A Burglary In Belgravia (The Lady Eleanor Mysteries Book 2)

by Lynda Wilcox

  Miss Haringay's gaze fell to her desk. “No. I have no interest in drama.”

  Eleanor nodded. “We were talking about enemies,” she said. “Sir David had probably made political enemies with his espousal of the Labour party. Do you —”

  “Tsk tsk.” Miss Haringay waved a finger at Eleanor. “A man’s politics are his own, as the saying has it. Of course, I don’t expect a lady to know anything of business, but, as Sir David often said, politics sells papers. You make the mistake, as a lot of people did, of assuming that what appeared in the Daily Banner was an accurate reflection of the proprietor’s own beliefs.”

  “Were they not?”

  The secretary’s words might explain a lot. Eleanor had found it hard to reconcile Bristol’s wealth and his style of living — yachts in the South of France, private boxes at the theatre — with his supposed socialist tendencies. The two did not fit well together and Eleanor was fast beginning to think him a hypocrite. Miss Haringay, though she might not know it, so keen did she seem to point out her employer’s great business acumen, had confirmed this.

  “I doubt it, though it was not a subject we discussed.”

  Eleanor shook her head, unsure of how, or even whether, to continue. The task Deanna Dacre had given her seemed hopeless.

  “Have you any idea who might have killed Sir David, Miss Haringay?”

  “None whatsoever, and I told the policeman from Scotland Yard the same. His death is a sad loss to everyone here and a total mystery.”

  A sad loss? Yet Miss Haringay appeared dry-eyed. Had she even shed a tear for her employer? Eleanor thought it doubtful.

  There were many more questions she wanted to ask, but the secretary had decided that the time she had available for private detectives was at an end and rose to her feet.

  “I am sorry that I am unable to help you further, Lady Eleanor. No doubt the police will bring the miscreant to justice before too long.”

  She gave Eleanor a tight-lipped condescending smile on her way to open the office door. If it was meant to crush her spirits it had completely the opposite effect, strengthening Eleanor’s resolve and stiffening her spine. She, too, rose in one graceful and fluid movement.

  “Thank you for your time, Miss Haringay. It has been most instructive.” She smiled down at the now scowling secretary as she sailed past. “I’ll show myself out. Good afternoon.”

  However, she did not feel so sanguine as she drove away from Bromwich Street in search of the cafe and her rendezvous with Major Armitage.

  “If that secretary is mourning her boss, then I’m the Queen of Sheba,” she said, slapping the Lagonda’s leather-bound steering wheel with a gloved hand. “I’ll swear she lied about not being at the Viceroy that evening, just as I'm sure she knows something about Bristol’s death. It seems, though, that I’m going to have as much success in this case as I did in finding Barbara Lancashire’s pearls. Precisely zero.”

  Chapter 16

  Major Armitage was waiting for her, already seated at a table at the rear of the small cafe when Eleanor arrived. She apologised for her lateness and took the seat opposite as he called the waitress over.

  “Are you all right,” he asked, when he’d placed their order. “You look slightly flustered.”

  “Only slightly?” Eleanor removed her hat and placed it on one of the empty chairs. “It’s only that I’ve been rushing. I didn’t want to keep you waiting, but I was having my ears bitten off.”

  “Really?” He tilted his head first to the right, then the left. “Your ears look perfectly fine to me.”

  He gave her the sort of warm, tender smile that made her go limp in all the wrong places and, out of sight underneath the table, she dug her fingernails into her palms. She wasn’t going to fall for his soft-soap. No matter how attractive she found him, no matter the way her heart raced when he was near, Peter Armitage was a dark and dangerous man, and she would do well to remember that.

  “If you don’t behave,” she said, in mock severity, “then I shan’t tell you why I called and asked to meet you.”

  “You mean it wasn’t for the thrill of my scintillating conversation, my rib-tickling jokes, and my boyish good looks? How dashed disappointing.”

  Eleanor gaped at him. This light-hearted, jovial and jesting major was an unimagined creature. Apart from those few hours of shared tenderness a long time ago, the Peter Armitage she knew was a dour and serious man. It came as something of a shock to realise she didn’t know him at all.

  She glanced down, covering her smile. “Sadly no, but I do have an awful lot to tell you, Major.”

  He was instantly serious. “All right, let’s have it.”

  She began by telling him of the commission from Deanna Dacre and followed that with an account of her visits to the Banner and Bristol’s office in Bromwich Street.

  As usual he listened attentively and without interruption, sipping his tea, and stroking the small scar on his chin from time to time.

  “Conclusion?” He rapped when she had finished.

  Eleanor grinned. “That Bristol was not a nice man. A violent bully and a hypocrite. I’m glad I didn’t know him. I don’t know if that is any help to you, or to me either. I haven’t had time yet to sit and think it over, but there is one thing that may interest you. Something I overheard at Bromwich Street while I waited for Miss Haringay.”

  “Which was?”

  Her report was almost as brief as the conversation had been, but Armitage’s eyes lit up when she told him who the secretary had been talking to.

  “Yes, you’re right. That is interesting. We had been wondering about him. Any idea what they were talking about? Thursdays and shoulders? Sounds like it could have been in code.”

  “Sorry, Major. No idea at all. I made sure that I kept my back to them — I didn’t want to be recognised, nor appear to be eavesdropping — but that meant I couldn’t see any facial expressions that might have helped. It’s something else I have to mull over when I have time.”

  “Time? We haven’t got time. That meeting —”

  “I haven’t forgotten.” She drummed her fingers on the table. “Is Chief Inspector Blount aware of this meeting you’re so worried about?”

  Armitage scowled. “Only peripherally. National security and all that. Why do you ask?”

  “Because he can ask the questions that I can’t.” She wrinkled her nose at her own perceived failings, and ground her teeth in frustration. “And he can insist on answers. I can’t ask people if they killed someone, or where they were at the time someone was killed. They’d laugh in my face and tell me to mind my own business if I did. But Blount can.”

  “So? Your ‘softly, softly, catchee monkey’ approach worked wonders last time.”

  “Yes, but I wasn’t under a deadline then. I should never have listened to Ann.”

  “Ann?”

  “Lady Ann Carstairs. It was her suggestion that I set myself up as a private enquiry agent, and I’m flaming useless at it.”

  She made a fist and would have thumped the table with it, had his hand not shot out and closed over it.

  “Gently, my lady.” He gave a quick glance over her shoulder, but the cafe was quiet at this hour. There were no tables behind theirs and Eleanor realised he had chosen their seats with his customary care.

  “I’m sorry, Peter. The frustration is getting the better of me.”

  “Then I’m sorry to have put so much extra pressure on you.” He smiled and shook his head. “It’s your own fault.”

  “Oh? How?”

  “You’re too good an operative.”

  “Was.” She hissed the word. “How often do I have to keep telling you?” She couldn’t decide whether to put her head in her hands and sob, or to slap him, and it took all of her restraint to do neither of those things.

  He held up a hand. “I know, and I’m sorry to keep harping on about it, but if you could see some of the specimens I have to work with, then you’d realise my own frustration.” He waved
an airy hand as if dismissing the subject. “So, what are you going to do now?”

  Eleanor tilted her head and thought about it. “I’m going home and I shall soak the stress of the day away with a warm bath and then, if I haven’t fallen asleep, I’m going to an engagement party.”

  “Well, I hope you have an enjoyable evening. You will —”

  “Keep my ear to the ground, yes.”

  “No,” he said, sober faced. “Don’t do that, or folks will wonder why you’re impersonating a bloodhound with an itchy face, scratching it on the carpet.”

  It took a moment to realise that he was joking again, and she gave a polite laugh. “My father always likened me to a poodle when I was younger because of my curly hair. I’ll have to tell him about the bloodhound. He’ll appreciate that.”

  “Seriously, see what you can find out, will you.”

  “What about you? Are you going to follow up on Miss Haringay and that rather odd conversation?”

  “Oh, yes. That could be our best lead yet. She sounds the type to have been devoted to Bristol, and was probably as involved in his covert activities as much as she was in his business dealings. Perhaps she’s trying to complete the job he started.”

  Eleanor sipped at her tea, replaced the cup in her saucer, and shook her head. Men could be so blind sometimes. It surprised her that Armitage had not seen the alternative to his theory, but then, he hadn’t seen the martinet behind the desk.

  “You don’t agree?” he asked.

  “You’re probably right, and I’m sure she was lying about not being at the Viceroy that night, but have you considered that Miss Haringay herself may be the leader of the gang? She’d be safely hidden behind Bristol’s coat tails, as it were, and there’s plenty of precedence for a female ringleader, though there’s very little that’s feminine about the redoubtable Miss Haringay.”

  Armitage pursed his lips, eyebrows rising. “Yes, I suppose that might be the case.”

  “Well, then, can’t you round them up, throw them in the Tower, and interrogate them? Or, better yet, ask Mr MacDonald and Mr Doumergue to delay their meeting until you’ve got the assassin under lock and key?”

  “It doesn’t work like that, you know. This is a free country and, at the moment, I have no grounds for arresting anyone. As for the Prime Minister and his guest...I rather think they’d give short shrift to any suggestion that a coven of spies and assassins dictated their movements.” He let out a long sigh. “My job would be so much easier if politicians and royalty would take the Intelligence Services’ worries seriously, and do what they were told.”

  Eleanor reached for her hat and repositioned it on her blonde head. “I’m sorry, but I must go. I’ll make time to think things over before I go to Tommy Totteridge’s party. I don’t suppose that I shall learn anything relative to this affair tonight, but I will keep my eyes and ears open.”

  He reached across and took her hand. “Please call me tomorrow if you uncover anything that you think will help. No matter how small.”

  “Of course.”

  Perturbed and exasperated, Eleanor drove home and put herself in Tilly’s hands.

  She relaxed in rose scented bath water and let her thoughts drift. Refusing to be infected by the Major’s sense of urgency, she moved her limbs and let the lapping water carry her cares away.

  Once she was out of the bath and dried, Tilly rubbed scented lotion into her mistress’s legs and back, massaging Eleanor’s shoulders and ‘getting the knots out’ as she put it.

  When Eleanor was finished being pampered, she dressed and sat at the dressing table while Tilly brushed her hair and added a jewelled clasp.

  “There, my lady. You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

  Eleanor eyed her reflection sourly. “Hardly, Tilly, but thank you. I must admit, I feel that I’ve had such a dashed awful day, that if tonight’s shindig wasn’t in honour of dear old Totters and his lady, I’d think twice about going and settle for a night at home.”

  “Nonsense, my lady. You go and enjoy yourself. If you’ve had as bad a day as you say, then you deserve it.”

  “Do I? I seem to have achieved nothing.”

  Tilly leaned back against the wardrobe and crossed her arms over her chest. “Not necessarily. You’ve barely had chance to think about things, yet. Go and have a good time then, after a night’s rest, you may start to see things a little clearer and make sense of them.”

  Eleanor stood up and gave her maid a hug. “What would I do without you?”

  “You’d do well enough. Now, off you go, and please offer my congratulations to Mr Totteridge and Miss Westlake.”

  “Of course.”

  “And stay out of trouble.”

  “When do I ever get into trouble?”

  Tilly sniffed.

  Chapter 17

  Laughter and the chink of glasses greeted Eleanor on her arrival at Totters’ flat. His man let her in and relieved her of her coat. “The drinks are in the kitchen, my lady.”

  He might have added that the drunks were in the living room by the sounds of revelry Eleanor could hear. She went on through to greet her hosts and the twenty or so other guests before making for the kitchen.

  “Hello, darling. You look like you could use one of these.” Lady Ann sat on the table and waved a cocktail glass at Eleanor. “It’s Totters’ own recipe. Hic! Who knew the man had such talents? I’d have snaffled him myself if I’d realised. Cheers!”

  “What’s in it?” Eleanor found a clean glass and took the cocktail shaker from Ann’s outstretched hand.

  “Well, there’s vodka for a start, and I think he said something about Galliano and something else, but I can’t remember. Anyway, it’s delish! Cheers!”

  Eleanor poured a small amount into her glass, smelling the contents before she tried a sip. Lady Ann was not as drunk as she pretended to be, but Eleanor intended to keep a clear head.

  “Very nice. How many have you had?”

  “This is only my second. I awarded it to myself for organising this bash, which as you can hear is going very well.” She waved a hand in the direction of the main room, crossed one silk-stockinged leg over the other and examined her friend critically. “What’s up, Eleanor? You’ve taken the merest sip and are now staring moodily at it, as if it were ditch water.”

  Eleanor looked up and smiled. “Was I? I’m sorry. I’ve been out all day working on the Bristol case and I’m still puzzling over it.”

  “Cheer up, oh, intrepid sleuth.” Ann grinned. “Tell me what Deanna Dacre was really like. What did she wear?”

  For the next few minutes, Eleanor satisfied her friend’s request and laughed when she commented that, “you’d have expected, given the money she must have, that the Divine Deanna would have worn something better than widow’s weeds. Huh!”

  “Ah, but she was playing the role, I think. I tell you, she didn’t stop being an actress from the moment she knocked on my door to the moment she left. It was quite a performance.”

  “Cynic.” Ann dropped down from the table. “Come on, let’s join the others. I’ve brought some records over for Totters’ gramophone and it’s about time we put them on and danced.”

  Arm in arm they joined the rest of the gathering.

  “There you are, Lady Eleanor.” Sophie walked towards them. “I was just coming to look for you. Come and join us, we need a detective.”

  “Whatever for?” Eleanor looked around the sea of faces, all strangely quiet, and wondered what was happening? “Is this a joke? Are you playing parlour games?”

  “Not on your life, Eleanor.” Totters grinned at her from the depths of an armchair. “This is deadly serious. Tell her, Ariadne.”

  Eleanor glanced at the Honourable Ariadne Beresford, a small whey-faced creature with protuberant eyes and, it was rumoured, a remarkable capacity for drink.

  “Well, why not?” She shrugged. “I don’t suppose it will do any harm. I was just telling everyone that we had a burglary two nights ago and moth
er’s emerald necklace was stolen.”

  “There’s a lot of it going off right now.” This came from a tall man who leaned one arm against the mantelpiece. “I hear that opera singer woman that’s in town, Scarletti I think her name is, lost a diamond tiara on Monday.”

  In the general hubbub Ann leaned towards Eleanor. “It seems your case isn’t the only one. There’s definitely a clever jewel thief behind all this.”

  Eleanor wrinkled her nose. Was Barbara Lancashire’s pearl necklace down to the same thief, or had someone else taken advantage of the current spate of thefts?

  Tommy stilled the noise with a hand. “What do you make of it, Eleanor, old thing? Perhaps Ariadne ought to ask her mother to hire you.”

  “I don’t know that I make anything of it, unless...Ariadne, did your mother have guests that evening?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact she did.”

  “And the diva gave a recital in her suite when the tiara disappeared,” the man at the fireplace chimed in.

  “Ah ha! Eleanor, you’re on to something.” Totters looked around at the gathering. “Didn’t I tell you she was marvellous?”

  “Stop it, Tommy,” Eleanor protested, though she was laughing. “Ariadne, I’m looking into another instance of stolen jewels at the moment.”

  Strictly speaking, that was no longer true now that Barbara had dispensed with her services, but that in itself was mystery enough for an intrigued Eleanor to want to get to the bottom of it.

  Ariadne nodded. “Oh, yes?”

  “Do you think your mother might supply me with a list of her guests that evening?”

  “Good Lord.” Totters sat upright. “You think it’s a guest who’s stealing and not a burglar? What dashed bad form, what!”

  “No, Tommy, I don’t say that, and I’m not accusing anyone, but it might be as well to check, don’t you think? To see if there’s a pattern to these thefts.”

  A murmur of assent ran around the room.

  “All right. I’ll ask mother,” Ariadne said.

  Eleanor took a business card from her bag and passed it over. “Thanks. I assure you, I’ll be discreet. Like I said, I doubt whoever is responsible is anyone you know or have invited into your home, but it would be as well to remove all doubt.”