The Girl Who Walked Away

by David Adkins

  “I think I will have the sirloin,” I said to Cassie.

  “I will have that too,” she replied.

  “You did not answer my question. Is something wrong?”

  “I have a confession to make,” she said looking a little apprehensive.

  “So have I,” I replied. I had thought about telling her of my trip to the Gaiety Theatre the previous evening.

  “I think you should listen to my confession first,” she said and looked at me intensely with those captivating, blue eyes.

  “You first then,” I said, sitting back in my wicker chair, wondering what on earth she had to confess to me.

  She hesitated and then seemed to take a deep breath. “Do you know of the recent Russell Square murder?”

  Her question had taken me completely by surprise but I cleared my mind and answered. “Yes I read about it in the newspaper.”

  “What can you remember?” she asked.

  “I remember that a man was knifed in his luxury apartment in Russell Square when he disturbed a thief.” A niggling feeling of apprehension started to settle in my gut, but I did my best to ignore it.

  “Bear with me Steve, and you will soon find out. The thief was not a thief but a man who lived in a neighbouring apartment and who had heard a noise in the apartment next to his and had gone to investigate what was going on. The man’s name was Max Lucas and he now faces the gallows for a crime he did not commit.”

  “What do you know about this crime?” I asked feeling tense.

  “I know very little except for two things. Max is innocent and the lawyer he has been given is not trying to help him at all.”

  “Who is Max Lucas to you?” I asked.

  “It was Max’s job to recruit dancers at the Gaiety Theatre. He was a sort of deputy manager and stage hand and we had a thing going for a while. He made promises about helping my career and I liked him for he was a loveable rogue. I guess he was after what he could get but did not have the clout to back up his promises. I got wise to him after a while and ended it. This was about a week before the murder.”

  “He sounds unscrupulous to me,” I observed.

  “He was but that does not make him a murderer.”

  “So how do you know he did not do it?”

  The waiter was poised to take our order. “Two sirloins please, one well done,” I said impatiently and looked at Cassie.

  “Two well done,” she added. He moved away quickly seeing we were engrossed in a tense conversation.

  “I am a very good judge of people, Steve. For example I know after just a couple of days that you are quiet, honest, hardworking, but I also sense that you can be passionate and determined and funny. Am I right?”

  I nodded. “Maybe you are fairly accurate about me, but what about Max?” I asked.

  “Max Lucas is a rogue but his heart is in the right place. He is fun to be with and has the gift of the gab but he is not a brave man. He would not put himself out on a limb to secure me a better job. He has bravado but lacks bravery. He would not even have been brave enough to have entered that apartment let alone rob it. Also he would not hurt a fly and I have spent enough intimate time with him to know that. If ever a man was incapable of murder it is Max Lucas and that is for absolute certain. He is innocent,” she reiterated. “I cannot let him hang for a crime he did not commit and do nothing to help.”

  “How do you know his lawyer is not trying to help him?”

  She thought about this. “First Max told me when I visited him that his lawyer, Lester Bruitt, only wants him to plead guilty even though he did not do it. Then I went to see him for myself in his office in New Oxford Street. He fobbed me off and told me that Max was most definitely guilty and that the only way Max could avoid the gallows was if we could show he was insane. Max is no more mad than he is guilty of murder. Bruitt was pompous and treated me as if I was a stupid little girl.”

  “I know of Bruitt and Son and they are reputable lawyers. Are you sure that Lucas did not commit the crime?”

  She took my hand. “I am certain, Steve.”

  “What about the police?” I asked.

  “I cannot go to the police for they have their man. He has been charged and for them the case is closed.”

  The waiter brought our sirloin steaks, and we settled back in our chairs to give him room to manoeuvre.

  “Tell me more about the circumstances surrounding the alleged theft and murder,” I suggested. I knew I was being used, but in some way I was intrigued.

  “There is not much to tell. Max heard a noise in the next apartment and it sounded like someone might have had an accident and he went to see if he could help. The door was ajar and so he pushed it open and went inside. He only had a few seconds to take in the scene and then he was hit on the back of the head. He came to and had just stood up as people rushed into the apartment. It looked like he was standing over the corpse, so the police were called and he was arrested.”

  “What did he see in those few seconds?” I asked.

  “He glimpsed someone at the far side of the room and he also saw the body on the floor and then everything went black.”

  “So the person he saw did not hit him?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Which people rushed in?”

  “The landlord and some of the other tenants,” she answered.

  “He must have had a lump on the back of the head if the blow was hard enough to knock him unconscious.”

  “Yes he showed me the lump when I visited him in prison.”

  “Which prison?” I asked.

  “He is being held in Pentonville awaiting his trial.”

  “Which is when?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Who was murdered?” I inquired.

  “A man named Rupert Nesterman.”

  “Do you know anything about him?”

  “No, I know nothing about him.”

  “Did Max know him?” I asked, finally taking a mouthful of beef. The sirloin was delicious.

  “Not at all,” she replied.

  “That is strange if he lived next door.”

  “How well do you know your neighbour?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded, conceding the point. “Besides, Max had only lived there a couple of weeks.”

  “So the police could argue that he had just moved in with a view to casing the joint with robbery in mind.”

  “I suppose…” she trailed off pensively.

  After a moment, I broke the silence. “We both still have a confession to make,” I reminded her.

  She sighed. “I did not meet you by accident.”

  “I had sort of gathered that,” I retorted. “Though why you should choose me to tell this story to I am less clear.”

  “The Gaiety Theatre is almost opposite the Butler Robinson office and for several days I saw you come out at lunch times at the same time and yesterday I decided to act and contrived our meeting.”

  “Why me?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t go to the police with my suspicions, they would have ignored me like Lester Bruitt did. I needed a lawyer to help me, but I don’t have the money to hire one.”

  I chuckled darkly. “I see. However, there’s just a little snag in your plan. I am not a lawyer. You are looking at Steve Coulson, office manager at the Butler and Robinson legal firm.”

  She looked disappointed. “Does that mean you can’t help me?”

  “The news is not entirely bad for you. I have been an office manager for several years and consequently have picked up quite a bit about the law. Seeing as James Butler is a good friend as well as a colleague, I may be able to get him to help. I can help you but I am a bit peeved at the way you went about recruiting my assistance.”

  “I could not think of another way.” She sighed. “And what’s unfortunate is that now we have met, I actually like you, Steve.”

  “So you want me to help your boyfriend free of charge,” I reiterated.

  “Ex-boyfriend… But yes.”<
br />
  I studied the young woman sitting opposite me. She looked genuinely sorry for the way in which she had sought my help. She also looked delightful sitting there in her figure-hugging green dress. She smiled and her face was entrancing and her blue eyes appealing and I was sure she was aware of it. You did not become a chorus girl unless you had considerable assets.

  “Eat your sirloin, Cassie. You have hardly touched it so far and it is delicious.”

  She nodded and started to eat with relish. “It is very good.”

  “It is difficult to refuse you.”

  “You mean you will help me and Max and get Mr Butler’s help too,” she asked enthusiastically.

  I nodded. “I don’t enjoy being used, but I’m a little intrigued to see if there is any justification in your suspicions.”

  “There is.” she said earnestly. “What will you do?”

  “I will make an appointment to visit Max tomorrow to get his version. Then I’ll pay Lester Bruitt a visit and see what he has to say about his client. If I think there is more to this than meets the eye I shall continue the investigation.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezed my hand. “I am so grateful.”

  It felt good having Cassie feeling grateful to me but I did not say so. “Here is my card with my office telephone number.” I took out my pen and wrote my home telephone number on the back of the card. “My home telephone number too so you can contact me at any time. It seems I am working for you now.” I smiled.

  “That is wonderful for I now feel I can come to see you if I need to. It is also wonderful that something positive will be set in motion towards helping Max in his predicament.”

  I looked at her quizzically, “I will do what I can, providing I feel that he may be innocent.”

  “That is all I can ask. Can I have another card and borrow your pen please.”

  I handed her another card and the pen and watched as she wrote her contact information. She handed the card back to me. “I do not have a telephone in my flat but there is one downstairs in the hall that we are allowed to use. The landlady is very good and if I receive a call she will come to get me or take a message if I am out.”

  “You did not live far from Max then?”

  “Not far,” she replied. “How about you? Do you live alone?”

  Again I looked at her quizzically. “Yes, quite alone in a large house in Lewisham.”

  “I attended my cousin’s wedding in Lewisham last year. It was in a big church next to a river and a park,” she mused.

  “That would be St Mary’s,” I replied. “I live quite near the church.”

  “Why do you not move to a smaller place, Steve?”

  “I never get round to it. I have lived there for a few years now and I am used to the place.”

  We had eaten our meals and we had drunk the bottle of wine. “Do you want a coffee?” I asked.

  “That would be good,” she replied.

  I called the waiter over and ordered two coffees and waited until he had cleared our table and departed and then I spoke. “I will do my best to find out what happened as long as I feel that there is something worth investigating.”

  “Thank you, Steve. That’s all I ask. Do you really think you will be able to see Max tomorrow?”

  “I will try. I will ring Pentonville Prison first thing in the morning to make an appointment.”

  The waiter returned promptly with our coffees.

  “Now it is your turn,” she invited.

  “What do you mean?” I asked absentmindedly, still thinking about scheduling for tomorrow.

  “You said you also had a confession.”

  “I did, didn’t I? Last night I went to the Gaiety Theatre to watch the evening performance.”

  “You have taken a sudden interest in the theatre?” she teased.

  “It was a girl in the chorus line that had entranced me,” I admitted.

  She took my hand again and my flesh tingled at her touch. “Steve, I do really like you. I am not just using you. You do believe that don’t you?”

  I nodded. “I only went to see if her legs were as long as she had boasted.”

  “Were they?” she laughed.

  “Even longer,” I returned her laugh.

  “Will that be all, Sir?” The waiter had returned.

  I looked at Cassie and she nodded. “Yes thank you. Can I have the bill please?” I requested.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening and a very nice meal.”

  “My pleasure, Cassie though it did not go quite the way I expected.”

  The waiter had returned with the bill. I glanced at it and handed him the cash. We made our way out of the restaurant with Cassie holding my arm.

  Leicester Square was still crowded with people all having a good time. “The world has changed so much since the war,” she observed.

  The sky was clear and lit with stars that sprinkled the dark void like lanterns. “I will walk you safely home,” I said.

  “You will not,” she replied. “You need to get to Charing Cross for your train back to Lewisham and my flat is in the opposite direction.”

  “Are you sure?” I did not want to leave her company.

  “I am quite sure. Charing Cross Road and Tottenham Court Road are very busy at this time and therefore very safe. I should know for I walk home from the Gaiety most nights even later than this.”

  Was this a rebuff? I did not know. “As you wish Cassie, I will see you soon.”

  We had reached Charing Cross Road. She kissed me on the cheek. “I will ring you tomorrow. Good luck.”

  She turned and started to walk up Charing Cross Road towards the Underground station where she disappeared from sight. I had lost her among the revellers who were coming out of a pub situated next to the station. I knew that I had been taken advantage of but I did not really mind. I felt that Cassie and even Max Lucas might add a bit of much needed romance and excitement into my increasingly humdrum existence and I was grateful for that.

  I walked towards Charing Cross, crossing the road and passing the Edith Cavell Building. I then entered Trafalgar Square and strolled past St Martin’s in the fields. Charing Cross Station came into sight and my mind felt strangely muddled but jubilant. The night was still very clear and the smog of the past few evenings had dissipated and the only fog remaining was in my head.

  Chapter 2

  Thursday 8th February

  Stepping out of the Underground station, I saw I was early for my appointment with Max Lucas, so when I spotted a small cafe across the road from the station I decided on a cup of tea and to pass the time with some welcome refreshment.

  The cafe was empty so I sat at a table near the window and ordered a pot of tea. Sipping my drink, I watched the people passing by and reflected on all that had happened in the last two days and how lucky I had been to get things moving so quickly. I had arrived at my office and immediately started telephoning. First I rang Pentonville Prison and I had managed to make an appointment for a visit to see Max at 11.00. The prison was just a short walk from the cafe and so I had plenty of time for considering the imminent conversation. Then I had telephoned the offices of Bruitt and Son and made an appointment to see Lester Bruitt at three that afternoon. I had been lucky that the prison was receptive to allowing me to see Lucas immediately and I was also lucky that Bruitt had a spare slot in the afternoon.

  As I put the phone down after speaking to Bruitt’s receptionist, James Butler had arrived at the office. I had told him that I wanted a few days off work as a matter of urgency and that I needed to leave immediately but would return to the office on Monday morning. We both knew that Jenny, my deputy, was well capable of holding the fort in my absence. He could hardly refuse because apart from one day before Christmas when my home had suffered a burst water pipe I had had no time off work in the past year. He asked no questions but simply agreed to my unusual request. So here I was in a café, ready to pay a visit to the notorious Pentonville Prison.

  The pri
son building was charmless and dreary from the outside, dominating the area like an imposing chateau of doom. I reflected that a notice could have been placed outside saying those who enter abandon all hope but that was a bit melodramatic for 1951. I went through the gate and nodded to a guard who directed me to reception. The officer at reception looked up from his crossword. “Can I help you?”

  “I have an appointment to see Max Lucas at 11.00.”

  He looked at his watch. “Yes almost 11.00. You must be Steve Coulson from Butler and Robinson,” he stated. “Do you have identification?”

  I showed him my office card and my ration card as these were the first things that came to hand. “It is good of you to let me see him at such short notice.”

  “It is the least we can do to allow a man destined for the gallows the opportunity to have a visitor,” he smiled mirthlessly.

  I did not return the smile. “Thank you.”

  “Follow me please,” he said and started off down a long corridor and I realized they took no chances for there were many guards around. I followed him closely until we came to a room off the corridor. “The visiting room,” he informed me.

  “Are you not going to search me?” I asked.

  “No need for that, you will be watched at all times,” he replied. “You have an hour.”

  He left me and I sat down on one of the two wooden chairs at a table in the middle of the room. I looked around at the bare, white walls and noted that there was nothing in the room except for the table and chairs. I waited about ten minutes and then two men came through the door. One was in uniform and obviously a prison officer and the other I assumed was Max Lucas.

  Lucas came over to me and I stood up and shook his hand. He then sat down opposite to me and the prison officer took up a position by the door where he could keep an eye on proceedings. We were not to be allowed any privacy but then I realized that as a probable murderer Lucas was a high profile prisoner. I studied the ex-boyfriend of Cassie Mitchell and immediately saw why women might find him attractive. He was over six feet and a good two inches taller than me and four inches taller than Cassie. He had a swarthy complexion and jet black untidy hair. He looked a bit dishevelled but that was hardly surprising in his circumstances and I was sure he would brush up well. Cassie had described him as a smooth-tongued character and I was sure she was right but he was now clearly out of his comfort zone which was hardly surprising.