As if by Magic

by Dolores Gordon-Smith

  There was silence for a few moments, then Rackham looked up. ‘Sorry, Jack. My temper’s a bit the worse for wear. You made a perfectly reasonable suggestion. The answer is, we simply don’t know.’ He nodded at the newspaper Jack had left on the table, searching for another topic. ‘Talking of Lassiter’s,’ he said, after a short pause, ‘there’s been a fair old bit of ballyhoo about them in the papers recently. Everyone seems to be getting very wound up about this dinner on the aircraft. You’re not invited by any chance, are you?’

  Jack shook his head. ‘Me? Not an earthly. George tells me that the guests are very important people indeed, people they hope might actually buy the plane.’ He got to his feet and picked his hat up from the chair beside him. ‘Talking of dinner, are you still joining me for a bite to eat at the club tonight?’

  ‘Curry at the Young Services? Absolutely. I’ll call for you about seven o’clock. Is your pal George coming too?’

  ‘He certainly is,’ said Jack, doing up the buckle on his Burberry. ‘I wouldn’t mind a night out with George. I’ve neglected him a bit recently, what with buzzing out to clubs and . . . Well, after we did our Tarzan act at the factory, it’s got better, but I’ve been feeling a bit iffy about George. Things aren’t as they should be.’

  ‘Really? In what way?’

  ‘He bothers me.’ Jack frowned. ‘It’s a bit hard to explain. I keep trying not to let it matter but it does, you know. The thing is, Stella Aldryn called on him the other Saturday morning, the day we went to the Continental. I was out at the time, but I knew she’d been because she left her coffee cup with lipstick on it on the table. When I saw her later, I asked her if she’d been round and she admitted it.’

  ‘And?’ asked Rackham.

  ‘Well, she’d asked George not to mention it. Now that’s perfectly reasonable, because as she was well aware, people would talk if was known she’d been alone with him in his rooms.’

  ‘They’d have to be pretty stuffy in this day and age. Saturday night, perhaps, but not Saturday morning.’

  Jack smiled distractedly. ‘Sin only occurs in the hours of darkness, you mean? Anyway, she wanted it kept quiet.’ He shrugged. ‘Fair enough. It’s her business, after all. The point is, George flatly denied she’d been. Even after I’d told him she’d admitted it, he wouldn’t have it. He swore blind neither she nor anyone else had called and I don’t like it.’

  ‘That’s very peculiar,’ said Rackham with a frown. ‘I can see him not wanting to make a song and dance about it, but why shouldn’t he tell you? Especially if you knew already.’ He sat down, looking at his friend’s worried face. ‘It’s bothering you, isn’t it? Why? Because he won’t own up to the truth?’

  Jack nodded. ‘That’s exactly it. The thing is, Bill, he seems so painfully honest.’

  ‘So did Anne Lassiter,’ commented Rackham drily.

  ‘Yes, but she had a reason for telling bouncers. There isn’t any reason for George to lie. What’s more, he isn’t embarrassed or evasive about it, as if he was covering up for Miss Aldryn out of misplaced loyalty. It’s as if it never happened. It’s just . . . well, nuts.’

  There was an unconscious emphasis in the last word. Rackham looked up sharply. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? You’re wondering if he’s quite all there, aren’t you?’

  Jack wriggled in irritation. ‘He doesn’t seem nuts,’ he protested. ‘Yet it’s either that or he’s not the man I thought.’

  Rackham let his breath out in a long sigh. ‘I can see why it’s getting to you. Look, the easiest explanation is that Miss Aldryn told him not to mention it and that’s exactly what he’s doing. However, you’ve thought of that. So what’s left?’ He tapped his fingers on the desk. ‘Dishonesty, which you don’t think squares with his character, or some form of insanity.’ Jack winced. ‘I know you don’t like that either, Jack, but he does seem prone to this sort of thing. First of all there was his dead girl in the kitchen – admittedly he was ill – but then there was the cat on the roof at the factory. You don’t believe there was a cat there, do you?’

  ‘It disappeared pretty quickly if there was,’ admitted Jack reluctantly.

  ‘And now this.’ Rackham drummed his fingers in another rolling tattoo. ‘Look, if it bothers you as much as you say, perhaps he should see someone. Dr Maguire offered to help, I know.’

  Jack smiled humourlessly. ‘I’m not bringing that up again. He was very short with Anne Lassiter when she suggested it. If he won’t take it from Mrs Lassiter he certainly won’t take it from me.’

  ‘Well, not Maguire, then, but I think he should see someone.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ agreed Jack unenthusiastically. ‘Anyway, that’s the situation, Bill. I wanted to let you know before the three of us went out together. Incidentally, talking of George, have you had any response from South Africa, by the way? About his legacy, I mean.’

  ‘Now you mention it, I have. I was going to tell you but it slipped my mind.’ Jack looked at him expectantly. ‘I had a cable yesterday but don’t get your hopes up.’ Rackham opened a drawer and took out a file. ‘Here we are,’ he said, finding the cable. ‘It’s nothing much. All it says is that a George Lassiter stayed at the Faulkner Hotel, Cape Town, from 5th February to 12th March 1922. It’s a large hotel and no one remembers anything about the George Lassiter in question.’

  ‘Hang on a mo,’ said Jack, picking up a pencil and scribbling the dates on Rackham’s blotting-pad. He half closed his eyes and performed a rapid calculation. ‘It’s sixteen days’ sailing time to the Cape.’ He tapped the pencil on the blotter. ‘That looks to me as if someone signed into the Faulkner just to write the letter to Marchbolt’s and be there to await the reply from London.’

  ‘Someone called George Lassiter?’ said Rackham softly.

  ‘Someone calling themselves George Lassiter,’ corrected Jack with a frown.

  Rackham shrugged. ‘In light of what you’ve told me I think it’s a possibility, you know.’

  ‘You’re right, damn it,’ Jack admitted. He looked at the cable again. ‘I can’t see this gets us very much further. Mind you, we didn’t think it would.’ He picked up the newspaper. ‘I’d better go. I’m meant to be working this morning but when I read that bit in the paper about Ridgeway I thought I had to tell you about his association with Lassiter’s.’

  ‘It’s useful to know,’ said Rackham. He frowned. ‘It is odd, Jack, it’s very odd, but I honestly think that’s all it is. Anything else doesn’t make sense.’

  Anne Lassiter put down the magazine she’d been reading as David came into the drawing room. ‘Shall I ring for coffee?’ she asked.

  ‘In a few minutes,’ said David, going to stand beside the mantelpiece. He took his pipe out of his pocket and filled it thoughtfully. They were alone in the room. ‘Anne,’ he said quietly, ‘d’you think my father knows? About Peggy and me, I mean?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t. Not unless Nigel’s told him.’

  He looked startled. ‘How does Nigel know anything about it?’

  ‘Roger might have mentioned it to him.’

  ‘Roger!’ He frowned at the bowl of his pipe. ‘Anne, I know it’s not really any of my business but I’m not sure about Maguire.’ He gave her a sidelong, diffident look. ‘Are you certain he’s the right bloke for you? You know I care.’ He glanced down at her. ‘Don’t bite my head off, will you?’

  She smiled. ‘No, I won’t do that.’ Her expression became wistful. ‘David, I just don’t know about Roger. When I’m with him it’s all right but when he’s not here . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’ asked David curiously.

  ‘He gets his own way,’ said Anne. ‘He always will.’ She sighed in exasperation. ‘The truth is I’m attracted to him, but I don’t honestly know how much I can trust him. He’s older than I am, quite a bit older, and sometimes I wonder if that’s a problem. He seems to know so much that I don’t. He’s clever and sophisticated and can be very good company
but I never feel I understand him. He’s a very different sort to Thomas.’

  David smiled. ‘Thomas was the goods, wasn’t he? I miss him.’ He stopped as he saw the expression on her face. ‘Sorry. So do you, I know that.’ He concentrated on his pipe again. ‘I tell you who reminds me of him,’ he said eventually. ‘George. They’re very different people but there’s something about George which makes me think of him. They were cousins, after all, even if they never knew each other. If Thomas had lived I bet they’d have hit it off tremendously. George is . . .’ He cast round for the right words. ‘He’s reliable.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean,’ said Anne.

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Well?’

  She wriggled impatiently. ‘It’s difficult. When I think of Roger it’s so difficult.’

  David leaned forward earnestly. ‘Don’t make a mistake, Anne. That sort of mistake is so very hard to put right. Peggy made a mistake and she spent a long time regretting it.’

  ‘Peggy thinks the world of you, David,’ said Anne softly. ‘I always knew she did, even though she never said a word.’ She paused. ‘It’s a shame you couldn’t keep things to yourself for a bit longer though. She’s right about what the police would think. I’m sorry we saw you that day at the factory.’

  ‘So am I,’ he agreed ruefully. ‘Peggy keeps everything bottled up but she was pretty close to cracking that day. Gilchrist Lloyd had warned her that the firm was in a bad way and she’s convinced that Haldean suspects me of doing in Culverton. I think she’s wrong, but she’s very wary of him.’

  Anne bit her lip. ‘I think she’s wrong about Major Haldean, too. He likes you, David, that’s obvious.’

  ‘Well, I like him. I told Peggy as much. I appreciate what he’s done for George and there’s no doubt about it, he saved George’s life at the factory. That was a stunning piece of work.’ He grinned. ‘Have you read any of his stories? They’re clever and sharp, just like him. The only thing which makes me think a bit is that he’s hand-in-glove with the police. He’s a good man, though. If I was up against it, I’d like to have him on my side.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘Peggy’s not convinced. As she says, we’re the only people who seem to have had any sort of motive for killing Culverton. She doesn’t trust him.’

  Anne gave a sigh. ‘I wonder if we’ll ever find out who did kill him. Have you any ideas?’

  David’s face was strained. ‘No. To be honest, it’s getting to me a bit.’ He struck a match and lit his pipe. ‘I loathed Culverton. He made Peggy’s life hell and even now he’s dead he’s still a problem. He’s the reason I don’t want the guv’nor to know about how things are with Peggy. In ordinary circumstances he’d be delighted but it’s this appalling situation with the police that’s the problem.’

  The telephone rang in the hall. Anne got up to answer it, then sat down again as the bell stopped. Nigel’s voice came through the partly open door as he answered the phone. Anne looked stricken. ‘I hope he didn’t hear us,’ she said quietly.

  David shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter if he did.’ He was about to say more when Nigel let rip with a string of obscenities at the top of his voice. The words were foul. David exchanged a quick, startled glance with Anne and Nigel swore again.

  ‘What the devil’s got into him?’ demanded David. He strode to the door and swung it open. ‘Nigel! What d’you mean talking like that? The whole house can hear you.’

  Nigel slammed the earpiece back on its rest and faced his brother. ‘Talk? Hellfire, I’d like to do more than talk! That was Mrs Culverton. Do you know what’s happened?’

  David gazed at him. ‘Do you mean to tell me you used language like that to Mrs Culverton?’

  ‘Yes, to your precious Mrs Culverton. She wanted to tell us that idiot, Ridgeway, has topped himself. It’s in the papers. He’s dead, d’you hear me, dead! What the blazes do we do now, I ask you?’

  David swallowed. ‘You swore at Mrs Culverton?’

  ‘Yes, damn it, I swore at Mrs bloody Culverton. So what? Can’t you hear what I’m telling you? Ridgeway’s dead. My God, David, you’ll have to do something now. I need money, d’you hear me? Why don’t you speak to her? You can get anything you like out of her. You’ll have to lean on her but you can do it, right enough. Roger saw you the other day. You’ve got her eating out of your hand. If you had any sense you’d get hold of the bloody woman and –’

  David’s fist shot out, catching Nigel squarely on the mouth. Nigel, flung back by the blow, crashed into the hall table. The table, which held a vase of flowers, went over in a smash of breaking china. The noise seemed to stretch indefinitely, then there was silence broken only by the dripping of water. Nigel, sprawled amongst the wreckage of the vase and spilt flowers, raised himself on his hands and knees, blood swelling from a cut lip. He put the back of his hand to his mouth, gazing at the blood on his hand, thunderstruck. Then, with a murderous glint in his eye, he gathered himself for a spring.

  ‘No!’ shrieked Anne. She prepared to fling herself between the two men when the doorbell rang. All three of them turned to look as Corby, who had obviously been close at hand, trod majestically into the hall, stepping through the broken china to the door.

  As if absolutely nothing was amiss, he turned from the opened door.

  ‘Dr Maguire, sir,’ he announced. ‘For you, Mr Nigel.’ He coughed. ‘Are you at home, sir?’

  ‘Of course I’m bloody well at home,’ growled Nigel, pushing past him. ‘Come in, Roger. Corby, get that mess cleared up. Roger, go into the drawing room. Have you heard? Ridgeway’s dead.’

  ‘That’s what I came to tell you,’ said Maguire, looking at the shattered vase on the floor. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Nigel quickly, wiping his mouth. ‘Nothing much, anyway.’ Maguire took off his hat and coat and gave them to the waiting butler. ‘Go into the drawing room, Roger. I need to talk to you.’

  Maguire looked at Anne. ‘I’ll see you later. I really think I’d better go and talk to Nigel.’

  Nigel walked past David who was standing, a stunned expression on his face, gazing at his fist.

  Anne touched David on the arm. She wanted to get him away, out of the hall. ‘David? Why don’t we go into the billiard room?’

  ‘The billiard room?’ He drew his hand across his forehead. ‘Yes, if you want to.’ Although he didn’t argue, he didn’t move. Anne touched his arm once more to guide him away when the door to the drawing room opened and Nigel came out again.

  ‘Maguire wants to speak to both of us. Not you,’ he said curtly as Anne came forward. ‘David, I mean.’ David looked at him blankly. ‘We have to talk. Ridgeway’s death has upset the apple-cart good and proper.’ David still didn’t move. ‘For God’s sake, man,’ snarled Nigel. ‘We’re still in business and we still have a firm to run.’

  David took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and walked into the drawing room.

  As arranged, Bill Rackham called for Jack and George at seven o’clock that evening. ‘You’ve a treat in store,’ said Rackham to George as they turned into Trafalgar Square. Lassiter, decided Rackham, looked normal enough and he decided to give him the benefit of the doubt for the time being. ‘I think the Young Services does one of the best curries in London. Do you mind walking? I’ve been stuck behind a desk all day and could do with some exercise.’

  ‘It suits me,’ said George. ‘Mind you,’ he added, huddling into his coat as the wind bit through him, ‘I think London has some of the lousiest weather I’ve ever encountered. If it’s not raining or foggy, it’s freezing cold.’ They walked down Pall Mall and turned right on to St James’s Street, their steps ringing in the quiet streets, past the elegant houses with their pillared steps and porticoed doors, white against the soot-blackened brick.

  ‘I see Nigel Lassiter’s causing a bit of a stir with his arrangements for Friday night,’ said Rackham. ‘The River Police have given him permission to land on the Thames between Waterloo and Blackfriars
Bridge. There should be quite a crowd to watch him.’

  ‘Yes, the Messenger called it a moment of history,’ said Jack. ‘I’d call it a miracle, granted what’s gone on behind the scenes,’ he added with a grin.

  ‘Absolutely,’ agreed George, laughing. ‘I spoke to Stella on the phone earlier and she says that Nigel’s working fit to bust and his temper’s gone to pot. He’ll have a nervous breakdown if he carries on like this. I don’t know how she stands the man.’

  ‘Did you ever get to the bottom of what he said to her that day?’ asked Jack. George shook his head. ‘It was at the factory, at the press presentation,’ explained Jack in answer to Rackham’s enquiring look.

  ‘What, where you saw the cat on the roof?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Jack evenly with a slight warning frown at Rackham. ‘After George was safe and we were on terra firma again, Nigel turned on Stella Aldryn and called her a “bloody fool”.’

  ‘That’s a bit rich,’ said Rackham in shocked disapproval. ‘He shouldn’t use language like that to a woman. It’s not on, especially as she works for him.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I said,’ agreed George. ‘It’s unfair, isn’t it? She can’t answer him back properly.’