by Jack Murray
He opened the door. Another young man wearing a suit and a fedora was stood outside. He took the hat off and walked in without saying anything.
‘Evening Sally,’ said the other young man. He looked like a younger, taller version of her husband.
Sally went over and gave the man a hug, ‘Hello Ben. If you’ve come to see your niece and nephew, they’re in bed this last hour.’
‘Can I?’ asked Ben.
‘Go on,’ said his brother.
Ben moved to the doorway of the bedroom and looked in. The only sound was the rumble of one child’s breathing. He inched forward quietly to get a better look at the two children. Behind him the young couple looked on. Finally he turned and silently retraced his footsteps back into the living room.
‘Something smells good,’ said Ben with a grin.
‘Here we go,’ replied his brother rolling his eyes, ‘What did I tell you Sal?’
Moments later Ben was tucking into the remainder of the stew and half a glass of beer. The three of them chatted happily until the coughing started. Sally got up as young Ben began to cry. The two men watched Sally go to the bedroom and then Ben grew more serious.
‘He needs to be in a hospital,’ said Ben, as much to himself as his brother. They both knew this.
‘I know but I can’t cover that and all of this. Even with Sally’s stitching, it’s barely enough. I’m not smart like you Ben. I’ve never had a head for numbers or words. I can’t do what you do.’
Ben didn’t try to argue with his brother, there was no point. The sound of coughing continued to stab the air. Tears glistened in the eyes of the elder brother. The younger one too. He hated to see his brother so sad.
‘I’m letting him down.’
‘Don’t say that Joe,’ replied Ben getting up. He took out his wallet and put a pound note on the table.
‘Ben you can’t keep doing this,’ said Joe, hurt but the gratitude in his eyes was unmistakeable.
‘Can and will, Joe. I feel like they’re mine. Anyway, can’t stay here talking rot with you, I’ve got to get back. I’m on duty again tonight.’
The two men walked out of the kitchen. Ben turned to go to the bedroom, but Joe shook his head, ‘You’ll excite him if he sees you here. Best to go.’
Ben nodded. It made sense. He went to the door and opened it. As he did so, he turned to his brother, ‘Anything you need Joe. I’ll do anything. remember that. Family first. That’s what ma used to say. Family first.’
Joe nodded but couldn’t speak. He watched his brother leave then walked slowly into the bedroom. Family first. Always.
Chapter 5
February 12th, 1920: New Scotland Yard, London
The red brick building, home of the nation’s police force, New Scotland Yard rose unimposingly over the Thames embankment. Kit, who had visited the building on a few occasions, had never failed to be impressed by its resemblance to a block of apartments for the rising mercantile class in the city. It seemed just a little bit too cozy to be a centre for fighting crime in the city and beyond.
‘I’ll pull over here, sir,’ said Miller, ‘I’m not sure there’s anywhere to park.’
‘London’s getting worse,’ said Kit in response.
Kit stepped out of the car. Up ahead he saw an equally impressive Rolls Royce from which debouched Lord Wolf. The two men acknowledged one another with a nod and walked up the steps together.
‘This is a bad business Kit,’ said Wolf as they were led towards an office on the second floor.
‘Strange business, also. Hopefully Chief Inspector Jellicoe can be more forthcoming than he was last night.’
The two men entered the large office housing the Chief Inspector. There was a magnificent view of the Thames below, but Jellicoe chose to sit with his back to the river. The room was spartan. There were no drawers, no stacks of paper, no in-tray. Jellicoe permitted himself the luxury of a telephone and a notebook. Kit decided that Jellicoe was either a brilliant delegator or had an extraordinary memory.
The Chief Inspector and Detective Sergeant Ryan both rose to greet the two men. Jellicoe, as ever, retained his naturally lugubrious expression but Ryan smiled at the new arrivals. Once the almost-ceremonial handshakes and greetings had been dispensed with, the real business of the meeting began. Jellicoe started by acknowledging a few of the matters uppermost on the mind of Lord Wolf.
‘I asked Lord Aston to attend, I hope you won’t mind. Normally the idea of amateur sleuths would be abhorrent and the stuff of a “penny dreadful”. But Lord Aston proved an able assistant to the police recently and the fact of his presence in your home when the crime was discovered seems to me to worthy of making an exception, for the moment.’
Kit noted the end comment. This seemed reasonable to him. He could not expect to become part of a police matter even if curiosity was eating away at him. Jellicoe and the young sergeant would want to do their job with little or, better still, no interference from an amateur.
‘I have great admiration for Kit, Chief Inspector, so there are no complaints from me at his presence.’
Jellicoe nodded and then continued, ‘Forgive me if I was less than forthcoming last night. I sensed your desire to understand more about the meaning of the card and what the next steps in the investigation might be. I will try and deal with this at the start, and then I would like to ask you a few questions, if I may.’
‘By all means,’ replied Wolf.
‘The card you found was identical to a number of cards that were left at the scene of crimes committed by a man the press, as is their wont, rather luridly titled “The Phantom”. His real name was Raven Hadleigh. As you are aware, Hadleigh was captured just before the War and sentenced to fifteen years imprisonment.’
Jellicoe modestly neglected to mention his role in the capture of “The Phantom”. Ignoring the knowing smile on Kit’s face he continued, ‘So that was that, or so we thought. However, it appears a man is now impersonating Hadleigh, and committing crimes in an identical manner.’
‘There have been other similar burglaries?’ asked Kit.
Jellicoe’s features achieved the almost impossible effect of becoming even more crestfallen than previously.
‘Sadly yes. You may have seen something of them in the press already.’
‘Does this mean the wrong man is in prison?’ asked Wolf, giving voice to Kit’s thoughts also.
‘No, the evidence convicting Hadleigh was comprehensive and incontrovertible. However, there’s no denying, these new cases are something of a mystery. The cards being used are the same as the one’s used by Hadleigh, which, at the very least, could be explained by using the same printing firm. Although the firm in question has ceased trading. This means, as yet, we have few leads from the other two cases.’
‘Two,’ exclaimed Kit. ‘My goodness, I’d noticed the robberies but hadn’t connected them to the same person, never mind the Phantom.’
‘We have kept the details away from the press for obvious reasons,’ said Jellicoe, ‘I can only begin to imagine the kind of campaign they would create on Hadleigh’s behalf, as well as the number of cranks who may come along wishing to claim credit.’ Jellicoe shook his head as images of the motley crowd of prospective master criminals flooded his mind, and worse, Scotland Yard.
‘But this is incredible,’ said Wolf. ‘Even if we accept that this Phantom was captured, is it possible he had an accomplice that you were unaware of?’
‘It’s entirely possible, of course, but there was no evidence to suggest Hadleigh was anything other than a lone agent in the commission of the early burglaries.’ After saying this, Jellicoe turned to Ryan and said, ‘If he may, Detective Sergeant Ryan will take a statement from you Lord Wolf. Lord Aston, can I ask you to stay on a few moments?’
Ryan and Wolf both stood up. The young man led Wolf out of the room to a nearby office.
‘Can you be absolutely sure you have the right man, Chief Inspector?’ asked Kit. ‘There was no element of doubt
?’
‘None Lord Aston’ confirmed Jellicoe. ‘We have the right man alright. But, no question, this is a very troubling situation. There’s only so long we can keep this story away from the press. Once they get hold of it, there’ll be hell to pay.’
‘Yes, I can see the potential problem. He was quite a hero in the end wasn’t he?’
‘Don’t remind me, Lord Aston,’ said Jellicoe in a voice that managed to be both weary of the folly of human nature and awestruck by it also. ‘You wouldn’t have believed the reaction of women to his incarceration. I must admit, notwithstanding what he was doing, I never disliked him as a man. He was always the gentleman. When one looks at it this way I suppose it wasn’t difficult to see why he caught the imagination of the press, and of ladies in particular.’ He shook his head as he, clearly, still found it difficult to understand.
‘Yes, I must admit I followed the case with great interest. I think I did meet him once in passing, because he knew some of my chums. Not sure though. They liked him immensely, I understand,’ admitted Kit.
Jellicoe laughed. It was as pleasant a sound as it was unusual coming from the, otherwise, sombre detective.
‘Yes, I suppose I should know him,’ continued Kit with a wry smile that acknowledged the reason for the Chief Inspector’s amusement. Jellicoe’s eyes twinkled at this confession.
‘Your Detective Sergeant is interesting. He must be quite a talent.’
Jellicoe looked at Kit shrewdly, ‘May I ask why you say that?’
Kit smiled and replied, ‘Well his youth for one thing and, dare I say it, he doesn’t sound like you.’
‘Or you, Lord Aston?’
‘Or me,’ laughed Kit. ‘I imagine he must be useful undercover.’
‘Very useful sir. One of the best I’ve seen. He joined us straight from the army, but he didn’t come to my attention until six months ago on another case. We needed someone to pose as a gang member. A police sergeant acquaintance of mine recommended him. Anyway, we rounded up the gang thanks to his intelligence and no little bravery. I had him promoted immediately and transferred to my office. He’s going places. Remember the name, Lord Aston. Ryan, Ben Ryan.
-
Lady Agatha Frost had always been an early riser. She had lived by the motto: early to bed, early to rise makes the heart grow fonder, or some such notion. She sat in her dining room polishing off a breakfast that was nothing short of hearty, literally. Two eggs, bacon and black pudding with a single kipper.
‘Fish?’ said Lady Agatha, turning to her, equally elderly butler.
‘Yes, milady?’ replied Fish.
‘Can you send young Alfred to collect Betty Simpson ? I take it he’s here now?’
‘I haven’t seen the young man yet, but I shall tell him once he arrives.’
‘Thank you Fish, that will be all.’
Meal finished, Lady Agatha rose from the table and went to the hallway. On a small table beside a Tiffany lamp sat one of these new-fangled communications devices: the telephone. Initially distrusting of the device that seemed as intrusive as it was ugly, she had grown to become quite addicted to its utility and could spend hours on it with her friends. She sat down at the table, picked up the receiver and put it to her ear. She dialled a number and waited a moment.
‘Mayfair 6237, yes I’ll hold.’
A few moments later someone answered.
‘Betty, it’s Agatha. We have a case. I’ve sent Alfred to collect you. The Phantom is back. Yes, I know. Oh and bring the book. We have a new colleague.’
This brief, rather one-sided exchange formed the sum total of the conversation with Betty. Lady Agatha replaced the phone just as Mary was passing her by.
‘The book? Betty?’
‘You’ll see,’ said Lady Agatha’s excitedly, ‘It’s big’.
Mary smiled and walked into the dining room to see if any food remained unconsumed on the breakfast sideboard. An initial inspection suggested Agatha had been a bit hungry. Not that Mary minded. She picked a few items from the debris on the sideboard and sat down, intrigued by the latest twist in her increasingly fascinated take on Kit’s aunt. Eccentric hardly seemed adequate in describing either the wonderfully unpredictable nature of the lady nor an extraordinary life force that was almost palpable.
Half an hour later as she was finishing her breakfast there was a commotion outside the door. Giving her mouth a quick dab, she rose and went to see what was happening. In the hallway there were two elderly women. One was Aunt Agatha, the other was a lady that Mary took to be Betty.
Betty Simpson was, if anything, slightly shorter than Kit’s already diminutive aunt and arguably stouter. She was dressed in a tweed skirt, sensible brown brogues, the woollen pullover was barely up to the job of containing the ample bosom of the worthy lady. Mary noted, with a smile, her hair was styled not dissimilarly to her own. This was also noticed by Aunt Agatha.
‘What on earth have you done with your hair?’ she exclaimed in surprise, once Betty had removed her hat and tossed it towards the sideboard.
‘Do you like it?’ asked Betty, innocently.
‘You’re too old,’ said Aunt Agatha tartly.
‘Nonsense my dear,’ replied Betty, touching the side of her hair.
‘Seventy three, not too old?’
‘Seventy two,’ responded Betty before adding, ‘and a half.’ It was then she noticed Mary standing at the dining room door. She turned to Agatha for an explanation.
‘This is Lady Mary Cavendish. She and Christopher are going to be married.’
Betty turned with a look of delight and walked towards Mary, “Well I must congratulate that young man, you are quite a beauty young lady.’
‘More than a pretty face you’ll find, Betty,’ pointed out Agatha, ‘Now let’s retire to the library. We’ve work to do.’
Although she didn’t show it, Mary felt unaccountably delighted with the compliment as Betty embraced her in a bear hug. After a suffocating few moments, Mary felt a powerful hand grip hers and she was being led into the library.
‘Alfred,’ ordered Agatha, ‘Can you bring Mrs Simpson’s bag in and then tell Fish to organise some tea. We’re not to be disturbed.’
The young chauffeur had escaped Mary’s attention initially. She smiled at him on the way past. He was rather portly with dark hair and a rather feminine mouth.
‘Hello Alfred.’
‘Ma’am,’ replied the young man shyly, touching his hat.
Chapter 6
Detective Sergeant Ryan read through the statement given by Lord Wolf. Both Kit and Jellicoe listened intently. Every so often Kit caught Jellicoe’s eye. The look was a question: what do you think? The answer returned by dint of a look also was: I’m impressed. The young sergeant had clearly given the industrial magnate a comprehensive interview. He easily fielded questions from both Jellicoe and Kit as he delivered his report. When the summary was complete, Jellicoe said nothing to praise Ryan, instead he turned to Kit, and asked, ‘Have you any further questions Lord Aston?’
Kit fixed his gaze on Ryan, ‘Was Lord Wolf hiding anything?’
This was an unusual question which caught both Jellicoe and Ryan by surprise. Ryan glanced at Jellicoe and then replied, ‘No. He was genuinely shaken by what had happened. This is normal. The sense of invasion is the same whether you’re a lord, a lady or just a normal bloke whose house has been broken in to.’
‘That was my sense also, Lord Aston,’ added Jellicoe. ‘No one ever thinks it will happen to them. When it does, when the realisation sets in that your home, your castle, even, has been breached, that you, your family, your possessions are not as safe as you first thought. It can be troubling, and it doesn’t matter who you are. The reaction of Lord Wolf was entirely sincere in my view.’
Kit nodded. He thought so also.
‘Why did you ask that sir?’ asked Ryan.
‘I’m not sure, I suppose it was the joke he played last night, pretending that a robbery had taken place. It seemed
out of character.’
Jellicoe thought for a moment then asked, ‘How did you guess the safe had a secret compartment?’
Kit laughed, ‘It was certainly a guess. You see, I was standing near the chandelier and didn’t hear anything been thrown in to it or, for that matter, anyone come near me to put anything inside. Based on this, I reasoned Lord Wolf had simply put the diamonds back into the safe. It wasn’t such a big jump to guess you could press down on the bottom of the safe to get to another compartment.’
‘But how did you know it was a practical joke?’ continued Ryan.
Jellicoe answered this one on Kit’s behalf, ‘That was easy, lad. The only people in the room were Lord Wolf, Lord Aston, Lady Cavendish, a former Prime Minister, a few cabinet ministers and their wives.’
‘A dishonest politician? Perish the thought Chief Inspector,’ added Kit with a grin. Jellicoe’s eyes crinkled so Kit assumed that underneath his beard there was a smile.
‘What are your plans now Lord Aston?’ asked Jellicoe. There was a look on his face that Kit suspected was meant as an invitation. He certainly hoped so. This case was intriguing, and he hated to admit to himself how much he wanted to be involved.
‘I ‘ve no plans, but I’m certainly open to suggestions, Chief Inspector,’ replied Kit, hoping his intuition was correct.
‘How would you feel about renewing a couple of old acquaintances?’
Unsure of who the second one could be, Kit was fairly sure of the first.
‘I would be delighted, Chief Inspector.’
-
The library at Aunt Agatha’s house had been one of a number of pleasant surprises for the Cavendish sisters, stocked as it was not only with the classics, in a number of languages, but also with the latest book releases, many of an eyebrow raising quality. One cabinet seemed to have been devoted to “penny bloods” and the works of Conan Doyle, R Austin Freeman, Arthur Morrison, Guy Boothby and the like.
