The Corpse of St James's

by Jeanne M. Dams

  Alan ran a hand down the back of his neck. ‘Setting aside the dubious legality of your proposal, exactly how do suppose that you can gain any information? I assume you don’t plan to run amok in the palace à la Melissa.’

  ‘Sarcasm, as my old friend used to say, is the tool of the devil. I’ll do it the way I’ve always done it. I’ll talk to people. Jemima and Letty can tell me who might know anything. And I’ll start with Bert whatever-his-name-is-now.’

  Jonathan’s brows knitted in a scowl. ‘And you’ll find him how?’

  ‘With Letty’s help, and Jemima’s. And yours.’

  ‘I told you I don’t know—’

  ‘He was once your best friend. You knew his habits, his likes and dislikes. You’re going to have to think about where he might have ended up. The same with Letty. As for Jemima . . . well, I’m not sure I believed her when she said she had no idea where he is. She may be trying to protect him.’

  Jonathan’s scowl deepened. ‘I believed her. Why would she want to have anything to do with that ba— with him?’

  ‘He was the father of her child,’ I said as gently as I could. ‘You may not like the idea, but there it is. She could have sought him out for financial help, or just to talk about the problems she was having with Melissa. Or there’s the art connection. Bert shared her passion for beauty back then and presumably he still does. She wants to get into curatorial work. What’s more likely than that she went to him for help and advice?’

  Jonathan said nothing. Lynn looked at him and then at me. Yes, I signalled with raised eyebrows. Isn’t it interesting?

  ‘Well,’ said Alan, getting to his feet, ‘it’s been a long day. Jonathan, let’s get you back to your flat.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Lynn. ‘We’ve plenty of room here, and an extra toothbrush. If you can manage with my husband’s somewhat ample pyjamas, Jonathan, you’re staying here. We’ll all be brighter in the morning.’

  By morning, though, my enthusiasm had waned considerably. For one thing, it was raining; a persistent, very English sort of rain that seemed destined to keep on till Doomsday. I sat up in bed, looked out the window, groaned, and plopped back down on my pillow. ‘Does it really rain all the time in London, or it is just my imagination?’

  ‘Your imagination, my dear. Or a persistent delusion.’

  ‘Then it’s a special curse, just for me. I wanted to do things and go places today.’

  ‘I’ll go and get you some coffee.’

  Alan thinks my every mood can be improved by drinking something. The maddening thing is, he’s usually right. The coffee and the pastries that he brought with it cheered me considerably.

  ‘Now that you’ve recovered, love, what are your plans for the day?’

  ‘Phone Letty and Jemima. Then I may have to go down and see them again. I swear, if I never see another train again, it’ll be too soon.’

  ‘I thought you liked English trains.’

  ‘That was before I started living in them.’

  It turned out, thank heaven, that I didn’t have to climb on a train yet again that morning. When I phoned Letty, she told me Jemima had returned to work.

  ‘Oh, dear. I’m not so sure that was a good idea. She’s still so fragile.’

  ‘I quite agree. However, as you will have gathered, I have very little influence over Jemima.’

  ‘She must be a great trial to you.’

  There was a pause. ‘Now and then, Dorothy, your instinct fails you. You know a good deal about children, but very little about mothers. She is my pride and joy, even when I’d like to turn her over my knee.’

  Oh, dear, what could I say to that? ‘You’re right, and I’m sorry. I was stupid. Um . . . do you think I could phone her? I mean, would she talk to me?’

  ‘That depends on her mood at the moment. She’s volatile, as you have seen.’

  ‘Yes. Well, I can only try. Meanwhile, let me explain why I really called.’

  I summarized our conversation last night at the Andersons’, leaving out the bits about Jonathan’s ability to have committed the crime. ‘I’m the only one not bound by official don’ts, and I’m determined to pursue this. I think the cops have pretty much made up their minds Jonathan’s their man, and because that’s an embarrassment and even a cause of grief to them, they’ll bend over backwards to give him no slack. In the end, he’ll prove he didn’t do it, or I hope he can. Proving a negative can be awfully hard. But meantime he’ll be put through the wringer, and if the press get hold of it everything will be twenty times worse. So I need to find Bert Higgins, or whatever he’s calling himself these days. And I want you and Jemima to help me.’

  ‘Why do you think we can help you?’

  ‘Because I’m pretty sure you and/or Jemima have a good idea where he is, or where to start looking.’

  ‘There are dozens, perhaps hundreds, of art galleries in London.’

  ‘I know.’ I let the silence lengthen.

  ‘Why do you want to find him so badly?’

  ‘He’s a link to the art world, and I’m convinced this whole mess has its roots in Jemima’s love of art. I’ll ask you a question in return. Why do you and Jemima want so badly to keep me from finding him?’

  This time it was she who kept silent. Finally she said, ‘I’d better come and see you. No, don’t argue. I want to come to London, to . . . for reasons of my own. I’ll ring you when I get to the station and you can give me directions.’ She hung up before I could say anything else.

  I went down to the kitchen, where Lynn was stirring a soup pot, watched attentively by Watson. ‘That smells wonderful. I hope you’re making a lot, because you may have another guest for lunch.’ I explained. ‘We’re making perfect nuisances of ourselves and abusing your hospitality. I do apologize.’

  ‘Right. Apology noted and discarded. When did you ever know me to run out of food? I’m putting lots of meat in it, because that Jonathan needs building up. I’ve seen fatter, healthier scarecrows.’

  ‘It isn’t just lack of good food.’

  ‘Of course it isn’t. First he nearly dies in that awful set-to with the terrorists, and then his little almost-cousin gets herself killed, and now he’s probably suspected of her murder. And if that’s not enough, he’s suffering from unrequited love.’ She had lowered her voice for that one, and I responded just as quietly.

  ‘I’m not sure he even knows he’s in love. And I’m not sure it’s unrequited. I may not know much about being a mother, but I do remember being young and in love.’

  Jonathan walked into the kitchen and put an end to that particular speculation. ‘I just came in to thank you, Mrs Anderson, and say goodbye. I must be getting back home.’

  ‘You must be doing no such thing. I’m making soup especially for you. And it’s Lynn. And this kitchen isn’t big enough for three people, not to mention one dog, so the whole caboodle of you can just take yourself off to the living room. I think Tom’s built a fire, so it’s nice and cosy, and you can talk all you want without me eavesdropping. Which I’m dying to do, but this soup needs my attention just now. Shoo!’

  Watson stayed where he was. Jonathan and I shooed.

  ‘Letty is coming to see us,’ I said when Jonathan was safely seated.

  ‘Letty? But why? We just saw her last night. And that reminds me. I’d better report in if I’m going to be here for a little while.’ He made a face, pulled out his phone, and punched in what was obviously a familiar number. ‘Yes, this is Chief—Jonathan Quinn. Yes. I’m visiting a friend in London.’ I pushed over a note with the address, and he repeated it. ‘Yes, any time. I understand. Yes.’

  He put the phone away. ‘They may want to come and see me again. Really, I ought to go home.’

  ‘You’re better off here for now, Jonathan. Lynn loves company, and loves coddling people, so you’re truly no trouble. Your flat is small and not very comfortable, and right now you need some comfort. Now. Letty is coming because I want her to tell us where Bert is. Unless you already
know.’

  ‘I told you I don’t know! And I don’t understand why you’re so hell-bent on finding him.’

  ‘Yes, you do. Understand, I mean. Or you would, if you’d think about it for a minute with your police-trained mind instead of your mixed-up emotions. You’re so busy thinking about how much you hate him, you’re not seeing where he might fit into this investigation.’

  ‘Why should I hate him? I haven’t seen him in years, for God’s sake! And no, I don’t know where he is. I keep telling everybody that, but nobody believes me.’

  I sighed. ‘That’s another good reason for you to stay here for the time being. You need time to get your head on straight. And you’re somewhat less likely to be arrested if you’re here among friends, including a retired chief constable.’

  ‘My chief isn’t very happy with Mr— with Alan, just now.’

  ‘No. But Alan’s rank still impresses. At least we can hope it does.’

  ‘They’re going to arrest me, though, aren’t they?’

  Alan came into the room just then, and sat down heavily. ‘I’m afraid it’s very possible, Jonathan. You don’t need to be told why.’

  ‘No. But it’s going to be a huge embarrassment to them. The George Cross one week, in quod for murder the next. The media will love it.’

  ‘That’s the one consideration that may keep you at liberty for a while.’

  ‘That, and the fact that he didn’t do it,’ I insisted. ‘We wanted to solve this crime before the press got hold of it. Now that the police are on it with all their minions, time is slipping away rapidly. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to try to talk to Jemima before Letty gets here.’

  ‘Letty?’ said Alan in the same tone Jonathan had used earlier. I left the two of them to sort it out and went to another room to use the phone.

  I was back in a minute or two. ‘Success! Jemima has agreed to meet us here for lunch. I’d better go apologize once more to Lynn.’

  Lynn’s dining room seats twelve easily. Tom came home for lunch, but the seven of us had room to spare, even with Watson hiding under the table, hoping a few scraps might fall.

  We tried for a while to make polite conversation. Lynn did her best to sparkle, and Lynn’s best is very good indeed. It all fell flat. Five of us had spent entirely too much time together lately, in circumstances that were too stressful. We finally gave up the pretence and put down our soup spoons. I decided it was time to take the floor.

  ‘Lynn, this is a wonderful meal, perfect for a chilly, rainy day. I’m sorry we’re all too worked up to enjoy it, but I hope getting together, yet again, can be productive. Letty, when we spoke this morning, you were going to tell me why you prefer to keep Bert’s whereabouts a secret.’

  Jemima looked startled. ‘But you told me—’

  ‘I said I didn’t know. Nor did I. When you asked.’ Letty sipped her water. ‘That was when you first went to work at the palace. You were having a hard time making ends meet, and so was I.’ She looked hard at Jonathan, who had opened his mouth. He shut it again. ‘I was happy to do what I could for Melissa, and for you, Jemima, but the finances of it were . . . not easy. I thought it was high time Bert stepped up to his obligations as Melissa’s father. You and I both thought he’d landed on his feet, working in a posh gallery somewhere. So I set about tracking him down.’

  She looked again at Jonathan.

  He raised his arms and shoulders in an exasperated shrug. ‘All right, all right! Letty came to me. I was in the Met. I had resources. It wasn’t too hard to find him.’

  ‘Jonathan! You never told me!’ Jemima was . . . what? Angry? Upset, certainly.

  ‘No.’ The monosyllable spoke volumes. He went on with an obvious effort. ‘I told Letty.’

  ‘Jonathan, you told us you didn’t know where he was. And we believed you!’ I had no doubt about my own reaction; I was furious with him.

  ‘I didn’t lie to you. I don’t know where he is, now.’

  ‘You mean he moved, or changed jobs – what?’

  ‘I mean literally what I said. I don’t know. I told Letty where he was two years ago. That was the end of it, as far as I was concerned. He may have fallen off the face of the earth so far as I know. Or care.’

  ‘I . . . see.’ I saw a lot more than Jonathan thought I did, but this wasn’t the time to pursue tangents. ‘It’s an awfully fine distinction, young man! I’m not very fond of being told the strict truth when there’s a good deal left unsaid. However.’ I turned to Letty. ‘Have you kept up with Bert, then?’

  ‘No, not in the way you mean. I wrote to him, after Jonathan found him for me. I explained the situation and asked for help. I’m a proud woman, Dorothy, but not where the welfare of my family is at stake. I told him he seemed to be doing quite well, financially, working at a good gallery and living in a flat in Chelsea, and that the mother of his child was struggling. I must say he responded very promptly. He didn’t want to see Jemima or Melissa, he said, but he would be happy to help with Melissa’s support. Since she was living with me, he arranged for a monthly bank draft to be paid into my account. It made all the difference.’

  ‘Mother! Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t want his money. I’ve never wanted anything from him!’

  ‘You weren’t the one trying to bring up a child on very little, my dear.’ Letty’s tone was just slightly acid. ‘I was happy for you in your job, but the living arrangements did make things a bit difficult.’

  I tried to steer the conversation back to Bert’s whereabouts. ‘Do you still have Bert’s address?’

  ‘I have the address of his flat two years ago, and the name and address of the gallery where he worked then. Like Jonathan, I have no idea whether they are still good. The monthly allowance is simply paid into my bank, so there is never any correspondence.’ She put a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh, and I’ve forgotten to notify the bank that they should stop the payments.’

  ‘Yes. Well.’ Alan cleared his throat. ‘The point now, Dorothy, is: why do you want to get in touch with him? We’ve established that he has had no recent contact with anyone in the family except for Letty, and that only indirectly. What possible use could he be to the investigation?’

  TWENTY-ONE

  ‘I don’t know.’ It seemed to me that today had been very full of I don’t know. ‘I have no sensible reason to offer. I just feel, very strongly, that this whole sorry mess has to do, somehow, with the art world. Bert is very much a part of that world. I want to talk to him.’

  Alan managed not to roll his eyes, though I could see what he was thinking. The others looked uncomfortable. Lynn, bless her heart, raised her water glass in a salute. ‘Hear, hear. Trust your instincts, Dorothy. They’ve been right too often in the past to be ignored. But we have to plan this. Letty, what was the name of that gallery?’

  Letty eventually dredged it out of her memory. ‘It’s in Bond Street, I think.’

  ‘Yes, it would be,’ said Lynn, the art lover. ‘I think I know it, actually. So now, Dorothy, you and I are going to organize a shopping trip. Tomorrow, I think, don’t you?’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Jemima. ‘I have the right to know what you plan to do. Melissa was my daughter, and my cousin is suspected in her murder.’

  ‘Yes, you need to know,’ I said. ‘I’m guessing that Lynn wants us to go to the gallery, looking like ordinary shoppers. I couldn’t pull it off, but Lynn knows galleries.’ I looked around at the dining room walls, hung with paintings that were either original Impressionists or very, very good copies. ‘She’ll be able to convince them that she’s a genuine customer. Meanwhile, I hope to strike up a conversation with Bert. If he still works there. If he’s in. If, if, if.’

  ‘And what exactly do you intend to say in that conversation?’

  This was the tricky part. ‘I’ll play it by ear, but my idea now is to find out if he knows anything about the Royal Collection. Not just what’s in it, I mean – I doubt even the Queen knows what all she has—’

  �
��It doesn’t belong to the Queen, my dear,’ said Alan. ‘It belongs to the Crown. Quite a different matter.’

  ‘I do know that. Manner of speaking.’ Personally I thought the distinction rather fine, but I had the sense not to say so. ‘But what I want from Bert is anything he can tell me about the curators, or guardians, or whatever they’re called. The people who look after the Collection; who know about it.’

  ‘You’re trying to find out who might have met Melissa.’ Jemima’s voice sounded dead.

  ‘That, among other things.’

  Letty gave me a pointed look before she got up and went on her way, but I was not prepared to say any more.

  At least not then and there, to Jemima and the rest. That night, though, as Alan and I were settling down in bed, and trying to discourage Watson from joining us, Alan said, ‘What are you really after tomorrow, Dorothy?’

  ‘What I told Jemima. I want to know who might have crossed Melissa’s path at the palace.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘You’re a policeman. You don’t have to be told.’

  ‘No. Tell me anyway.’

  ‘I think Bert may have had more to do with his daughter than anyone knows. I think those repeated visits to London might have been to see him, at least in part.’

  ‘You’re not suggesting . . .’

  ‘Incest. No. I devoutly hope not, and anyway I have a hunch . . . well. No, but I have the feeling Bert might well put us on a path to finding Melissa’s lover. And her murderer.’

  ‘Put you on the path. Remember, I’m out of this. I’ve blotted my copybook.’

  ‘Yes, and I know you’ll carefully refrain from giving me any suggestions, or bailing me out when I get into trouble.’

  ‘You’d better not get into trouble.’

  He turned out the light, and Watson, assuming that since we couldn’t see him we would not know he was jumping on the bed, proceeded to settle right in the middle.

  I’d planned to get up early, but what with Watson and my uneasy thoughts, I didn’t really get to sleep until the wee hours, and then I slept like a rock. Alan woke me with a cup of Lynn’s wonderful coffee.