The Murder in Torquay (A Jules Poiret Mystery Book 9)

by Frank Howell Evans

  He led the young woman out of the house, followed by the others. As she clung to Poiret’s arm, Haven thought of a wolf leading a sheep to the slaughter. But who was who? The detective who could be both charming and coldly calculating or the master criminal, both lovely and ruthless?

  When Captain Haven woke up the next morning and went downstairs for his usual morning coffee and newspaper, he was told by the hotel clerk that he was urgently wanted by Mister Poiret at Villa Argyle. Haven drove as fast as he could to the villa. From the outside it looked like a fortress. There were policemen and police cars everywhere. Haven walked hastily inside and found Poiret in the blue salon giving directions to a policeman carrying a chair.

  “I say, Poiret,” said Haven, “What for heaven’s sake is going on?”

  “Ah, Haven,” said Poiret, “Un moment, s’il vous plait. All will be explained soon.” He looked around the room. In a half circle stood the sofa and several chairs set up facing the fireplace. “C’est bon,” he said contently in the tone of someone organizing a small, happy get-together for friends.

  At that moment Inspector Watkins and Inspector Edgar came in. “The guests are here, Poiret. We’re ready, when you are,” said Watkins. Poiret pushed Haven unceremoniously against the unlit fire place. “Haven, please to stand here. To keep out the eye, oui?” Before Haven could object, Poiret signaled to Inspector Watkins and said, “Poiret, he is ready for the truth.”

  Inspector Watkins walked to the door and screamed, “Bring them in!” Two policemen brought in Morgan and Evelyn Marysville. Both were in handcuffs and resisted. Poiret asked the policemen to seat them on the sofa. After pushing the prisoners down on the sofa, the policemen walked behind the sofa and stood guard.

  At that moment Baronet Reece-Jones walked in and saw Poiret. “Mister Poiret,” he said, “What’s the meaning of all this?” Poiret raised his hands. Reece-Jones then saw the two prisoners and almost fainted. “Are they the robbers?” he said, “Where is Miss Rosette?” He flung at the two prisoners, but was held back from doing any harm by Inspector Watkins and the policemen in the salon. “We’ll have none of that,” said Inspector Watkins sternly, “Get a hold of yourself!”

  “Where is Miss Rosette?” Reece-Jones asked again and looked almost beggingly at Poiret. Before Poiret had a chance to speak Rosette walked through the door and the two young lovers fell into each other’s arms and she basked in the warmth of his body against hers. Poiret looked at them with a fatherly smile.

  “Where have you been?” asked Reece-Jones at last. Before she could answer Poiret separated the two and sat them down on the chairs next to the sofa. “There will be time for questions later,” he said gently.

  At that moment the maid, Harriette Carter walked in, followed by the policewoman in a nurse’s uniform. “Mademoiselle Carter, please to sit there.” Poiret pointed at a chair on the other side of the sofa. The maid looked at the spot where her former employer had been lying dead not more than 48 hours ago and walked past the two in handcuffs without making eye contact or showing any emotion. She sat down on the chair and put her purse on her lap.

  “We are complete,” said Poiret, “Now, like in a good cinema movie it is the time to see the closing credits.” He looked around imperiously. “Poiret, he will tell to you the names and what role each actor, he plays in this horrible affair.”

  He turned to Evelyn Marysville and her driver, Morgan. “You are no lady as Mrs. Bennington, she was told by you and you are not just her driver. You are the well-known jewel thieves from Wootton. Your finger prints, they have told that to us. Now you have added murder to your crimes and for that you shall hang.”

  The two thieves from Wootton, thus plainly told what was awaiting them screamed and could only with much force by the policemen guarding them be kept seated on the sofa.

  “Poiret, he knows from the start that to resolve this case he must not look at it as a murder case, but as a robbery. Then he asks himself. Is this a planned robbery or a robbery of opportunity? The maid, so horribly treated by the villains, gives us the answer.” Poiret bows to the maid. “She tells to us of the presence of Lady Marysville and the man, who put a cloth with the chloroform on her face and knocked her out, so to say. After Mademoiselle Carter wakes up, gone is Lady Marysville, gone is the man and gone is Mademoiselle Rosette. Poiret, he knows this is a robbery meticulously planned.” He turned to Haven. “Then we come to the second question, Captain Haven.”

  Haven leaning his arm on the mantelpiece thought for a second, then opened his mouth, but before he could talk, Poiret turned back facing the others and said, “Was there the inside man in Lady Charingbridge’s household, lying in wait to stab the Mistress in the back?” Poiret looked sternly at Rosette Dereham.

  “Wait a minute!” said Reece-Jones.

  Poiret did not engage him and walked to the other side of the room. “Lady Charingbridge is murdered in this salon, before the thieves find the jewels. That means they know where the jewels are. They do not need her alive to tell them where the jewels are. Who told this information to Evelyn Marysville and Morgan? Who knows where the jewels are? The maid, who is chloroformed and left behind, discarded like unwanted trash or the new woman in Lady Charingbridge’s life, who leaves with the murderers after their heinous crime?”

  Poiret slowly walked to Rosette. “A young woman from nowhere. Who knows the art of deception.”

  “Poiret!” said Reece-Jones.

  “Who knows how to pull the strings of the heart of an old woman grieving for her deceased daughter.”

  “Poiret!” said Reece-Jones again as Poiret came closer to Rosette.

  “Who knows how to turn her knowledge of spiritualism into money. Who is not happy being given money and decides to take it all and commit murder.”

  Poiret’s face was now only inches from Rosette’s face. She burst out crying. Reece-Jones stood up, “Poiret! You and me. Outside. Now.”

  Poiret slowly raised his head and his five foot three inches were a head smaller than Reece-Jones’s size. He took his glasses from his pocket, slowly put them on and looked at the Baronet from toe to top. There his gaze rested on the face of the man, who had challenged him.

  Inspector Watkins, Inspector Edgar and Captain Haven moved a bit closer, ready to intervene. Then Poiret smiled. He took his glasses off, put them back in his pocket and bowed down and took Rosette’s hand in his own and tapped on it with his other hand. “Poiret, he knows your heart is pure. He knows you have nothing to do with this murder, Mademoiselle. He knows you were drugged that dark night, with the sleeping pills.”

  Rosette smiled thankfully through her tears. Baronet Reece-Jones slowly sat down again. Haven leaned his elbow back on the mantelpiece. Inspector Edgar gave a sign to his men to stand down.

  “The men at the road block, they remember a rich, young man, he is driving, a red-head, she is singing to the radio and a blonde woman, she is sleeping on the back seat.”

  “That’s right,” said Inspector Edgar.

  “Poiret, he now sees clear the scenario. Lady Charingbridge, she is dead. Mademoiselle Rosette, she is drugged. The thieves they cannot find the jewelry. They take Mademoiselle Rosette with them to find out the hiding place.”

  “I say!” Haven exclaimed.

  “That is why Poiret, he knows, we have to act fast, when the newspapers, they tell of the discovery of the jewels. The thieves, they no longer need Mademoiselle Rosette.”

  “There’s your motive for two counts of attempted murder,” said Inspector Watkins to Evelyn and Morgan, “Not that it will add much, with a sentence for murder already hanging over your heads.”

  “I say, Poiret,” said Captain Haven innocently, “If Miss Dereham is not the inside man, who is?”

  Poiret turned to face Haven. “That is the excellent question, mon ami. Congratulations.” He took Haven’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. Haven accepted the congratulations happily.

  “Who then? Mademoiselle Harriette Carter of cours
e,” continued Poiret.

  Over Poiret’s shoulder Haven saw Miss Carter stand up, shake her head from side to side, then get pulled back into her chair by the policewoman sitting next to her.

  “Harriette?” whispered Rosette.

  “Oui!” said Poiret without turning.

  “How do you know that?” asked Captain Haven.

  “Quoi?” asked Poiret indignant.

  “Where’s your proof?”

  “Ah!” Poiret’s face lit up. “My dear Haven, you make the progress parabolique. Again Poiret, he congratulates you.” Poiret turned and faced the maid. “The proof, where is the proof? The proof, it is in the pudding.” Poiret laughed at his bon-mot. He was the only one. The others stared at him in silent expectation and dread.

  “The proof, it is in the bag.” Poiret pointed at the hand bag, which Harriette had been holding all the time on her lap. Harriette shook her head and grabbed the bag tightly.

  “Policewoman, if you please.”

  It took some energy from the policewoman, before Harriette was willing to loosen her grip on the bag. Poiret took it and went through it like a badger through a trash bin. He held up a pot of face cream and gave the handbag to Inspector Watkins, who gave it to Inspector Edgar, who gave it to Captain Haven, who had no one to pass it to and decided to hold it.

  Poiret put his hand in the cream and out came two earrings, which he held in the air like a trophy.

  “Good Heavens, Rosette’s earrings. How did you know?” Haven shouted.

  “At the Villa Argyle, we all noticed the pot of cream missing.”

  “But you said no pot of cream was missing,” said Haven, frowning.

  “Poiret, he lies,” said Poiret impishly, “But so do you, Mademoiselle Carter and that is why Poiret, he catches you.”

  Poiret put the cream and the earrings back in the pot and gave it to Inspector Watkins, who gave it to Inspector Edgar and wiped his hands together to get rid of the cream on his hands. Inspector Edgar gave the pot to Captain Haven and wiped his hands together to get rid of the cream on his hands. Captain Haven put the pot in the handbag and looked around for something to wipe his hand. Seeing nothing, he smeared it on his face.

  “You lie, Mademoiselle Carter about how this mysterious visitor Evelyn, she looks like. You say she is small and she has the black hair. Poiret, he finds the hairs that are red on the chair, where the lady, she is sitting. Poiret, he measures the footprints in the garden and sees immediately that the footprints, they can only be made by a woman, who is very tall. Your lies, they show your guilt.”

  Harriette’s eyes looked at the door, but before she could move the policewoman had already put her in handcuffs.

  “What you’re saying is not true. I’m innocent. I am. Please let me go,” she said.

  “Again, Poiret, the greatest detective in the world, he solves the crime. He catches the murderer.” Poiret pointed at Morgan. “And he catches the two female accomplices to murder.” Poiret pointed at Evelyn and Harriette. “And he catches three robbers.” He pointed at the three of them.

  “Well done,” said Haven and applauded. Poiret accepted the admiration with a shy smile and bowed. Inspector Watkins gave the policemen standing guard a sign and they grabbed Evelyn and Morgan and lead them out of the salon. The policewoman pulled Harriette Carter out of the chair. Haven walked to Reece-Jones and shook his hand. “Congratulations, old chap. Now you and Miss Dereham can get married thanks to Mister Poiret. The best detective in the world.”

  Harriette screamed and flung herself towards Reece-Jones. It took the policewoman and a male colleague to hold her back.

  “You know nothing,” she screamed at Poiret, “You’re the worst detective in the world. He killed the Mistress, not Morgan, you ignorant Frog.”

  Haven looked at her and then at Poiret with open mouth. He expected Poiret to defend himself and put the disgraced maid in her place, but Poiret was silent. Reece-Jones took Rosette’s hand and was about to walk to the door. “I’m not going to dignify this felon, by listening to her any longer. Come on Rosette.”

  “This time she tells the truth,” said Poiret with a tired voice.

  “Wait a minute, Poiret,” said Inspector Watkins, “You can’t go around calling a man of Baronet Reece-Jones’s standing a murderer without proof. He’s a blue blood, after all. Although with your country’s history, that may not mean a lot to you, it does in this country.”

  Poiret took Mrs. Bennington’s letter out of his pocket and read, “Morgan, the driver opened the door.” Poiret raised his head and looked at Reece-Jones. He continued, “In other words, Morgan, he was never at the Villa Argyle to murder Lady Charingbridge. Morgan, he was not in Torquay to murder poor Mrs. Bennington. Morgan, he does not have debts all over Torquay, as the casino and the hotel have informed Poiret. Morgan, he was not engaged to Mademoiselle Carter, before Mademoiselle Rosette became the new heir apparent of Lady Charingbridge and her huge wealth. Morgan, he did not know that we had found the jewels. Baronet Jack Reece-Jones, he did.”

  Haven now for the first time understood the reason of Poiret’s conversation during their luncheon with the Baronet. Saying the police were watching out for any communication from Torquay to Southampton. He was putting Reece-Jones on his guard, he was immobilising him; with a subtle skill he was forcing him to isolate himself. And he was doing it deliberately to save the life of Rosette Dereham in Southampton.

  “No, Jack, tell me it’s not true,” begged Rosette.

  “It is true,” said Harriette, “Don’t waste your tears on him. Before you there was me. He wanted me, until Lady Charingbridge made you her favorite and he lost interest in me.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve had enough of this panto. Come on, Rosette.”

  He couldn’t move as Inspector Watkins and Inspector Edgar stood in his way.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said getting red in the face.

  Watkins handcuffed him.

  “I never had anything. I just wanted to be his wife. Is that so wrong?” said the maid.

  Poiret did not want to look at her. “You could’ve been Mrs. Anybody. But you wanted to be Lady Reece-Jones. You were not happy with silver, you longed for the gold. You tried, you slipped and you fell. Poiret, he cannot help you. His role, it has been played out.” Poiret raised his hands in the air and bowed.

  The former maid and the former Etonian in good standing were led out of the salon by the police officers.

  The salon was eerily empty, except for Captain Haven, Poiret and Rosette Dereham. She was sitting on the chair, where a minute ago she was holding her fiancé Jack Reece-Jones tightly, looking forward to a bright future. Now she was crying.

  Poiret took her hand and spoke quietly to her, “Poiret, he tells to you, Mademoiselle, do not lose heart!”

  “You saved me again,” she said quietly. Poiret slowly pulled her up out of her chair.

  “If I knew you better,” she said to Poiret, now standing in front of him, “I should tell you—what, of course, I do not tell you now.”

  Haven could clearly hear her vulnerability at that moment. Not merely had Poiret saved her life. She was lying with all her world of trust and illusion broken around her, and Poiret had raised her up.

  “Mademoiselle Rosette,” said Poiret, and his voice told her that he was moved, “that is a very pretty thing which you have said to Poiret. If you knew him better, he should tell to you—what, of course, he does not tell to you now.”

  And in his mind he added: “God forgive me for the lies.” He shook her hand and let it go. Rosette took her handkerchief and cleaned her eyes. Haven picked up her cloak and slipped it on her shoulders. Then she touched her hat and seemed to hesitate. She turned to Poiret; unconsciously familiar words rose to her lips. “Is it straight?” she asked. And Poiret laughed outright, and suddenly Rosette smiled herself. She left the room.

  “Will she be alright?” asked Haven.

  “Mademoiselle Rosette,
she is the tough young lady. She will be alright. Especially as Lady Charingbridge, she has left her a small legacy in her will. She has left Mademoiselle Carter the legacy too, but she will not be able to collect on it.”

  “But I am in a maze,” Haven cried. “My head turns round. There is something I just don’t understand.”

  Poiret stood in front of Haven, smiling. He was not displeased with his companion’s bewilderment; it was all the more glory to himself.

  “Baronet Reece-Jones was with us all the time. When was the first time you suspected him?”

  “It is standard procedure for the police to ask for questions at the casino after jewels, they are stolen. They find out who has the debts, who is in the desperate need of the money, who paid the bills or who all of the sudden has a lot of money to play at the gambling tables.”

  Captain Haven was silent for a moment.

  “Poiret, he is glad, mon cher Haven, for the sake of Mademoiselle Rosette that he came to your amusing Whist tournament in London.”

  Poiret bowed with a smile and walked away. Captain Harry Haven looked at him. A little man. A great detective.

  THE END

  The Jules Poiret Mystery Series

  Jules Poiret in The Murder of Lady Malvern

  Jules Poiret in Lord Hammershield dies

  Jules Poiret in Sir Alexander dies

  Jules Poiret and The Brighton Bounder

  Jules Poiret in The Murder in Torquay

  Silent Rivers Bleed

  The House of Cards Came Tumbling Down

  Jules Poiret in Secrets

  Peril

  The Calico Cat