by T E Kinsey
‘All set, yes,’ said Ellie. ‘My boys and girls won’t let you down.’
‘Glad to hear it. Can I help you with something?’
She leaned conspiratorially across the counter. ‘As a matter of fact,’ she said quietly, ‘I think you might.’
‘Go on.’
‘This club means everything to you, doesn’t it? You’d be personally affronted if a member turned out to be . . . an impostor; if someone were to bring the club into disrepute.’
‘I can’t think of anything worse, madam,’ said Cuthbert.
‘I have a strong suspicion about one of the members.’ She held up a hand to stay his questions. ‘I can’t say anything yet, but I might be able to settle matters if I could just take a look at the rooms register. Presumably you have such a thing? A record of which member is using which bedroom?’
‘We do, madam, but it’s strictly confidential. I couldn’t possibly—’
‘It’s a dilemma, I know. Do you protect the privacy of the members, or do you protect the reputation and the secrets of the club itself? I don’t know what I’d do, to be honest.’
Cuthbert thought about it for a moment. ‘Come with me.’
He lifted the counter flap and led her through to a small office. He lifted a leather-bound ledger from a shelf and placed it on the cluttered desk.
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, madam. I’ve just remembered I need to attend to something outside. That ledger’s confidential, mind you, so I trust you not to look.’
When he had gone, Ellie flipped it open and riffled through the pages until she found the entry she needed. She took a key from one of the numbered hooks on a board on the office wall, closed the book, and stepped out to re-join him.
She touched his arm. ‘I don’t want to trouble you further,’ she said. ‘I’ll get back to the band.’
‘Good luck this evening, madam,’ he said.
She smiled her thanks and headed for the stairs.
Ellie found the room she was looking for and, after casting a cautious glance up and down the corridor, knocked smartly on the door. She had no reason for being there other than snooping, and could think of no excuses she could offer the room’s occupant if they happened to be inside, so she skipped stealthily away to hide in an alcove a few yards along the corridor.
She listened for nearly a minute but no one answered her knock. She walked back along the carpeted passageway and used the key to open the door.
She entered the stylishly appointed bedroom and looked around. It was neat and orderly, and if it weren’t for two leather Gladstone bags on the floor at the foot of the bed, she would have assumed it to be unoccupied. There was a leather satchel and a make-up box on the writing desk by the window, and a few papers stacked neatly on the blotter.
She took a look through the papers. She found two passports and a pair of tickets for the boat train from London to Paris the following morning. Looking further, she found two tickets for the Simplon Orient Express from Paris to Istanbul leaving on Monday. They were about to make a run for it.
Superintendent Sunderland would have to be told about the tickets, but she couldn’t leave yet. There was something else she hoped to find.
She began with the satchel. Personal papers. A journal. A novel by a writer she’d never heard of. A semi-automatic pistol. A soft leather drawstring bag about the size of her hand. A small, elegant case covered in red velvet.
Ellie had grown up around guns and considered herself competent in handling them. She took out the pistol and inspected it closely, even going so far as checking the fully loaded magazine. She replaced the gun in the satchel.
The prize, though, was the small leather bag. She took it out and pulled open the top. As she’d expected, it was full of shiny, yellowish pebbles of various sizes, some as big as raspberries. Or, at least, she’d expected it to contain raw, uncut diamonds, but she hadn’t quite expected them to look like that. They looked more like glittery metal than the duller version of the sparkling gems she had expected. She was fascinated. She tipped some into her hand and rolled them about. Thousands of pounds’ worth of uninspiring rocks in the palm of her hand.
She put the diamonds back in the leather pouch and returned it to the satchel exactly where it had lain.
She looked around.
She knew who they were. She knew where they were going. She knew what they were taking with them. She suspected she knew what they had done. But she couldn’t prove it. Yet.
She needed to find something else. It would be small. It would be hidden. They may already have dumped it in the trash a long way from the club, but she doubted it. As far as they were concerned, no one knew what they had done. No one knew what to look for. They were safe. All they needed to do was to get away, then they could dispose of the evidence a hundred miles from the scene of the crime and no one would ever know.
She began a systematic search of the room. She started with the make-up case. It was full of the expected powders and brushes, several lipsticks in subtly different shades of dark red, a box of ‘Maybelline Eyelash Beautifier’, and assorted other cosmetic items, none of them cheap.
But she wouldn’t keep it with her make-up. It was too dangerous to have it near things she’d be applying directly to her face, to her eyes.
Ellie moved on to the Gladstone bags on the floor. The first was his. Of course it was. With a choice of two near-identical bags, the one she went for first would obviously not be the one she wanted most to look at. Carefully, she took everything out and arranged it neatly on the floor. Clothes, underclothes, a sponge bag, a leather case containing shoe brushes and polish. A large bundle of cash. Nothing you wouldn’t expect to find in a ‘get the heck out’ bag, as her Aunt Adelia had called them. Ellie put everything back exactly as she had found it.
The other bag seemed as though it was going to be equally disappointing. More clothes, more everyday personal items. She was beginning to think her reasoning had been faulty, that the evidence had already been carted away by the council dustmen. But then she came upon a small rectangular cigarette tin. She had never seen Millie smoke.
She used one of the silk scarves she had placed neatly on the floor to pick up the tin. Still holding it with the scarf, she prised off the lid and looked inside. Wrapped in tissue paper were the two things she had hoped to find. She replaced the lid and returned everything to the bag.
She took one last look around to make sure she had left no trace of her presence, then carefully opened the door and looked up and down the corridor to make sure the coast was clear.
Locking the door behind her, she hurried back to the porter’s desk.
Downstairs, Ellie thanked Cuthbert for all his help and then let herself quietly into the green room. The band had already gone out to the ballroom. She’d been hoping to have a word with Skins and Dunn before the dance to let them know what was going on, but that bird had sailed. Or the ship had flown. Either way, they’d have to watch things unfold with no forewarning. But they were jazz musicians – they were used to improvising. It would be fine.
She went out to the ballroom.
There was an older club member on the stage, talking to the band and handing out what looked like sheets of music. There were earnest nods from the musicians, and then a smile from the club member as he shook Mickey’s hand and stepped down on to the dance floor.
The Dizzy Heights began to play Puddle’s arrangement of ‘Where Did You Get That Hat?’ It had become a Friday night favourite with the club members, who had devised a new dance to go with it, complete with actions. Such was the excitement surrounding the dance contest that even the fustier members had found their way to the ballroom, and the familiarity of the song – even in its new, jazz style – had inspired several of them to attempt to join in the dance.
Ellie tried to attract Skins’s attention, but he thought she was just saying hello and waved a cheery greeting in return. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and went to look for Charlie and Millie. She wanted to make sure
she knew where they were in case they did a bunk before Superintendent Sunderland and his men could get there.
She spotted them dancing together, surrounded by the rest of the Alphabet Gang. There were smiles and laughter. The two of them looked as though they hadn’t a care in the world, and Ellie was confident they weren’t going to draw attention to themselves by making a dash for it until after the dance contest. She relaxed and made her way to a table near the stage. She flagged down a passing Cuthbert and ordered herself a Tom Collins – she’d rather enjoyed the one Skins had made her the night before.
The room filled rapidly and split into two mutually friendly – but still very obvious – factions. At the far end of the hall were the members of Tipsy Harry’s and their dates, with the Alphabets still at the centre of things. Or most of them, anyway. Of Alfie and Ernie there was no sign, but Ellie knew they’d be off in a side room somewhere getting themselves into their horse costume.
Towards the stage were the strangers, clearly the members of the Wags Club and their guests. They were more colourfully dressed than their competitors, and their behaviour was just a little more raucous. These were London’s good-time boys and girls, without a doubt. But they were amiable enough, and Ellie was rather enjoying sitting in their midst as they larked about with the five men who obviously comprised their dance team. They were identically dressed in purple mess jackets, with matching purple bow ties. Their shoes were wingtip brogues in purple and white. They very much looked the part and Ellie had a momentary twinge of fear that the Alphabets were going to be hopelessly outclassed. But then they moved. They were every bit as uncoordinated and inept as her new pals, and she was able to relax and take a sip of her cocktail.
Eventually, the time for the contest had arrived.
There were three loud knocks on the ballroom door, as though it had been struck with something large and heavy. This was the signal for the Dizzies to play an elaborate fanfare from the sheet music that had been given to them when Ellie arrived.
The crowd fell silent and the band struck up a slow, ceremonial march as the club officials entered the room.
Dressed in heavy embroidered cloaks, the three men moved in solemn procession across the hall, the crowd parting before them.
They reached the stage and the band fell silent.
‘With the key of keys,’ intoned the first man, holding up a large golden key.
‘And the tree of trees,’ said the second, holding up an intricately carved wooden staff.
‘And the knee of knees,’ said the third, lifting his cloak to reveal that one of his legs was bare.
There was a cheer from the crowd.
The first official held up his hand for silence. ‘We declare this dance contest . . . open.’
Another cheer.
The second official waved the staff, while the third – his knee now covered once more – unrolled a scroll and began to read.
As he outlined the rules and format of the contest, Ellie noticed some movement at the main door. Charlie and Millie had entered the ballroom – they must have left while she was watching the dancers. Slowly but purposefully, they were making their way towards the stage.
By the time the club official had finished reading the rules and regulations from his scroll, Charlie and Millie were right at the front; and as the officials processed from the ballroom, they left with them.
Ellie couldn’t get to Charlie and Millie, nor did she have a firm idea of what she’d do if she managed to catch up. Once again she tried to attract Skins’s attention, but he was too busy listening for jokes in the compère’s speech and adding drum stings. He was in his element and was not to be distracted, not even by his wife.
Ellie made a snap decision and followed them.
By the time Ellie made it through the crowd and out of the ballroom, Charlie and Millie were heading up the stairs.
She was confused. She’d assumed they were trailing after the club officials and that they had some plan to steal the club regalia before it was locked away. But now they were heading back upstairs, presumably to Charlie’s bedroom to get their gear.
What could she do about it? If she challenged them before they did anything, they’d laugh in her face and tell her to scram. If she challenged them once they’d stolen the key and staff . . . well, then what? There was just one of her and two of them. Who knows what they might be prepared to do to her?
She decided she didn’t really have a choice. She dashed to the porter’s desk and spoke urgently to Cuthbert, then followed Charlie and Millie up the stairs.
As she reached the landing and looked at the closed bedroom door, she was forced to wonder once again what she had hoped to achieve by pursuing them. Did she think she could stop them? Not on her own, certainly.
Feeling immensely foolish, she turned and headed back towards the stairs. She was two steps down when she heard a bedroom door open and then close again. They’d left the room. Her instinct was to hurry back down the stairs, but what if they’d gone the other way? She peered round the wall at the top of the stairs and saw . . . an empty corridor.
There was another way down. Of course there was. They would have known that. They knew the Cuthberts were watching the front door, so they were using the back stairs. The back door. She hurried along the corridor in pursuit. Then she stopped. Again – what the heck was she doing? What did she imagine she was going to achieve if she caught up with them? Was she going to stop them? Persuade them to hand themselves in? Fight them?
She pressed on. She’d figure it out when it happened.
At the end of the corridor she turned a corner and saw the heel of Millie’s shoe disappearing through another door. These must be the back stairs. She followed.
It was some sort of servants’ staircase – plainly painted and uncarpeted. She could hear Charlie and Millie’s footsteps clonking on the wooden stairs. She took off her own shoes and padded down on stockinged feet.
Another door opened below her and the footsteps were gone. She didn’t want to lose them now, not after all this, but she didn’t want to blunder into them, either. She gave them a few more moments and then hurried quietly down the rest of the stairs. Slowly and carefully, she opened the door at the bottom and peeped out.
She was at the far end of the portrait corridor and had taken slightly longer than she had imagined. Millie was already coming out of the side room and following Charlie towards the secret door to the senior members’ wine cellar.
Ellie was still wary of following them – it might be weeks before anyone found her body in a secret wine cellar – but she had to know what was going on. Once the door had clicked shut behind them, she hurried down and opened it a crack, attempting to listen to what was going on inside.
‘So the key goes in . . . here,’ said Charlie’s distant voice. ‘And the staff fits in . . . here . . . and . . .’
‘And nothing,’ said Millie.
‘But it’s supposed to . . . I mean, the diary said . . .’
‘I told you we were wasting our bloody time,’ said Millie. ‘All this preparation for nothing. I don’t know why I ever believed you. Secret treasure, my Aunt Fanny. That bloke saw you coming. Sold you a fake diary and you bloody believed him. We could have been in Nice all this time, sipping cocktails. But no, Arthur bloody Grant has to get just one more big haul because he knows where the Treasure of the Mayfair Murderer is.’
‘We’ve still got time. We can work this out.’
‘We haven’t got time. They’re going to notice we’re missing and then even those idiots are going to start putting two and two together and coming up with the murder of a musician. We’ve got to get out. Now. Let’s take your diamonds and go to Istanbul like we planned. We can vanish and they’ll never find us. We don’t need your phantom treasure.’
‘No, wait . . .’
‘No, I’m going. Give me the bag.’
Charlie gave a frustrated grunt and Ellie heard footsteps on the stone steps. She hurried back alo
ng the corridor and hid once more behind the door to the servants’ stairs.
She gave them time to get on their way down the portrait corridor, then peeped cautiously round the door again.
She was confronted by one of the most absurd sights she had ever beheld. And she was the wife of a mischievous musician and the mother of two frankly bonkers children, so it was up against some pretty stiff competition. As she emerged once more into the portrait corridor of the Aristippus Club of Mayfair, she found Charlie and Millie wrestling with a horse.
‘Get out of the bloody way, Alfie, you idiot,’ said Charlie.
A muffled voice from the horse’s neck said, ‘Charlie? Charlie, is that you? Thank god you’re here. We were on our way to the ballroom but we got lost. No idea where we are at all. I can’t see a blessed thing in here. And the fasteners are stuck so Ernie can’t get out and help.’
‘I couldn’t give a tuppenny one what you and that idiot are up to. Just get out of the way.’
‘But . . . the contest,’ said Ernie plaintively.
Charlie tried to push past again but became even more tangled up with the two men and their horse costume.
‘Leave it,’ said Millie. ‘We’ll just have to go back the other way.’
‘You could try,’ said Ellie with a menacing calmness she didn’t truly feel. ‘But you’d have to get past me. The jig, as they say, is up. I know what you did.’
‘You?’ snarled Millie. ‘And what the bloody hell do you imagine you’re going to do?’
Charlie had the satchel slung over his shoulder. He was still struggling with Alfie and Ernie so Millie flipped open the cover and reached inside the bag. Her hand re-emerged holding the pistol Ellie had seen earlier.
‘We’ve put up with that bunch of witless fools for longer than anyone should have to, and we’re not staying another second. You aren’t going to stop us.’
‘I’ve called the police and they’re on their way,’ said Ellie.
‘No, they’re not,’ said Millie.
‘They’ve been on to you for weeks. Months probably,’ said Ellie. ‘I just confirmed a few things for them.’
