by Jack Murray
In fact, there was one other option which Kit had not considered until it happened.
Chapter 17
The Commissioner’s prediction that Bulstrode would be waiting for Jellicoe when he returned to his office was a little way of the mark. It was early evening before Bulstrode descended on the office like a black cloud. He did so in tandem with his sergeant, Wellbeloved, who wasn’t, never had been and cared not a jot if he ever would be.
The timing of the arrival, just as Jellicoe was about to leave, seemed deliberately aimed at irritating Jellicoe. In this regard, Jellicoe’s instincts were more acute than the Commissioner’s. Unlike Jellicoe, neither Bulstrode nor Wellbeloved had families, therefore they were more likely to work late into the night. The benefits of this were twofold, and readily appreciated by the minority of senior officers who had facilitated Bulstrode’s rapid rise through the ranks to the current glass ceiling.
Firstly, crime was an activity that tended to be executed at night rather than during the day, if only for the desire of criminals to avoid being detected in the act. Less obviously, but of equal if not greater importance, the reduction in manpower during the evenings gave the detective duo more of a free rein to employ their robust interrogative techniques to the full.
The greeting between the two policemen had a polar quality: low in temperature, bereft of life and unlikely to witness either warmth or life anytime soon. There was no handshake only a nod and a brief introduction of the two men to Ryan.
Ryan looked at Bulstrode. They’d never met but his reputation not only preceded him, it was manifest in the short, squat, bull-necked man before him. His red face suggested, accurately, a temperament that was as unruffled and peaceful as an Italian facing a German who has insulted his mother.
Bulstrode’s partner in crime detection, Wellbeloved, was of middling height, leaner with a sharp face and an eye that was closer to beady than bright. Ryan didn’t need to pick up on the body language of Jellicoe to form an instant dislike and distrust of these men. This was consolidated by Bulstrode’s first comment accompanied, as it was, by the bronchial cackle of Wellbeloved.
‘So Macready wants us to hold your hand.’
‘So it would seem,’ responded Jellicoe neutrally. This appeared to have more of an effect on Bulstrode than his original comment had on Jellicoe. Ryan noted this and realised the way to play Bulstrode was not to rise to the man’s needling manner. A glance between him and Jellicoe was sufficient for master and protégé to understand this.
Bulstrode turned his attention to Ryan, hoping for more purchase from his brand of wit. ‘Shouldn’t you be at school, son?’
‘I left school to join the army sir,’ replied Ryan with a smile. ‘I’ll go and retrieve for you the case file and would you gentlemen like a tea?’
Jellicoe allowed himself a smile, not that anyone would have known.
-
It wasn’t a falling out exactly. They stood in front of one another and glared their disagreement. In the scheme things it was nothing but there was a lesson in there had he chosen to see it. But he was desperate.
‘I still think it’s too big a risk,’ said Ryan sulkily.
‘You saw the way they searched the coats, they’d never look where you’ve put them. They won’t even search, anyway. See if they do.’
‘It’s me that’s taking the risk, not you,’ pointed out Ryan though gritted teeth. He glanced up to see if anyone could see their contretemps. Thankfully the sound in the factory meant no one could hear, and they appeared to be out of the eyeline of anyone working on the factory floor. Johnny Mac and Rusk were in the office.
By continuing to argue the point rather than refuse point blank meant, as Ryan slowly realised, he was merely delaying the moment when he took the risk. The noise of the factory and the heat inside felt oppressive and Ryan’s head began to swim with the fear he was feeling. Facing the Germans was one thing: you expected to catch one. If he was never exactly inured to the feeling of going up top he had, at least, found an accommodation with his maker.
Now the stakes had changed. He had family now. It was no longer just him. To lose his job would be a disaster. But they needed the money. The new job wasn’t enough. The two men remained silent for another few minutes, each left to their own thoughts. Finally Ryan relented.
‘Alright.’
A few yards away in the office, Johnny Mac and Rusk were having a conversation along similar lines.
‘You’re sure you saw them?’ asked Johnny Mac doubtfully.
‘I did, they must’ve gotten wind of it. I’ll search their coats again tonight,’ replied Rusk.
Johnny Mac was silent for a few moments. He was amused by the idea of the two men thinking they could pull a fast one on him. Didn’t they know who he was? Clearly not. A lesson might have to be handed out to them.
‘Leave them.’
‘Leave them?’
‘You heard,’ said Johnny Mac irritably, ‘Give them a day or two, don’t go near them, don’t even look at them. Ignore them when they leave, don’t acknowledge them when they arrive. Let them think the coast is clear. Let’s see what happens then.’
‘Then,’ said Rusk smacking his fist. He didn’t need to add anything else.
‘One other thing,’ added the big Ulsterman as Rusk turned to leave. ‘Have them followed. I want to know more about them. Where they live, what they do. They’ll have to sell it sometime. Find out where. Ask around if you have to. Who’s buying?’
Rusk nodded in agreement, not that he had any choice but to agree. There were few men that Rusk was afraid of. Johnny Mac was one.
-
If Harry Miller was surprised to see Mary emerge from the basement steps wearing a blonde wig he was too discreet to draw attention to it. Whatever the colour of her hair, she was striking. However, the blonde hair, in Harry’s humble opinion, made her quite a head turner.
‘Sir’
Kit, who was reading a paper glanced up and saw what Miller saw.
‘Interesting,’ was Kit’s only comment. They both watched as Mary crossed the street. She appeared to be heading towards a big car. ‘That’s Aunt Agatha’s car if I’m not mistaken. Harry, do you think you could get us back to Grosvenor Square before Mary?’
Harry had already started the car and moments later they were on their way. Miller risked a glance in the mirror and saw Kit was smiling.
‘This should be fun,’ said Kit enigmatically.
They arrived, as Kit had directed, well before Mary. Kit got out of the car and went up the steps while Miller moved the car away from the front. Fish appeared a few moments later. He looked surprised at seeing Kit.
‘Hello, Fish old chap,’ said Kit moving inside before the old butler could make any excuse for the lady of the house. ‘I’ll just pop in to see Lady Frost.’
In the entrance hall, Kit could hear the sound of his aunt’s voice and another lady. He made straight for the drawing room, with Fish trying to keep up behind him. A knock of the door and in he went. Agatha and Betty looked up at Kit standing in the doorway.
‘Hello Aunt Agatha,’ said Kit disingenuously and then he walked over to Betty and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Good to see you, too, Betty. Now what are you ladies cooking up?’
‘Christopher,’ said Agatha regaining her composure, ‘what are you doing here?’
‘Can’t a chap visit his favourite aunt out of the blue?’
This raised Agatha’s suspicions immediately. She realised the game was partly up and said, ‘Well, as it happens, it’s fortunate you’re here, because Mary is on her way back to us as we speak.’
‘Indeed how fortunate,’ said Kit smiling. He seemed anything but surprised.
‘Young man,’ said Agatha, now completely in command of her senses if not exactly the situation, fell back on her default tone of voice in situations such as this: righteous indignation. She didn’t for a second think it would work but it was worth a try. ‘I will not be spoken to in that tone of v
oice.’
‘Aunt Agatha, I’m not sure I know what you mean.’
At this point the door opened and into the room walked a de-wigged Mary Cavendish.
‘You’re back darling,’ said Kit rising from his seat.
Mary’s eyes narrowed, ‘And you’re here too, darling.’ She looked at Agatha and Betty, but they were clearly as shocked as she was. Rather than take the high hand, she adopted a tactic, even less subtle, used by the distaff side of the species, through the aeons to avoid either the censure or the wrath of the less intelligent sex. She put her arms around his neck, looked him in the eye and kissed him gently on the lips.
If Kit had been truly angry, forgiveness would have been immediate and sincere. In fact, he was highly amused by the turn of events and happily reassured by Mary’s first instinct in avoiding reproach. It augured well for the future, he noted.
‘Sit down my love,’ said Kit, finally disengaging himself. ‘I think you ladies owe me an explanation.’
Mary now looked more amused than shocked. She looked at the other ladies and said, ‘Who wants to begin?’
Agatha recognised that it was for her to enlighten Kit on what they had been up to. She reached down to the newspaper and held it up for her nephew to see. The article on the recent spate of robberies was circled.
‘We’ve cracked the case, Christopher,’ announced Agatha.
‘Possibly,’ added Mary.
It’s not easy to state offhand what the last thing Kit thought his aunt might say, and it would still have been a close run thing. For example, if Agatha had stated her intention to marry Fish, the butler, due to the arrival of their baby in autumn, this might just have edged it. Just.
In the event, Kit managed to splutter, ‘Cracked the case?’ Kit looked at the three ladies. It was clear they were in earnest.
‘It’s true, Kit,’ said Agatha with eyes gleaming.
The evening was proving to be full of surprises. Aunt Agatha had never referred to Kit as anything other than Christopher. He looked at his elderly aunt. She appeared to have shed at least twenty years with the excitement. It was abundantly clear they believed they had a break in the case.
‘Go on.’
‘Caroline Hadleigh,’ proceeded Betty, ‘is working at the Rosling household. In disguise I might add.’
‘We followed her,’ added Mary.
‘Yes, we felt that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. There’s no reason why the daughter couldn’t have learned from her father the tricks, so to speak, of the trade,’ continued Betty.
While Kit couldn’t stop himself looking amused, which earned a frown from Mary, he also felt a swell of pride. It was certainly plausible. After a few moments, he replied, ‘Well, you’re certainly to be congratulated on uncovering something which, at the very least, appears suspicious. We need proof though. This may not be available until Miss Hadleigh makes a move, that’s if she makes a move.’
Mary was well past the point of hoping they were wrong. She trusted her instincts normally and they were telling her Caroline was not a criminal. She looked at the time.
‘I need to return, they’ll wonder where I am.’
Kit looked stunned by this and said, almost angrily, ‘You most certainly are not. This man Rosling is a cad and from what I’m hearing appears to be very interested in you. Who knows what he might do?’
‘I’m rooming with Caroline Hadleigh, so I doubt he’ll do very much.’
This did not mollify Kit, ‘He’ll choose his moment. What if you and he are alone?’
‘Well,’ said Mary, pausing for a moment to think, ‘he is rather good looking.’
‘Tall too,’ pointed out Kit, grimly.
‘Broad shoulders,’ added Mary, brightly.
‘And an arrogant fathead,’ continued Kit.
‘Utter,’ agreed Mary.
‘My dear, Kit’s right,’ said Betty, ‘We can’t have you put yourself in harm’s way.’
‘Thank you everyone,’ replied Mary rising from the table, ‘I appreciate the concern and I will do my utmost to avoid an unpleasant situation arising. Now, I do need to get back.’
Mary’s tone, pleasant and calm also brooked no argument. Kit realised that this was something he would have to become used to. It was part of who she was. He was as much in love with her spirit as he was attracted by her beauty. To object now would possibly carry the day but it would lose something greater. He looked at Mary. In the look was an appeal but also an admission of defeat. She returned his gaze and nodded reassurance.
‘Harry Miller or I will be stationed outside the house on a twenty four hour basis.’
‘I can ask Alfred also,’ suggested Agatha, ‘This way you’ll have immediate transport if you feel imperilled by this young hooligan.’
This was a sensible compromise. Mary walked out of the room with Kit.
‘At least let me take you back to Sloane Square.’
Mary looked up at him wryly saying, ‘Climb into the car of a young man, unaccompanied. What about my reputation, sir?’
With the door to the drawing room closed and Fish not in the vicinity, Kit decided to test Mary’s commitment to her reputation. Blissfully, it seemed, his fiancée’s defence of principle was less than steadfast in deed than word. However, such stolen moments, Kit realised, only increased the pain of separation he was bound to feel when she returned to the Rosling house.
Chapter 18
February 17th, 1920: London
It was midnight when Mary returned to her room. She opened the door as quietly as she could but then realised Caroline was still awake, reading in bed. In fact, she was reading in German, noted Mary. There was no reason why Mary should have been surprised by this, but she was.
Caroline looked up and said with a grin, ‘Hello, what have you been up to?’
Mary laughed conspiratorially. There was little choice but to admit some of the truth. She said to Caroline, ‘Promise you won’t tell? I have a sweetheart. I went to see him.
Caroline put down her book. This was more interesting. She grinned and asked, ‘What’s he like?’
Mary needed no second invitation to describe Kit.
‘He’s good looking. No, make that very good looking. Tall, smart, kind and very funny. He was in the War. A captain.’ At this point she stopped as thoughts went through her mind of the awful injury he had sustained and what she had seen of the other men in her care. Tears stung her eyes.
‘ Was he hurt?’
Mary nodded and looked down, unable to speak.
‘It doesn’t seem to bother him, though. It was part of his leg. It certainly doesn’t bother me. I just want to be married to him,’ admitted Mary with utter sincerity. It was best to stick to the truth and, in this regard, Mary didn’t have to act. Before Caroline could ask any other question about Kit, Mary thought it best to redirect the conversation. ‘Do you have a sweetheart?’
Caroline hesitated before answering.
‘You don’t do, don’t you?’ continued Mary, hoping this would help her open up.
‘Yes,’ admitted Caroline sheepishly, ‘yes I do.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘Well, bit like yours. He was in the War, got through it unscathed. Doesn’t talk about it much, but then we’ve only been going together a month or two.’
‘Do you like him?’ asked Mary.
Caroline looked a little troubled though. Mary guessed she did like him. However falling in love with a policeman was somewhat fraught with difficulties if your profession was burglary.
‘I’m sorry, Charlotte, it’s none of my business. I think you do like him though,’ suggested Mary smiling.
Caroline nodded after a few moments, adding simply, ‘Yes, I do.’
Then stop stealing jewels, screamed Mary, albeit inside her head. It was now clear to her that she liked Caroline Hadleigh very much. There was a spirit as well as a vulnerability that she could discern but also empathise with. Her father was in prison, a mother no l
onger alive, there were no siblings that she was aware of. Caroline was very much on her own and Mary found herself desperately hoping that she was not the person that she, Agatha and Betty suspected her to be. The lights went out, but it was a few hours before sleep came to Mary.
The next morning both had to rush to get ready as they overslept by twenty minutes. Each giggled as they danced around the small room dressing and tidying as they went.
‘No more late nights,’ said Mary grinning.
‘I know, come on Mary, we’re going to be late.’
They fell out of the room together and rushed towards the kitchen to have a quick breakfast. Before they entered, Caroline stopped Mary and said, ‘Be careful of young Mr Rosling. I don’t like the way he looks at you. If he tries anything, just shout. I’ll come running. With a heavy object.’
Mary nearly burst out laughing. Then, taking a moment to compose herself, she nodded thanks and they both walked in together to face the inevitable disapproval of Miss Carlisle.
The granite face of Miss Carlisle made it clear that censure was facing the two young women as soon as Fish had finished his breakfast. They ate in silence and then the two girls were saved, quite literally, by the bell. Two of them.
‘Mr and Mrs Rosling. Seems their bells are working again. We should still get them looked at. I still think something’s not quite right with them.’ said Grantham rising to his feet.
‘Miss Hannah you’ll have to finish that later, best get up and see what she wants. I’ll attend to Mr Rosling.’
Caroline glanced sympathetically at Mary, who remained impassive save for a slight crinkling around the eyes. Rose, recognising a distinct chill in the air, emanating from a Carlisle direction, came over and asked Mary to help her prepare the breakfast for the family. Mary leapt from her seat and winked at Rose, who grinned broadly. This left Miss Carlisle looking like a wasp had set up home in her undergarments, with its in-laws.
