Dr. Morelle and the Drummer Girl

by Ernest Dudley

  ‘Sorry to hear that,’ Inspector Hood sympathised not without a sarcastic edge to his voice.

  ‘I’ll live,’ was the jaunty retort. ‘Unless of course they pins a murder rap on me.’

  ‘Why should they pin anything on you?’ Hood demanded.

  ‘They did before. And you know what cops — police — are.’

  ‘Tell me,’ Hood said pleasantly.

  ‘All this promotion they’re after,’ the other explained. ‘I’d be the same if I was in their boots. I’d want promotion. To get it you’ve got to make a pinch often as yer can. Only way you can show you’re keen on yer job.’

  ‘You appear to have been making a close study of police precepts,’ Dr. Morelle interposed dryly.

  ‘I speaks from bitter experience,’ was the retort.

  ‘So you’ve been inside,’ Inspector Hood said. ‘Unjustly, of course.’

  ‘Unjust isn’t the word. I tell you, Inspector —’ the other began, but Hood interrupted him.

  ‘Too bad. But tell us what d’you expect to make out of this tip-off you’ve given us tonight?’

  ‘You pays for information received, don’t yer?’

  ‘If it’s any good.’

  ‘This is the goods, believe me.’

  ‘Where is the boat?’ Hood queried.

  Eddie Rice jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

  ‘Lying off the Embankment she is, about a hundred yards down.’

  Inspector Hood instructed the sergeant at the wheel to wait where he was with the car. As a precaution he told the man to contact other police controls in the vicinity, asking them to keep in touch in case their assistance might be required. He and Dr. Morelle followed Rice across the road and they proceeded in the direction the little man indicated.

  That portion of Chelsea Embankment called Cheyne Row continues a few hundred yards past Battersea Bridge. It comes to a stop against a wall behind which lie boat-houses and boat-makers’ yards. The Jollyboat Inn is about two hundred yards from where Cheyne Row terminates. Across the road from the public-house runs a low wall beyond which the muddy beach is crammed with boats of all shapes and sizes, from dinghies to sea-going barges. Many of the larger craft are converted into dwellings, superstructures having been built on to them.

  ‘Called Aloha it is,’ Eddie was saying. ‘My first idea was that all the hanky-panky I’d noticed was to do with smuggling. Then tonight I spotted this woman on board. She looked as if something was wrong, and it was that decided me to give Scotland Yard the buzz.’

  ‘As a matter of interest,’ Dr. Morelle inquired, ‘what business causes you to range the streets at this late hour?’

  ‘Insomnia,’ replied the other simply. ‘Ever since I come out after doing that stretch I’ve had insomnia something cruel. You being a doctor might know a cure.’ He looked up at Dr. Morelle hopefully.

  ‘Insomnia is frequently a symptom rather than a disease in itself,’ Dr. Morelle pointed out. ‘In which case the cause requires eliminating in order that the effect may be remedied.’

  ‘I know what caused my insomnia,’ said Eddie Rice. ‘Being unjustly jugged, that’s what.’

  ‘I wonder you don’t apply to the police for compensation,’ growled Inspector Hood.

  ‘Compensation,’ the other snorted. ‘More likely they’d jug me again for having the cheek. Anyway, finding it impossible to sleep of a night, I goes out and walks around. I find it makes me drowsy by early morning, then I goes back home and drops off for a few hours.’

  ‘How do you occupy yourself during these nocturnal perambulations?’ Dr. Morelle asked.

  ‘Thinking. Thinking what an unjust world it is for anyone wot’s never got the chance of a proper start in life. Supposing I’d had a decent education and had been wearing a decent suit, d’you think the cops would have pinched me when they found me in that garden outside the house? You bet your life they wouldn’t. I’d have only got to say I was tying up me shoelace and I’d have got away with it. But just because I was —’

  ‘Save it,’ Inspector Hood said wearily. ‘Which of these is the boat?’

  Ahead of them was the high wall which brought Cheyne Row to an abrupt stop. The low wall between them and the river had now given place to some even lower railings. At their backs lay attractive Georgian houses, balconies over small front gardens, jostling with converted blocks of flats.

  ‘That’s her.’

  Eddie Rice pointed to one of the vessels lying on the gleaming mud. The Aloha lay apart from the others.

  There was not a sign of life on any of the miscellany of boats. Only the glimmer of a light here and there. The curtained windows of the Aloha were edged with light. Between her and the Embankment lay an old hulk, a gang-plank leading from one to the other.

  ‘There’s a door further along you can nip through,’ Rice said. ‘Into the builders’ yard. That’s how you gets on to the hulk.’

  ‘You seem to know your way around,’ Inspector Hood said. ‘You wouldn’t happen to have a grudge against the owner by any chance?’

  The other assumed an aggrieved expression.

  ‘Never met ’im,’ he protested. ‘Don’t hardly know what he looks like. Whenever I’ve seen ’im it’s been late at night. He’s been out there on the deck and when he’s spotted me he’s nipped back, as if he didn’t want to be seen.’

  Inspector Hood chewed dubiously on his pipe-stem and glanced questioningly at Dr. Morelle.

  Dr. Morelle had been staring across at the black mass of buildings on the other side of the river. They mingled into the darkness of the sky, with the pointing finger of a chimney-stack barely discernible. Here and there squares of light from the factory windows dotted the dark blackcloth. The surface of the river was black and oily, catching the reflections of the street lamps strung out along the Embankment.

  Further downstream the outline of Battersea Bridge could be made out, and here and there port and starboard lights glowed against the shadowy shapes of moored vessels. From the direction of the Pool the notes of a ship’s siren hovered mournfully on the air.

  ‘D’you think it might be worthwhile investigating?’ Inspector Hood asked the Doctor. ‘The woman I’m thinking of?’

  Dr. Morelle stared at Eddie Rice.

  ‘You are unable to describe this woman?’ he queried.

  The little man shook his head.

  ‘Only got a quick glimpse of her. Then suddenly the curtain was pulled over again.’

  ‘You were not able to discern whether, for instance, she was wearing spectacles?’

  ‘Couldn’t say,’ was the reply. ‘It was just a woman’s face and that’s all.’

  Dr. Morelle’s gaze rested on Inspector Hood. Dragging at his cigarette, he said:

  ‘Since we have made the journey we might as well inquire further into the matter.’

  ‘All right,’ Inspector Hood said briskly, ‘let’s pay ’em a call.’ He turned sharply on Eddie Rice. ‘Think the woman’s still there?’

  ‘Never seen her come off. And I was keeping an eye on the boat while I was waiting for you.’

  He led the way through a small door let into two taller doors that were the entrance to the boat yard. He produced a torch and led the way between half-completed boats to some steps leading down to the hulk.

  Cautiously the Inspector and Dr. Morelle followed him and gained the rickety gangway to the Aloha. They paused for a moment, Inspector Hood breathing somewhat heavily from his exertions. The Aloha had once been a sea-going barge. Now a wooden superstructure several feet high rose from her decks. Facing them was the front door. On either side of it light still glimmered round the edges of the curtained windows.

  ‘Looks as if it might be quite comfy inside,’ Inspector Hood muttered beneath his breath. He put one foot on the gang-plank. ‘Shall I lead the way?’

  ‘Watch out,’ Rice whispered hoarsely. ‘If you don’t want a mud-bath hang on to the rail tight.’

  Inspector Hood moved cautiously across the na
rrow, slippery planks with Rice and Dr. Morelle following him. The rickety gangway swayed and creaked ominously beneath their weight, but they gained the deck safely. Now there came to them the murmur of voices from within the house-boat.

  ‘They’re there all right,’ Rice whispered, his voice filled with satisfaction.

  Inspector Hood took his pipe from between his teeth, squared his burly shoulders and moved towards the door. He banged on a small brass knocker shaped like a life-belt. The murmuring stopped abruptly. There was complete silence until Hood knocked again. The echoes died away and then silence fell again. Then there came the sound of slow footsteps within. After a moment the door opened cautiously.

  The man staring at them suspiciously was of medium height. Dark hair brushed back. Shirt collar open. Sports jacket.

  ‘Forgive us bothering you like this,’ Inspector Hood said affably. ‘But we thought you might be able to help us.’

  ‘This is one hell of an hour to want help,’ was the caustic retort. The man’s voice was curiously metallic. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I am Detective-Inspector Hood of Scotland Yard.’

  Dr. Morelle caught an unmistakable gasp from someone beyond the man at the door. Hood was saying, his tone still genial:

  ‘Please don’t be alarmed —’

  ‘Why should I be? I’m not scared of the cops.’

  ‘I’m sure of that,’ the Inspector continued agreeably. ‘I was thinking of whoever else was with you — your wife would it be?’

  ‘What business is that of yours?’ the other snapped.

  ‘I’m afraid,’ Inspector Hood said in his most apologetic voice, ‘we are causing you some annoyance. Believe me, we shouldn’t be bothering you if it wasn’t that we thought you could give us some help. We are anxious to trace a young woman,’ he went on quickly. ‘She is missing. We’ve received information tonight that a woman has been seen on board here with you.’

  ‘What the hell you getting at?’

  Inspector Hood gave a little chuckle as if to say he was well aware he was of course on a fool’s errand.

  ‘I know your — er — wife can’t possibly be this woman,’ he said. ‘But I’d just like your corroboration. Just a matter of routine — er — Mr —?’

  ‘My name’s Goodwin. Dave Goodwin.’

  The Inspector nodded smilingly.

  ‘Have to make all these silly inquiries just for the record.’

  Dr. Morelle watched the mixed emotions pass across the man’s face. It was obvious Hood’s visit was not welcome. Goodwin gave the impression that he was weighing up his chances of getting away with defying the Inspector’s authority. Why, wondered Dr. Morelle, if he had nothing to hide? The man at the door stood, his face working indecisively, his eyes glittering as they darted from Inspector Hood to Dr. Morelle and Eddie Rice, then back to the Inspector. Finally he grumbled:

  ‘I don’t see what right you’ve got to come nosing into my affairs.’

  Some of the affability dropped from Inspector Hood’s manner. His tone hardened slightly, and his heavy jaw jutted forward as he replied ponderously:

  ‘I have already explained this is merely a routine inquiry. I’m asking for your help. If I can report that whoever’ — he hesitated delicately — ‘whoever is occupying this boat with you is not the missing woman, that’s all I want.’

  ‘She doesn’t occupy this boat,’ the other admitted grudgingly. ‘I live here alone.’

  ‘Then it’s not your wife?’

  Goodwin stared at him sullenly.

  ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘A friend.’

  ‘I am sure your — er — friend must be wondering who it is that’s disturbing you at this hour,’ Dr. Morelle insinuated.

  ‘May even think,’ Inspector Hood added with a touch of humour, ‘it’s the police who’ve called.’

  There followed a further pause while the man who called himself Dave Goodwin stood there irresolutely.

  ‘I’m sure,’ the Inspector said persuasively, ‘you don’t want a bungling policeman like me hanging around. Strictly between you and me,’ he added, ‘we want to be getting back ourselves.’

  The other finally made up his mind. Pulling the door back wide, he said: ‘You can come in.’

  Dr. Morelle followed Inspector Hood, Eddie Rice closing the door behind them. The light from a large oil-lamp on the table illuminated the comfortably furnished interior. Beside the lamp was a tray with the remains of a supper, and there were a tea-pot and two cups and saucers beside it.

  The woman who faced them across the table stood in an aggressive attitude. Then she saw Dr. Morelle behind the burly figure of Inspector Hood, and her mouth opened in a gasp.

  ‘Dr. Morelle,’ she exclaimed.

  It was Rosie Huggins.

  Chapter Twenty-Three – The Liaison

  As Rosie Huggins continued to stare incredulously at Dr. Morelle the man Goodwin moved to her side. He threw a glance at the Doctor and then said to the woman:

  ‘You know him?’

  Rosie Huggins nodded.

  ‘How d’you know him?’

  Inspector Hood was also looking at Dr. Morelle, his expression full of surprise tinged with faint amusement. Eddie Rice was glancing open-mouthed from one to the other. Finally he concentrated on the tall, dark figure who was regarding Rosie Huggins. This was something he certainly hadn’t expected. The woman was interesting the sawbones all right. And the cop seemed to think there was something in the air too. Eddie Rice hoped that whatever the outcome of it all, there’d be something in it for him.

  So this, Inspector Hood was thinking, was Harvey Drummer’s housekeeper. Although Dr. Morelle had given him some idea of what she looked like, and he had pictured someone who wasn’t at all typical of a housekeeper, the Inspector was nevertheless surprised at her appearance. He took in her svelte rounded lines, and the attractive face, shadowed as it was by a mixture of fear and defiance, then glanced at Dave Goodwin.

  The relationship between them was pretty obvious, Hood decided. A woman doesn’t visit a man in the early hours of the morning just to talk about the weather. He wondered what it was about the liaison that had driven the woman deliberately to lie about it to Dr. Morelle. Probably this Goodwin chap was married or something.

  ‘Dr. Morelle is a friend of Mr. Drummer’s,’ Rosie Huggins found her voice.

  ‘What?’ Goodwin exclaimed, and shot a bitter look at the Doctor. ‘So that’s your game.’ His attitude grew threatening as he went on: ‘Drummer’s found out about Rosie.’

  ‘Found out what?’ Dr. Morelle asked quietly.

  Rosie Huggins’ voice suddenly rose shrilly.

  ‘That’s why you questioned me the way you did about how I spent my hours off yesterday.’

  ‘What business is it of anybody’s?’ Goodwin demanded aggressively.

  ‘Pretending you’d lost something,’ the woman added jeeringly.

  ‘There would appear to be some misunderstanding,’ Dr. Morelle murmured imperturbably. ‘Permit me,’ he said, fixing Rosie Huggins with a level gaze, ‘to assure you that meeting you here is entirely fortuitous.’

  ‘You don’t expect me to believe that,’ she said.

  ‘Anyway, now you’ve found out you can get back to Drummer and tell him how smart you’ve been,’ the man beside her put in. ‘Come on, clear out all of you.’ He stepped forward belligerently.

  ‘Just a minute,’ Inspector Hood said patiently. ‘Let’s get one or two things clear. And for a start,’ as Goodwin began to say something, ‘you shut up, sit down and be quiet.’

  Goodwin glowered at him for a moment, and then relaxed his attitude.

  ‘What Dr. Morelle’s said,’ Hood went on, ‘is on the level. Neither he nor I had any idea that you,’ turning to the woman, ‘were here. This little call was my idea. As I said to your pugnacious friend, we’re looking for a missing woman.’ He looked at Goodwin. ‘Don’t know how secret you’ve been trying to keep your friend’s visits, and I don’t know fo
r what reason. Probably wouldn’t be particularly interested if I did. But when Scotland Yard was tipped off tonight a woman had been seen here, and the circumstances sounded slightly suspicious, you’ll understand it was my duty to investigate.’

  The other gave Eddie Rice a sharp look and commented:

  ‘I suppose that little copper’s nark was responsible?’

  Eddie Rice responded to the accusation with a protest.

  ‘Copper’s nark nothing. I never did no more than anybody else would have done —’

  ‘It’s a pity certain people haven’t got something better to do with their time,’ Goodwin sneered. ‘Snooping round causing innocent people trouble.’

  ‘How was I to know —’ began Rice, but Hood interrupted him curtly.

  ‘Shut up, both of you,’ he growled. ‘If anyone thinks he sees something suspicious it’s his duty to report it.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ muttered Rice. ‘I’m a good citizen. Allus have been.’

  ‘I warned you it was risky,’ the woman told Goodwin. ‘Coming down to see you here so late. I was afraid people might see me and think it was funny.’

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘We know there’s nothing wrong in it, Dave. But you know how people are.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought anything myself,’ Eddie explained. ‘Only I happened to see you through the window, and you looked upset. Thought perhaps you were being kept a prisoner or somethink. After all, it does happen sometimes. You’ve only got to read the papers.’

  Rosie Huggins gave him a wry smile.

  ‘Very thoughtful of you, I’m sure. I was only looking upset because Dave and I had a bit of a quarrel. Nothing more.’

  ‘Sorry,’ muttered Rice, ‘but for all I knows, he might have been going to do yer in.’

  ‘Perhaps I might inquire,’ Dr. Morelle asked the woman quietly, ‘if your — ah — relationship with Mr. Goodwin is the reason for your lying to me regarding your visit to the Oriental Cinema?’

  She stared at him for a moment. Then she gave a little shrug.

  ‘Since you’ve found out so much,’ she admitted, ‘you might as well know the truth.’