The Crimson Ramblers

by Gerald Verner

  ‘Who is it?’ demanded the Superintendent.

  ‘Ex-Inspector John Howard,’ said Chives. ‘’E was appearing in the concert party under the name of ’Oward Gilbert.’

  *

  Outside the stage door at the Dome Pavilion a uniformed constable stood on guard. Inside, grouped together uneasily, were the members of the concert party, with the exception of Sharon who had gone earlier before the grim discovery, and the dead man who still sat in his chair behind the closed door of the dressing room. By himself, leaning against the wall and staring at the floor, stood Chives.

  There had been great activity following the arrival of Superintendent Halliday and Soames. Photographers and fingerprint men had come and gone and the police surgeon had made his examination. Behind the closed door Halliday and Soames were conducting the preliminary investigation into the murder.

  They had taken statements from all the company but had refused permission for any of them to leave the building.

  ‘Isn’t this awful, Andy,’ said Beryl, her usually smiling face grave and serious. ‘There’s been nothing but trouble since we came here. First that woman and now this.’

  Andy nodded. He looked worried and depressed.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘there’s been trouble enough. I’ll be glad to see the last of it.’

  Vera sighed.

  ‘How much longer do you think they’ll keep us hanging about here?’ she asked.

  Tony shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘There’s no knowing,’ he answered.

  ‘We’ve told them all we know about it,’ said Billy.

  ‘Which isna much,’ said Andy.

  ‘I think they might let us go,’ said Beryl. ‘What can they want to keep us hanging about here for?’

  ‘Further questioning, I suppose,’ said Tony.

  ‘But we can’t tell them anything more,’ she said.

  ‘I promised to meet Sharon for a swim,’ said Billy. ‘She’ll be wondering what’s happened to me...’

  ‘You’d better tell Superintendent Halli-day,’ said Vera, ‘perhaps it will hurry him up.’

  ‘I suppose it’s all wrong,’ sighed Beryl, ‘but I’m getting terribly hungry.’

  ‘If ye miss your lunch it’ll be good for your figure,’ said Andy.

  ‘Andy,’ she exclaimed. ‘Are you beginning to notice my figure at last?’

  ‘Ye canna miss it!’ retorted Andy.

  ‘Andy!’ she cried indignantly. ‘Anybody would think I was fat.’

  ‘Plump, dear, plump,’ said Billy. ‘It sounds better.’

  They were trying to infuse a little brightness into the gloom that had descended on them. But it was only momentary. The knowledge of that closed door and what lay behind it could not be kept at bay.

  ‘I wonder what they’re doing in there all this time?’ said Vera after a short silence.

  ‘They haven’t been very long, you know,’ said Tony.

  ‘It seems ages,’ said Vera. ‘Sharon was lucky to have got away before it happened. I wish I had.’

  ‘We don’t know exactly when it did happen, do we?’ said Tony.

  ‘It could have been any time after we started rehearsal,’ remarked Andy.

  ‘Or even before,’ put in Billy. ‘We don’t know what time Gilbert got here.’

  He fumbled in his pocket, took out a cigarette and lighted it.

  Vera gave a sudden shiver.

  ‘It’s horrible,’ she said. ‘Two murders...’

  ‘And it looks as if they were both committed by the same person,’ said Tony thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s rather frightening — to think that there’s someone going around strangling people,’ said Beryl.

  ‘Don’t talk about it,’ said Vera sharply.

  ‘It’s even more frightening when ye realise that it may be someone we know,’ said Andy.

  They stared at him.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Billy.

  ‘Don’t joke about it,’ said Vera.

  ‘I was never more serious in my life,’ declared Andy.

  ‘But, Andy... you don’t think... you can’t mean...’ Beryl was slightly incoherent and her eyes were scared. ‘You can’t mean — one of us?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Andy seriously. ‘It might be.’

  *

  The ambulance came and all that remained of Howard Gilbert, or to give him his real name, John Howard, was removed on a stretcher. The news of the murder had spread and a crowd of holidaymakers watched the body, covered with a blanket, carried to the waiting ambulance at the entrance to the pier.

  In the dressing room that the dead man had occupied, Halliday, perched on the edge of the dressing table, frowned at Soames.

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’ve got all the preliminary statements and it boils down to this. Any three of ’em could have done it — McKay, Wayne or Dale. They all left the stage on one pretext or another during rehearsal this morning.’

  ‘And the women, sir,’ said Soames. ‘They weren’t on the stage all the time.’ Halliday nodded.

  ‘That’s right,’ he agreed. ‘I suppose we can’t rule them out entirely. It wouldn’t have required a great deal of strength...’

  ‘Women are pretty strong these days, sir,’ said the Sergeant. ‘Now my wife...’ ‘We know it wasn’t her,’ interrupted Halliday. ‘It’s possible someone came in from outside...’

  ‘That girl, Sharon Roy, left early, sir,’ said Soames. ‘She could have come back.’

  ‘Why should she want to kill Howard?’ demanded Halliday. ‘He was killed by the same person who strangled Thelma Granger.’

  ‘Well, sir,’ said the Sergeant, ‘perhaps she killed her too.’

  ‘What for?’ said Halliday impatiently. ‘She was killed because of this uranium business...’

  ‘Miss Roy may be mixed up in that, sir,’ persisted Soames,

  ‘She may, but I doubt it,’ answered Halliday. ‘No wonder Gilbert looked familiar to me, he added. ‘Of course, I remember him now. He was on the Drayton case — a nasty business. What the dickens he was doing here, I can’t imagine.’

  ‘That feller, Chives, might give us a line there, sir.’

  Halliday nodded.

  ‘We’ll have him in,’ he said. ‘Call him, will you?’

  Soames went over to the door and called: ‘Mr. Chives.’

  Chives came in.

  ‘Shut the door,’ said Halliday crisply. ‘Now, will you tell us what ex-Detective Inspector was doing masquerading as a singer in this concert party?’

  ‘He was workin’ on a job,’ answered Chives promptly. ‘When he retired from the police’e opened a private agency.’

  ‘So he was running a private agency, eh?’ said Hallliday. ‘I suppose you were working for him. Is that right?’

  ‘That’s right, I was ’is assistant,’ said Chives.

  ‘What job was he on here?’ asked Halliday.

  ‘E was workin’ for the Schiller Minin’ Company,’ said Chives.

  ‘The Schiller Mining Company,’ repeated Halliday. ‘Anything to do with — uranium?’

  ‘You know about that, do you?’ said Chives.

  ‘A little — I’d like to know a lot more. Had this company got anything to do with David Manners?’

  Chives nodded.

  ‘The Schiller Company financed Manners,’ he replied. ‘Manners crashed in a plane an’...’

  ‘I know all about that,’ broke in the Superintendent.

  ‘Well, after the crash, this minin’ company got wind that Manners ’ad struck lucky,’ said Chives.

  ‘How?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ began Chives but Halliday interrupted him.

  ‘Just give me the bare details now,’ he said. ‘We can go into the full story later.’

  ‘It was the pilot of the plane,’ explained Chives. ‘’E was badly hurt in the crash an’ taken to ’ospital. Towards the end ’e got delirious. One o’ the nurses in the ’ospital was friendly with a girl who wo
rked in the Schiller Company an’ she told this girl what she’d ’eard this feller mutterin’ about in ’is delirium. Manners ’ad ’ad an agreement with the Schiller Company an’ they thought they ought to’ave a cut in what ’e’d found. But they didn’t know what had ’appened to the maps an’ things. They got in touch with their London office askin’ them to try an’ find out — that’s how we came into it.’

  ‘They commissioned Howard to find out if there was any truth in the rumour that Manners had discovered this uranium,’ said Halliday, ‘and what had happened to the map showing the locality? Is that right?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Chives.

  ‘What made him join this concert party?’ asked the Superintendent. ‘What had they got to do with it?’

  ‘The pilot of the plane — ’is name was Jim Lester — ’ad a brother who was in the concert party business. Howard thought ’e might know something about what ’ad ’appened to the map. You see, we didn’t know whether Jim Lester was straight or not. It all looked a fishy business. All we knew was that Manners had told him about the uranium ’e’d found.’

  ‘You didn’t know that this fellow, Lester, had sent the map and photographs to Manners’ solicitor, Granger, as he’d been asked?’ said Halliday.

  Chives shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘We ’ad practically nothin’ to go on at first — only what this nurse ’ad picked up when Lester was delirious. Then we found out that this feller, Beatal, was mixed up in it. I got in with ’im by pretending that I knew somethin’ an’ was willing to ’elp him if he paid well. That’s when we first ’eard about Granger and the other two, Hargreaves an’ Renton.’

  It was coming straight, thought Halliday. The tangle was slowly unravelling itself. He said:

  ‘What’s the name of Jim Lester’s brother?’

  ‘D’yer mean ’is real name or ’is stage name?’ asked Chives.

  ‘What’s the name he’s using in this concert party?’ asked the Superintendent.

  ‘Billy Dale,’ answered Chives.

  ‘Bring him in, Soames,’ said Halliday. ‘Let’s see what Mr. Billy Dale has to say for himself.’

  Billy came in. He was not looking very happy and he glanced quickly from one to the other questioningly.

  ‘I’ve told you all I know,’ he said. ‘And that’s nothing.’

  ‘I don’t think you’ve told us all you know, Mr. Dale,’ said Halliday. ‘Jim Lester was your brother, wasn’t he?’

  Billy was obviously taken aback. This was something he had not expected. ‘Well, yes, he was,’ he admitted.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell us that before?’

  ‘Why should I?’ demanded Billy in evident surprise. ‘What on earth has my brother got to do with it?’

  His astonishment appeared quite genuine.

  ‘When did you last hear from him?’ asked Halliday.

  ‘Nearly a year ago,’ replied Billy, ‘and that was only a postcard. Then I heard he’d died from injuries in a plane crash.’ His face clouded.

  ‘You know nothing about the discovery of a uranium deposit in Northern Saskatchewan?’ asked the Superintendent.

  Billy looked at him as though he’d taken leave of his senses.

  ‘Uranium deposit?’ He shook his head. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ ‘Your brother was piloting a plane for

  David Manners when he crashed,’ said Halliday watching him keenly. ‘Didn’t you know that?’

  Billy shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he answered. ‘David Man — ’ He stopped suddenly. ‘Manners, did you say? That was the name of the girl...’

  ‘Exactly,’ Halliday’s voice was stern. ‘You say you knew nothing about David Manners?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ declared Billy. ‘This is the first I’ve heard about it...’

  ‘It seems a very extraordinary thing to me,’ said the Superintendent, ‘that you knew nothing about all this.’

  ‘Perhaps it does,’ retorted Billy. ‘But it’s the truth, all the same.’

  ‘Who took the packet from Mr. Wayne’s dressing room?’ asked Halliday suddenly.

  ‘Not me, if that’s what you’re suggesting,’ said Billy.

  ‘He’s right about that,’ interjected Chives. ‘I took it.’

  Halliday was surprised.

  ‘You?’ he said. ‘Did you also take the one from Miss Lee’s lodgings?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chives. ‘We thought we’d got what we wanted but they were both fakes.’

  ‘Granger was lying, then,’ grunted Halliday. ‘He’s still got the real packet.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about this at all,’ put in Billy.

  ‘You must realise, Mr. Dale,’ said Halliday, ‘that you’re in a very serious position. Two murders have been committed...’

  ‘I say, look here,’ exclaimed Billy in dismay. ‘You’re not trying to pin those on me?’

  ‘I’m only trying to find out the truth,’ said Halliday.

  ‘You’d better try some other way,’ retorted Billy. ‘I didn’t even believe them when they said they’d found that girl in the basket...’

  He stopped as he realised what he’d said.

  ‘What basket?’ demanded Halliday sharply.

  ‘Oh, my lord,’ stammered Billy. ‘Now, I have put my foot in it. I didn’t...’ His voice trailed away to silence.

  ‘I think,’ said Halliday sternly, ‘that you’d better go on with what you were going to tell me.’

  ‘Well,’ explained the unhappy Billy. ‘It was the prop basket... I thought they were joking when they said they’d found her in it.’

  ‘Who found her?’ asked Halliday.

  ‘Andy McKay and Tony... I thought they were pulling my leg. When I looked in the basket there was only a dummy from the waxworks...’

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ said Halliday rubbing his forehead. ‘McKay and Wayne found the body of Thelma Granger in one of those baskets in the passage?’

  ‘That’s what they told me,’ said Billy. ‘Is that who she was? They thought it was the other girl...’

  ‘What’s all this about a waxworks dummy?’ asked Halliday.

  ‘I can tell you about that,’ broke in Chives. ‘That was Beatal’s idea.’

  He proceeded to tell them...

  15

  ‘Well, what do we do now?’ demanded Hargreaves when Halliday and Soames had gone hurrying off to the Dome Pavilion with Chives.

  Granger shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be much choice, does there?’ he said. ‘We can’t do anything without the map and the photographs and we’re not likely to get them now.’

  ‘A nice mess you’ve made of the whole thing, haven’t you,’ sneered Renton. He went over and poured himself out a drink. ‘The whole thing makes me mad!’

  ‘It’s no good blaming me,’ said Granger.

  ‘Well, who’s fault is it?’ snapped Renton. ‘If you hadn’t tried to be so damned clever...’

  ‘What’s the good of going all over that again,’ broke in Hargreaves impatiently. ‘The question is — are we going to try and find the real packet or are we going to give the whole thing up?’

  Simon Beatal laughed.

  ‘A very pertinent question, sir,’ he said, ‘Personally, I would suggest the latter course.’

  ‘Well, there’s nothing to stop you,’ grunted Renton, gulping down his whisky.

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with Beatal,’ said Hargreaves. He rubbed his chin. ‘It’s getting too dangerous.’

  ‘You’re a lot of white-livered curs!’ snarled Kenton.

  ‘It’s no use talking like that,’ said Hargreaves. ‘We’ve got to be careful. We’re in a very nasty position.’

  ‘Exactly, sir,’ agreed Simon Beatal. ‘The police are now in possession of the facts. Even if we obtained the real packet now it is doubtful if we could use it to any useful purpose.’

  ‘We could register the claim,’ said Renton.


  ‘On behalf of Miss Manners, sir?’ Beatal shook his head. ‘What good would that do us? The cat is out of the bag, sir. Before it was known that David Manners had discovered this uranium location it was a proposition — an extremely good proposition. Now... He shrugged his enormous shoulders and shook his head.

  ‘I see,’ said Renton and there was a dangerous look on his face. ‘So we just pack up and let whoever stole that packet reap the benefit.’

  ‘Not at all, sir,’ said Simon Beatal. ‘There will be no benefit to reap — unless it is conferred by the public hangman. There have been two murders, sir — Mrs. Granger and this detective posing as a concert party artist...’

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with us,’ said Renton.

  ‘In the eyes of the police, sir, it has a great deal to do with us,’ said Beatal. ‘I assure you, sir, that with the exception of Miss Manners, anyone attempting to register that claim would find themselves in an extremely awkward position. My advice to you, gentlemen, is — cut your losses.’

  Renton laughed contemptuously.

  ‘You’re easily scared, aren’t you?’ he sneered.

  ‘I am not a fool, sir,’ retorted the fat man. ‘There are times when discretion is the better part of valour — to use a well-known cliche. In my opinion this is one of them.’

  ‘He’s right, you know,’ said Hargreaves.

  ‘I’m glad, sir,’ said Simon Beatal, ‘that you agree with me. We have failed in our little — shall we say business enterprise? It is the act of a wise man, sir, to turn to something fresh.’ He rose ponderously to his feet, picked up his hat and gloves, and went over to the door. ‘I wish you all a very good day,’ he said and went out. They heard his jerky laugh until the front door shut behind him.

  ‘Well, I must say he’s a pretty good loser,’ said Hargreaves.

  Renton looked at him and shook his head.

  ‘I wish I knew what his game is,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Granger.

  ‘You don’t really believe he means to quit, do you?’ asked Renton. He gave a harsh laugh. ‘You’re so simple you wouldn’t know when to come in out of the rain.’

  ‘He can’t do anything,’ said Hargreaves with conviction. ‘As he said the thing’s become too dangerous. He’s sensible enough to know that.’