A Royal Pain

by Rhys Bowen

  “What means tamer?” Hanni asked.

  “I mean that life goes on here at a sedate pace, with little violence or excitement. Is that not true, your ladyship?”

  “Usually, yes.”

  “So how do you explain that this current outbreak of apparent gangsterism has coincided with the arrival of Her Highness?”

  Oh, dear. I wish he hadn’t said that. Until that moment it had never occurred to me to link together Hanni’s love of American gangster films with any of the strange things that had happened to us. I ran through the various events of the week quickly in my mind. The fall from the balcony— Hanni had been nowhere in sight. And as for stabbing somebody—well, that was plain ridiculous. For one thing she wouldn’t have had time. I came up the stairs right after her. And for another, she had looked absolutely shocked. And for a third, why would she want to stab a harmless young man she thought was attractive?

  “You’re not suggesting that Her Highness is a gangster in disguise, are you, Chief Inspector?” I asked.

  He gave a nervous half laugh, half cough. “Good Lord, no. But you must admit it does seem a rum coincidence.”

  “I agree that it does, but a coincidence it is, I assure you. You can’t for a moment think that either of us had anything to do with Mr. Roberts’s murder.”

  “I have to pursue the facts, your ladyship,” he said.

  “Then I suggest you extract fingerprints from the weapon and go after the criminal whose fingerprints they match, rather than upsetting us.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Now that is an interesting fact. There are only two sets of fingerprints on the weapon, and they are yours.”

  “That doesn’t completely surprise me,” I said. “If someone can slip in unnoticed, kill quickly and silently, then he is obviously a professional and as such would have worn gloves.”

  Burnall nodded. “Not a bad observation, because we do rather suspect that it was the work of a trained assassin. One quick thrust between the third and fourth ribs up into the heart, then the weapon is instantly withdrawn to allow the blood to flow freely. The poor chap probably didn’t know what had hit him. Death would have been instantaneous.”

  Hanni gave a little gasp of horror. “Please don’t,” she said. “It is too awful. I can’t stop thinking about it. Poor Sidney, lying on the floor, and all that blood.”

  “Do you need to go on with this?” I demanded. “You’re upsetting the princess and I’m feeling a little queasy myself.”

  “Just a few more questions, and then I’ll leave you in peace,” he said. “I’m interested to know just why you were keen to visit this young man at the bookshop.”

  “It was Her Highness’s wish to do this.”

  “And is Her Highness keen on books then?” His smile was close to a smirk. I found myself wondering whether policemen are hired for their annoying expressions or whether they develop them during the course of their employment.

  “Her Highness was rather keen on the young man, I believe,” I said, giving Hanni a reassuring smile. “He was very presentable and a thoroughly nice chap too.”

  “That being the case, why not meet him somewhere more suitable? A tearoom, or lunch in a more respectable part of the city.”

  “Had we known exactly where the bookstore was, I think we might have not chosen to visit him there,” I said. “But I am not yet familiar with the various neighborhoods of the city.”

  “I ask the question,” Burnall said slowly, “because of the nature of the bookshop. It may sell old books, but it is also an unofficial meeting place of those with strong leftist leanings. You might have seen the leaflets and the posters on the walls.”

  “We did,” I said.

  “And this Mr. Sidney Roberts. You say he was a thoroughly nice chap and yet it may surprise you to know that he was a card-carrying, fully paid up member of the Communist Party. An active member at that. He spent the last year organizing labor unions, strikes and marches as well as writing a regular column for the Daily Worker.”

  “We did know he was a communist,” I said. “The first time we met him was at Speakers’ Corner in Hyde Park. He was passing out communist leaflets.”

  “And you thought this was a noble cause? You were about to hand over your castle and go to live among the masses, were you?”

  “Absolutely not,” I said, giving him my best Queen Victoria stare. I was not her great-granddaughter for nothing. “As I said, it was Princess Hannelore who wanted to meet him again and her motives were based more on his appearance than his political beliefs.”

  “There will be an inquest, of course,” Burnall said. “Which presents a tricky problem.” He paused, staring at the princess. “Your Highness probably doesn’t realize what a mess you have plunged us into. It can’t have occurred to you that back at your home in Germany the communists and the fascists are deadly rivals. The fascists have won the power for now, but it could possibly still go either way. The communists are working hard to create an upheaval so that they can seize power.”

  “It’s not as if we were planning to join the Communist Party, Chief Inspector,” I said. “And anyway, I always understood that one of the benefits of living in England was that it was a free country, where one can express one’s opinion, however silly and extreme, with no worries about recourse from the authorities. Is that no longer true?”

  “Of course,” he said. “But we are not concerned with England here. We are concerned with Germany. You must know that there is a delicate balance at the moment between the fascist far right and the communists. There is also a strong movement afoot in Bavaria to restore Her Highness’s father to his throne, thus making him a force against the Nazis. When the news reaches Germany that the princess has been in cahoots with communists, I’m afraid the German regime will see this as a confrontation—an attempt to undermine the government. World wars have been started on less.”

  I laughed uneasily. “You’re trying to tell us that Germany might declare war because the princess went to a communist bookshop to meet a young man?”

  “Who was found dead. She may be implicated in the crime.”

  “Of course she’s not implicated in the crime. This is ridiculous,” I snapped.

  “Georgie, does this man think that I was the one who killed Sidney?” Hanni asked in a frightened voice. “I do not know how to stab somebody, and I liked Sidney. I wanted a chance to talk with a young man, away from court, away from baroness, who always says no. At home there is always someone to tell me what I must do and what I must say. Here I thought I was free.”

  “There you have your answer, Chief Inspector,” I said. “Her Highness has just emerged from an education in the convent. She is eighteen years old. Speaking to young men is a novelty to her. As for Mr. Roberts’s killer, you said yourself that the fascists and communists are at each other’s throats. We witnessed that in Hyde Park the other day. A horrid clash with the blackshirts. Maybe you should be looking for your murderer among their ranks.”

  “Trust me, we shall be leaving no stone unturned in our investigation, your ladyship,” Burnall said. He stood up. “Thank you for your time. As I said, you will probably be required to give evidence at the inquest. Please do not think of leaving London. You will be notified when it will take place.”

  With that he gave a curt nod and rose to leave.

  Chapter 21

  “This is not good, Georgie,” Hanni said. “My father will get his knickers in a twist when he hears of it.”

  “His knickers in a twist? Where did you hear that?”

  “Your cook. Mrs. Huggins. She said, ‘Don’t get your knickers in a twist’ to your butler when he was upset. I like this expression. What means it exactly?”

  “Something you don’t want to know. One does not mention underwear in public, especially not in royal circles.”

  A flicker of enjoyment crossed Hanni’s face. “Okeydokey,” she said. “But my dad will still be angry. He will tell me to come straight home.”

 
“I am going to see the queen,” I said. “She’ll decide what we should do next.”

  “Oh, swell. I like visits to palace. I will come with you.”

  “I rather think not, this time. It might be awkward as we discuss your future. You should go to Baroness Rottenmeister for now. I’ll take you there myself.”

  “Everything has gone wrong,” Hanni said.

  “Now perhaps you see that your gangsters did not live such glamorous lives,” I couldn’t resist saying.

  “I wish I had machine gun, then I’d shoot head off those horrible policemen,” Hanni said.

  “Hanni, for heaven’s sake never let anyone hear you talking like that, even in fun,” I said. “You are currently their only suspect in a murder.”

  “They can’t pin the rap on me,” she said.

  “No more gangster talk. I absolutely forbid it,” I said. “From now on you must act and sound like a princess at all times. You heard what the chief inspector said—wars have been started over less than this.”

  “I just make joke, Georgie,” Hanni said, “because I am frightened.”

  “I’m a little frightened myself,” I said. “But the police have gone now. We’re home and we’re safe and nothing else can go wrong tonight.”

  My grandfather tapped on the door before opening it. “Baroness Rottenmeister, my lady,” he said in regal tones.

  The baroness swept into the room like an avenging black angel, her cape streaming out behind her. If looks could kill, we’d have been sprawled on the carpet.

  “What have you done, you silly girls?” she demanded in a booming voice. “The queen’s private secretary telephoned me. He wanted to discuss this morning’s tragedy. Naturally I knew no details because I wasn’t there. And then I find out that a man has been killed and the police suspect Her Highness.”

  She glared at Hanni. “I leave you alone for two days. You beg me that you want to stay with Lady Georgiana. You tell me that she is responsible person and will take good care of you. And I believe you and think of my own comfort. Now I am deeply ashamed. My duty was at your side, even with the great inconveniences of living in this house. I should never have left you for one instant. I should have come to the party with you. I should have gone with you this morning and then none of this would have happened.”

  “The young man would still be lying dead, whether we had found him or not,” I said. “And whether you had accompanied us or not.”

  “What do I care if this young man is dead or not?” The baroness was purple with rage by now. Obviously her governess had never told her that a lady is always in control of her emotions. “I care for the honor of your family. I care for the honor of Germany.” Dramatic pause. “There is only one thing to do. I shall write to her father, asking for instructions, and I move back instantly to this house. I am willing to sacrifice my own comfort and happiness for the good of my royal family and my country.”

  Anyone would have thought she was being asked to undertake an expedition to the North Pole and live on seal blubber. Rannoch House really isn’t that bad in summer.

  “I am going to see Her Majesty as soon as she summons me,” I said. “She will decide the best course of action. It may be wiser if the princess goes home immediately.”

  “No way,” Hanni said angrily.

  “Hannelore, this has gone on long enough,” the baroness said. “You must remember you are a princess and speak and act like one from now on. Go up to your room immediately and write a letter to your father, apologizing for your thoughtless actions.” She lapsed into German at the end of this sentence, but I think that was the gist of it. Then she turned to me. “And you, Lady Georgiana, will be good enough to ask your cook to prepare a dinner that is kind to my digestion. Although with all this worry, I am sure I will not be able to swallow one mouthful.”

  I went down to Mrs. Huggins in the kitchen.

  “Kind to her digestion?” she asked, hands on her broad hips. “I didn’t notice much wrong with her digestion before. Knocked back everything she could lay her hands on, that one. A right pig, if you ask me. And in more ways than one. Ordering me and your granddad around as if she was the bleedin’ Queen of England. ‘You will do this and then you will do that.’ I felt like telling her she was the foreigner here and London is my town and I don’t let nobody speak to me like I’m dirt.”

  “Quite right, Mrs. Huggins,” I said. “I know it’s awful and I’m terribly grateful for everything. You’ve been an absolute brick. And your cooking has been splendid.”

  She blushed modestly. “Well, thank you kindly, your ladyship. Happy to do it, I’m sure. But can you tell me how much longer we’re going to be expected to keep this up? Yer granddad is getting restless for his garden and his routine at home. He don’t say nothing because he’d do anything in the world for you, but I can tell it’s all getting his goat.”

  “Let’s hope it’s coming to an end, Mrs. Huggins,” I said.

  “It’s not the housework and the cooking I mind,” she went on. “I’ve never minded hard work in my life. Used to it, you see. But it’s these people. Herself with the face like the back end of a bus, and that maid person, Fireguard or whatever her name is, creeping around, never saying a word, just staring at us when we speak good English to her. And then there’s that Mildred what you hired. Right stuck up, she is. Coming down here and telling us how much better everything was in the posh houses she’s been in. ‘You can’t get much posher than her ladyship,’ I told her. ‘Related to the royals. If there was another of them flu epidemics and the lot of them died off, she might find herself queen one day, and don’t you forget it.’ ”

  I smiled at her fondly. “Don’t wish that on me,” I said. “Besides, it would have to be an awfully large flu epidemic. I’m only thirty-forth in line to the throne.”

  “Anyway, what I’m saying is, we’ll stick it out for you, but it better not be for much longer.”

  “I do understand, Mrs. Huggins,” I said. “I feel rather the same way myself. The princess is a delightful person in many ways, but it’s like looking after a naughty puppy. You never know what she’s going to do next. And she doesn’t have a clue about what is proper and what isn’t.”

  I looked up guiltily as I heard footsteps but it was only my grandfather.

  “So we’ve got the old dragon back here again, I see,” he muttered. “I’ve just had to carry up her great pile of baggage. What on earth does she want all that stuff for? I’ve only ever seen her in black. And was she in a bad temper! Do this, and not like that. It was all I could do to hold my tongue. I tell you this, Georgie love, I’m not cut out to be nobody’s servant. Never was.”

  “It really won’t be for long now, Granddad. I’ve spoken with the palace and I’ve an audience with Her Majesty tomorrow.”

  “The sooner that lot is shipped back to Germany, the better, that’s what I say,” Mrs. Huggins muttered. “And good riddance to ’em.”

  “I have to confess I’ll be relieved to see them go,” I said. “But about dinner tonight. Could you possibly cook something that’s kind to the baroness’s digestion?”

  “What about a nice set of pig’s trotters?” she asked. I couldn’t tell whether she was being funny or not, having never eaten the said part of the pig.

  Before I could answer, my grandfather dug her in the ribs. “Give over, ’ettie,” he said and Mrs. Huggins broke into wheezy chuckles. “Or a nice plate of jellied eels?” she went on.

  “If she wants something nourishing, then how about liver and bacon?” Granddad said when her laughter had died down. “Nobody can complain about liver and bacon. About as nourishing as you can get, that is. And a milk pudding to follow?”

  “Right you are,” Mrs. Huggins said. “All right with you, me lady?”

  “Perfect,” I said.

  As I went to walk upstairs to our part of the house, my grandfather followed me. “So what did the inspector want?” he asked quietly. “Just routine, was it?”

  “Anyt
hing but routine.” I sighed. “He seems to think we may have caused a major international incident. If the princess is linked to a communist plot of some kind and the German government is anti-communist and pro-fascist, they may see this as an affront. Trying to convert their princess to the opposition, so to speak.”

  “Bloody stupid,” Granddad muttered, then looked up at me with a guilty expression on his face. “Pardon the swearing. It just slipped out. So they think this man’s death is somehow linked to communist activities, do they?”

  “He was an active member of the Communist Party.”

  “Well, I never. Your German princess certainly picks ’em, don’t she? Where on earth did you meet a communist?”

  “In Hyde Park, at Speakers’ Corner, and then again at that party.”

  “The party where the bloke fell off the balcony?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Dear me,” he said. “Makes you wonder if there’s a link between the two deaths, don’t it?”

  “There can’t possibly be. I was standing there, Granddad. I saw Tubby stagger backward, very drunk, and fall through the railings. I saw it.”

  “And this Tubby bloke. Was he also a communist?”

  I laughed. “Good Lord, no. His family owns half of Shropshire.”

  “If you say so, love. But I can tell you this. When I was on the force, I’d have had a good look at that party, who was there and what was going on. You’ll probably find out that this killing has nothing to do with communism. Probably something much more everyday than that—the young man got himself mixed up with the wrong crowd, that’s what I’d guess.”

  “Then let’s hope the police find that out quickly,” I said. “It would be a huge relief to me.” I paused, then a thought struck me. “Is there anything you can do, Granddad? I know you’ve been off the force for a while, but you must still know people. And you used to work that part of London, didn’t you? Couldn’t you ask some questions and find out if there are any gang rumors going around?”