‘And it was someone from the church?’ she asked, incredulously. ‘The poor girl will never be able to look this Father Howells in the face again.’
‘She won’t have to, Mummy. He’s leaving the parish.’
‘Was he angry when you confronted him?’
‘No, he told me he was glad. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop doing it – and he never realised that it was hurting Jenny. The upshot is that she’s now decided to stay on as a policewoman and Gale Force thinks that I’m a genius.’ They laughed. ‘Right, you’ve heard enough about my triumph. Tell me about yours.’
‘Well,’ said Ellen, ‘it was actually yesterday morning …’
Claude Chatfield needed a lot of persuasion before he agreed to send the two of them off to Kent. Before he’d left, Marmion had given him a detailed description of the murder suspect so that it could be passed on to reporters at the press conference. He and Keedy settled into the car that was to take them all the way to the Kentish village of Leeds.
‘My worry,’ said Keedy, ‘is that Dufays and his wife may already have flown the coop.’
‘I doubt it somehow. Civilians can’t just roll up at the docks and expect to walk straight onto the nearest ship. Most of them are reserved for troops. They’ll have to kick their heels.’
‘Where will they be?’
‘They could be in any of the Channel ports,’ said Marmion, ‘so it won’t be easy to find them. But that description of Charlotte Browne may help. The papers will name her as a wanted person.’
‘Thank goodness you remembered that address in Leeds.’
‘It’s standard police procedure – jot everything down. You never know when it might come in handy.’
‘Do you really think this woman has a connection with Leeds?’
‘Yes, I do, Joe. Criminals have got warped minds. They like to play games with us. I think that this woman might have been doing the same. Knowing that we’d check the hotel register, she gave us an address that would turn out to be false when we checked on it. But she couldn’t resist teasing us,’ said Marmion. ‘Inside the false address was one that has some real meaning to her. Miss Browne was taunting us.’
‘She’s not the first person to do that.’
‘The others lived to regret it. Let’s hope she does the same.’
‘Well,’ said Keedy, ‘even if we come back empty-handed, this trip will have served one useful purpose.’
‘What is it, Joe?’
‘It’s saved us from having to listen to Chat boasting about how he tormented Buchanan before telling him – politely – that he was under arrest.’
When she put down the receiver, Griselda Fleetwood was glowing. She had just talked at length to the superintendent and heard about the latest developments. Buchanan had been routed and two people who’d helped him had been arrested and charged. She turned to Rex Chell who was standing beside her in his office.
‘Superintendent Chatfield said that I should fight fire with fire,’ she told him. ‘Because Buchanan’s handbills disparaged the Lotus, we should print some of our own, vindicating ourselves. They can be sent to everyone on our guest list. Be sure to point out that Buchanan was arrested – that’s what he advised.’ She chortled. ‘Who’s going to believe a jealous hotelier with a police record? The man is finished.’
She paused for a moment to consider that there was a time during her preparations for opening a hotel when she’d consulted Buchanan. He’d been so charming to her that she’d come perilously close to flirting with him. In retrospect, she saw how foolish she’d been. Now that the police had intervened in their feud, Buchanan was no longer a threat. Forgetting all about him, she could concentrate on rebuilding the trust of her clientele.
‘I feel like celebrating, Mr Chell,’ she announced.
He was cautious. ‘Might it not be more sensible to wait until the killer has been caught, Mrs Fleetwood?’
‘Of course it would be. Thank you for pointing it out.’
‘There is one thing you might do, however,’ he suggested. ‘We may have lost Rogan, but we still have the person who gave us the information that led indirectly to his arrest.’
‘You’re talking about that girl, Millie Jenks, aren’t you?’
‘A pat on the back from you would not come amiss. She needs all the encouragement that she can get.’
‘I’ll go and find her this very minute,’ said Griselda, heading for the door. ‘She needs to know that she’s appreciated.’
It was dark by the time that they reached Leeds Castle, so it was no more than a huge shape rising out of the gloom. The village itself was on a hillside above the River Len. It was dominated by a church with a massive tower. The headlights of the car caught examples of thatched roofs and Tudor half-timbering. Now that they’d finally got there, Marmion was having doubts about the value of the journey. The killer was an efficient, self-possessed woman with ice in her veins. Would she really shift a real address all the way up to Yorkshire to befuddle the police? It seemed unlikely. The clinical murder she’d committed pointed to someone who took no chances. As Marmion’s hope began to dwindle, Keedy somehow became more optimistic.
‘This is it,’ he said, as they got out of the car. ‘I like the feel of this place.’
‘I can’t say I like the smell of it,’ said Marmion, reacting to the pungent agricultural odour. ‘It’s a bit too rich for me.’
‘Let’s find the house.’
‘That should be easy enough in a village this small.’
It took them less than a minute to locate the address that had been in the hotel register at the Lotus. After walking through a well-tended front garden, Marmion knocked on the door. It was opened by a man in his sixties with a white beard and unusually large eyes. When he heard that they were from Scotland Yard, he invited them in at once. His name was Ernest Lunn. As the three of them sat down in the living room, he asked them a question with pride in his voice.
‘Did you see our beautiful church?’ he asked.
‘It was too dark for that, sir.’
‘St Nicholas has the second largest tower in England. We don’t have many claims to fame but we’re proud of that one. As it happens, I’m one of the churchwardens.’
His wife entered and offered the visitors refreshments but they declined. She left them alone with Lunn, who was intrigued by the arrival of two detectives. Marmion said very little about the case that had taken them there. His only interest was in the house itself.
‘How long have you been here, Mr Lunn?’ he asked.
‘It’s been over twenty years, Inspector.’
‘In the course of our enquiries, this address popped up and we’re not quite sure why. Who lived here before you?’
‘It was owned by the Robbins family.’
‘How many of them were there?’
‘Oh, there were just the three of them – Archie Robbins, his wife and young Danny, of course. We lived in the next village but had always coveted this house.’ He saw the disappointment on their faces. ‘Have I said something wrong?’
‘No, sir,’ said Marmion. ‘We were just hoping that someone of interest to us had a connection with this place. If you’ve been here over twenty years, she’d probably have been in her teens at the time.’
‘If you’re talking about Danny, that’s exactly what she was.’
Keedy was confused. ‘Danny was female?’
‘Yes, Sergeant,’ said the old man. ‘Not that you’d know it, mind you. She was a real tomboy. Her real name was Danielle, but everyone called her Danny. She was a real bundle of energy. Most girls in her position wouldn’t have shown the slightest interest in getting their hands dirty, but she loved to help out at Willow Farm.’
‘You mentioned her position,’ noted Marmion.
‘Her father was an important man. Archie Robbins worked in the diplomatic service. He bought this house as a rural retreat and loved being here. As his daughter, Danny had an expensive private education a
nd chances that none of the other children around here could even dream of. Yet she was happiest when she was feeding the animals or helping with the harvest.’
Keedy was doing the mathematics. If the girl had been a teenager when she left the house, she’d have become a woman in her mid thirties. Could Danielle Robbins have been posing as Charlotte Browne at a hotel in Chelsea? He was not convinced. The woman he’d interviewed at the Lotus was too refined to have a background in farming.
‘Danny was a very intelligent girl,’ resumed Lunn. ‘She had a mind like a razor and loved to argue about anything under the sun. Danny just had to be the best at everything. She was also a talented pianist. There was even talk of her learning to play the church organ. Sadly, they had to leave the village before she had the chance.’
‘Why was that?’ asked Marmion.
‘Her father died suddenly. So they sold the house and went off to live with her mother’s family.’
‘Where was that?’
‘Somewhere not far from Chartres – Mrs Robbins was French.’
Alphonse Dufays finally had his wife back where he wanted her. By promising her cocaine – albeit in reduced doses – he had complete control over her. A lethal drug had got rid of the woman she’d loved, and an addictive drug had brought his wife back to him. All that he had to do was to remain in charge of her supply.
‘Who is she?’ asked Vesta.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Did she have to kill her?’
‘Those were my orders,’ he said. ‘Since you refused all my entreaties, I was forced to take extreme measures. I did warn you, Vesta.’
‘How did she find us?’
‘She knows her trade and you left a lot of footprints. People in love can often be careless. You certainly were.’
‘I hate you,’ she hissed.
‘That situation will improve in time.’
They were in their hotel room. After sleeping for hours, Vesta had woken up with the familiar craving. Her husband had allowed her only a measured dose of cocaine. Though it was less than her habitual amount, it nevertheless gave her that feeling of elation on which she’d come to rely. Unfortunately, it was over much sooner than usual and reality set in. She was locked once more into a marriage she’d come to loathe with a man who’d shown just how vengeful he could be.
‘Why do we have to go back to France?’ she asked, worriedly.
‘It’s where we belong, Vesta.’
‘Think of the danger.’
‘We’ll be in our house near Bordeaux, a long way from the fighting. You can hear the guns booming more clearly here in Kent.’
‘The police will be looking for us.’
‘They haven’t a clue where we are. We’re perfectly safe. I took no risks. Because of the vague possibility that our names were discovered, I had false passports made for both of us. Because she’s used to crossing borders, she has a handful of forged passports to choose from.’
Vesta was aghast. ‘She’s coming with us?’
‘Of course – she lives in France. It was a stipulation in my contract with her. I had to guarantee her safe return across the Channel.’
‘I don’t want to be anywhere close to her.’
‘You have no choice, my love.’ They heard a loud knock on the door. ‘Ah, with luck that will be her right now.’
Since it was only five miles away, it didn’t take Marmion and Keedy long to reach the county town of Maidstone. They made their way to the headquarters of the Kent Constabulary. When they’d explained why they were there, they were taken to meet the chief constable. Martin Gleeson was well over six feet and powerfully built. There was a military air about his manner and his speech was clipped. He gave each of them a firm handshake then listened to their request.
‘Are you sure that they’re in Kent?’ he asked, doubtfully.
‘Dufays will be keen to get his wife back across the Channel,’ said Marmion. ‘They’d never feel safe here.’
‘They’ll hardly feel safer in Paris, Inspector. At the start of the war, the Germans got uncomfortably close to it.’
‘They’ll head for somewhere well away from there,’ suggested Keedy. ‘In their position, I certainly would.’
‘What about the killer?’ said Gleeson.
‘I expect that she’ll go with them, sir.’
‘What was her name again?’
‘We think that it’s Danielle Robbins,’ said Marmion, ‘but she might be married and have taken her husband’s name.’
The chief constable was sceptical. Too much guesswork was involved. While he admired their commitment, he saw no grounds at all for optimism.
‘We don’t have much to go on, do we?’ he said, frowning. ‘There are far too many unknowns. We can’t even be sure if they’re still in this country. Even if they are, we have no idea how they’ll get back to France. It’s quite difficult to secure a passage,’ said Gleeson. ‘They could hire a boat, I suppose – a fishing vessel, perhaps.’
‘Oh, they’d want something more substantial than that, sir.’
‘Then let’s work on the theory that they’re still here.’ Going behind the desk, he opened the drawer and took out a file. ‘I’ve got details of all ships sailing tomorrow. The trouble is that we don’t have any idea from which port they’ll embark.’
‘All Channel ports have been alerted, sir.’
‘Where will you and Sergeant Keedy be?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Marmion. ‘We’ll obviously have to stay the night in Kent and then … rely on intuition.’
‘It’s no substitute for hard facts.’
‘Perhaps not, sir, but it’s got us this far.’
Vesta was incredulous. When the woman came into the room, she couldn’t believe that it was the same person who’d committed a murder right in front of her. Late at night, the killer had been dressed entirely in black and had taken advantage of the fact that both women were too intoxicated to offer any resistance. Vesta was now staring at someone who looked quite innocuous, a handsome woman in her thirties, wearing a red dress and a smile of pure innocence.
‘I’m sorry that we met under such difficult circumstances,’ she said to Vesta, as if apologising for some minor social infringement. ‘I hope you understand that, from my point of view, it was not a personal matter.’
‘We needn’t go into that now,’ said Dufays.
‘Is everything arranged for tomorrow?’
‘We’ll be on the first ship out of Folkestone.’
‘What if we’re challenged?’
‘I paid a lot of money for the passports. They’ll get us through. We’ll be waved aboard without any trouble.’
‘Who are you?’ asked Vesta, glaring at the woman.
‘I’m a private detective fulfilling a contract,’ said the other, crisply.
‘Do you have no remorse at all?’
‘It’s an emotion I despise.’
‘You were so callous.’
‘I had to be, I’m afraid.’
‘Let’s not talk about the past,’ said Dufays, taking an envelope out of his pocket. ‘We’re into a new phase of our lives now – and that’s down to you.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, taking the envelope from him and slipping it into her bag. ‘So we’re off tomorrow, are we?’
‘Yes, I have the documentation that will help us get past police and customs officials.’
‘What if I refuse to go?’ said Vesta, defiantly.
‘That would be a very foolish thing to do, my love.’
‘You can’t make me.’
‘Consider this,’ he said, quietly. ‘There are two possibilities. You can either do as you’re told and earn the reward you’re craving for. Or you can join your friend in an early grave.’
‘I wouldn’t recommend the second option,’ warned the other woman, voice steely. ‘You saw how much pain was involved.’
Vesta was quaking as she looked into her eyes.
They were at the harb
our well before dawn. Marmion and Keedy did their best to retain hope as they took up their positions.
‘I wish that the chief constable was on our side,’ said Keedy.
‘He’s provided extra police here and at Dover.’
‘Yes, but he thinks we’re just whistling in the wind. The chances are that he may be right. They could already have gone.’
‘I disagree,’ said Marmion. ‘They’re still on British soil. Don’t ask me how I know because I don’t have the answer.’
‘But will they be sailing from Folkestone – and will it be today?’
‘Only time will tell, Joe. The chief constable has increased security at the Channel ports and issued a warning that there will be three people to look out for – Dufays, his wife and the woman we only know as Danielle Robbins. We might not be able to pick out the first two,’ Marmion went on, ‘but you’ve seen the third person. You actually took a statement from her.’
‘If she turns up today,’ said Keedy, ‘I’ll take another statement from her – after an arrest.’
There was plenty of activity at the docks. Lorries were arriving at regular intervals and troops were being loaded onto the waiting vessel. A trickle of civilian passengers was guided through customs and taken to the gangplank where their passports were checked by an officer before they were allowed aboard. As he watched the soldiers going bravely onto a ship that might well be taking them to a gruesome death in the trenches, Marmion thought of his son, marching off cheerfully to war, then coming home with brutal memories that had warped his mind.
‘How many of those lads will come back alive?’ murmured Keedy.
‘I daren’t think, Joe.’
‘This war just swallows them up and spits them out in pieces.’
‘You don’t need to remind me of that,’ said Marmion.
‘No – sorry I spoke, Harv.’ His eyes roved everywhere. ‘What do we do if they’re not sailing on this one?’
The Unseen Hand Page 27