The Kit Aston Mysteries (All Five Books)

by Jack Murray

  The arrival of Kit just before eight thirty was like the cavalry coming to the rescue. For the aunts. They could withdraw gracefully, from their siege on the subject of Spunky’s bachelorhood and live to fight another day.

  One look at Kit as he walked through the doors confirmed to Mary he had slept as badly as she. There was a darkness underneath his eyes that told of a restless night. Hers had been no more peaceful.

  ‘Hello Sp_, Aldric, what are you doing here, old chap?’ asked Kit, a little more cheerfully than he was really feeling.

  ‘I saw the headlines in the papers, old boy. They’re really letting old Jellicoe have it. Full double-barrelled n’all. Seems frightfully unfair to me. One minute he’s helping save the nation from the assassination of the royals, the next he’s bally well the cause of all that’s wrong in the country today.’

  ‘I know. It’s horrible.’

  ‘So, are you saying that this Caroline Hadleigh is the Phantom?’ asked Spunky.

  ‘It looks like it,’ answered Agatha.

  Betty then chipped in and explained to Spunky the events of the last few days. Each subsequent revelation from the two aunts and Mary cracking the case to the subsequent undercover work was greeted with loud acclaim by Spunky. When they had finished, he clapped the table in delight, looked at Mary and said, ‘My dear, if you ever grow tired of Adonis here and fancy pootling round the foothills of Mount Olympus instead, then I shall gladly be your guide.’

  ‘I will bear that in mind, sir,’ said Mary with a grin.

  ‘She’s too good for you, Aldric,’ commented Betty, ‘I suggest you paddle back to the shallow end of the pool where you belong.’

  ‘I say, Auntie Betty, you’re really being a bit unfair on a chap today.’

  The look on Betty and Agatha’s faces suggested his aunt had provided a kind assessment of what he could offer. Spunky decided to let the matter drop. They were probably right, anyway, he decided. Turning to Kit he asked the question on everyone’s mind, ‘So come on, Bloodhound. Have you solved this case or what?’

  All eyes turned hopefully to Kit. He looked at each person then cast his eyes down and shook his head.

  ‘I’m missing some things. I can’t say what they are because I don’t know.’

  Mary put her hand over Kit’s in encouragement. More than anyone, she was desperate that her fiancé would find the connection he was looking for. Her night had been awful. The overpowering guilt made worse by seeing the newspaper reaction to the night’s events.

  Spunky looked on and said, ‘Well, I’ve no sympathy with all of these people who’ve been robbed. It’s 1920 for goodness sake. We’ve figured out how to fly, how to sail underwater and how to kill thousands of people in a matter of seconds. Keeping some silly trinkets safely tucked away shouldn’t be beyond any sensible person’s compass, if you ask me.’

  Kit smiled reluctantly at this and said, ‘True.’

  ‘I know if I had the kind of money that could buy diamonds, I would have the security that protects them. These people almost deserve it.’

  ‘Trifle harsh, old chap. Do I detect the sound of envy?’ smiled Kit.

  ‘You do, sir,’ admitted Spunky.

  ‘Your father looks after you very well, young man,’ said Betty.

  ‘Your brother is tighter than a monk after lent, Auntie Betty, and you know it,’ answered Spunky rising to his feet. ‘I spend more time thinking about how I can make ends meet than I do on the safety of our country. I would argue this is probably not good for me or, in all modesty, the nation.’

  Kit looked up and laughed, ‘Have you any new guaranteed schemes for securing your financial position?’

  ‘Bang out of ideas now, old chap,’ replied Spunky before adding, ‘perhaps I should open an agency for placing servants. By the sounds of what you’ve said, this is a goldmine in London. I’ll make you a director, Auntie, if you invest.’

  ‘I’d sooner bet on a donkey in the Derby.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ responded Spunky brightly, before going around the ladies and kissing them on their heads. ‘On that positive note, I shall head now to the work that pays me, that allows me to serve my country and ensure its security rather than sitting about like the idle rich.’

  After Spunky had left, Betty shook her head and simply said, ‘That boy.’

  Kit stood up from the table and walked over to the window seat. Mary joined him a few moments later. Neither said anything. They looked out of the window and saw Spunky jump into a taxi and drive off.

  Kit felt Mary take his hand again and he was glad. Their fingers intertwined, and they looked at one another. Mary smiled up encouragingly towards him. Kit said nothing. He just looked at Mary simply because he could and because he wanted to. The rest of my life, he thought. A warm feeling encased the two of them, sheltering them from the world and the rain that always seemed to fall.

  Mary, too, felt the need to melt into this shared moment. The room was warm and vibrated with a rosy light. The silence between them was like soft music brushing past their ears. The sadness she remembered in Kit’s eyes when she’d first met him was back and Mary knew this was guilt. She tightened her grip slightly and gazed so deeply into his eyes that she felt might fall into them. Then she saw it. Was it a change in the darkness of the pupil, a change in his focus? Or was it an almost imperceptible narrowing of the eye? She knew something had changed.

  He looked at her face and saw something also. Her head moved slightly. Both eyebrows had raised by the width of a hair. The corner of her eyed crinkled slightly. She knew. He nodded to her and then stood up. Turning to Agatha he said, ‘Auntie, can we borrow Alfred? And I need a phone.’

  -

  The rain fell gently onto the two policemen’s fedoras as they skipped up the steps into Scotland Yard. Neither said much in the short walk from the café to their headquarters, both lost in thought. The sky overhead was a sad grey, and all around the two men, fellow police officers and members of the public rushed past to find shelter.

  Upon arrival in the lobby, a policeman behind the counter noticed their arrival and called over, ‘Chief Inspector.’

  That didn’t take long, thought Jellicoe, walking over to the constable.

  ‘There’s a message for you, sir.’ The constable looked at Jellicoe, his face not difficult to read. He knew. They all knew. His failure was in black and white across all the broadsheet newspapers. ‘Sorry, sir,’ said the policeman. ‘It’s a bad business.’

  Jellicoe nodded his thanks but did not open the message.

  ‘Before you go,’ added the policeman, ‘Can you give this to Ryan?’ He handed Jellicoe a brown envelope. The name ‘Ryan’ was scrawled on the outside. Jellicoe took the envelope and walked over to Ryan.

  ‘For you,’ said Jellicoe.

  Ryan looked at the envelope and felt himself shiver involuntarily. He looked at Jellicoe. Nothing was said. The two men turned and took heavy steps up the flights of stairs to their office.

  Bulstrode and Wellbeloved were not around the office which, at least, was a relief. However, Jellicoe had no doubt they would make a triumphant appearance later once he had received confirmation he was off the case.

  Jellicoe took off his coat and hung it up. He sat down with a weary bump on the chair and stared at the unopened message. Ryan hadn’t bothered to take off his coat. He opened his envelope and stared at the note inside. The Chief Inspector was too preoccupied to see his sergeant almost turn white with shock before turning a burning red. He stuffed the paper in his pocket and sat down.

  After a few moments, Jellicoe opened the message. It was short. He looked up at Ryan and said, ‘The Commissioner wants me to pop up and see him at my convenience.’

  Ryan’s mood was already in the unhappy situation that exists between crestfallen and angry, so his appearance didn’t change much on hearing this news. The silence was broken by the ringing of the telephone on Jellicoe’s desk.

  ‘He’s obviously impatie
nt,’ commented Jellicoe sourly.

  But for once Jellicoe’s instincts were wider of the mark than a fourth team schoolboy bowler. When he heard the voice, he sat bolt upright. Colour returned to his face and his eyes grew wide. Ryan saw the transformation and looked at him questioningly. The conversation was not giving much away, consisting as it was of Jellicoe nodding and saying ‘yes’.

  At last, he put the phone down and said, ‘That was Lord Aston. He may have something. He wants to meet us now. I think the Commissioner will have to wait’

  ‘Where?’

  But Jellicoe was already on his feet reaching for his coat. The two men went towards the door. However, at that moment, it opened.

  ‘Going somewhere?’ asked Bulstrode, grinning vindictively.

  ‘Yes, we were going to just going to look for you,’ replied Jellicoe evenly. Bulstrode nodded but said nothing. Jellicoe stood at the door, his face inches away from Bulstrode. Ryan tensed himself in case the two men came to blows. Finally, Jellicoe said, ‘Shall we?’

  Bulstrode stood back to let the two men through. They were walking down the corridor when Ryan asked, ‘And where is Sergeant Wellbeloved?’

  ‘Doing what you should be doing, son. Catching criminals.’

  -

  The room was dark, a shaft of light shone down on the child’s face. The closed eyes began to move underneath the lids. The light on his face was not so very bright, diffused as it was by the grey cloud, but all around it was dark, graveyard-silent save for the cooing of pigeons in the corner and the occasional scuttling sound.

  A man came out from the shadow and looked down at the child. The little boy lay asleep on the bed. It was the sound of the wheezing. He’d heard it before. Lots of kids had it when he’d been growing up. Many of them didn’t last long. For a moment he felt a stab of pity and then, like cake at a children’s birthday, it was gone.

  He shook his head and looked at the other man. They both turned around as the child began to cough. This was when it would get uncomfortable.

  ‘I don’t like this.’

  This much was obvious. He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. A bead of sweat on his forehead in a room as cold as a morgue. The other man looked back at him with disdain.

  ‘Going soft?’

  ‘I don’t care about the nipper, Johnny. It’s the rest of it. Wag will go mental. Just see if he doesn’t. He just wanted us to take the girl.’

  ‘Never mind Wag,’ said Johnny Mac, ‘The good Lord has just gifted us something better.’

  Out of nowhere a something seemed to attack Rusk. It lasted moments. He looked up. On a beam overhead was a pigeon. Angry now, as well as frightened, Rusk sent forth a volley of abuse that was as surprisingly eloquent as it was probably inexplicable to the pigeon. The coughing grew stronger and then the child woke up.

  The boy looked at the two unfamiliar men and the unfamiliar surroundings. Once he realised this was not his home, he began to cry.

  Loudly.

  Rusk felt like doing the same.

  Chapter 29

  Ryan drove the car with Bulstrode and Jellicoe sitting in the back. Neither was saying much. Bulstrode was oddly ill at ease. Without his partner, he seemed diminished, somehow. From time to time he turned around and looked out of the rear window. Jellicoe’s face, meanwhile, was impassive. He seemed happy to stare out the window. Taking his cue from Jellicoe, Ryan said nothing either. His own mind was already spinning quickly at the events of the last few hours.

  Perhaps the silence was proving too heavy, but eventually Bulstrode turned to Jellicoe and said, ‘This is a fool’s errand, and you know it. You’re just delaying the inevitable, Jellicoe.’

  Jellicoe turned sharply to Bulstrode, ‘That’s Chief Inspector, to you. I’ll thank you to remember that Detective Inspector.’

  Ryan coughed in the driver’s seat to make it clear he’d heard the exchange.

  ‘You just concentrate on your driving, son,’ exploded Bulstrode angrily.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Ryan. A minor victory. It didn’t feel there would be many more.

  A few minutes later they had arrived at their destination. Through the gates they could see Kit’s Rolls Royce. He was standing beside the car waiting. Bulstrode was the last to see him.

  ‘Is this it, Chief Inspector? You’re relying on some fancy-dan lord to bail you out? I’ve seen it all now.’ His laugh wasn’t so much a laugh as a cackle that started as a hacking cough and certainly ended as one. Jellicoe couldn’t stop himself from glancing in undisguised repugnance at his fellow officer. This was noted by Bulstrode and only served to make his laugh sound harder, harsher, and generally foul.

  The three policemen alighted from the car and were greeted by Kit with a bleak smile, as he realised who had come. Beside Kit was Mary. Jellicoe nodded to her and she smiled back. The smile made his hopes rise briefly but this faded quickly. The situation was a mess. As high as his regard for Lord Aston was, the problems in this case were, to all appearances, insurmountable.

  ‘Gentlemen, this way,’ said Kit. ‘I have some additional questions to ask here. I hope you don’t mind.

  ‘Certainly not, Lord Aston,’ replied Jellicoe. He looked at Kit. There were so many questions in his eyes, but he realised Kit would say nothing until they were inside.

  A few minutes later the three policemen were sitting in front of Raven Hadleigh in his cell. At Kit’s request Brickhill and Hastings stayed for the meeting.

  Bulstrode looked around the cell with something approaching repulsion. He was not a man who subscribed to the view that prison was for rehabilitation. No, in his humble opinion it served three purposes and three purposes only: retribution, incapacitation and deterrence. Deportation was even better, but sadly it had ended fifty years earlier. Hanging was, of course, best. Take away the problem completely. That was your man. The sight that had greeted him when he arrived in Hadleigh’s cell was as shocking as it was vexing. What right had a thief like Hadleigh to enjoy such a privileged lifestyle?

  Bulstrode wasn’t the only man looking a tad displeased. Major Hastings refused to sit and stood to attention like the martinet he’d been these past thirty years. Kit looked at him coolly and smiled. There was anger in the eyes of Hastings, or perhaps it was fear. At this stage Kit was not sure. Over the next few minutes, he would know.

  Brickhill looked no more comfortable. He was standing beside Bulstrode. Two peas in a pod thought Kit sourly at the two men. Even Ryan gave the impression of being uncomfortable, unable to fix his gaze on anyone. His mind seemed elsewhere. Kit put this down to the revelations about Caroline Hadleigh. This was understandable, and he sympathised. Love could do this.

  Kit looked at Mary. She had a half smile on her face. If she felt nervous, she wasn’t showing it. Rather than quiz Kit on what he thought, she had been happy to say little on their trip to the prison. It was clear Kit was still thinking through how he would approach the meeting.

  With everyone present, Kit felt it was time to begin. As he was about to speak, there was a knock at the door.

  ‘Who on earth is that?’ exclaimed Hastings, betraying the irritation that had been building up in him since the unexpected arrival of Kit.

  Two people walked into the room.

  ‘Hello father,’ said Caroline Hadleigh, with a smile. Moments later she realised Ben was in the room also. ‘Ben,’ she cried and ran over to him. She embraced him.

  Mary looked at Jellicoe. His features did not change when Caroline embraced his Detective Sergeant. This surprised her. She turned to Kit. But Kit was looking at the man who had accompanied Caroline. His face was almost unreadable. It could have been shock on his face or, perhaps, realisation. She hoped it was the latter.

  ‘Hello, Aston,’ said the new arrival, taking a cigarette out of a silver box.

  Mary turned to Kit again and saw him smile.

  ‘Hello, Geddes,’ said Kit.

  Gerald Geddes walked over to Kit and the two men shook hands. W
hile the handshake was not necessarily an indication of warmth in the relationship of the two men, it certainly suggested there was respect.

  ‘May I introduce Gerald Geddes, everyone. Geddes works for the…’

  ‘Foreign Office,’ interjected Geddes, thereby confirming in everyone’s mind that he was a spy. He was dressed, as ever, in a dark pinstriped suit. The cigarette hung lazily on his lower lip. He glanced at Kit as if he was an entertainer. Kit could see this in his face and smiled inwardly. Maybe that’s what he was these days.

  Caroline, meanwhile, was looking at Mary in surprise. Mary felt a twinge of regret. More than that, it felt like a gash. The duplicity she had been forced to practice had come at a price. Her peace of mind had been shattered by the thought that she had somehow put Caroline in the frame for the crimes. The look on Caroline’s face offered no solace. If she hated Mary, then it was no more than she deserved.

  ‘As I was saying,’ said Kit, ‘Perhaps it’s time we begin again. I think the arrival of Geddes has added a few pieces to this jigsaw puzzle that were missing.’ Turning to Geddes, he said, ‘If I make any slip ups, you’ll fill in, will you?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Geddes.

  ‘Where to begin? That is the question. We could begin where I and Mary joined this story, at Lord Wolf’s house, when the theft of the diamonds was uncovered inadvertently by a practical joke being played by Lord Wolf. But this is too near the end. Perhaps I should start with the first two robberies at the end of last year. The only thing is, I know little about them except that in each case a young woman had been hired to work in the houses in question as a maid. In each case the maid had been placed by an agency called Holland Placements. There are a few agencies that specialise in placing house staff; this was too much of a coincidence. However, when the police investigated this agency it turned out to be as fictitious as the young lady working for the two houses. It wasn’t until Lady Mary,’ said Kit turning to his fiancée, ‘uncovered the fact that Caroline Hadleigh was working in disguise at the Rosling household that this particular mystery was cleared up.’