“I’m not saying there’s a problem,” said Elsie. “I think we can be friends for all that.”
“I’d like that.”
“So, I ’ave a proposition, if you’re interested in making a little extra.”
“I’m listening.”
“Do you want to know what’s in the bag?”
“Sure.”
“Money,” whispered Elsie. “Lots of it. This is ’ow he moves it around. ’E likes to use us girls because we don’t look like spivs. The feller we’re going to is a banker of sorts.”
“A banker without a bank?”
“You catch on.”
“So, what’s the proposition?”
“There’s a fair amount in there, and if we was to skim a few pounds off, they’d be none the wiser.”
“Don’t they count it?”
“They ’ave to move it fast, and it don’t get counted until it gets to the banker,” said Elsie. “I’ve skimmed a bit here and there before. They don’t notice a few pounds out of all that’s in there. What do you say?”
“I say no,” said Iris firmly. “Archie’s trusting me with getting this over there safe and sound, and I’m going to get it there safe and sound.”
“You’re missing a chance,” said Elsie. “You and me, we could be in for a couple of pounds extra a week.”
“I said no, and I meant it,” said Iris. “Now, let’s run. The bus is coming.”
She held the bag tightly in her lap the entire journey. There was a box inside, she could tell that much. A shoebox, maybe. But nothing rattled inside it.
When they reached New Cross Street, Elsie leaned over and whispered, “Last chance.”
“Still no,” said Iris. “Which is the house?”
Elsie sighed and walked her to the address. They walked up to the second storey. Iris knocked on the door.
It swung open, and Archie stood there, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Well done,” he said. “Give it over.”
“You’re the bloke,” said Iris, handing it to him.
“I’m the bloke,” he replied. “This time, anyhow. Come in, ’ave a cuppa.”
They walked into the flat. A porcelain tea service was set up on a card table.
“Questions?” asked Archie.
“So this was a test,” said Iris. “I’m guessing there ain’t no money in the bag.”
Archie took out the box, opened it, and poured a pile of loose banknotes on the table.
“Well?” he said, turning to Elsie.
“She resisted all temptation,” said Elsie.
“Good,” said Archie, turning back to Iris. “That was the test.”
“So I passed,” said Iris.
“In part,” said Archie.
“What did I miss?”
“You didn’t give up Elsie,” he said. “She told you she’d been skimming from me, but you didn’t tell me about it.”
“I was waiting for a moment when she wasn’t ’ere,” said Iris. “I din’t want you to kill her in front of me. Bloodstains are ’ard to get out of clothes.”
“Oh, that’s real nice, innit?” said Elsie.
“Well, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on that,” said Archie. “But if you work for me, then you’re loyal to me. Not to the girls you ’ang out with, not to the lad you love. It’s Archie. Got that?”
“Got it, Boss,” said Iris.
“Good. Milk or lemon?” he said, pouring.
CHAPTER 13
Fanny answered when Gwen called.
“It’s Sophie,” said Gwen. “How are you?”
“Same as ever,” said Fanny. “What’s up?”
“Mary and I were wondering if you and the girls would like to get together later today.”
“That’d be lovely. Elsie’s working right now, but she’s always up for a night out. Would you like to get together for tea earlier, you, me, and Mary?”
“Mary’s at work, too, but I’m free. Where?”
“There’s a nice shop called Nell’s by the Spitalfields Market. Is three thirty good?”
“Three thirty, it is. Let me get the address from you.”
“It’s on Commercial Street, up from the Ten Bells.”
“Got it. See you at four.”
She hung up, then wrote out the information for Sally to pass along to Iris.
The telephone rang while she was putting the note on the typewriter. She answered.
“Is Iris there?”
“I’m sorry, she’s out of the office at the moment,” said Gwen. “May I take a message?”
“Yes. Please tell her to call Jessie.”
“Jessie? Are you her friend from the Records Department?”
There was a long pause at the other end of the line.
“You know about that?” asked Jessie finally.
“We’re partners,” said Gwen.
“Well, she wasn’t supposed to tell anyone,” said Jessie. “Tell her to call me. She has my number. And tell her I’m not happy about you knowing about me.”
“Look, I’m sorry if—” Gwen began, but the line went dead.
Sally showed up at one.
“How did things go with the gorgon last night?” he asked.
“I looked her in the eye and stared her down,” said Gwen.
“And you’ve not been turned to a statue,” observed Sally. “Well done.”
“I should retain you as my acting coach and tactical adviser,” said Gwen.
“Whatever you need, Milady,” said Sally. “I see my marching orders on the Bar-Let. Are you off? Will there be danger and derring-do?”
“There will be tea,” said Gwen, fetching her beret. “I may risk a crumpet, possibly two, but that will be the extent of my escapades.”
“An army travels on its stomach,” said Sally.
“How very awkward that must be,” said Gwen.
“One gets used to it. Off to war with you, Milady. Let the crumpets sound!”
“May your Muse bless you, Sally,” she replied, pulling out her bus map. “Oh, I must ask you—where exactly is the Spitalfields Market?”
* * *
The Number 8 bus took her as far as Liverpool Street Station. She walked from there. After a few wrong turns, a costermonger sent her in the correct direction. She passed by the market, a covered, red brick building that sprawled across most of a large square block, and came to Commercial Street. The Ten Bells was on the south corner opposite the market. Next to it was an eel and pie shop, with buckets of future meals in front, writhing slowly in silvery tangles while awaiting their fates. Up from that was Nell’s Tearoom, with tempting arrays of cakes, tarts, biscuits, and crumpets displayed on cake stands in its windows.
Fanny was already in front, looking anxiously up and down in search of Gwen. When she saw her, she gave a cheerful wave.
“I’m early!” she shouted as Gwen crossed the street. “You’re spot on time. Any trouble finding it?”
“Some, but I’ve been getting better at my navigating,” said Gwen. “I’m thinking of trying to get a job as a conductress.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” said Fanny. “Except when it’s bad weather. You get proper soaked.”
They went inside. The place was packed, mostly by women, many with small children screaming for sweets.
“Nice and quiet,” grinned Fanny. “Tea?”
“Fine by me,” said Gwen.
“Those cherry tarts look yummy.”
“They do, but I’ve been in a crumpetty mood ever since you suggested tea, so I’m going to have some.”
They placed their orders, then Fanny carried the tray over to a table by the kitchen door.
“This all right?” she asked.
“Suits me,” said Gwen, taking the seat by the corner.
Fanny poured, then took a bite of a cherry tart.
“Oh, this is good,” she sighed in ecstasy. “Try some. I’ll trade you for a bite of that crumpet.”
Gwen leaned forward for
the offered pastry and took a bite.
“That is good,” she said. “I haven’t tasted cherries in an age.”
“They got an in with someone, I bet,” said Fanny. “Some cherry farmer out in, I dunno, Kent.”
“Kent? Is that where cherries come from?”
“I don’t rightly know for certain,” said Fanny. “I read it in a book once. Do you know?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” said Gwen. “They magically appeared in markets, and I ate them.”
“Yeah, that magic is gone, innit?” said Fanny. “Of all the things I missed during the war, I missed cherries the most. It’s still ’ard to find ’em ’alf the time.”
She took a sip of tea, looking at Gwen over the edge of her cup as she did.
“There’s something you wanted to talk about, isn’t there?” asked Gwen.
“What makes you think that?”
“You invited me to a tearoom outside of your neighbourhood,” said Gwen. “And you picked a table as far back from the window as you could.”
“You don’t miss a trick, do you?” said Fanny. “Yeah, there’s something I wanted to ask you about.”
“All right. What?”
“Des.”
“Ah. I thought that might be it.”
“You know how people are,” said Fanny. “There’s talk already.”
“About what?”
“About ’im taking a fancy to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing has happened between us.”
“But ’e asked you out, din’t ’e?”
“He asked me to call him,” Gwen acknowledged.
“And you’re going to, ain’tcha?” asked Fanny, almost eagerly.
“I haven’t made up my mind.”
“What?” exclaimed Fanny. “But ’ow could you not? I’d go quick as a flash if ’e gave me the nod.”
“It’s complicated,” said Gwen.
“Look, if it’s me you’re worried about, don’t,” said Fanny. “I’ve never got the time of day from ’im, and I’m not going to throw meself at ’is feet no more. ’E’s all yours.”
“He’s not mine, and I’m not his,” said Gwen. “But I’m glad that it won’t be disturbing you.”
“Well, other fish, I ’ope,” said Fanny. “I’ll keep looking. At least I’m not so desperate that I got to try that place Tillie went to.”
“Do you think she was desperate?” asked Gwen somewhat guiltily.
“She wanted to get out of the East End,” said Fanny.
“Because of Roger?”
“Oh, ’im,” laughed Fanny dismissively. “She was ’appy to ’ave dropped ’im, although I din’t know ’e was seeing Mary on the sly. Did you?”
“I knew Mary was seeing someone, but she didn’t give me any details,” said Gwen. “I thought it might have been a married man.”
“Oh, she’s not particular about sharing, then?”
“I don’t ask,” said Gwen. “I don’t judge. She’s my friend.”
“Yeah, I know what that’s like,” said Fanny. “We go to church on Sundays, then chase spivs around the other six. ’Ave fun while you’re young, I say.”
“I can’t say no to that,” said Gwen. “I guess Tillie wanted to break away from that lot. Had there been anyone before Roger?”
“Nothing steady,” said Fanny. “She liked to be wined and dined. She favoured Archie’s lot as they ’ad the means to wine and dine ’er.”
“They didn’t scare her, then?”
“Not them.”
“Not Rog?”
“Especially not Rog,” said Fanny. “She useter say, ‘’Ere’s me finger, and that’s Rog wrapped around it. Thinks ’e’s using me, but I’m using ’im just as much.’”
“Sounds like they were made for each other.”
“A match made in ’eaven, they was, until they wasn’t. I was gobsmacked when they split, but now I understand everything.”
“I wish I did,” said Gwen. “That was a month ago?”
“Something like that. Then before you know it, she’s dead in an alley. Not ten minutes’ walk from ’ere.”
“It happened near here?”
“You din’t know?”
“I don’t know the East End,” said Gwen. “I never put a place to the name. She had gone to some café, I forget which.”
“The Garland. It’s over on Middlesex Street.”
“So, not Shadwell, not Wapping. She didn’t want to be seen.”
“Like me,” said Fanny. “Like to take a butchers?”
“What? The café?”
“Yeah. I’m curious. I want to know if ’er last meal was any good.”
“That’s—that’s extremely morbid, isn’t it?”
“Then I’m morbid,” declared Fanny. “’Ow about you?”
“I—oh, what the hell. Now, you’ve got me curious. Lead the way.”
Middlesex Street was to the southwest of Spitalfields Market, a one-way street with shops lining the sidewalks, with one or two storeys of flats and offices above. The Garland Café was topped by a bright, green and white striped awning. The two women peered through the window.
The interior was lovely. The floor was tiled in a green and white diamond pattern. The tables were covered with white cloths edged with embroidery. Waitresses bustled about, serving the late tea. The walls were covered with paintings of flowers, while artificial ones were draped along the tops.
“It’s pretty,” said Fanny. “At least she ’ad her last meal someplace pretty.”
She started to sniffle, and grabbed for a handkerchief from her handbag.
“She was so excited and ’appy, looking forward to this,” she said, crying in earnest now. “All she wanted was a decent bloke for a change, someone to take ’er away from it all. She said she was going to be set for life, and look ’ow it turned out.”
“Set for life how?” asked Gwen.
Fanny waved her handkerchief around in the air.
“She said she ’ad something coming to ’er that was going to change everything, and that she was going to find a good man and settle down somewhere. She ’ad a plan.”
“Something coming? Money?”
“I dunno. She never explained.”
Gwen looked inside the café again.
“She wasn’t killed in there,” she said. “The papers said she dined alone, then stood in front, waiting. Then she left—no one saw who with. They found her in some alley?”
“Over there,” said Fanny, pointing.
A narrow, dark, one-lane street peeled off of Middlesex. They ventured down it carefully.
“I read she was found on that side,” said Fanny, pointing to an opening past a pub in the middle of the block. “She ’adn’t gone in. The bloke must ’ave suggested they go for a pint. It wasn’t ’ard to get ’er to agree to a drink. But no one in the pub ever saw ’er.”
“Not too busy,” said Gwen, looking around. “It wouldn’t have been hard to get her alone there.”
“She probably thought ’e was going in for a quick bit o’ bliss,” snuffled Fanny. “I ’ope she ’ad ’er eyes closed before it ’appened. Oh, Lord, I shouldn’t ’ave come. It’s got me all weepy. I must look a fright.”
“Here, let me fix you up,” said Gwen. “I’m an expert on tears.”
* * *
They walked to Merle’s after. Iris and Elsie were already there. Iris waved to them merrily.
“Come celebrate!” Elsie called. “Mary’s got a new job!”
“What?” exclaimed Gwen.
“Keep it down, silly,” laughed Iris. “Yes, I passed the—interview.”
“Interview!” snickered Elsie.
“What kind of a job?” asked Gwen as Fanny headed to the bar.
Iris looked her straight in the eye with her most serious look.
“I can’t tell you,” she said, then she and Elsie burst into laughter.
“Remind me to box your ears later,” said Gwen.
> Fanny returned with two pints and handed one to Gwen.
“Next round’s on me,” said Gwen. “What’s the toast?”
“To nylons, and all that they bring us!” shouted Iris.
“To nylons!” chorused the others.
There was more drinking and toasting, but no more useful information to be gleaned. Iris and Gwen begged off from making a night of it, seeking to escape before Archie’s crew showed up.
Gwen was slightly wobbly as they left. Iris, who had seemed for all purposes several sheets to the wind, reverted to a state of sobriety.
“How do you do that?” marveled Gwen.
“I wasn’t drinking that much,” said Iris. “Useful technique, appearing drunk. But I didn’t get much out of Elsie. Any luck with Fanny?”
“Tillie didn’t seem to have any significant lover prior to Rog, so there goes that theory. She did hint at coming into something in the near future.”
“Did she? I wonder what.”
“Fanny didn’t know. Maybe Elsie would?”
“Maybe. She’s better at keeping things secret. She was there in the company of Archie and mates when I came into the clubhouse.”
“Surprise, surprise.”
“You sussed her out?”
“She’s the smart one in that group, especially with Tillie out of the picture. I have the sense that she’s deeper in with Archie than she lets on. She’s never seemed exactly broken up over Tillie’s demise.”
“I wonder how much work Tillie did for Archie. I’ll have to see what I can find out when I’m in more.”
“You haven’t told me what your new job is. And what Elsie’s part in it was.”
“Oh, the first test was transporting money. Elsie came along to throw some temptation my way. She was much too obvious a plant.”
“How much money?”
“I didn’t count, but several hundred pounds.”
“Good Lord! It’s too bad you’re such an honest spiv in training. We could have gone on holiday.”
“He gave me another pair of nylons in payment,” said Iris. “I think he fancies me. It’s too bad me and Rog are so much in love.”
“Oh, the tangled webs you weave,” said Gwen. “All right, let’s rule out past lovers for the moment. That puts us back into nefarious activities. Could Tillie be tied into this theft of—what were they again?”
The Right Sort of Man Page 23