The Girl Who Walked Away

by David Adkins

  “Do you take sugar?” She asked placing my cup in front of me and placing the sugar bowl next to it.

  “No, thank you,” I replied, noting that she seemed to have completely recovered her composure. But why should my appearance at the front door have caused a panic and why had she been in such a hurry to remove the letter from the hall table?

  She sat down on her other armchair. “You wanted to talk about Cassie?”

  “I want to find her but she seems to have temporarily disappeared and I wondered if you could help me.”

  “The last time I saw her was a week or two ago. She stayed with me for a few days because she had had to leave her lodgings but it was only a few days as she needed to get back to London for her work.”

  “On the chorus line,” I offered.

  “That’s right. I went to school with Cassie and she has been a friend now for about ten years. In all the time I have known her she always wanted to be a dancer in London at one of the big theatres and in one of the shows. At last she got her wish when the Gaiety Theatre took her on.”

  “Do you know where she is now?”

  “I have no idea. Cassie is a spontaneous girl, far more than me. It was always a job to keep up with her. She said she was going back to London and would be in touch. I assumed she would be staying with one of her friends from the theatre.”

  I wondered whether to ask about the Monte-Carlo letter addressed to probably Cassie but I decided against it. She might warn Cassie that I was looking for her and that I knew where she was. “You have no idea then, Laura.”

  “I am sorry Steve. I am afraid I do not.”

  “Do you know who might?”

  “No, I don’t. You were the last boyfriend she mentioned and before you it was Max Lucas but the last I heard of him was that he was in Pentonville.”

  “He is out now,” I informed her. “Where does her family live?”

  “I have no idea. Her mother died and she lost contact with her father. She was an only child.”

  “I did not know that. I suppose that is why she never mentioned a family to me.” I had the feeling that many of the answers coming my way were not the truth. Laura had composed herself after the initial shock of finding me on her doorstep and while in the kitchen making the coffee she had obviously decided on how to answer my questions. It was quite evident that she intended to tell me nothing that would help me find Cassie.

  Laura nodded. “I am sorry but I have no idea where Cassie is now. Have you asked at the Gaiety Theatre?”

  “I have but they had no idea either. It is all a mystery.”

  “I wish I could help you solve it but I can’t. Do not worry about her for she has always been a resilient girl. If she wants you then she will contact you. My advice is to give it a few days and if she doesn’t contact you then give up and get on with your life.” She smiled a sympathetic smile.

  “That is exactly what I intend to do,” I lied. “Thank you so much for your time Laura.”

  “That’s alright. I’m sorry I was a bit unhelpful at first, but it was a shock to have an ex-boyfriend of Cassie’s standing on the door step. I know she is a very beautiful girl, but if she doesn’t contact you then you will just have to get over it.”

  “Very wise words and thank you for your help.” I mentally snorted. What help?

  I got a bus back to Lewisham from Farnborough and this gave me time to consider my next move. A visit to the library would be required, but it might have to wait because a sudden fog had made the journey home slower than usual. I could just about make out the Hippodrome as we passed it and I thought about my wonderful evening with Cassie watching The African Queen. Two stops after the Hippodrome the bus stopped outside the library and I looked at my watch and I still had just about enough time before it closed for the day.

  I alighted from the bus and quickly headed into the library. I had nearly half an hour before the library closed and that should be enough time for my purpose. I made my way to the reference section and in a short time found the gazetteer I was searching for, European Hotels. I turned to the section for France and then realized I should be looking for Monaco. There were a number of hotels listed for Monaco and so I took the book over to a large table surrounded by chairs and sat down. I took a deep breath and considered whether I really wanted to do this. Should I follow the advice of Laura and discontinue my search for Cassie? Finding the hotel in this Monte-Carlo list would set me on a course from which there was no turning back. I decided to go ahead, but in truth I knew that I had never planned on giving up.

  I looked down the list of about a dozen or more hotels. There was no Metro Hotel but there was a Metropole Hotel. I realized that the pole had been obscured by the paperweight. I was sure that this was the intended destination of the letter in Laura’s hall. It seemed quite an expensive hotel, but then I guessed most decent hotels in Monte-Carlo were expensive. Where had Cassie got the money to be staying in such opulent accommodation? Was she really staying there and was Max Lucas with her? There was a telephone number listed and there was a public phone in the foyer of the library. I walked over to the phone clutching the gazetteer. I picked up the phone and hesitated.

  If I asked if Mr Lucas or Miss Mitchell were staying at the hotel then they would probably get to hear from the hotel staff that somebody had been making enquiries about them. If they wished to remain anonymous they could then decide to leave the Metropole. I looked at the phone in my hand and then replaced it. I was now a rich man. What was to stop me going to Monte-Carlo and booking into the Metropole Hotel myself and then confronting them in person? What a surprise they would receive if indeed they were together.

  I left the library and crossed the road, hurrying across the tram track for the visibility was now low as the fog had grown denser. Five minutes later I was in my home lighting a fire. I prepared a snack and a hot drink and thought about the situation.

  Strangely it was not just Cassie and Max Lucas that entered my head. There had been something in the back of my mind that had been niggling away at me. It had been there since the trial but my wonderful day and night with Cassie followed by her disappearance had relegated that nagging presentiment into being a very minor issue. For some reason it came back into my mind unexpectedly and started to once again gnaw away at me. I decided first to try and put this matter to rest before I set off for Monaco.

  Chapter 15

  Tuesday 13th March

  The next morning after breakfast I phoned around making the necessary enquiries to prepare for my trip to Monaco, but early afternoon found that I was on my way to Central London to scratch the itch. Once in London, I caught a bus to Holborn and hopped off at the stop closes to the Food Basket Restaurant. I entered the premises at a time they seemed to be slowing down after the extended lunch time period. “Is Mervyn Williams here?” I asked one of the waiters.

  “You are lucky. He is out the back getting ready to go home for a break before the evening shift,” he replied.

  “Can I speak with him please?”

  He nodded and disappeared into the back before returning with Williams. Mervyn Williams looked a very surprised man when he saw who was standing in the restaurant. “I need a word please,” I said to him.

  “Then let us sit at that empty table by the window,” he suggested. “I never expected to see you again.”

  “Thank you Mervyn, I felt I needed to speak with you once more to clear something up that has been troubling me.”

  We sat down and he asked the other waiter to fetch us a pot of tea before replying. “About the Max Lucas case, I suppose?” he inquired.

  I nodded. “I would like you to go over it with me.”

  The pot of tea and two cups arrived and he did the honours. “Surely with Max Lucas being acquitted the case is over.”

  “It is,” I responded. “I would just like you to go over with me in detail the meal that Rupert Nesterman and his female companion enjoyed in your restaurant on the day of the murder.”


  “I will tell you all I can remember but they were, of course, just two of so many customers and all these customers tend to be a bit of a blur after a while.”

  “And yet you still remember them.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “Please start from the beginning,” I invited.

  “It was probably about 6 pm when they entered the restaurant. The first thing I noticed was that he looked almost old enough to be her father. They were shown to a table and I introduced myself to them as their server. I do not then remember very much for nothing unusual happened until the accident. It was the accident that really made me remember them.”

  “Please go over the accident.”

  “Well, I had just placed the lady’s main course in front of her when her hand came up and tipped the plate over, knocking almost her entire meal down my trousers. She was most apologetic and upset and I assured her that no harm had been done. She said my trousers had been ruined and insisted her partner give me a cheque for £10 as compensation. I told her that it was not necessary and anyway £10 would buy five pairs of trousers but she insisted just the same. Her male friend did not look happy at parting with the money but she told him that if he gave the poor waiter £10 she would more than make it up to him later. That clinched it and he paid up and I could not believe I had just received £10. I also could not help wondering how she intended to make it up to him. I went and changed and they continued with their meal. Nothing of note happened after that.”

  “And so you remembered them because of the accident?”

  “Yes, I do not think I would not have remembered them otherwise. I remembered she was very pretty with dark hair and he was much older. I suppose I remembered him because of the £10.”

  “Was it an accident?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Was it an accident?” While he hesitated on what to say I considered his description of the accident. Did she deliberately tip her dinner down his trouser leg? When I had met Jenna she did not strike me as a woman who would have an accident on the night of an assignment. Everything she did was efficient and clinical. In the short time I had known her I had come to admire her planning, competence and dedication. This is what had been niggling away at me and this is what prompted my question to Mervyn Williams.

  “Huh.” He paused, remembering. “I mean, it was perfectly timed… but why would she deliberately do that? No, it must have been an accident.”

  “Did you tell the court it was a little contrived? I was in the waiting room when you gave your evidence so I did not hear.”

  “No, of course not for I do not know it was. Why would she have done such a thing on purpose?”

  “Perhaps she was just seeking attention,” I responded for I did not wish him to be party to my misgivings. I drank the remains in my cup and stood up. “Thank you, Mervyn for speaking with me. You have been a considerable help.”

  He looked puzzled. “I do not know how but it has been good to see you again.”

  I left the Food Basket deep in thought. My suspicion had been realized and I was fairly convinced that it had been no accident. But why would Jenna have wished her visit with Nesterman to the restaurant to be remembered? It did not make sense. She did not know that Max Lucas was going to walk in on her planned murder of Rupert Nesterman. She could not have known that the evidence of Mervyn Williams would be instrumental in freeing the innocent Lucas for even Jenna for all her qualities could not see into the future. It was yet another mystery. Williams had told me what I wanted to know but I still thought I would pay Pete’s Bar a visit. I walked the short distance from High Holborn to Russell Square in spitting rain and a stiff breeze and with a nagging puzzle in my brain which refused to be solved.

  Once again I was in luck for Pete Bannister was serving drinks as I stepped into his bar. He was just as surprised as Williams had been to see me. “Hello Pete, how are you?” I asked, as he looked at me incredulously.

  “Fine but I did not expect to see you again,” he replied.

  I sat on a stool at the small bar. “Would you mind answering a few questions about the night Nesterman and the dark-haired woman came into your bar?”

  “It is the least I can do after the way I messed you about last time.”

  “That was not your fault. You must get a lot of customers every single day. How were you able to remember the visit of Nesterman?”

  “When I saw the picture of Nesterman in the newspaper it was only a couple of days after he had been in here so I suppose I was able to remember him.”

  “Even so, Pete you must get a lot of customers in here even in just a couple of days. Why did he stand out to make you remember him?”

  “She stood out and he was with her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He must have been twenty years older than her and he wasn’t even good-looking, in fact he was quite ugly. She was beautiful. She was a real dark-haired beauty as you must know and so they seemed such an odd couple. Then there was the way she behaved.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well they sat at the bar on stools just as you are doing now and she flirted outrageously. She flirted with Nesterman saying some quite daring things within my earshot. Then she flirted with me and when Nesterman got annoyed she told him she was just trying to make him jealous. She told him she would make it up to him later and I thought to myself the lucky sod.”

  “Thanks, Pete you have told me what I wanted to know.”

  “Aren’t you going to have a drink?”

  “Not this time, I have just had one but next time I am in Russell Square I shall come in for refreshments.”

  He laughed. “I will see you then.”

  Pete’s Bar was almost next to Russell Square underground station and so I went into the station to get the tube back to Charing Cross. I would head for home for I had to get myself ready and packed for the flight to Nice.

  As I sat on the train flashing past the drab suburbs of South East London I thought about my conversations with Williams and Bannister. They had confirmed the suspicion that had been gnawing away at the back of my mind but really, on reflection, nothing had been achieved. Jenna had contrived to be remembered — but I could not imagine why. The person to ask would, of course, be Jenna but there was no hope in that respect. If Smith and the whole of the Central Intelligence Unit could not find her then what hope did I have? I shook my head in despair at the way one question simply led to another.

  When I arrived home I found the telephone number Jenna had given me and gave it a ring but it was unobtainable as expected. There was no hope there so I would just have to put Jenna to the back of my mind. Tomorrow I would step off a plane in the Cote d’Azur and my priority would be to find Cassie Mitchell.

  That evening I was eating my dinner when there was a loud knock at my door. I felt dismayed when I opened it and saw the short, weather-beaten man standing on my door step.

  “Mr Sugar, I thought we had finished our business,” I exclaimed.

  “My business is never finished,” he smiled.

  “Well, I have nothing more to say to you, so good day, Mr Sugar.” I started to close the door.

  “I want to talk with you about Cassandra Mitchell.” I realized immediately that I would have to speak with him just in case he had any news of Cassie’s whereabouts.

  I stopped and in a resigned fashion beckoned him inside my home. “Why do you wish to speak about Cassie?”

  “It seems that the name Cassandra Mitchell is the key to gaining entrance into your home,” he commented.

  I ignored his comment. “I thought it was the dark-haired woman you were searching for.”

  We sat down in the sitting room. “I have no chance of finding her, Mr Coulson. She seems to be leading our illustrious police force a merry dance so how could I hope to find her when they cannot. It makes me even wonder if she exists.”

  “I can assure you she does. I have already described to you and the court t
he conversation I had with her.”

  “Supposing Lucas did kill Nesterman and he made up the dark-haired woman helped by certain people. It would have been a clever way to obtain an acquittal.”

  I was outraged. “Are you insinuating I lied in court under oath to get him off? That is pure nonsense. I did speak to her and she did admit to killing Nesterman.”

  “Calm down, Mr Coulson,” he smiled. “I just throw that into the ring as a possibility. I do actually believe you.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “Last time we spoke I told you I was going to approach the whole conundrum from a different angle. I cannot find the mystery woman who incidentally I believe does exist. Therefore I am looking at the other people involved and I find the whole business is riddled with minor mysteries. I then think to myself if the dark-haired woman mystery can’t be solved there might still be a story here for a bloodhound like me.”

  “Be careful you do not get your nose burnt,” I warned.

  “Are you threatening me, Mr Coulson?”

  I realized that I should not have made that comment and I needed to backtrack a little. “No, of course not, Mr Sugar, it was merely a turn of phrase prompted by you referring to yourself as a bloodhound. I meant nothing by it.”

  He seemed to accept my explanation. “As I was saying there are many little oddities here which in themselves amount to little but when you put them all together they form a more substantial oddity.”

  “You will have to explain,” I said, shaking my head. “I am losing you.”

  “Such as Cassandra Mitchell has disappeared and so I come here today to inquire from you as to her whereabouts.”

  It seemed he had been looking for Cassie without success. “Cassie cannot help you. I have told you she has never met the woman.”

  “Yet she has disappeared. Do you know where she is?”