘So, no Ciro’s next week?’

  ‘Or Glasgow the week after.’ She looked at him inquisitively. ‘Was that really Raymond Harris in all that shooting?’

  ‘It was,’ said Coburg. ‘He was there in his role as a secret agent.’

  ‘Not secret any more,’ commented Rosa.

  ‘His name won’t appear anywhere in any report,’ said Coburg. ‘Officially, he’s still a record producer.’

  ‘Who carries a gun.’

  ‘I understand there are very few Americans who don’t,’ said Coburg.

  ‘And that tall fellow he was with?’

  ‘Commander Ian Fleming, Naval Intelligence. He and your producer friend were part of Hibbert’s watch on the Soviet embassy.’

  ‘I’m going to need some new clothes. Mine were ruined. I’ve never seen so much blood.’

  ‘Most of it was from Xhemel and the man who shot you.’ He looked down at her. ‘I thought you were dead. When I saw all that blood everywhere around you …’

  ‘I would have been if your pals hadn’t turned up. And you would have been, too. Is it always like this for you? People trying to kill you?’

  ‘No. Mostly it can be quite boring, usually just hanging around waiting for answers.’

  ‘Thank heavens for that,’ said Rosa. ‘After this, I like boring.’ She reached out and took his hand. ‘You know what I said about waiting to get married? After this, I’m thinking, the hell with it. Let’s do it.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘The sooner the better. I mean, the captain of a ship can marry people. Is there some equivalent in hospitals?’

  ‘Matron?’ asked Coburg, and he laughed. ‘Now that would be some event.’ He bent down and kissed her again. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  He walked away feeling happier than he’d felt in a long time. Yes, the woman he loved was stuck in a hospital bed, but she was alive and she’d recover. And the man who’d tried to kill Lampson was dead.

  The men’s ward was on the next floor up, and Coburg was relieved to discover that the nurse he’d previously spoken to was on duty; it saved lengthy explanations to get round the ban on visitors outside of regular visiting hours.

  ‘Your sergeant is doing well,’ she said.

  He followed her along the ward to where Lampson was sitting up in bed and reading a newspaper.

  ‘Guv’nor!’ He beamed.

  ‘Sergeant!’ Coburg smiled back. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Considering what happened, pretty good. They reckon I was lucky: the knife missed my vital organs. What’s happened? Is there any word on Xhemel?’

  ‘There is. He’s dead. And so is one of his accomplices, with the third in custody, and he’s been singing like a bird. We’ve got the whole story. Joe Williams interrupted them in the Count’s suite as they were preparing to enter the King’s suite to steal the money and bullion, and they killed him. That caused them to panic and they ran.’

  ‘How did they plan to get it away? All that gold is some weight.’

  Coburg filled him in on the Russian connection, and the involvement of the Intelligence forces in bringing the case to a close. ‘Xhemel also killed Ollen to stop him talking.’

  ‘So, it’s all done and dusted,’ said Lampson.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘What’s next?’

  ‘Next is you recover, and we’ll see what else we have to deal with. In the meantime, is there anything you need? Books, magazines?’

  Lampson shook his head. ‘My mum and dad are bringing Terry in at visiting time. I’ll let them do that, thanks, guv. It makes them feel useful.’ He gave an apologetic grin. ‘To be honest, I feel a bit of fraud being here. I’m hoping it won’t be long before they kick me out.’

  ‘Be careful, Ted. You had a serious injury. You could have died. Don’t overdo it and try and get back before your body’s ready. Do what they tell you.’

  ‘Right, guv. I promise I’ll follow orders.’

  As Coburg left the ward, he reflected he hadn’t told Lampson about the snatching of Charley Barnes. He’d find out soon enough, if Barnes’s body turned up. Which Coburg doubted. In the meantime, there was a war to win. And a wedding to organise.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to acknowledge the debt I – and all of us – owe to those who fought to defeat Nazi tyranny, with many paying the ultimate tragic price. I stress Nazi, rather than German, because – despite being born in central London in 1944 and therefore coming under siege from both V1 and V2 rockets – I think most of us who were born during the war, or immediately after, realised that the enemy were not the German or Italian people, but the extremist politicians who led those countries. I survived the war, millions didn’t. I will always be grateful to those on the Home Front, as well as the armed forces fighting abroad, who kept us alive and as safe as they could, while putting themselves in danger.

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jim Eldridge was born in central London towards the end of World War II, and survived attacks by V2 rockets on the Kings Cross area where he lived. In 1971 he sold his first sitcom, starring Arthur Lowe, to the BBC and had his first book commissioned. Since then he has had more than one hundred books published, with sales of over three million copies. He lives in Kent with his wife.

  jimeldridge.com

  By Jim Eldridge

  Hotel Mysteries series

  Murder at the Ritz

  Museum Mysteries series

  Murder at the Fitzwilliam

  Murder at the British Museum

  Murder at the Ashmolean

  Murder at the Manchester Museum

  Murder at the Natural History Museum

  Murder at Madame Tussauds

  COPYRIGHT

  Allison & Busby Limited

  11 Wardour Mews

  London W1F 8AN

  allisonandbusby.com

  This ebook edition published in Great Britain by Allison & Busby in 2021.

  Copyright © 2021 by Jim Eldridge

  The moral right of the author is hereby asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.