by June Tate
With that, Phillips took out the reports on both deaths and started to read through them. There had to be something that he had missed.
Twenty-Nine
Giles Gilmore was going over the financial status of the company, his frown ever deepening. There was the cost of hiring the theatre and the wage bill to be covered, quite apart from the enormous electricity bills and other charges incurred. The bookings were ticking over, covering his needs with little to spare. With careful management he could just about make it, but not if Foxy Gordon carried out his threat. Giles had already put his property up as collateral for the bank loan he’d needed to finance the production, so there was no spare cash to be had. Gordon had threatened to ruin him. Was this his plan? Giles felt he needed to talk to someone about his problem and he sent for Rob Andrews.
Rob came into the office and, seeing the worried look on Giles face, sat down, took out a cigarette and lit it. ‘What’s the problem?
Giles told him of his concerns.
After listening, Rob sat thoughtfully in silence and then made his suggestion. ‘Now that Bonny is no longer starring in the show, the run here will be limited.’
Giles had already considered this and nodded in agreement.
‘Why don’t we take the production on tour? The fact that Shirley is starring, and not Bonny, won’t make such a difference in the provinces. The public will love to see a show that has been on in the West End. The bookings should be healthy.’
Giles liked the idea. ‘There is only one drawback and that’s the scenery. Not all the stages in the outlying theatres are as big.’
Rob shrugged. ‘We can probably still use the flaps on the sides of the stage, but we might have to scale down the rest on occasion. I’m sure we can work it out.’
‘It would certainly be a solution, but what about Mr Gordon?’
‘That’s up to you, Giles. If the man wants to make money, he’ll probably go along with the idea, especially if you offer him some sort of bribe.’
‘Like what?’
‘You say he owns forty per cent of the stock, so sell him some of yours. Give him an incentive to stay with you.’
The impresario went berserk. ‘Then he’ll own more than I will! I can’t have that.’
‘It’s your choice. I suggest you tell him of your plans first and see what he has to say. But Giles, do think seriously about it. Do you want to have to close at the end of our run here in London – or carry on?’ Rob rose from his seat. ‘That’s all the advice I can offer. Good luck!’
Giles chewed over the alternatives and eventually, with some reluctance, lifted the phone.
Both the vehicles belonging to Jimmy Knight and Wally Cole were being stripped down and searched for clues by the forensic team, in a large garage space in Southampton. It was a tedious and frustrating procedure. The search for fingerprints and bloodstains was meticulously carried out. Panels and seats were removed and studied.
A cry came from a man searching the interior of Jimmy Knight’s car. ‘I’ve found a button still attached to a scrap of material here.’ He then filed it away in a bag for further investigation. The only thing discovered in Cole’s car was a small piece of the pad used to chloroform the murdered villain. But there were no fingerprints, other than Coles’ and Knight’s, both of whom often drove the car.
The button, however, found behind a seat in Knight’s car, was matched to the woollen garment worn by Charlie Black when he was fished out of the river.
When Chief Inspector Phillips was told of this evidence, he was delighted. ‘That puts Charlie Black in Knight’s car on the night of his death. Bring Knight in!’
Knight, Cole’s top man, was looking somewhat pensive when he entered the interview room, and the look of satisfaction on Phillip’s face as he looked at the villain evidently didn’t help to allay his concern. ‘Sit down,’ he was told.
Phillips pushed a large bag towards him and showed him the contents. ‘Do you recognize this woollen garment?’
Jimmy shook his head. ‘Should I?’
‘Let me remind you,’ the detective said. ‘This was worn by poor Charlie Black the night he was pushed into the Thames. I say night because it certainly wouldn’t have been done in daylight.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’ Knight was trying to brazen it out.
Philips showed him where there was a tear in the garment and a button missing. Then he tipped out the button, still attached to a scrap of wool, on to the table.
‘As you can see, this matches.’
Knight looked watchful but remained silent.
‘This was found behind the seat of your car, which places the young boxer with you.’ He sat back and waited for a reaction.
Jimmy Knight had been living beyond the law most of his life and he knew the score. This evidence was irrefutable. At best he was facing a long term of imprisonment; at the worst, he could face the hangman’s rope.
‘I want to make a statement.’
Foxy Gordon puffed on his cigar with pleasure. It was a good day! Giles Gilmore had phoned him and wanted to discuss plans for taking the production of Broadway Melody on the road. He had explained the financial benefit of so doing and had asked Foxy to meet him later that day to discuss the matter. Foxy was well aware of his powerful position in the negotiations and was wondering how to handle the situation to his personal benefit. He wasn’t averse to making money, and if this was going to be a profitable proposition – rather than Gilmore just insisting he keep his stake in the show – he would listen.
He walked out of his office and into the gym. Mickey O’Halleran was working out in the ring, with Bonny sitting watching. He strode over to her and sat beside her. ‘How are you doing?’ he asked, looking pointedly at her leg and the wooden crutch perched beside her chair.
She smiled at him. ‘Not so bad, thanks, but it’s taking longer than I thought. My leg is still weak and the knee throbs a bit.’
‘I heard that Harry Jenkins, who caused the accident, has been arrested.’
Her smile faded. ‘That man ruined my career; I don’t think I’ll ever forgive him!’
Foxy looked at her knowingly. ‘He was just the instrument; Wally Cole was the man behind it all.’
‘But he was found drowned in the Thames!’
Foxy leaned forward and squeezed her arm. That’s right.’ He winked. ‘We always look after our own, my dear, and debts have to be paid.’
‘That’s an interesting observation, Mr Gordon!’
Foxy and Bonny looked round in surprise. Detective Inspector Phillips was standing behind their chairs. ‘Perhaps you would like to come down to the station and elaborate on that.’
‘Am I under arrest?’
‘Not at all. Just helping us with our enquiries, that’s all. Shall we go?’
As Foxy left the gym with the inspector, Mickey climbed out of the ring and walked over to Bonny. ‘What was that all about?’
Bonny told him of the strange conversation that had taken place. ‘Do you think Foxy had anything to do with that man’s drowning?’
Mickey looked concerned. ‘I do hope not.’ But the more he thought about it, the more he had his doubts. There was bad blood between the two men after Charlie Black’s supposed suicide. Foxy had been adamant that Cole had been behind it all. Had it been payback time?
In the interview room at the police station, Foxy Gordon sat facing Phillips and his sergeant.
‘Perhaps you would like to enlighten us about the death of Wally Cole and the remark you made to Miss Burton,’ the detective remarked.
‘I’m not sure I know what you mean.’ The trainer looked unconcerned.
‘Don’t play games with me, Foxy! Cole was murdered. He was chloroformed before he was tipped into the drink. Was it you who snuffed him out?’
Foxy chuckled. ‘Whoever it was did us all a favour, if you ask me. Cole was a bad ’un. The world’s a better place without him. Don’t tell me you’re sorry he’s gone, because if you d
id, you’d be lying!’
‘That’s not the point. We are dealing with murder and that cannot go unpunished.’
Gordon just shrugged. When he was questioned about his whereabouts on the night in question, he of course had an alibi. He wasn’t a fool; he’d covered his tracks very carefully. After further questioning, the detective had no choice but to eventually release him.
‘I’m sure he was behind Cole’s murder,’ Phillips remarked to his sergeant, ‘but how the hell I’m ever going to prove it, I’m damned if I know!’
‘But at least we have the murderer of young Charlie Black. Jimmy Knight had the good sense to confess.’
‘He didn’t have much choice when faced with such damning evidence. But you’re right, at least that’s one more unsolved murder taken care of. I feel sorry for the parents. It was bad enough thinking their son committed suicide; now they have to face the fact the lad was murdered. And, of course, there’s the trial for them to face. Poor devils.’
When Foxy strolled back into his gym, Mickey and Bonny were about to leave. The boxer stopped and, looking at his trainer, asked, ‘Are you in any trouble?’
With a shake of the head, Foxy answered. ‘No, son. Everything is fine. Off you go with your young lady and stop worrying.’ But when he was alone in his office, he poured himself a stiff brandy. That had been too close for comfort. A casual remark had almost put a noose around his neck; from now on he’d be more careful.
Thirty
During the following weeks, Bonny worked hard with her exercises, and at last she could feel the benefit. There was a certain stiffness in her knee, as the surgeon had predicted, but she learned to cope with it. On bad days, she limped slightly as she walked; on others, it wasn’t so noticeable. She hired a room in a dancing school and began to practice, accompanied by records played on a small portable gramophone. It was tedious and, at times, difficult, but she persevered.
When he wasn’t training, Mickey would go along and encourage her, trying to build her confidence. And one day, Rob Andrews appeared.
Bonny looked up as the door to the practice room opened.
‘Hello, Bonny.’
‘Rob! What on earth are you doing here?’ They hadn’t seen one another for some time.
‘I heard you were working and I thought perhaps you could do with some help.’ He removed his jacket, walked over to the gramophone, chose a record and put it on. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s try this. Follow me and let’s see what happens.’
‘The Lullaby of Broadway’ was a gentle tune, and he started to tap out an easy routine, which Bonny followed. Then he played another record, which had been the music to one of their Astaire–Rogers numbers, and she followed that, reliving their old routine.
For Bonny, it was like coming home, and her spirits rose as they twirled around like old times. At the end of the number, Rob looked at her and smiled. ‘That was pretty good!’
Bonny grinned back at him. ‘That was bloody marvellous!’ But she rubbed her knee, which was beginning to ache.
‘Let’s take a rest,’ Rob suggested and they both sat on the floor. ‘It’s going to take time, Bonny, but from what I’ve seen today, you’ll be able to dance pretty well.’
‘But not enough to sustain a performance.’ She sighed. ‘I have to accept that my days in the theatre are over.’
‘Not necessarily.’ He looked at her and then made a suggestion. ‘You could always help me, teaching the chorus line when a new show goes into rehearsal and working with the speciality numbers. You could be a great help, and it would still keep you in touch with the theatre.’
Bonny could hardly believe what she was hearing. ‘Do you think I could?’
‘Well, from what I’ve seen today, I have no doubt about it. After all, you wouldn’t be working constantly, dancing for hours on end as you did in the show. It would be just in rehearsals, and I’m sure during those times you could manage. Think about it. You’d be paid, of course, which would give you a living.’
‘I’d have to discuss this with Mickey first,’ she ventured, ‘but it sounds good to me.’
‘Broadway Melody will be going on tour soon, and my work is done with them now anyway. I’ve been asked to choreograph a new production and I could do with the help. We start rehearsals in three weeks’ time.’
Bonny could hardly contain her enthusiasm. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Right, then let’s do some more work.’ He stood up and pulled her to her feet.
That evening when Mickey took her out to dinner, Bonny told him of Rob’s suggestion. She was animated and excited as she told him all the details. ‘Don’t you see, darling, it means I’ll still be working in the theatre. My career isn’t over, after all!’
Mickey was less enthusiastic. ‘Yes, princess, I can see that it means a great deal to you, but …’
‘But what?’
‘Well, there’s no good beating about the bush. You know as well as I do that Rob Andrews is in love with you. I’m not sure you working together is such a good idea.’
Bonny was furious. ‘Oh, for goodness’ sake! I worked with him long enough before. And yes I knew how he felt about me, but I made it very plain to him that you were the only man in my life and he accepted that. Our partnership was purely professional. As it will be in the future.’
‘So you’ve made up your mind then?’
She glared at him. ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I have. Rob has given me a great opportunity and I’m not going to say no, just to satisfy your ego!’
Mickey sat and stared at her. He knew how much this meant to Bonny and he saw the grim determination in the cut of her jaw, the fire of battle in her eyes as she looked defiantly at him. ‘I love it when you’re angry, princess. It’s really sexy. Let’s go home and go to bed.’
‘Oh, Mickey!’ She started to laugh. ‘You are outrageous!’
He chuckled softly. ‘No, darlin’, just crazy about you, that’s all. But if that man steps out of line even just a little – I’ll floor him!’
‘Oh, I’m sure that Rob is well aware of that, so you have nothing to worry about.’
‘There’s just one thing, princess. If you do find it is too much for you, I want you to promise that you’ll have the sense to stop.’
Leaning across the table, she took his hand. ‘I promise.’
Broadway Melody moved from the West End and started to tour the provinces. As Rob had predicted, the bookings were very healthy and the finances of the company improved greatly. But Giles had had to make a serious decision before he moved the production.
His meeting with Foxy Gordon had been long and heated. Demands between the two men had been passed back and forth. But eventually Giles had had to agree to make Foxy Gordon a partner in this particular production. It was the only way Foxy would agree to keep his money involved. Giles was devastated, Foxy elated. He felt vindicated after serving five years behind bars after Giles Gilmore had taken him and others to court for fixing a fight.
It was not quite the revenge he had planned – but it came a close second.
Three weeks later, in a hall hired by Rob Andrews, Bonny stood beside him and faced the members of the chorus they were to train. She felt unusually nervous.
‘Good morning, everyone. I am Rob Andrews, your choreographer, and I’m sure you all know my assistant, Bonny Burton?’
There was a buzz among the dancers and someone started to clap, which quickly spread until the whole chorus line was applauding. Bonny was greatly touched and fought the tears that threatened at this unexpected show of approval.
Rob grinned at her. ‘They didn’t do that for me, I notice,’ he teased.
Bonny looked at the smiling faces before her. ‘Thank you all so much. You have no idea what that meant to me.’
Rob intervened. ‘Don’t let her fool you,’ he advised the dancers. ‘Our Bonny is as much a perfectionist as am I, so be prepared to work and work hard. Those who can’t cut the mustard will be leaving!’
This soon sobered the atmosphere – and the hard work began.
The following weeks were some of the happiest Bonny had experienced. She had been convinced that her dancing career was over, but now she felt exhilarated. She was able to fulfil her role as Rob’s assistant, although at the end of the day she felt exhausted and her knee ached, but she rested whenever she could, and as the days passed, she grew in strength.
Mickey was thrilled to see the woman he loved content at last, but he was now training for another defence of his title, so their time together was limited. But whenever he could get away, he would meet Bonny after rehearsals and they would spend time together at the flat she had rented.
Despite the fact she was no longer fronting a show, Bonny was still newsworthy, and as the fiancée of Mickey O’Halleran, privacy on the street was seldom an option. But, as a boxing champion, Mickey often made appearances at important events, to which Bonny accompanied him. The press often asked her, did she miss performing? At first she found this difficult to cope with, but as time passed she was able to truthfully say, ‘Yes, of course I do, but at least as an assistant to Rob Andrews I feel that I am contributing, though in a different way.’ And she came to accept this fact. Fame and her name in lights had never been her criteria, but the dancing had been the most important thing in her life, which she was still able to do, to a better degree than she had at first thought possible … until one fateful morning.
Rehearsals were going well. The chorus line was composed of dedicated dancers, and with Rob’s innovative choreography, some of the numbers were spectacular. Bonny was showing the lead dancer one particular tricky step. She danced across the stage, leapt into the air and landed on her bad leg awkwardly, twisting her knee. She fell to the floor with a cry of pain.
