The Kit Aston Mysteries (All Five Books)

by Jack Murray

Jellicoe stared down at the cat collar. From the moment he’d entered the flat of Countess Laskov he’d sensed an atmosphere. The walls whispered as they often did for him at a crime scene. Yet no crime had been committed. The death of the Countess had been from natural causes. Now this would have to be checked.

  For the moment, he was struck by the situation he was in. Madness, really. Sitting with the aristocracy on one side and known criminals on the other. All of them seeking a common enemy. He shook his head.

  ‘Chief Inspector? Is there something you wish to add?’ asked Kit, observing Jellicoe.

  ‘What you’re proposing is, with respect of course, madness.’

  ‘Do you have an alternative plan?’

  Jellicoe looked up sharply at Kit. The tone had been harder than he deemed appropriate given the company they were in. It was clear that Kit was in no mood to apologise. It was equally clear that there was no alternative plan.

  The room was silent. All watched in fascination at the battle of wills between the two men. It was Father Vaughan who spoke next.

  ‘It’s a fair question, Chief Inspector. I think that the police should consider accepting help from whatever source is available. Especially if it means ending these vile crimes.’

  Jellicoe finally nodded. His reluctance was evident. Unspoken, however, was the inevitability of his giving way. Kit was working for the government in a matter that was potentially of national importance. Jellicoe knew there was little choice but to cooperate.

  ‘Then, if we are all in agreement, a cease fire will be in place. What we discuss going forward will not be used in the future against one another. Yes?’

  All around the table there were nods of agreement. Kit turned to Wag McDonald and Alice Diamond.

  ‘Your role will be pivotal in terms of information gathering.’

  The head of the Elephant Boys and the leader of the forty thieves looked at one another and then at Jellicoe. Alice Diamond cleared her throat. Looking directly at the Chief Inspector, she said, ‘With no come back on us. Right?’

  Everyone turned to Jellicoe. He nodded before adding a question.

  ‘How will you obtain this information?’

  Alice Diamond smiled. It would be fair to say the smile lacked a certain sunniness one associates with the smarter sex. The eyes were too shrewd, too knowing, too hard to allow such light to enter the dark, uncertain world where she lived.

  ‘Some of my girls are working in houses at the moment. My girls have friends, sisters, cousins in service. Quite a lot of people.’

  She looked up at Kit, who took over at this point.

  ‘Miss Diamond will be able to find out if any of the rich families where her associates have connections are exhibiting, shall we say, strange behaviour. This will be communicated directly to you, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘If I may ask, your lordship, what will your involvement be?’

  Kit smiled and replied, ‘Of course you have a right to know. I have a list of people. High ranking people. They may be able to shed light on one of the murders from 1908. As you will appreciate, I am not at liberty to say more than that. Anything that can be used to expedite this case will, naturally, be communicated to you immediately.’

  This was not a comfortable message to communicate. It felt too much like Kit was buttressing the conspiracy which had prevented news of these killings reaching the public.

  ‘As you may have surmised, Chief Inspector,’ said Kit, ‘we’ll need to understand more about the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, their members, what became of the splinter groups. I am certain Kell at MI5(g) will be able to help on this.’

  The meeting had reached a conclusion, albeit one that Jellicoe was visibly uncomfortable about. There were no farewells between the two sides. They left in silence. Only Kit and his party remained.

  The housekeeper appeared and asked if there was anything, she could bring the guests. Betty Simpson picked up the brandy glass and raised her eyebrows hopefully.

  ‘I think you’ve had quite enough, Betty, my dear,’ said Agatha.

  15

  The group arrived back at the Grosvenor Square residence around eight o’clock. The sound of jazz music danced up the stairs. Agatha and Natalie exchanged knowing looks which intrigued Kit. He glanced towards Mary who raised her eyebrows.

  ‘It sounds as if the party is underway then,’ said Kit. ‘Are Lady Esther and Dr Bright here?’

  ‘No, your lordship, they went out an hour ago to dinner.’

  ‘Shall I go down to Monsieur Fish and ask him to turn down the volume of the music?’ asked Natalie.

  Agatha shook her head and said, ‘No, I shall.’ The tone was soft, not harsh or condemnatory.

  This took Kit and Mary by surprise somewhat. Moments later they were alone in the room. They listened for a few seconds to the sound of Agatha’s footsteps descending the stairs.

  ‘Strange,’ said Kit.

  Moments later he felt a pair of arms around his neck. In such a situation, there is only one way for a gentleman to respond and Kit was nothing if not a gentleman. Duty required a prolonged display of his devotion although, in truth, Kit discharged his obligations with an equal if not greater enthusiasm than the object of his affection.

  ‘I was particularly interested in Father Vaughan’s point around the age of the women,’ said Mary some minutes later.

  ‘Picked up on that myself.’

  ‘Interesting, don’t you think?’

  ‘The only conclusion one can draw is that I am in a wonderful position to provide you with protection against all manner of evil spirits and wrongdoers.’

  ‘It will require a great forfeit on your part,’ said Mary.

  ‘You have my assurance that I would not be thinking of myself. Your safety is paramount.’

  The conversation was brought to a premature conclusion by the sound of the front door opening and footsteps outside in the hall. Richard and Esther entered the drawing room arm in arm, laughing.

  ‘You can’t stay out of trouble, by the sounds of it. Either of you, in fact,’ said Bright, smiling.

  Kit shrugged and acknowledged the truth of this. However, he was more interested in hearing about Bright’s plans.

  ‘I doubt I will be fixed up with anything before the new year. I’ve had my fill of being a locum. I’d like something more permanent now but definitely not Harley Street.’

  ‘I’m sure you could find a hospital to take you on.’

  Bright looked uncertain. The idea of working in a hospital had some appeal but it was a treadmill. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for the politics either and said as much.

  ‘I don’t want to sound like Mr Micawber, but I’m sure something will turn up.’

  In fact, the next thing to turn up was perhaps not what Micawber had in mind. Aunt Agatha bustled into the room. The music downstairs had stopped.

  ‘I say, Aunt Agatha, you didn’t have to ask Fish to stop listening to his gramophone,’ said Kit.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t. He’s taken to reading some of my detective books of late.’

  ‘How very elevating,’ said Kit with a grin.

  Agatha fixed him with a glare but did not deign to honour the slur with any form of reply. Instead, she returned to the business in hand.

  ‘What’s happening next?’

  Kit looked somewhat unhappy; a fact picked up by Mary.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’ll let you know tomorrow,’ replied Kit somewhat grimly. I have to be away first thing but then I thought we would head down to Bournemouth to see the Earl of Gresham. We can catch the midday train from Waterloo.’

  Agatha shook her head and said, ‘You and Mary will have to handle that. I want to stay here and get things going with Betty.’

  Kit and Mary looked at one another. This was something of a surprise and, if Kit read Mary right, which he certainly had, it presented all manner of considerations.

  ‘Of course, Natalie can accompany you,’ added Agatha, a h
eartbeat later.

  This put an end to the delightfully inappropriate train of thought that was travelling at runaway speed through the minds of the soon-to-be-married-but-not-soon-enough couple.

  ‘Great idea,’ said Kit with as much enthusiasm as he could muster which caused a coughing fit in Bright as he fought to contain his laughter.

  ‘Will you be able to cope without Natalie here?’ asked Mary, more in hope than expectation.

  Agatha’s expression was an exquisite combination of derision matched with no little sense of having been affronted.

  ‘Fish and I coped well enough this last decade. I see no reason why we can’t manage another day or two.’

  Having made her point, Agatha did what aunts tend to do in these situations. She spun around and made a grand exit.

  ‘And that’s told you, Mary,’ said Esther, wagging her finger. Then her face became more solemn. There was so much going through her mind and to utter what she was thinking would have seemed, at best, petty and, at worst, callous.

  Mary sensed the conflict within Esther and held her hand.

  ‘Don’t worry Essie. With Kit’s help I’ll have this case cracked and we can have a wonderful time enjoying your last few weeks of freedom.’

  ‘I hope that I can give you the support you need,’ said Kit nobly to his friend, Bright.

  ‘I’m sure you shall, old man,’ replied Bright. ‘However, I hope this last few weeks of freedom, as you call it, does not necessitate further nights out dancing at Dalton’s.’

  ‘You went to Dalton’s?’ The question from Kit was more accusatory than the tone or the smile that accompanied it.

  Mary smiled and shrugged innocently to Kit.

  ‘Maybe we’ll run into my new beau down in Bournemouth.’

  ‘I think the Honourable Mr Andrews would be best advised to stay clear,’ replied Kit. ‘I had Harry make some reservations at Highcliffe Mansions for us. We can use it as a base to see Gresham and the other name you managed to extract from Andrews, Mary.’

  ‘Well done Mary,’ said Esther.

  ‘Who is the other person in the area you’re going to see?’ asked Bright.

  Mary and Kit exchanged glances. The answer lay heavy on Kit’s heart.

  ‘The Earl of Hertwood,’ replied Kit. His face looked distant for a moment.

  ‘His name is familiar,’ said Bright. ‘Why do I know him?’

  ‘He’s Olly Lake’s father.’

  16

  ‘You knew and you didn’t tell me,’ said Kit, making no attempt to hide his anger.

  Mansfield Smith-Smith-Cumming smiled a disingenuous smile. He seemed genuinely amused by Kit’s reaction.

  ‘Of course, I knew. It’s my job.’

  ‘So why not tell me? Why have me waste my time?’ He was leaning over the table, glaring at “C”.

  ‘How else was I to know if you were the right man for the job?’

  This took the wind out of Kit’s sails somewhat. A problem of Kit’s, since childhood, had been his ability to hold both sides of an argument simultaneously in his head. The advantages tended to outweigh the disadvantages except in situations such as this. In fact, he genuinely felt at a loss on how to respond to the wily head of British Intelligence.

  Finally, for wont of anything more intelligent, he said, ‘So this was a job interview?’

  ‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. I must congratulate you, though. You pieced it together within two days.’

  ‘We’ve lost two days you mean.’

  ‘There’s been no further contact with our rather worried Secretary of War, so I’m unconcerned about any delay. Anyway, I gather that not only have you demonstrated some impressive powers of deduction; you seem to have assembled a rather unusual coalition. ‘

  ‘How did you know that? Are you having me followed?’

  Smith-Cumming shrugged benignly.

  ‘I understand I wasn’t the only one who had this idea,’ said Smith-Cumming.

  ‘I lost him.’

  ‘So, I gather. Thankfully, our man applied himself a little more assiduously to the task in hand.’

  This topic of discussion was now exhausted. The next topic was obvious.

  ‘May I ask what else you haven’t been telling me?’

  “C” handed Kit a folder. It was thicker than the original one. Kit picked it up and quickly leafed through it. Inside were all of the victims. The full horror began to soak through to Kit as he saw name after name. All young women. Some had photographs attached. A quick scan of their birthdates confirmed all were under the age of twenty- one. It looked remarkably similar to the one that Jellicoe brought the previous day.

  ‘How was something like this kept a secret? It dwarfs what Jack the Ripper did.’

  “C” removed his monocle and wiped it. Replacing it, he studied Kit.

  ‘An obvious analogy. Perhaps, there is some comparison, I warrant. As to why it has been kept secret, Kit, do you really need me to answer that?’

  Kit shook his head grimly. The answer was all too clear. Ostensibly there were practical considerations. A desire to avoid creating panic. An even greater desire to discourage copycat killings or the usual collection of fools wanting to confess. However, a more objectionable reason had long since risen in Kit’s mind.

  There was silence in the office. A bird landed on the windowsill and squawked. Both men turned to the bird and then back to one another. Smith-Cumming, like Kit, came from the upper reaches of society. His father was a banker. He’d married an heiress. The crimes they were investigating had been committed by people like them.

  ‘God forbid the lower orders should get wind of the fact that their betters are making a sport of their murder,’ said Kit.

  ‘Not quite how I would’ve put it, Kit,’ said “C”, ‘but essentially correct.’

  The two men regarded one another again. Mansfield Smith-Cumming made Russian dolls the very epitome of transparency. Evidently, Kit had been given all he would be given from “C”.

  ‘What is your plan?’

  Kit rose and walked towards the door. He stopped and turned around.

  ‘I’m going down to Bournemouth. Both Gresham and Hertwood live relatively close by.’

  ‘Hertwood,’ said “C” grimly. ‘That could be an awkward conversation. I gather he hasn’t shown his face at Sheldon’s since the beginning of the year.’

  ‘Can hardly blame him.’

  ‘Are you sure he’s not in league with his son?’

  ‘You tell me,’ replied Kit.

  Smith-Cumming laughed. It started as a bark but became more of a chuckle. He looked up at Kit warmly.

  ‘We don’t know if truth be told. I think it unlikely. We have a man keeping tabs on him, of course, should Olly Lake reappear. I’m not sure what sort of welcome you’ll have given that you unmasked his son as an anarchist.’

  ‘As it happens, I was thinking along similar lines. To this end, I do have one request to make.’

  ‘By all means. If I can help you, I shall.’

  It was one of Mansfield-Cummings great qualities that no one, even those with whom he disagreed, could ever feel angry with him for long. His reaction to Kit’s request was to laugh for several minutes. He was not alone in his laughter.

  -

  On his way down the stairs, Kit called in on ‘Spunky’ Stevens. His friend was gazing idly out of the window down onto the park. Kit walked up behind him and noted what his friend was staring at. The young lady in question was walking her dog.

  Accompanying her was a formidably forbidding older woman dressed in battle tweed. Her glare had already sent two men scurrying for cover having committed the heinous crime of doffing their hats.

  ‘I see her quite regularly at this time,’ said Spunky, sensing Kit’s presence.

  ‘Well defended, I see.’

  ‘Heavy armaments. I don’t think a frontal assault will yield success.’

  ‘It may need a flanking attack.’

  �
��Working on it,’ said Spunky turning around as the young lady and her mother-aunt-guardian disappeared from view.

  Kit showed Spunky the file “C” had given him. A unSpunky-like words followed which confirmed all of this was news to him. Kit believed him. It was entirely probable that “C” would have kept this information from Spunky. Kit mentioned the test “C” had put him through. This made Spunky laugh.

  ‘You know what the old boy is like. Wheels within wheels.’

  ‘I know too well,’ said Kit. ‘I’m surprised Dawn didn’t mention anything to you.’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s all finished now. She returned to her fiancé. The wedding’s in January.’

  It would be fair to say that Spunky was bearing up manfully to the end of his love affair, so Kit decided there was little point in showing sympathy.

  ‘Did you get an invitation?’

  ‘Funnily enough, no. I say, old chum, what have you got Aunt Betty working on? I called up yesterday evening and she tells me that she’s hand in glove with you on this case. Wasn’t exactly forthcoming on what. I have to say, old chum, you should really give a chap a bit of advance notice on these things. I felt like a damn fool.’

  ’Are you concerned?’

  ‘No, far from it. She and your aunt have probably forgotten more about this sort of thing than we’ll ever know.’

  Kit was surprised by this but had other things he wanted to speak to his friend about. He stayed for another ten minutes before heading downstairs and out onto Holland Park. He noted with some amusement that the object of Spunky’s attention was walking towards him. She was still accompanied by their Labrador and the older lady, who Kit judged to be a welterweight.

  For amusement, Kit nobly raised his hat to them both and was rewarded by a sweet smile and two scowls: one from the older woman and one, for good measure, from the dog. As they went by Kit glanced up to the third floor window of the Secret Intelligence Service villa. Spunky smiled down at him and saluted. Kit gave his friend the thumbs up, laughing as he did so.

  -

  Waterloo Station was still a building site for the most part. The station was situated on Waterloo South Bank, near the Thames. As he walked towards the entrance, Kit marvelled at how such a busy station could operate in what seemed to be chaos. The construction of the victory arch entrance was still incomplete forcing Kit to take another route into the main station.