‘Yes, Doreen. I’m sorry, but it was.’
Tears burst from Doreen’s eyes. ‘I didn’t try to kill myself, Mrs Green. Nothing on God’s earth could be bad enough to make me want to leave my boys. What would they do without me?’ she cried. ‘Mrs Green, what made you think I’d do such a wicked thing?’ Doreen took her handkerchief from her pocket and wiped her face.
‘I thought Maisie had told you that she—’
‘She what?’
‘Maisie has been visiting Arnold in prison.’ Doreen’s mouth fell open. ‘Artie saw Maisie in the visitor’s queue at Wandsworth Prison yesterday. He didn’t know it was Maisie at the time, but he went to the Duke of Wellington to ask Mr Walters if he’d had any marked notes in the till and he saw the woman he’d seen at the prison the day before.’
‘It couldn’t have been our Maisie.’
‘I’m sorry, Doreen, but I’m afraid it was. Artie went back to the prison and spoke to the guard on duty the day before. He said Maisie had been writing to Arnold and had often visited him. The earlier dates the guard gave Artie match the days you were working at the hotel.’
‘No,’ Doreen said, agitated. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Green, Mr Mallory couldn’t have seen Maisie. She wouldn’t do such a thing. No,’ she said, again. ‘It’s only because Maisie’s been doing my shifts and paying me to give her children their tea that I haven’t had to spend the money I’d saved for when Arnold got out.’ Suddenly, as if she had been struck by something heavy, Doreen cried out, leapt out of her chair and flew across the kitchen.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Doreen reached up and took a box from on top of the kitchen cabinet, opened it and howled like a wounded animal. Ena got to her as her knees started to buckle. She managed to keep her upright and helped her across the room and back to the chair at the kitchen table.
‘All the money I’d saved to take Arnold, the boys and me to the seaside has gone.’ Doreen put her head in her hands. ‘What am I going to tell my boys? I promised them I’d take them to the seaside. Damn you, Arnold Hardy!’ she screamed. ‘He was always making the boys promises he couldn’t keep and then letting them down. Now I’ve broken my promise and I’m going to let them down too,’ she sobbed.
‘Not if I have anything to do with it, you aren’t.’ Ena got to her feet. ‘I’m going to find a phone-box and call the Police.’
‘No! No Police.’
‘Doreen, Maisie has stolen your money. I wouldn’t be surprised if it wasn’t her who stole the money from the Duke of Wellington and planted it in your coat pocket so she could do your shifts and earn more money for her and Arnold.’
‘I don’t care. I am not having the Police here, or my boys will find out that their father was going to abandon them again!’
‘Doreen, you can’t let her get away with it.’
‘I can, and I will. No Police, Mrs Green. My boys have seen enough policemen in their short lives.’
Doreen stared at the oven and tears rolled down her cheeks.
Ena returned to her chair and sat down.
Doreen’s thin body began to shake. She put her hand to her mouth and snatched a breath.
‘What is it?’
‘The last thing I remember before waking up outside was putting the cups and saucers in the bowl to wash up.’ Doreen felt the back of her head again. ‘No, Mrs Green, I didn’t try to kill myself by putting my head in the oven. And, by the size of the lump on the back of my head, I didn’t fall by accident.’
Ena knew she hadn’t fallen by accident and was grateful that Doreen had realised it. She was about to ask her if she remembered anything else when there was a loud knock.
Doreen spun round. ‘What was that?’
‘It’s alright. It’s just someone’s at the front door.’
‘If it’s the Police—’
‘It won’t be the Police. It’ll be a workman from Mercer Street. Artie asked one of the men working on the flat above the office to come over, replace the broken glass in your back door and change the locks. Shall I answer the door?’
Doreen nodded.
By the time the locks had been changed and there was a new pane of glass in the back door it was two o’clock and Artie had returned to pick Ena up.
While showing Doreen the new lock on the front door, Ena noticed that the builder had not only fitted a bolt at the top of the door, he had screwed a metal plate attached to a chain to the door frame and a metal plate with a ring on it to the stile on the door. Ena put her arm around Doreen’s shoulders. ‘Well, you’re safe now. Not only do you have a new lock and a bolt, if you bring this chain across the door and hook it over this fitting here before you open the door…’ Ena demonstrated how the security chain worked. ‘You can open your door wide enough to see whoever is outside, and if you don’t want them to come in, they won’t come in.’
‘It would take an army to push the door open when the chain’s on,’ Artie said, pulling on the door.
Ena agreed and leaving the chain in place, closed and locked the front door. ‘No one can get into your house now unless you invite them in.’
Artie led the way to the kitchen. He picked up a brown paper bag that the workman had left on the draining board. ‘Two keys,’ he said, taking one and putting it in the lock. ‘Your eldest son will need the other when he’s working.’
Doreen looked at Artie and smiled proudly. She didn’t touch the key.
‘It doesn’t matter who’s had keys to your house in the past, they haven’t got them now,’ Ena said. Doreen nodded. ‘As an extra precaution, take the key out of the kitchen door when you’re in the house. If I can break the glass, put my hand through and unlock the door, anyone can.’ Again, Doreen stared at the key.
‘Doreen, take the new key out of the door after you’ve locked it,’ Ena repeated, ‘then no one will be able to break in. Will you do that, Doreen?’
As if she had only just heard Ena, Doreen took the key and put it on the table. She then unhooked the handles of her handbag from the back of the chair. ‘How much do I owe you for the new locks and the man’s time?’ she asked, taking out her purse.
‘I’ve no idea what locks cost,’ Ena said. ‘Do you know, Artie?’ Artie shook his head. ‘Leave it for now. We’ll sort it out another time.’
Doreen had tears in her eyes. She looked exhausted and stood for some time without speaking. Then, as if everything Ena had been saying suddenly made sense to her, she pulled herself together. ‘I’d better let you and Mr Mallory get back to work,’ she said, heading out of the kitchen.
Ena raised her eyes at Artie, he put up his thumb and they followed Doreen to the front door.
As they were leaving, Ena again assured Doreen that she was safe. And again, Doreen thanked her. ‘Don’t forget to bolt the door and put the chain on,’ Ena said, forcing herself to smile cheerily as she and Artie left.
Walking along the path to the car, Ena heard the heavy bolt slide and engage.
‘Were there any phone calls while I was at Doreen’s?’ Ena asked, as she and Artie drove towards Waterloo Bridge.
‘One from Inspector Powell and one from a woman called Priscilla?’
Ena laughed. ‘Priscilla is my magpie friend. The woman I told you about who stole the expensive brooch from the art gallery when Henry and I went to the opening. By the time I’d told the owner, she or her lovely husband had put the brooch back.’
‘She sounds like fun.’
‘She is, and yet there’s a sadness about her too. I like her,’ Ena said, ‘she fascinates me. She’s like Alice in Through The Looking Glass. What she sees in the looking glass is not what we, or those who don’t live in Wonderland, see.’
‘She said not to forget that you and her are going out for lunch next week and to telephone her to arrange a day and time.’
‘I’ll ring her later. Did the inspector leave a message?’
‘No, he just said he’d ring another time.’
‘It couldn’t have been importan
t or he’d have said. If there’s nothing else, you can drop me off at the Duke of Wellington Hotel. I’m going to get Doreen her job back.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Both times Ena had been to the Duke of Wellington hotel it had been to the private quarters of the manager, Mr Walters. Today, as it had only just gone two, she decided to enter the hotel from the public side.
Pushing open the door to the bar she was pleasantly surprised. It was a large room, spacious and well laid out with good quality furniture, flock wallpaper – a fleur de Lys pattern in duck egg on petrol blue that gave the room a relaxed warm feel.
As she approached the bar, the barman set down the glass he was drying and met her with a welcoming smile.
‘What can I get you, Madam?’
Ena considered having a soft drink, something long and cool, but after the morning she’d had she fancied a real drink. It was a hot day, she was hot, and seeing an ice bucket advertising Teacher’s Whisky on the end of the bar, she said, ‘Teacher’s with ice and soda.’
Acknowledging the order with a nod, the barman turned, took a whisky tumbler from the shelf and pushed it under the Teacher’s Whisky optic. He added the same quantity of soda and then picked up the ice tongs. ‘One lump or two, Madam?’ he asked, taking the top off the ice bucket.
‘Just one, thanks.’
The barman placed a drip-mat displaying the hotel’s name in front of Ena, put the glass of whisky on it, and the soda syphon next to it. ‘That will be two and six, please.’
Ena took the money from her purse and gave it to him.
‘Help yourself to more soda.’
She took a drink. It didn’t need more soda. The barman put her money in the till and moved along the bar to serve a man who had just arrived. The man asked if it was too late to order lunch. It wasn’t, so, after a cursory glance at the menu, he ordered two fish and chips meals. When he had been served his drinks, the man took them across the room to his companion. He looked at the door and then at the window. Ena looked too. Where the couple were sitting they wouldn’t be seen by anyone entering the bar or looking through the window. A romantic liaison, she mused. Maybe the boss and his secretary having an affair. Her attention was brought back to the barman who she saw disappearing with the food order through a door at the far end of the bar.
When he returned Ena toyed with the idea of having another drink, but decided against it. ‘I’d like to see Mr Walters,’ she said. ‘Is he in?’ The barman’s smile turned from being amiable to anxious. He blinked several times, appearing nervous. Ena didn’t care why the man suddenly seemed uncomfortable, she needed to speak to the hotel’s manager and, unless he had emigrated to Timbuktu, she was determined to see him. ‘I’m a friend. Tell him it’s Ena Green.’
‘I’m not sure he’s er, here—’
Ena rolled her eyes. ‘Another trip to the wholesaler?’ The barman didn’t answer. ‘You’d better get me another drink, then, I might be here a while.’
At that moment the door from the kitchen opened and Dolly came out carrying a tray with two plates of fish and chips. Seeing Ena, she stopped dead. ‘Hello, Mrs Green,’ she said, sounding surprised. ‘You here to see Mr Walters? He’s in the back.’
‘Ah, the prodigal manager has returned,’ Ena said, looking at the barman and being intentionally sarcastic.
‘Yes, I’ll er, tell him you’re here, Mrs Green.’
When Dolly had taken the meal to the man and woman in the corner, she beamed Ena a smile. ‘Have you seen Doreen? Do you know how she is?’
‘Yes, I saw her today. She’s very well.’
‘That was a terrible thing, her getting blamed for taking that money.’
‘Dolly, it will go no further, I promise, but was it you who put the money in Doreen’s coat pocket?’
Dolly’s eyes sparkled with anger. She was the type of person who, when confronted, went on the attack.
‘I give you my word I won’t tell Mr Walters, or anyone, but it is important that I know if it was you.’
Dolly looked at the door to the kitchen. ‘I shouldn’t have, I know, but I could tell that Mr Walters thought highly of Doreen, You see, I wanted the barmaid’s job and when Mr Walters said he was going to teach Doreen how to serve drinks, I saw red. I’ve regretted what I did every day since. When Doreen had gone I asked Mr Walters if I could have the bar job and he said no. He said working behind the bar wouldn’t be good for me.’ She looked down at her clasped hands and exhaled. ‘He said he wasn’t giving me the job for my own good. And he was right,’ she whispered. ‘He’s been very kind to me. He has helped me with my problem.’
‘So, then you felt you couldn’t tell him?’
‘Oh no, it wasn’t that. Mr Walters knew I’d been having a difficult time. I think he would have understood why I did what I did. No,’ Dolly said, shaking her head, ‘I was going to tell him alright, get it off my chest so to speak, but Maisie said I wasn’t to.’
Ena bristled at the sound of Maisie Hardy’s name. What she had done to Doreen made Ena see red. She took a breath and forced herself to smile. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, Maisie was already doing Doreen’s shifts, so when I told her what I’d done she said I wasn’t to say anything yet, as Doreen’s husband was coming home soon and Doreen wanted to spend some time with him. She said it would work out in Doreen’s favour to have time off. She promised me she’d tell Mr Walters it wasn’t Doreen who stole the money when she was ready to come back to work. Maisie said she was paying Doreen to look after her children so Doreen wouldn’t miss out on her wages.’
The door to the private quarters and the kitchen caught Ena’s attention as it opened. Ena assured Dolly that she wouldn’t say anything and she returned to the kitchen. Mr Walters held the door for her before lifting the flap at the end of the bar and joining Ena.
‘Mrs Green?’ Mr Walters put out his hand and Ena shook it. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today. I’m a bit short-staffed.’
‘I’m sorry for turning up without an appointment, but I wondered if I could have a word with Maisie Hardy, in private.’
‘Maisie isn’t here. She came in earlier, but didn’t feel well, so I sent her home. She was waiting for her wages in my sitting room, but I hadn’t made up the wage packets so she left.’ Mr Walters shook his head. ‘And, for the first time in a long time, money is missing from the bureau.’
‘Was it marked?’
‘Yes, I mark it every night. I went to make up the staff wages at the end of the morning shift, opened the bureau and all the five-pound-notes had gone.’
‘I think Maisie has gone too.’
‘I suspected as much.’
‘If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about any more money being stolen.’
Mr Walters inhaled deeply and let out his breath in a sad groan. ‘So, it was Maisie Hardy who has been stealing from me. Was it Maisie who put money in Doreen’s coat pocket?’
Ena lifted her shoulders as if to say she didn’t know. She was not going to break her promise to Dolly. However stupid Dolly had been, Ena believed her when she said she wanted to confess what she had done to Mr Walters. The conniving Maisie had taken advantage of the jealous and probably intoxicated Dolly and manipulated her for her own ends. Ena was determined to keep Dolly’s name out of it. ‘The real villain of the piece is Maisie Hardy.’
Deep frown lines settled on Mr Walters’ forehead and his bushy eyebrows met on the bridge of his nose. ‘I think we had better go through to my quarters,’ he said, leading the way.
When they were seated in the cluttered sitting room, Ena explained to Mr Walters how Maisie had persuaded Doreen to look after her children while she worked Doreen’s shifts, as well as her own. She told him that Maisie had been visiting Doreen’s husband in prison, that he intended to leave Doreen and the boys for Maisie, and that she and Artie had discovered Doreen unconscious on the kitchen floor, with her head in the gas oven.
‘Maisie was th
e last person Doreen remembers seeing before we found her. And, if that isn’t bad enough, Maisie has stolen all Doreen’s savings.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
‘You said Maisie didn’t wait for her wages but went home early because she was ill?’
‘Yes, I’ve got her wages here,’ Mr Walters said, hauling himself out of his chair and crossing the room. He took the key from his watchchain, unlocked the bureau and took out a buff coloured wage packet. ‘She stole Doreen’s money, did she? Then this money belongs to Doreen. Will you be seeing her, or shall I have it sent to her?’
‘I’d like nothing more than to see Maisie Hardy’s money to go to Doreen, but I was hoping to confront Maisie, persuade her to give back the money she stole from Doreen. The thing is,’ Ena said, screwing up her face, ‘I need a reason to go to her house.’
Mr Walters lifted the wage packet up. ‘If you took her wages to her it would give you the reason?’
‘It would.’ Not a very believable reason, but as she could not think of a better one at short notice, it would have to do. ‘I’ll try to do a deal with her. Her wages for the money she stole from Doreen and I won’t go to the Police!’
Mr Walters frowned again. ‘What Maisie did was attempted murder. Doreen must tell the Police.’
Ena shook her head. ‘I tried to persuade her but she won’t have the Police involved. She doesn’t want the boys to know what a lying, cheating, scumbag their father is – nor that their aunt, who the boys are very fond of, has betrayed them.’
Mr Walters gave Ena Maisie’s wage packet. ‘Take it to her with pleasure if you think she’ll give you Doreen’s money. And,’ he said, turning back to the bureau, ‘you’ll need her address.’
Ena stood up and put the envelope in her handbag. Mr Walters scribbled the address down on a piece of paper and handed it to her. Ena looked at the address. Rutland Park Road. A stone’s throw from where Doreen lived. ‘I know where this is,’ Ena said, ‘it’s the other side of the park from Doreen. Thank you. I’ll get a cab from Waterloo Station.’
Old Cases New Colours (A Dudley Green Investigation) (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 9) Page 13