‘But you have no reason to be in the office at all,’ Frances said. She angled for her purse with the skeleton keys. ‘I’m the only one wo has got an excuse.’
‘You, or Jack.’ Uncle Sal switched on the wireless. ‘Let’s see if a little music helps us figure out a way.’
Frances sneaked along the hallway to Dolores’ apartment. If for some reason Jack was still home instead of at the Top Note, she didn’t want him to hear her.
She knocked softly. After an interminable wait, Pauline opened the door.
She gaped at Frances who put a warning finger over her lips and jerked her head towards Jack’s apartment.
Pauline pulled her inside.
‘Who is it?’ Dolores asked.
‘It’s Frances.’ Pauline followed her friend.
‘Frances, darling.’ Dolores raised a languid hand. She rested on a day bed. Her face was covered in a thick white cream, and cucumber slices lay on her eyes. She took them off. ‘What brings you here?’
Pauline handed Dolores a damp flannel, to pat away the cream.
‘I need to ask you a favour,’ Frances said. ‘One you can’t tell Jack about.’
Dolores shot upright. ‘How intriguing.’
Frances counted the hours until Dolores would join them at the racecourse. Their rehearsals were nearly finished. A few run-throughs of Dolores’ act, and of Uncle Sal’s daring number, and they were ready. With only three days to go until their big event, Miss Whitford would soon have to disappear, to make way for Signorina Francesca.
Dolores breathed in, trailed by a faint scent of heavenly perfume and an awed Pauline. She gave Frances a tiny signal.
The conductor rushed over to greet her at the door. He was painfully shy, with his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he bent over Dolores’ hand. His tailcoat had seen better days, if it was his in the first place. But he and his band were top notch, Uncle Sal had told Frances, and his judgment with regards to music could always be trusted.
‘Shall we do the songs in order, or what do you prefer?’ Dolores asked.
The conductor’s eyes widened. ‘Whatever you want.’
‘In this case, let’s get the tricky bit over with.’
Dolores motioned to Tony to lower the swing seat. The conductor lifted her into it, although she could easily have climbed on herself. A bewitching smile played around her lips.
Frances in her secretary role watched as the chair with Dolores in it was raised again. She slipped out of the room.
She knocked on the office door.
‘Yes?’
Instead of Mr Lucca, his boss stood in front of her, in his shirtsleeves. A pile of newspapers and documents sat on his desk.
‘I was looking for Mr Lucca,’ she said, primly.
‘Is it important? He’s still in town.’
Frances masked her disappointment. ‘Mis Barden just wanted to invite him to watch her rehearsal.’
‘He should drop in within the hour,’ Mr Dunne said as he flashed her a wide smile. ‘I’m sure he’ll be only too happy to have a geek.’
Frances slunk away, back to the rehearsals, where Marie put refreshments. Dolores was mid-song, and the chair was lowered so slowly that, with the lights strategically placed, the audience would first see her sparkly, golden shoes, spectacular legs and then the rest of her.
Frances joined Marie who tasted a sandwich.
‘I asked my friend Andie to arrange for a food parcel to reach your brother,’ Marie said unprompted. ‘We made it big enough to share with the wardens, or any cell mates.’
‘I did worry,’ Frances said. ‘I can’t imagine there’s lots to eat in prison, but if the other guys think Rob is being treated special, it could be bad for him.’
‘A few more days,’ Marie said. Her smile was meant to be reassuring, although it didn’t hide the doubt in her eyes.
Frances shifted her attention to Dolores. How was it possible to convey so much heartbreak with her music and yet be so uplifting?
She broke into applause as the last note petered out. Dolores blew her a kiss and hopped of the swing chair.
Frances indicated to wait half an hour.
Dolores dazzled the conductor with a blinding smile. ‘Smoke-oh and then the rest of the songs?’
Frances spied Mr Lucca as his car pulled up behind the main building. She watched him climb the stairs to the first floor. What was he doing there?
Dolores had gone through her songs twice as Frances saw the assistant manager finally stroll towards the office.
She unwrapped a pair of brogues and held them up for Dolores to see.
The singer fanned herself. ‘You gentlemen are amazing, but I need a break. Give me an hour, will you?’
She slipped her arm through Frances’s.
‘Wait,’ Frances said. She took a thin coat out of a bag.
‘Coo-ee,’ Dolores trilled as they knocked on the office door.
‘Miss Barden.’ Mr Lucca opened. He gazed at her in open admiration.
‘I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘No, not at all.’
‘You see, I’ve wrangled an hour’s break, and you did say you’d show me the horses if I wear suitable shoes.’ She dangled the brogues.
‘Absolutely. You mean, now?’ He shot Mr Dunne, who was busy reading, a quick glance.
Dolores wrinkled her nose in a manner that reminded Frances of Claudette Colbert in the pictures. ‘I guess I can’t lure your boss away too?’
‘I wish I could tear myself away,’ Mr Dunne said. ‘Next time.’
Frances helped Dolores into the coat which covered up the dress perfectly. Dolores tied the belt tightly around her waist.
‘Allow me.’ Mr Lucca held out the brogues. Frances took away Dolores’ stage shoes. ‘You can leave us, Miss Whitford,’ Dolores said.
Frances gave her a small bow, unsure if that fit in with her role or was a bit too subservient. Not that it really mattered. Mr Lucca was much too smitten with Dolores to pay Frances any attention, and Mr Dunne had returned to his reading.
She decided to visit the kitchen. If she left the door open, she might be able to hear anyone leaving the office. Five minutes, that was all she was asking for.
To her chagrin, nothing happened. The cook and her helper accepted her offer to peel vegetables while she hung around. Frances suspected their easy acceptance of her had a lot to do with the fact that Jack had promised to cover their wages while the catering team took over. Getting paid for nothing wasn’t something they’d experience often.
‘Do you always have the same jockeys?’ she asked, to show interest.
‘Pretty much,’ the cook said. ‘Much too expensive to have them traipsing up and down the country. They tend to stick to a few places.’
‘So, only the horses and trainers travel?’
‘And the bosses. They all know each other.’
That would have made it easier for Mr Lucca, to also figure out who to entrust with placing the bets.
Dolores’ happy chatter alerted Frances that her chance had passed. Maybe that was for the best though.
‘When do people here go home at night?’ she asked. ‘Do they keep office hours? Mr Sullivan is keen not to make anyone staying late on our account.’
The cook shrugged. ‘If you don’t count the jockeys and the vet, it’s lights out at six unless it’s a race day.’
‘Excellent.’ Frances put down the peeling knife and washed her hand over the sink. ‘We’ll try to be as considerate as possible.’
She almost forgot herself and skipped along the hallway. After six, they should get away with a little light burglary.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dolores buzzed with happiness. She sniffed her hand. ‘I’d almost forgotten how good it feels to stroke a horse’s nose.’
‘That was kind of Mr Lucca,’ Frances said.
Dolores fluttered her lashes. ‘He is a darling. Everyone here is so kind to us. We should really think of something.�
�� She gazed at the band. ‘I’d say, once more, and then we’re done here?’ An impish gleam in her eyes made Frances hopeful.
Dolores insisted on keeping quiet until they were almost home. She tapped on Bluey’s shoulder. ‘Is there a florist in the Arcade?’
‘There might,’ he said. ‘There’s one around the corner. They used to supply your lilies.’
‘Then please take us there.’
Dolores declined any help and insisted on Frances and Bluey waiting in the car.
‘What do you think she’s doing?’ Frances stared out of the window.
‘No idea. Anything that makes Miss Dolores this happy is good, I’m sure.’
Dolores ambled back to the car with a handsome young man in tow. He had his arms full, with a potted orange Kangaroo Paw in full bloom.
Bluey hurried out of the car and opened the back door. The young man carefully eased the plant inside, making sure it stayed undamaged.
‘That’s spiffing.’ Dolores pressed a coin on him. His face took on a deep pink tinge.
Dolores took the passenger seat, now the space next to Frances was occupied by the plant.
‘To the Top Note,’ she said with a mischievous grin.
Bluey switched the engine on.
Dolores declined to say a word until they were all assembled in the main room. The plant, which reached up to Frances waist, took up too much room to fit in the already cramped office.
She gestured towards it. ‘What do you say, Jack, darling?’
‘It’s a beaut. Where do you want to put it? On stage?’
Her velvety laughter filled the room as she nudged Frances into the centre. ‘It’s a prop alright. I thought it will give Frances a nice little cover for her big moment.’
Frances and Jack both stared at her.
‘People tell me things,’ Dolores said. ‘I’ve seen the safe, and I bet you’re itching to discover what’s inside.’
‘Fair enough,’ Jack said. ‘But then you should also know that I’m not letting Frances take any risk.’
‘Which is why I’ve purchased this beautiful plant to say thank-you for showing me around the stables.’
Frances caught on. ‘We’re taking it there tonight.’ Excitement surged in her veins.
Dolores dangled her slim wrist. ‘I’ve already lost my bracelet in the corner by the window as I changed my shoes. As you can imagine, I’m distraught and will have you search for it. Which is when you also take my little gift along. If the guards catch us, they won’t think twice about it.’
Jack gave her a pained look. ‘Finding a plant in the morning is a give-away that we’ve illegally entered an office which is kept locked.’
‘We could put it in front of the safe,’ Frances said. ‘It’s big enough to hide it and block any view of the safe from the door. Once I’ve picked the lock –’
Uncle Sal coughed. ‘I’ll do it. My risk is no bigger than yours and I have more experience in this stuff.’
Jack opened his mouth. Frances clapped a hand on his lips. ‘The offices are deserted at six. We take the plant, and if anyone sees us, the office was unlocked, and we just searched for the bracelet and delivered the gift. Otherwise we’ll take the potted plant away with us again. There is hardly any risk.’
‘I have to be back here by nine,’ Jack said.
Frances was surprised he’d given in so easily. She gave him a delighted kiss on the cheek. ‘It’ll only take minutes.’
‘It should be dark around 7.30 tonight,’ Jack said. ‘If we arrive at dusk, it’ll look less suspicious.’
‘It’s enough if Bluey and I go,’ Uncle Sal said.
‘I’ll do it. Rob is my brother.’ Frances jutted out her chin.
‘And you’re my responsibility.’ Uncle Sal glowered at her.
‘I’m in this as well,’ Dolores said.
Frances’s jaw dropped.
‘You need me,’ the singer said. ‘If we’re in trouble, you need a star frantic to retrieve her bracelet, and if that’s not enough, I’ll faint in a spectacular manner.’ She reached out for Jack. ‘I promise I won’t be in the way.’
‘Anyone else?’ Jack harrumphed. ‘We might as well hire a coach to the racecourse.’
Frances’s stomach knotted in anxiety as they rolled onto the racecourse grounds. For the last fifty yards, Bluey had switched off the engine.
Despite her words she realised how likely it was that something would go wrong. Jack would be fine, of course, and so would Bluey. She worried about Dolores, who’d never had to move stealthily before, and who attracted attention with every step. Then there was Uncle Sal. Despite his acting and lock-picking skills, he had a gammy ankle. One misstep, which could happen only too easily should they have to run, and they were done for.
The main building lay in darkness.
‘We have to be quiet,’ Jack said before they left the car. ‘Try to act normal, though. If you look as if everything’s fine, most people won’t bother to think what we’re doing here.’
He went first, followed by Frances and Dolores and then Uncle Sal. Bluey, with the plant, brought up the rear.
Jack, wearing silk gloves like Uncle Sal, unlocked the entrance with the key Mr Dunne had given them. He shone a torch at the floor, with the beam low enough to be invisible from the outside and yet giving off enough light for them not to stumble.
‘We can’t all go in the office,’ he said. His eyes pleaded with Frances.
She relented. ‘Dolores and I will keep ourselves ready in our rehearsal room. If we hear or see anyone, we’ll imitate a kookaburra.’
Jack gave her a quick hug. ‘Bluey, you’ll stand guard by the back door.’
Frances and Dolores sneaked to their places. The moonlight cast a sickly glow through the half open curtain and cast Dolores’ shape in sharp relief. Frances pulled Dolores into the darkness. She heard her heart beating. Dolores felt for her hand. Together they stood with bated breath.
Jack stood frozen, every fibre of his being alert. He listened to the sounds of the building, the scrabbling of tiny feet outside, the sharp cracks as the heat of the day dissipated. He’d held sentry like this back in the war, day after day and night after night, an experience he’d never wanted to repeat.
Yet here he was again, fighting for a man’s life while trying to keep his troops safe. Uncle Sal, who concentrated on opening the door without making a sound, and who so clearly was willing to sacrifice himself should they trip up. Dolores, whose generosity and selflessness he’d never doubted, and who nevertheless was so ill-equipped for clandestine acts. And then there was Frances, his sweet, stubborn girl, who would bravely face hell for someone she cared about.
Of all of them, only Bluey gave him no cause to worry. He knew too well how unflappable his big, silent second-in-command was, even if all hope seemed lost.
Uncle Sal opened the door inch by inch and slipped through.
Jack took the potted plant which Bluey had left with him and arranged it so Uncle Sal could go to work on the safe unseen.
Jack glanced around, the beam of the torch directed towards the safe lock. Uncle Sal didn’t need much light, but if he relied only on touch, he would leave tell-tale scratches in the metal.
Jack slowed down his breathing. Uncle Sal might be able to hear the pins tumble rather than feel it in his sensitive fingers.
The old man nodded to himself, as if in a silent conversation.
One minute had gone. Jack wondered how Frances and Dolores were doing.
Uncle Sal moved his head slowly and grinned at Jack as he slowly, so slowly, opened the safe. It made a tiny squeak, and Uncle Sal stopped for an instant before he went on.
Jack shone the torch into the opening. Two ledgers sat at odd angles. Jack silently cursed. It was easy enough to put neatly aligned books back into their rightful place, but if they moved these, anyone paying proper attention would notice. Especially a criminal, who was willing to kill to protect himself.
Uncle Sal stretched out
his hand.
‘Don’t,’ Jack whispered.
‘There’s something else.’ Uncle Sal peered closer. Jack moved the torch. At the back of the safe, well-hidden behind a steel money box, with only a few millimetres of a white cap to be seen, stood a small bottle.
‘I’ll lift it,’ Jack said. ‘There’s another one.’ He held the first bottle into the light. ‘Horse tranquiliser,’ he said as he put it back.
Uncle Sal’s voice sounded hoarse. ‘And the other one?’
Jack lifted that, too. ‘Digitalin.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
Uncle Sal locked the safe again. In the hallway, Jack whistled softly as a sign for Bluey, before they picked up the girls.
Frances didn’t say a word. He smiled at her, to let her know they’d succeeded.
The potted plant rode back in the boot.
Jack waited until they were on the main road. ‘We need a chin-wag with Phil,’ he said. ‘Can you arrange a meeting in your apartment, Dolores?’
‘I’m due on stage in an hour.’ She creased her forehead in fierce concentration.
‘Tomorrow morning will do. Ask him to take the fire stairs at the back.’
‘It’s almost over, isn’t it?’ Frances rested her head against Uncle Sal’s shoulder, suddenly too tired to stay upright.
‘Too right it is, kiddo,’ Jack said. ‘Just a few more things to be done, and Rob will be free.’
To her dismay, Frances felt moisture well up in her eyes, and a fat tear rolled down her cheek. Uncle Sal handed her a tissue. ‘Don’t cry.’
‘I won’t. I’m simply relieved.’
Dolores crumbled her toast. Jack put his hand on top of hers. She’d called him over at what was for her an unusually early hour. He’d expected to see Phil with her, but that was the problem. She hadn’t reached him, and his new landlady said he’d left with an overnight bag in his hand.
‘It’ll be fine,’ Jack said, to calm her down. ‘He’ll come to our show, won’t he?’
Murder at the Races Page 16