‘What about Mrs Culverton?’
‘I’ll have to talk to her again,’ agreed Rackham. ‘D’you know, looking back, I think she might have been trying to tell me what Culverton was like. I didn’t see it at the time but now, now we know something, certain remarks of hers don’t half chime in.’
‘So you think I’m right about our Alexander?’
Rackham nodded slowly. ‘It explains things, doesn’t it? It’s not proof but it explains things. I think you’re on to something. Are you going to stay and talk to Lloyd?’
Jack glanced at his watch. ‘As a matter of fact, I think I’d better get back to Eden Street. George isn’t up to staying out too late yet. Nigel Lassiter should be there, if that’s any help. Old Mr Lassiter was telephoning him as we left.’
‘In that case,’ said Rackham, ‘that’s one more place to visit. Look, what are you doing for the rest of the evening? If you’re not busy I wouldn’t mind calling round.’
‘Be my guest,’ said Jack. ‘If you don’t mind cold grub, you can eat with me if you like.’
‘Thanks, Jack. I can’t imagine I’ll have time for dinner anywhere else. I’ll see you later on.’
Chapter Five
It was gone ten o’clock by the time Rackham made it to Chandos Row. ‘I haven’t eaten a thing since lunchtime,’ he said, drawing his chair up to the table and loading his plate with the cheese, bread, cold sausage and pickles Jack had left out for him. ‘I’m starving. I’ve been knuckling down to it tonight and no mistake,’ he added, between mouthfuls. ‘I talked to Gilchrist Lloyd again, then I went to the Mulciber. I saw Culverton’s valet, then the porter who was on duty in the lobby the night Culverton went west, before I went on to Eden Street.’ He looked round the room. ‘Where’s your pal, Lassiter, by the way?’
Jack jerked his thumb at the door of the spare room. ‘He’s gone to bed. This was his first day up and about and the poor beggar was all in. He was wiped out by the time I got back to Eden Street, so we made our apologies and came back here.’
‘How’s he getting on with his new-found family?’
‘Pretty well. He and his grandfather obviously hit it off. When his grandfather understood he was well and truly broke, he gave him a fair old chunk of money to see him through.’
‘Lucky George,’ commented Rackham.
‘Well, he really didn’t have a bean and it’s not a straightforward gift. As George is being drafted into the firm, he insisted on treating the money as an advance on his wages. That pleased his granddad, I could tell. He’s taken a real shine to Anne Lassiter, as well. I liked her, too. Neither of us saw much of David Lassiter but he seems all right. The only one we didn’t meet was Nigel Lassiter, the chap who had dinner with Culverton.’
‘Nigel Lassiter, eh?’ said Rackham, meaningfully. ‘Well, I don’t want to do down your friend’s family, but I wouldn’t pay you in washers for Nigel Lassiter.’
Jack looked at him, his head to one side. ‘Why not?’
Rackham speared a piece of sausage. ‘He’s one of the awkward squad and no mistake. He told me he couldn’t see it was any of my business what Culverton had for dinner. He’s been knocked sideways by Culverton’s death but he couldn’t give a damn who killed him. You’ll probably come across him at some stage. Let me know what you think, but I’d be surprised if your opinion was very different from mine.’
‘I’m going to come across him tomorrow, I imagine. George and I have been invited for lunch and, as it’s Saturday, I suppose all the family will be there. I’m not sorry to have the chance to meet them. You know I told you about George’s missing legacy? Well, he’s got his birth certificate.’
‘Has he, by Jove?’ said Rackham, adding a pickled egg to his plate.
‘Yes. It was in the desk in the library at Eden Street, together with a lot of other family papers. Anne Lassiter looked it out for him. Now, George was told that the legacy was claimed from South Africa on the strength of that certificate.’
Rackham ate thoughtfully for a few moments. ‘What are you saying? That someone used George’s birth certificate to snaffle the loot?’
‘Either that or the certificate the solicitors saw was forged.’
‘Can a birth certificate be forged?’
Jack shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. The details would have to be correct, of course, but they’re all on record at Somerset House. All a certificate is, when you come down to it, is an extract from the register. Anyone who pays a shilling can take a dekko, which isn’t a bad investment when there’s forty-six thousand pounds in the offing.’
‘How would anyone know there’s that amount of money up for grabs?’
‘They might not know,’ said Jack. ‘However, the advert was in the South African press, and it’s fairly obvious there must be something to gain. It might be sheer speculation or someone at the solicitors may be on the make or it might have been someone who knew George’s mother and realized she had a fair old bit to leave.’
Rackham finished the rest of his supper and pushed his plate away. ‘Thanks for that, Jack. It was just what I needed.’ He stood up and took his pipe from his pocket. ‘Look, you’d better get Lassiter to call in at Scotland Yard to make a formal complaint. I’ll leave a note that it’s to be referred to me.’ He covered a yawn with his hand. ‘I’ve got my work cut out with the Culverton case but I’ll make time to go and see the solicitors on Monday.’
‘Thanks, Bill. I couldn’t get a damn thing out of Mr Marchbolt. He was very frosty.’
‘I’ll use the strong arm of the Law,’ said Rackham with a grin. ‘An official warrant card works wonders.’
Jack poured out two glasses of whisky, gave one to Rackham and put the tobacco jar on the table between them. ‘So what did you find out about Culverton?’ he asked, sitting down in an armchair. ‘Could his valet suggest where he might have gone in his carefully de-labelled clothes?’
Rackham sighed in irritation. ‘That valet could give two short planks a run for their money. You know you said he might be a bit dim? Absolutely, he was. I asked him why Culverton had taken the tabs off his evening clothes and he told me he’d never thought to enquire. He knew about them, right enough. He’d call at the office, collect the used linen and valet the suits, but he never wondered why the tabs had been removed. He showed me Culverton’s dressing room at the Mulciber. It was as lavishly furnished as the one at the office but the evening wear in the wardrobe had all its tabs intact.’
Jack nodded. ‘That bears out my theory in a way. He changed at the Mulciber when he was going to a respectable function. Could Gilchrist Lloyd shed any light on the mystery?’
‘No. He knew Culverton frequently changed at the office but he didn’t know anything about his evening clothes. I’ll tell you something, though. He wasn’t remotely surprised that Culverton could have had a private life, as I delicately put it.’
‘I wonder if that’s an angle you could try? If Culverton was a bit of a philanderer then he might have caused some trouble with the female servants or office staff.’
‘Mr Lloyd didn’t say anything,’ said Rackham doubtfully. ‘I think you might be right about a dodgy club. Culverton was a well-known man and his picture got into the papers often enough to worry him if he was trying to keep his identity a secret.’ He frowned. ‘Mrs Culverton knows something, I’m sure of it. She was very much on her guard.’
‘Do you really think she might be guilty? I know you floated the possibility earlier.’
‘And you didn’t like it one bit.’ Rackham smiled. ‘Well, relax, Jack. She didn’t do it. On Wednesday the 31st, the day she left Culverton, she went to see Anne Lassiter. Both old Mr Lassiter and Mrs Lassiter bear that out. Mrs Culverton stayed at Eden Street for a while, then she and Mrs Lassiter went to her flat in Kensington. Anne Lassiter stayed with her until after midnight.’
‘So she’s got an alibi, has she?’ asked Jack, reaching for the tobacco jar.
‘Yes. What’s more, old Mr Lassiter spo
ke to Anne after she got back. Apparently he’s a bit of a night owl and, although he phrased this quite carefully, he was obviously agog to find out exactly what was going on between Mrs Culverton and her husband.’ Jack stuck a match and lit his pipe, frowning over the smoke. ‘What’s the matter? I thought you’d be pleased that Mrs Culverton’s out of it.’
‘Well, I am,’ agreed Jack. ‘It’s just that I thought your reasoning was pretty good. You know, about it being a brutal crime an’ all so therefore we wouldn’t suspect a woman. By the way, how come Mrs Culverton and Anne Lassiter are such friends? I mean, there’s no reason why they shouldn’t be, but Mrs Culverton’s a good deal older than Anne Lassiter.’
‘I wondered that, too,’ said Rackham. ‘Apparently they nursed together in the war and always kept in touch. Mrs Culverton was very good to Anne after Thomas, her husband, died. Mrs Lassiter told me that she always thought of her as an older sister. Be that as it may, I’m sure Mrs Culverton knows something. What I find frustrating is that she won’t even hint at why she left Culverton. She just states she did and that’s that.’
‘Perhaps I’m right about his philandering tendencies. Wouldn’t that be enough reason?’
Rackham frowned. ‘It might. I’m not sure that’s the top and bottom of it, though. However,’ he added with a shrug, ‘her alibi’s borne out by Mrs Lassiter and I can’t believe Mrs Lassiter would be involved in murder. She didn’t strike me as the type.’
‘No,’ said Jack with certainty. ‘Me neither.’
‘Nigel Lassiter, on the other hand, struck me as the sort who’d murder his own grandmother if she got in the way.’
‘You really didn’t like him, did you?’ said Jack with a grin.
‘He rubbed me up the wrong way, the arrogant devil. I don’t think he’d have condescended to speak to me at all if it wasn’t for Dr Maguire.’
‘Is that the same bloke who had dinner with Culverton the night he was killed? What was he doing there?’
‘He’s a friend of Nigel’s and informally engaged to Anne Lassiter.’
‘Is he, by Jove?’
‘That’s right. I’m not sure about Maguire. He’s a bit smooth. Having said that, he’s a Harley Street psychiatrist, so I suppose he has to be fairly smooth. He was ready enough to answer my questions, though. Interestingly, he’d been Culverton’s doctor when he was in general practice. He couldn’t tell me a lot about Culverton but he kept Nigel on this side of politeness – just.’
‘I don’t suppose Nigel is a possibility, is he?’ Jack asked hopefully. ‘For bumping off Culverton, I mean.’
Rackham laughed. ‘Unfortunately, no. That’s a big no. I don’t suppose he gives tuppence about Culverton, as such, but it’s given him a real headache as regards his aeroplane. Apart from that, he’s got an alibi. He came home after the dinner at the Mulciber and talked to his father about something called stringers, whatever they are.’
‘They’re part of the innards of a wing,’ said Jack.
‘Well, he’s got problems with them. Apparently that’s what the dinner in the Mulciber was about. Culverton agreed to fund the extra work Nigel needed to put in on them. And that, even more than his alibi, is why he’s such a big no. Nigel Lassiter’s obsessed with his seaplane and was depending on Culverton’s support to finance it. Maguire’s one of Nigel’s investors too, but very small beer compared to Culverton. He only has five thousand or so invested in it.’
‘Only five thousand?’ Jack’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Good God, Bill, when did you join the plutocracy? Five thousand isn’t chicken feed, you know.’
Rackham grinned. ‘You haven’t heard the rest of it yet. I confirmed how much Dr Maguire had at stake with old Mr Lassiter. He’s a nice old boy, isn’t he? I asked him about the costs of the seaplane as I wanted to know just how heavily Culverton was involved. Apparently he brassed up about eighty thousand.’
‘Eighty thousand? No wonder Mr Lloyd wanted to talk to Mrs Culverton about the future of the firm. Culverton put in eighty thousand? That’s unbelievable. I always thought air travel was too expensive.’
‘Mr Lassiter thought Culverton had used his wife’s money. She was a very rich woman before she married. I don’t know if she’s very rich now. Apparently her father was one of the original investors in Wisemann and Levy’s, the New York store. He never touched the income and it built up for years at compound interest. He was worth well over two hundred thousand.’
‘What?’ Jack shook his head disbelievingly. ‘But she was a nurse. By golly, I wish she’d nursed me.’
‘She’s too old for you,’ said Rackham with a laugh.
‘I could age very convincingly,’ muttered Jack.
‘Anyway,’ continued Rackham, ‘Mr Lassiter told me all this to fill in the background. There’s no two ways about it, Culverton’s death has left Lassiter’s in a real hole. You said you met David Lassiter?’
‘Yes. I liked him. I got the impression he’s the one who really controls the firm.’
‘So did I. He bore out everything his father said. He thinks Culverton’s death has more or less kicked the seaplane into touch. They’re finding things difficult anyway and he can’t see why Peggy Culverton should invest in the seaplane as no one’s going to offer her a directorship in any state airline, whatever she does. He’s a very worried man.’
‘Poor beggar.’ Jack put down his pipe. ‘To get back to our own concerns for the moment, I don’t suppose either Nigel Lassiter or Dr Maguire can suggest where Culverton went after they left him at the Mulciber?’
‘They haven’t a clue, or so they say. The only thing which did strike me as not quite right was Dr Maguire’s expression when I asked him what he did for the rest of the evening. He said he went on to the Continental. That’s a restaurant off Northumberland Avenue with a well-frequented bar and dancing and so on. Now, there’s nothing wrong with the Continental, as far as I know, but he looked me straight in the eye as he said it. It made me wonder if he really did go there. He didn’t like the question, I could tell. It’s something and nothing but you never know. If he’s not telling the truth, it might just lead us to this club of Culverton’s.’
‘That’d be a handy short-cut. I bet you’re right about his expression, Bill. That sort of impression is difficult to put into words but fairly unmistakable. What time did they leave?’
‘About nine. I checked that at the Mulciber and it’s right. The porter remembered it as he had a cable for Mr Culverton.’
‘A cable?’ asked Jack with sharpened interest.
‘Yes. Culverton came into the lobby with Maguire and Nigel Lassiter just as the porter was about to send one of the staff to look for him. Culverton said goodbye to the two men, and the porter, who hadn’t wanted to interrupt, gave him the cable after they’d gone. I’ll get a copy of it, but I think it must have been from Paris. Culverton read it and obviously wasn’t very pleased. He wrote a note to Lloyd, as we know. Lloyd showed me the note. Culverton ordered the porter to post it in the Late Fee box so it would arrive next morning. Then he went back into the club and had a drink at the bar. He left the Mulciber about quarter to ten or thereabouts. He didn’t have a taxi so the porter couldn’t tell me where he was going.’
Jack frowned. ‘You say the cable arrived at the Mulciber? But . . .’ He broke off and drank his whisky perplexedly. ‘That doesn’t make sense. Culverton wrote Paris in his appointment diary, didn’t he? But he wrote it in the space for Wednesday, not Thursday, when he should have flown out.’
‘Maybe he got the wrong day,’ said Rackham, puzzled by his friend’s intensity. ‘It’s an easy enough mistake.’
‘So when did he write it? We assumed he knew he was going to Paris before he left the office but he didn’t.’
Rackham stared. ‘That’s a thought,’ he said slowly. ‘Maybe he had to go back to the office to pick up some papers.’
Jack got up and stood beside the mantelpiece. ‘So why post the letter to Lloyd?’
‘He could
have only worked out he needed the papers or whatever after he’d sent the letter.’
‘That’s true,’ agreed Jack. ‘Damn! That might be it. Could you ask Lloyd if there’s any way of telling if Culverton came back to the office that night? Any papers which should be there that aren’t?’
‘I’ll ask him, certainly,’ agreed Rackham, ‘but what’s the point? If he added Paris to his diary he must have gone back to the office.’ He stared sightlessly into the fireplace. ‘This is a beggar of a case, Jack. Culverton left the Mulciber about quarter to ten and was killed before midnight. If he went back to the office there’s not much time for him to have gone anywhere else. It’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘It’s damned odd,’ agreed Jack. ‘I wonder where the dickens he got to?’
The next morning Jack and George went to Scotland Yard where, armed with his birth certificate, George made an official complaint about his missing legacy. That was followed by a visit to Butler and Furness, the gentlemen’s outfitters. Next on the agenda was lunch at Eden Street. It made a pleasant change, thought Jack, as he rang the bell at number 19, to see his friend in clothes that actually fitted. He was about to say as much when he noticed how apprehensive George seemed. ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
George adjusted the lapels of his new jacket. ‘Nothing, really,’ he said with a sigh. ‘It’s just that coming here still feels odd, and it’s even odder to think this is my family’s house. I’m looking forward to meeting my Uncle Nigel, though. Everyone seemed a bit iffy about him yesterday but if he’s anything like my grandfather and Uncle David, he should be all right.’
Jack, too, was looking forward to meeting Uncle Nigel, but, with Bill Rackham’s comments firmly in mind, he lacked George’s optimism.
As if by Magic Page 9
