She slid off her stool. “You mean right now? This very moment?”
“Why not? Can you get away?”
“Oh, yes. All we girls are free lances. We make what we pick up-
doesn’t it sound sordid?” She giggled. “I suppose I’d have to come all
the way up to your room and there wouldn’t be any crowds in there?”
I shook my head. “No crowds. Just you and me.”
She looked doubtful. “I don’t know whether I should. My father
said he’d be terribly angry if I ever appeared in the News of the
World.”
“Who’s going to tell the News of the World?” I asked patiently.
She brightened up again. “I wish I was clever. Do you know, I
never thought of that. Well, come on. Let’s go.”
I finished my drink. “Is there a garage at the back of this joint?”
She nodded. “Yes, a big one. Why?”
I patted her hand. “Some Americans like to look at old churches,”
I said, smiling. “I’m crazy about garages. You’d be surprised at the
number of garages there are to look at. They’re full of oil and
interest.”
“But why garages?” she asked blankly.
“Why old churches?” I returned.
She nodded. “I expect you’re right. I had an uncle who liked
visiting public houses. I suppose it’s the same sort of idea.”
“Along those lines,” I said, walked with her to the door.
As we reached the head of the stairs, I saw a big woman coming
up. She wore a black evening dress and a heavy gold collar
surrounded her thick neck. Her black hair was scraped back and her
broad, rather sullen face was a mask of make-up. I drew back to allow
her to pass. She came on, gave Crystal a cold hard stare, didn’t notice
me, went on.
I stared after her, a tingling sensation running down my spine.
The woman was Mrs. Brambee.
Chapter VIII
“Do you know what it means when a girl is said to be ruined?”
Crystal asked, sitting on the bed and surveying my room with
approval.
I put my hat in the cupboard, sat down in the arm-chair. “I have a
vague idea,” I said, smiling at her. “But it’s a little technical to go into
at this stage of our association. What makes you ask?”
She fluffed up her blonde curls. “My father says that if a girl
allows a man to take her into his bedroom, she’s as good as ruined.”
I nodded gravely. “There are times when your father talks sense,”
I said, “but it doesn’t count with me. You’re not the ruining type.”
“I thought there was a catch in it,” she said, sighing. “Nothing ever
happens to me. Confidentially, my greatest ambition is to be chased
up a dark alley by a man with glaring eyes. I’ve hung around dark
alleys until I’m sick and tired of them, but no man with or even
without glaring eyes ever shows up.”
“Remember Bruce and the spider and keep trying,” I said.
“Something’s bound to happen sooner or later.”
She nodded, sighed. “Oh, well, I’ve waited so long now, I can wait
some more. May I see those stockings or do I have to wait for those
too?”
“You can not only see them, but you can have them,” I said,
fetched them from my wardrobe. “Catch.” I tossed them into her lap.
While she was drooling over the stockings I rang for the floor
waiter, and then lit a cigarette.
My visit to the Blue Club hadn’t been a waste of time. Meeting
Mrs. Brambee had been a stroke of luck, especially as she hadn’t seen
me. Crystal had told me that she had seen Mrs. Brambee in the club
regularly every Thursday night. She appeared to have business with
Jack Bradley, and after, she had dinner and went away. No one knew
who she was; she always dined alone, and always left the club
immediately after finishing her meal.
This information intrigued me. When I first saw Mrs. Brambee she
was so obviously the village charwoman that meeting her dressed up
in her finery had come as a complete surprise. I decided to pass this
information on to Littlejohns. It might help him to find out what kind
of game Mrs. Brambee was playing.
Then the visit to the club’s garage had also been fruitful. The first
car I had seen in the vast cellar, running under the club, had been the
battered Standard Fourteen that had followed me on my run to
Lakeham.
Slowly, bits of the jig-saw puzzle were fitting themselves together.
For some reason Jack Bradley was interested in my moves. I was
pretty sure that the youth who had followed me was acting on
Bradley’s instructions. I thought Crystal could enlighten me, and
turned from the window to ask her. I found her in the act of changing
her stockings.
“Don’t look now,” she said with a giggle, rolling the nylons up her
shapely legs. “I’m in what is known as an intimate situation.”
“Hey! Get that limb out of sight,” I said, as I heard a gentle tap on
the door, and the handle turn.
The floor waiter drifted in as Crystal hurriedly adjusted her dress.
His eyes flickered for a second, then he looked at me, coldly inquiring.
“A double whisky and. a large gin and lime,” I said, trying to look
as if Crystal was my sister.
He inclined his head, drifted out again. His back was stiff with
disapproval.
“I guess I’ll be the guy who’ll be ruined,” I sighed, sitting in the
arm-chair again. “Will you hurry and get that leg show over before he
returns?”
“Don’t you like it?” Crystal asked, hurt. “I thought you’d go all
pop-eyed and coy.” She put on her shoes, regarded her legs with
unconcealed delight. “They are lovely, aren’t they?” she exclaimed. “I
can’t thank you enough.” She rushed over to me, sat on my la and
twined her arms around my neck. “You’re a good, kind pet and I adore
you,” she went on, nibbled the lobe of my ear with her sharp little
teeth.
I pushed her off, got up and plumped her in the chair.
“Stay still and behave,” I said. “I want to talk to you.”
“Talk away. I’ll listen,” she said, hugging her knees and peering at
me over the top of them with her big, dizzy blue eyes.
“Have you ever seen in the club a young guy, slight, dark, sal ow
complexion, wears a grey greasy looking hat, clean shaven, about
twenty, who drives that Standard I pointed out to you?” I asked.
“Oh, you mean Frankie,” Crystal said at once. “He’s a horrible boy.
None of the girls like him.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I said, called, “Come in,” as the waiter
tapped, and received the drinks with as much nonchalance as I could
muster. When he had gone, I went on, “What does he do?”
“Frankie?” Crystal raised her shapely shoulders. “He hangs
around. I suppose he does all Bradley’s dirty work. He drives the car,
runs errands-those kind of things. Why are you interested?”
“It’d take too long to tell you,” I said, putting her off. “You liked
Netta Scott, didn’t you?”
“I don’t like women,” Crystal said pr
omptly. “I’m too busy trying
to like men. I’m mad about men. Did you know my mother was
frightened by a wrestler just before I was born?”
“I know. Sam told me.”
“It’s had ever such a funny effect on me . . .” Crystal began, but I
interrupted.
“Never mind about that,” I said hastily. “Let’s talk about Netta.
Sam tells me you two got on together.”
“I suppose we did,” Crystal said indifferently. “She was a bit odd,
but she didn’t try to steal my men, and I didn’t want Jack Bradley or
her other boys, so we didn’t ever come to blows.”
“Were you surprised when you heard what had happened to her?“
“I was stricken in a heap. I was sure she’d never have done an
awful thing like that. It just shows, doesn’t it? My father always says . .
.”
“And we’ll leave your father out of this conversation too,” I said.
“Will you try to remember that? Wrestlers and your father-out! Tell
me something about Netta. Did you ever meet her sister?”
Crystal frowned. “I didn’t know she had a sister.”
“She never mentioned one?”
“Oh, no, but then she might have and I mightn’t have listened.
You see, if she had said she had a brother . . .”
“Yes, yes, I can understand that, but we’re talking about her
sister. All right. You didn’t know she had a sister. Did she ever speak
about going to a village in Sussex cal ed Lakeham.”
“No. Lakeham? I don’t know the place.”
“Don’t let that worry you,” I said kindly, “There must be a whale
of a lot of other places you don’t know either. Tell me something else.
You’ll be able to answer this one. Did she have a regular boy friend
while you knew her?”
“Oh, yes,” Crystal said, perking up. “She did have someone, but
she never talked about him. In fact, she was quite secretive about
him. I saw him twice, although Netta didn’t know. I was on the look-
out for him. The first time I saw him he was driving a marvellous
black-and-yellow Bentley. He picked Netta up outside the club.” She
sighed. “I wish one of my boys had a Bentley.”
“What’s this guy like?” I asked, interested.
She shook her head. “I never once saw his face. He was big` tall
and hefty. Both times I saw him it was dark and he was in the car.”
“Could it be anyone in the club, do you think?”
She shook her head. “Oh, no, I know it wasn’t.”
I suddenly thought of Julius Cole. He was big and hefty. He had
been the one who had identified the dead girl as Netta. He had a flat
below Netta’s. He might qualify quite easily.
“Ever heard of a man named Julius Cole?” I asked.
She shook her head. “`You know, I didn’t expect this,” she said a
little peevishly. “I thought we were going to have some ruinous fun.
I’m beginning to think you’re more interested in your silly old
questions than in ruining me.”
“Smart girl,” I said, grinning at her. “I am. You’re not the ruining
type. Besides I’m asking these questions for a purpose. I don’t think
Netta s dead. If she is dead, then she didn’t commit suicide, she was
murdered.”
Crystal stared at me. “I know I’m a little dumb,” she said, after a
moment’s hesitation, “but I can’t be expected to understand what
you’ve just said, can I; or can I?”
“No, you can’t,” I agreed. “Would you like to know more about it?
Would you like also to play at being a lady detective?”
“My father says detectives are common,” Crystal returned, her
eyes opening wide. “They listen at keyholes, and my father says that’s
common. I used to listen at keyholes when I was young; I suppose
that’s why he said it.”
“Isn’t it possible to leave your father out of this conversation?” I
pleaded. “He seems always to be turning up.”
“He always is. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t burst in here
and hit you over the head with a stuffed mongoose.”
I sighed. “I’ll chance it. Shall we get back to the original question?
Do we or do we not work on this puzzle?”
“I wish I knew what you were talking about,” she said plaintively.
I decided that if I could make her understand, it might be useful to
have her planted in the club to keep me informed of what was going
on there. She might pick up some useful information which might give
me the lead I was looking for. I was now certain that the Blue Club was
tied up in some way with the puzzle of the missing bodies.
So with infinite patience I told her the whole story. She sat staring
at me, her mouth a little open, her eyes wide with astonishment.
“Well, now,” I concluded, “you know as much about this business
as I do. Bradley is tied in somehow. This guy Frankie is in it, too. Julius
Cole might be Netta’s boy friend with the Bentley. Mrs. Brambee isn’t
what she seems. Don’t you see, there are a lot of angles. Some of
these angles might be cleared up if you keep your eyes and ears open.
All you have to do is to listen and watch. Try to find out why Mrs.
Brambee sees Bradley every week. If I knew that I might have the
answer to one of my problems. Will you do it?”
She sighed. “Oh, well, I suppose so. You’ll argue me into it in the
long run if I do say no. All right, I’ll do it, but don’t expect too much,
will you?”
I patted her hand. “Do your best, and I’ll not ask more than that.”
The telephone rang shrilly. I answered it. The Inquiry Desk said
Inspector Corridan was asking for me.
“Tell him I’ll be right down,” I said, hung up.
“Well!” Crystal exclaimed. “I suppose now you’re going to get rid
of me. And I thought you were going to show me your etchings.”
“You’re not the first girl who’s been disappointed,” I said. “Now
slip away like a startled mouse. Scotland Yard is downstairs and I don’t
want him to see you.”
“Goodness!” she exclaimed, jumping up. “I don’t want to s e him
either.” She grabbed up her precious nylons, slipped on her wrap,
sped to the door. Then she paused, rushed back, flung her arms
around my neck, kissed me. “Thanks again for the lovely stockings. I
like you. Don’t let’s be so stuffy the next time we meet.”
I said I’d see her in a day or so, steered her to the door, opened it.
Corridan was standing outside, his hand raised to knock. He gave
Crystal a surprised, rather shocked look, stood aside.
Crystal slid past him, hurried down the corridor without a
backward glance.”
“Hullo,” I said. “I thought I told the Desk to tell you I was coming
down.”
He wandered in, closed the door. “Oh, I didn’t want to bother you
to do that,” he said. “I hope I’m not intruding.” He gave me the
nearest he could come to in the leer line. “Friend of yours?”
“Certainly not,” I said. “That’s the floor waiter’s daughter. She was
cleaning the bath.”
He nodded, roamed around the room. “I’ve s
een her at the Blue
Club on my one and only official visit, I believe, or am I mistaken?”
“At times you are quite observant,” I said, tartly.
“Oh, I notice blondes,” he returned with a dour smile. “Does that
mean you were at the club to-night?”
“Fortunately I don’t yet have to account to you for my actions,
motives or movements,” I returned, eyeing him. “But if you’re
bursting with curiosity I don’t mind admitting I was there.
Furthermore, I did bring the blonde back with me. I had some silk
stockings, and as I had no one to give them to, I thought she might
have them. There was nothing immoral about the transaction,
although, at a later date, I hope something along those lines may be
arranged. Satisfied?”
He didn’t appear to be listening.
“I dropped in as I was passing because I thought you’d be
interested to hear the coroner’s verdict on Anne Scott,” he said,
pausing to look out of the uncurtained windowed.
“I can guess what it was,” I returned. “Suicide while the balance of
her mind was disturbed. Tell me, have you satisfied yourself that
Netta had a sister?”
He looked at me, his eyelids drooped. “What a rum chap you are,”
he said. “Of course I satisfied myself there is such a person as Anne
Scott and she was Netta’s sister. What kind of a policeman do you
think I am? You’ll find the record in Somerset House if you feel like
checking it.”
“Okay,” I said, shrugging. “I wanted to see how thorough you’ve
been. How about Netta’s verdict?”
He shrugged. “The body will have to be found first. We’re looking
for it.”
“I see the Press haven’t got the story.”
Corridan scowled. “And they’re not having it,” he said grimly. “As
it is the Chief is raising blue murder. The less publicity at this stage the
better. We can rely on you to say nothing I hope?”
I grinned. “Sure,” I said, “I’ll keep your guilty secret. Nothing more
to tell me?”
He shook his head. “Not just yet,” he returned, “but I’ll keep you
in the picture.” He moved to the door. “Come down and have a
drink?”
“I’m coming down, but I can’t stop for a drink. I have something
important to do.”
“It’s nearly eleven o’clock,” Corridan said, raising his eyebrows.
“Come on, and don’t be unsociable.”
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