by David Adkins
I stepped into the hall that I had sneaked through less than four days previously. “Thank you and yes I am and I have come to see Cassie. Is she in?”
She looked surprised. “I am afraid I have to give you the same answer as last time you came. She is not here. She has moved out.”
“Moved out temporarily or permanently?” I asked feeling bemused.
“Permanently, she left yesterday morning.”
I shook my head in bewilderment. “Do you know where she was going?”
“No, she did not tell me,” she replied.
“That was sudden,” I offered.
“No, not really, she only rented the room for a week. She asked if I had a room for a week. I had not rented her old room out so she was able to move back in there. It suited both of us for a week’s rent is better than no rent at all and she was a nice, friendly girl.”
“She had no intention to stay longer than a week,” I mused.
“She said it depended on what happened on Friday but she did not expand on that. I guess if Friday had not gone according to plan she might have stayed longer.”
“Did she say anything else?”
“Nothing that I can think of,” she replied.
“Thank you,” I said and stepped out of the hall and through the door back into Tottenham Court Road in a bit of a daze. I was very baffled by the turn of events that had occurred since I had left the office earlier in the day. Her length of stay in these lodgings seemed to have depended on Max’s trial. I did not like the sound of this apparent revelation if it were correct. I needed to return to the Gaiety Theatre before the evening performance commenced and ask some more questions. I set off retracing my steps back down Charing Cross Road towards the theatre. I was beginning to feel slightly desperate but I tried to shake off the feeling.
Once again I entered the Gaiety by the side entrance from the back street off the Strand. Once again I was confronted by the same attendant. “You again,” he muttered. “Sid has popped out for an hour.”
“Can I speak with Marsha?” I asked politely.
“Is it urgent again?” There was a hint of sarcasm in his words.
“It is a bit,” I smiled though I did not feel much like smiling.
He shrugged in a resigned fashion. “Wait here.”
A few minutes later I was joined by Cassie’s friend Marsha. “Good to see you again, Steve, how can I help you this time?”
I nodded and smiled. “I am looking for Cassie.”
“You have lost her again?”
“I have not seen her since Saturday morning and I am a little worried, Marsha.”
“You worry too much. She is an impetuous girl and will act on a whim. The last time I saw her was when she called in here on Saturday morning.”
“Did she say where she was going next?”
She thought about my question. “No, not that I can recall though she did say she was going away for a while.”
“Did she ask about having her old job back on the chorus line?”
“I believe she talked about it vaguely to both me and Sid but nothing concrete. I do not think she was that interested in having her job back. I think she had other things on her mind.”
“What things?”
“Look Steve, she was a friend at one time but recently our friendship has sort of lapsed and so she was unlikely to confide in me. She was a girl who usually did what she wanted and so my advice to you is to wait and if she wants you she will contact you. There is no point in chasing her. You seem like a nice bloke, so that is my best advice.”
“Has she got back with Max Lucas?”
“I really don’t know. I would have thought that unlikely for she did tell me before he was arrested that she had had enough of him. He was a gambler and he was unreliable but it is good news that he was not convicted. I would hate to have thought that we had had a murderer working among us.”
Her words were a little comforting. “Do you have a stagehand called Reg working here?”
“Big Reg? Sure. He’s working back stage at the moment.”
“Do you think you could tell him that I want a word with him please?”
“I can but I don’t think he will be able to help you. You should really take my advice.”
“I have to make sure Cassie is alright?”
She shrugged. “I will go and get him for you.”
“Thanks Marsha,” I said as she walked away.
It was good to hear that Cassie had told Marsha that she was no longer interested in Max Lucas. However, I was no further forward in finding out where she was. I waited for several more minutes and then Reg Mills appeared. He was a huge man and though he may be gentle he looked ready to go ten rounds with Jack Gardner. I offered him my hand to show him I was friendly. He took it in his enormous paw but shook it gently.
His soft voice also belied his great size. “How can I help you? Marsha said you wanted to speak with me.”
“Yes thank you for seeing me Mr Mills. My name is Steve Coulson and I am a friend of Cassie Mitchell and Max Lucas as I believe you are.”
He looked at me a little suspiciously. “I would not say I was a friend exactly.”
“I believe Max Lucas has been staying with you.”
“Yes, Cassie persuaded me to put him up after the trial. She said that when the trial finished and he had been proved innocent he would need a helping hand. She said she could not help him because it would not be the correct thing for her to put him up. She was worried about propriety at her lodgings and her landlady. I was not happy about it but I could not turn him down in his hour of need.”
“Why were you not happy about it?”
“I do not like him very much. I have always thought he was a bit of a rogue. I knew he gambled a lot and I did not trust him.”
“Yet you still took him in.”
“It was my Christian duty after his ordeal and actually he proved to be no trouble and only stayed a few nights.”
“He has moved out?”
“Yes, he moved out on Monday morning.”
I felt a little sick for he had moved out at the same time as Cassie had left her lodgings. “Did he say where he was going next?”
“No. I did ask because I wanted to be sure he had somewhere to go, but he ignored the question so I did not press him. Are you feeling well Mr Coulson?”
“Yes thank you,” I replied.
“I have not seen Cassie since Saturday morning and I have not seen Max since Monday morning.”
“Did Max mention Cassie at all?”
“No, he did not except to say that she had helped him when he was in Pentonville. It must have been a terrible time for him to be held and tried for a crime he did not commit.”
“Did you speak with Cassie on Saturday morning when she called into the Theatre?”
“Only briefly, we exchanged a few pleasantries and she did thank me for helping Max.”
“And neither of them gave any indication of what they were doing next or where they were going next?”
“No, Mr Coulson, I am sorry I can’t help you.” He looked over his shoulder to find the source of a shout behind him. “I have to go. The evening performance will soon get underway and I have work to do.”
“Thank you Reg, you have been a great help and you have been very patient with my questions.”
I watched the large man hurry off and then I went over and thanked the attendant for his help. I almost staggered back into the Strand. Was my plan to start a new life with Cassie in California already in ruins before it had even started? Had she left with Max Lucas without even giving me an explanation? I refused to believe this was a possibility. I barely remembered my journey home for I was functioning in a wretched daze. All I knew was that I arrived home at about 9.30 in the evening after a very slow train journey.
I slumped in my chair and poured myself a glass of whisky from the bottle which was usually only brought out when I had visitors. Even in my near distraught state I was
well aware that the bottle was not the answer to my problems and so I made one glass suffice. I also realized how much Cassie Mitchell had come to mean to me. I would have to find her or Max Lucas for I refused to believe that they had gone away together though the likelihood seemed compelling. As I mulled this over in my mind I must have fallen into a restless sleep.
I woke up the next morning to a wet and miserable Wednesday. The weather reflected my mood as I pondered over what to do next. My mind was clearer now than it had been the night before. I realized how little I knew about both Max Lucas and Cassie. I had made love to Cassie and I had known her for a month but I had asked her so few questions about herself. She had never spoken of a family and I had not asked for I had not wanted to pry. The only helpful thing I knew was that she had a friend in Farnborough called Laura and so she must be the starting point in my search for Cassie. One thing was most definite and that was that I was determined to find her and I would not heed Marsha’s advice. I opened my wallet and took out a scrap of paper. It was the Farnborough telephone number.
Without hesitation I phoned the number. It rang and rang and there was no answer. I phoned the operator and asked the woman who answered to connect me.
“Sir, this number has been discontinued and is no longer in use,” she told me.
“Then can you tell me the address with which it was associated.”
“No, we are not authorized to do that for it was a private number. I am afraid I cannot help you.”
I put down the phone in frustration for the number was useless. I did remember what Laura looked like from the photograph and I was sure I would recognize her. The trouble was that even though Farnborough was a small town, I was sure that I could still wander its streets for ages and never find her. I would have willingly done it, but I had to soon leave the country as I had promised Smith. I had absolutely nothing to go on, so I decided to continue with the arrangements I had to make prior to going abroad. I placed the house sale completely in the hands of my solicitor and estate agent. Then I decided on a trip into town to see my bank manager.
I was treated like an honoured guest when I arrived at the bank and announced my name to the cashier. It seemed the money was now in my account. I explained to the bank manager that I would soon be going overseas and how I wanted my funds available to me at all times. He was most helpful though I could not help feeling that he probably thought I had robbed a bank. Perhaps he did not mind if it was a rival bank. I signed the necessary papers and told him that I did not wish to invest the money except into one of his bank accounts which paid good interest. I left the bank feeling that I was getting my financial affairs very much in order.
With that done I caught the train home and while sitting in a deserted carriage my mind wandered back inevitably to Cassie. Without Cassie the money seemed so less important. Had I not made the deal with Smith to enable Cassie and myself to go together to California? Was this my punishment for abandoning my scruples and the higher moral ground?
That evening I desperately waited for Cassie to ring me and the phone did ring once. “Steve Coulson,” I said expectantly as I answered it.
“This is Eric Jones of the Sunday Pictorial.”
“I am not interested Mr Jones.”
“I wanted to talk to you about a possible story.”
“Did you not understand me when I said I was not interested?” I put down the phone while he was still replying. That was the sum total of my phone calls for the evening and I went to bed feeling downcast.
Thursday was another day and my tortured mind underwent a metamorphosis. If Cassie had any feelings for me whatsoever then she would have contacted me. Three days had passed since she was supposed to have come to my office and we were supposed to have spent the day together. If she wanted Max Lucas and not Steve Coulson then so be it for I had a small fortune and California, by all accounts, was full of beautiful women. My financial affairs were all sorted and so I could go to California the following week. I could fly to New York and travel overland to Los Angeles by train. What an adventure it would be. Who needed Cassandra Mitchell?
Within twenty four hours my tormented mind had done another about turn and I had accepted that I did need Cassandra Mitchell. What if she was not with Max Lucas? What if something had happened to her? What if an emergency had occurred and she had been unable to contact me? What if she would shortly contact me after all? I decided that I would give her the weekend and if I still did not hear from her then first thing on Monday morning I would begin to search for her and if I had no luck then I would search for Max. It seemed like a plan and it made me feel a little better. I waited in vain for she did not ring.
At 9.30 am on Monday morning, exactly one week from the day that Mr Smith of the Central Intelligence Service had handed me a cheque for £55,000, I stepped inside Charing Cross Road Police Station. Bill Barrow was sitting at his desk as he had been on my last visit.
“Good morning, Bill, I would like to see Chief Inspector Styles. Is he in?”
He looked up and surprise etched on his face as he recognized who had addressed him. “Mr Coulson, I was not expecting to see you again especially after your short period as our guest.”
“I had not expected to return quite so soon myself. Is Raymond Styles in?”
“Yes, he is. I will ring through to him.”
A few minutes later Styles appeared and he gave me an incredulous look. “Come through to my office,” he invited. I followed him into a small but neat office and he sat behind the desk before addressing me. “I am rather surprised to see you again. I do not ask questions of Smith, but I did get the impression that you were to make yourself scarce.”
“I am and I will but before I do I need your help.”
He looked at me doubtfully. “I can’t guarantee anything.”
“I know that Smith had a young woman, Cassie Mitchell, followed in connection with putting pressure on me, and he discovered somehow that she was staying at a house in Farnborough. I need to know the address.”
“I am not sure I should help you.”
“I have a personal matter to clear up and I cannot leave the country until that is done. Smith would not be pleased with you if he knew you were delaying my departure.”
He shook his head. “You are always up to something, Mr Coulson.”
“I merely wish to see her before I leave the country.”
He stood up. “Wait here.”
After five minutes he came back and placed a sheet of paper in front of me. I read the address on the paper before placing it in my pocket. “Thank you, Chief Inspector.”
Getting the information I needed had been surprisingly easy for once. The day was still young and I could be in Farnborough within a few hours. Exiting the station, I hopped on a bus destined for the Waterloo main line where I could get a train to Farnborough. The journey went smoothly and took little more than two hours.
Farnborough Station was a sleepy little station in a semi-rural area of Orpington in West Kent close to London. It was little more than a village and so I surmised that Miles Avenue would be easy to find. I stopped at the ticket office as I exited the Station. “Do you know please where Miles Avenue is?” I asked the sleepy looking cashier.
He looked up from his crossword. “Turn right out of the station and walk down the village for about half a mile and it is a turning on your left.” The village was pleasant enough and Miles Avenue was a smart road of newer style semi-detached houses. I soon found number twenty seven and I knocked on the door and waited. When the door opened I immediately thought I recognized the woman from the photograph in Cassie’s flat.
“Laura?” I inquired.
“Yes,” she said a little nervously.
“I am Steve.”
She looked puzzled for a moment and then she frowned. “You are Cassie’s friend?”
“Yes, is she staying with you?”
“No,” she replied curtly.
“Can I speak with you about her, p
lease Laura?”
“I really don’t think there is any point.”
“Please. I just need to know where she went,” I pled.
“I am on my own and so I don’t think I should let you in. My husband is at work.” She did not look frightened of me but rather wary of having a conversation with me.
“I do not wish to see your husband. I just want to speak with you, please Laura.”
At last she relented. “Come in for a few minutes then.”
I hastened into the hall before she could change her mind. “Come through to the sitting room and we can talk in there.” She ushered me quickly through the hall and into the sitting room but not before I had glanced at a letter on an oak console table in the hall.
“Please sit down and I will make you a coffee.”
“Thank you,” I said sitting on one of the two armchairs in the pleasantly decorated room. So this was the house Cassie had stayed in for a few days before she came to Lewisham. Laura went to the hall before the kitchen and as I leaned forward I saw through the open door that she removed the letter that I had spotted on the way in. She was a little late in doing so for I had managed to read some of the address as I had glanced at it.
While she was making the coffee I tried to recollect what I had seen. There had been an unfranked postage stamp in the corner and it was ready for posting. The address had been partially covered with a paperweight however I had managed to read some of it. What had first caught my eye was that it was going to a Miss Cas but the rest was obscured by the paperweight for the right hand side of the envelope was under the stone weight. Also I had managed to read Hotel Metro and though I did not manage to read the street name on the last line I had clearly seen Monte-Carlo.
I was staggered by what the letter seemed to imply. Cassie was in Monte-Carlo, that town of unbridled luxury on the French Riviera. How was that possible? She had little money and as far as I knew Max Lucas was also broke. This was a revelation I simply could not get my head around. I must have been mistaken and yet I knew what I saw. Before I could ponder it further Laura returned with the coffee on a tray.
