A Poisoning In Piccadilly

by Lynda Wilcox

  “I haven’t been trying to test you,” he said, when she was settled again. “And I do need your help. Blount and his men have searched that suite at the Ritz and almost taken it apart without finding anything like what we are after. We know that you’ve visited Howard and Carolyne. Is there anything they’ve said or done that made you think they were hiding something or up to no good?”

  Eleanor drained her cup and considered the question. Unaware of the espionage connection, her focus had been on murder, but now she began to wonder. Not only about Eisenbach’s children, but about the meeting she’d witnessed between his secretary and Totteridge.

  “Actually, Peter, there’s quite a lot I could tell you, but how much is relevant or not...”

  “Let me be the judge of that.”

  Yes, it would be good to lay it all off onto someone else. The responsibility felt overwhelming all of a sudden.

  “All right, but not here. I’d be happier talking about it in my own apartment at Bellevue Mansions.” She glanced at her wristwatch. “Not tonight, though, because I have a party to go to.”

  “Another one?” His smile was sardonic. “Is that all you bright young things have to occupy you? You are forever at parties.”

  “No we are not. Besides, if the guest list includes the usual line of partygoers, I might learn something useful to you at this one.”

  She rose to her feet once again.

  Outside, he hailed a taxi for her.

  “Be careful,” he said, as one drew up at the kerb beside her. “I’d hate to lose you so soon after finding you again.”

  He took her hand and sketched a brief bow over it, before turning on his heel and disappearing among the home-going crowds.

  Chapter 16

  Tilly was unimpressed that Major Armitage had taken her mistress for tea. As she helped Eleanor dress for Olivia Drew-Stenton’s birthday party, she held forth at great length on that gentleman’s selfishness and disregard for Eleanor’s safety.

  “It was all right during the war. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and all that. But now? He’s putting you in harm’s way when you’re nothing but a civilian.”

  She fastened the last button and Eleanor took a seat at her dressing table.

  Eleanor laughed. “Is that all I am, Tilly, dear?”

  Tilly picked up a hair brush. “You know what I mean, my lady. We may have peace now, but you still need to watch yourself. Mr Brewster at the cobbler’s reckons that London is swarming with thieves and murderers these days. I shouldn’t be surprised if there isn’t a fair few spies among ‘em, neither. What right has the Major to put you at risk?”

  She finished her brushing and took the jewelled hair ornament Eleanor passed up to her, sliding it into place and resettling the hair around it.

  “None, I suppose, but I’d far rather him do that than doubt my loyalty.”

  In the aristocracy stakes, Eleanor’s blood was only a faint shade of mauve rather than the supposed blue of royalty, but she would still gladly spill it for her country. It had been rather horrid to feel that Armitage, of all people, had thought her to be working for the enemy — whoever that might be.

  Tilly sniffed. “If he thinks that, then he’s a fool, and both you and I know that he ain’t. Just be careful, that’s all I’m saying. This is espionage, after all.”

  “Yes, and it adds an intriguing aspect to the death of Henry Eisenbach. Up until now, I’d thought that this was straight murder, no matter how horrible that is. I assumed that one of his children had killed him for personal reasons.”

  “And now?” Tilly fastened a pearl choker around her mistress’s neck.

  “I’m not so sure any more. Now that I’ve had a chance to get to know them a little better, I somehow can’t see it of either of them.

  “I suspect that Carolyne is nothing more than an innocent girl made foolish by love.”

  Tilly stared into Eleanor’s eyes as they reflected back at her from the mirror.

  “And Mr Howard?”

  “Well, I’ll admit that he’s growing on me. Oh, don’t worry,” she said, seeing Tilly’s raised eyebrows, “I’m not about to take him to bed any time soon, but I like him. He knows what he wants, but I can't see him killing his father in order to get it.”

  “Can’t or won’t? You have to admit, my lady, that they both have good motives.”

  Eleanor nodded, dislodging the hair ornament until Tilly’s nimble fingers fixed it back in place more firmly and smoothed the hair around it once more.

  “You think I’m too close? I’m trying to be objective, but my instincts tell me that both Carolyne and Howard are out of it. Someone killing Eisenbach to get their hands on secret plans however...”

  “But they didn’t.”

  Eleanor spun round on her stool and stared at her maid. “No, by golly, I don’t think they did. Eisenbach certainly hadn’t got them on him that night. I was dancing with him. I would have known if they were about his person.”

  “And, you say, the police have searched the suite at the Ritz without finding them.”

  “That’s what Armitage told me.”

  “Right. So where are they?”

  “That’s the question.” Eleanor turned back to the mirror, picked up a lipstick off the glass tray holding her few cosmetics and applied a thin covering to her lips.

  “Perhaps Major Armitage thinks you’ve got them.”

  “That’s my worry, though he must know damn well that I haven’t.”

  “In that case, then, I reckon Major Armitage expects you to find them.”

  Eleanor screamed at the suggestion. “Me? How could I do that? I’ve no idea what they even look like, let alone where to find them.”

  Was that what Peter was asking her to do? He hadn’t been specific about the help he claimed she could give him, although he had made vague mention of her being ideally placed within the aristocracy.

  Did that mean he thought a member of her class had murdered Mr Eisenbach? Or they had betrayed their country? The thought of being used to uncover them was not a pleasant one.

  “You mark my words.” Tilly walked to the wardrobe and took out Eleanor’s coat. “He’ll soon have you doin’ his dirty work for him.” She brushed up the fur collar. “Besides, I wonder if it’s occurred to Mr Clever-Clogs Armitage, that someone else might have known the password and Eisenbach had already handed the doings over.”

  Eleanor had to admit it was a possibility, though it only made things harder. And why murder him in that case?

  “Oh, my goodness.”

  The sudden explanation for the meeting she’d observed between Tommy ‘Totters’ Totteridge and Teddy Jensen occurred to her — and turned her blood to ice.

  She wanted to throw off her glad rags and party wear, crawl into bed, and pull the covers over her head. At the very least, she wanted to stay here in the warm with Tilly, not go out partying with a lot of bright young things, wearing a false smile, hiding her true purpose, and believing the worst of everyone.

  Ye gods, but this was intolerable.

  “Are you all right, my lady?” Tilly crouched down beside the padded stool and put a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. “You’re looking a little peaky all of a sudden. Perhaps you should stay home tonight. I could phone with your apologies.”

  Oh, if only she could. The temptation was so great.

  The maid’s hand dropped to her mistress’s back. She rubbed it a few times and Eleanor felt her backbone stiffen.

  “I’m fine, thanks, Tilly.” She gazed into a pair of concerned eyes. “Don’t worry.”

  Tilly sniffed and stood up. “Of course I worry. It’s what you pay me to do, and besides, we’re friends.”

  Eleanor got to her feet. As well to go and get the evening over. If nothing else, she had to find out the truth.

  She slipped on her coat and picked up her bag.

  “I mustn’t forget Olivia’s present.”

  “It’s on the hall table, my lady. I put it ready.
”

  Eleanor nodded and told Tilly not to wait up. It earned her another sniff.

  “I may be very late.”

  “Don’t matter to me how late you are. I’ll be waiting. Have you got your key? ‘Cause once you’ve gone, I ain’t opening that door to nobody.”

  Chapter 17

  Despite her worries over Tommy and her earlier fit of cold feet, in the dark interior of the taxi taking her to Stenton House, Eleanor admitted that she was secretly rather flattered to be asked to work for British Intelligence again. She felt the familiar tingle of fear in her stomach and the whiff of danger in her nose as if her body was awakening after a long sleep.

  No power on earth would ever make her confess it to Major Armitage, or anyone else for that matter. How much the feeling was due to the man himself she didn’t want to speculate. Instead, she thought of what lay ahead.

  At her destination a liveried footman helped her off with her wrap and she walked up a magnificent marble staircase towards the house’s equally grandiose main apartment.

  Olivia waited in the doorway to greet her guests. With barely a sign of reluctance — they were Anton’s chocolates, after all — Eleanor presented her neatly wrapped gift and a birthday card.

  “Happy birthday, Olivia. I hope you’re having a lovely day.”

  “Yes, thank you, Eleanor.” She gave a radiant smile and flashed a diamond ring on her left hand. The birthday girl had recently got engaged to Guy Newling, an up-and-coming young barrister with aspirations for a career in politics. They hoped to marry in June.

  Eleanor added her congratulations on the announcement and passed on, into the crowded room.

  A row of trestle tables covered with cloths, blindingly white in the gleam from the chandeliers above, had been set up as a makeshift bar at the end of the room. Eleanor made her way towards it and helped herself to a glass of champagne.

  Then, glass in hand, she turned and surveyed her surroundings.

  A set of long drapes hung at intervals over one wall covering the tall windows that looked out over Portman Square. Fixed to the opposite wall, two enormous mirrors reflected the light, the fireplaces beneath them unlit and hidden behind embroidered screens. It was just as well. The heat from the press of human bodies was more than sufficient.

  Eleanor glanced to her right and into a room beyond where a jazz quartet strummed and blew with verve and gusto, and occasional tunefulness. One or two guests danced on an area cleared of carpet in the middle of the room.

  She switched her attention back to where she stood and searched for her quarry.

  “Good evening, your ladyship.”

  A hand touched her bare arm and she shivered.

  “Oh, hello, erm...”

  “Freddy, Freddy Fortescue. Remember? We last saw each other at the Rudolph.”

  Eleanor sipped her drink and frowned. She didn’t wish to be reminded, although she supposed that was the reason she was here.

  “Yes. I remember. It was New Year’s Eve.”

  “That’s right.” Unlike Eleanor, who liked to pace herself while drinking, he gulped his champagne. “What an awful night that was. I hope you’ve recovered from the shock.”

  His crassness surprised and revolted her. She edged away.

  “Quite, thank you. Have you seen Tommy Totteridge about? I need to talk to him.”

  “Totters, eh? Yes, he’s over there talking to Miss Westlake.”

  “Oh good, thanks.” Eleanor strode away with an unladylike lope and hoped he wouldn’t follow her.

  She joined a small group by the far fireplace and was spotted immediately by Tommy.

  “Eleanor! Hello, old bean. Having fun? I’ve not seen Lady Ann, yet.”

  Besides Tommy and Sophie there were a couple of other men in the group, All were known to Eleanor and smiled and nodded. They appeared to be discussing the merits of their respective universities, with some vehemence on the part of one of the men, and the disgruntlement of Sophie.

  “I’ve never been to university,” she said.

  “You don’t need to, Sophie.” Eleanor smiled at her. “All women go to the University of Life. Attendance there provides a far better education than any of these hooray boys ever got.”

  She spoke in jocular fashion and howls of outrage and laughter followed her pronouncement. A further glance convinced her that all of them were well ahead of her in the champagne drinking stakes.

  Sophie grinned. “Thanks, Lady Eleanor. How right you are.”

  “Quite right,” agreed Totteridge. “What’s the point of knowing what some boring old Greek philosopher had to say about things, when what you need is a knowledge of car maintenance. Had a flat tyre on the bally old Bentley on the way here, don’t you know. Lost a good hour’s drinking time while my man fixed it.”

  There were raucous catcalls and one of his friends slapped him on the back, but Eleanor doubted the story. Tommy was a lot more competent than he liked to let on.

  She chewed at her lower lip. It would best suit her purpose if she could get Tommy on his own, but how to do that when he was surrounded by his friends? She spent some minutes debating her options until, luckily, Sophie came to the rescue.

  “Come on, Totters,” she said, linking her arm with the surprised young man. “It’s about time you took me for a dance.”

  With a look that said she would brook no argument, Sophie bore him away like a trophy. After a moment or two had elapsed, Eleanor made a murmured excuse to the rest of the group and followed them.

  “Eleanor! So there you are. I’ve been looking all over for you, I knew you’d be here.” Smiling broadly, Lady Ann took Eleanor by the elbow and guided her to a pair of chairs set back against the drapes. “Isn’t it a glorious party?”

  Thwarted of her immediate goal, Eleanor sat next to her friend with good grace. “I’ve no idea, I’ve not long arrived. One of yours, I assume?”

  “No, no. Sadly not. I angled for it, and dropped enough hints, but Mrs Drew-Stenton had her own ideas.” She gazed around at the glittering gathering. “If she ever decides to organise parties professionally, she’d make a formidable rival.”

  “So, how is business, Ann?” Eleanor’s voice was gentle. She was pleased to note that her friend looked a lot better than when she’d seen her two days previously.

  “Oh, it’s picking up. It looks as though poor Mr Eisenbach’s death will be nothing but a nine-days-wonder, and things will go back to normal. For me, I mean.”

  It would never go back to normal for Howard and Carolyne, Eleanor reflected. At the moment his daughter seemed to think Eisenbach’s death a blessing in disguise, even Howard appeared to have shrugged it off. Both of them might feel very different once they were back in the States.

  “Talking of Mr Eisenbach, Ann, did you see him arrive at the Rudolph that evening.”

  “Yes, of course I did. I told you, I was waiting in the lobby to greet all my guests. I saw the three of them get out of the taxi and come in together. Why?”

  “Oh, I just wondered. I saw both Howard and Carolyne yesterday. Howard’s bought George Ripley’s Bugatti, by the way.”

  “Really? I thought it was George’s pride and joy.”

  Eleanor laughed. “Yes, but not Clara’s. With three young children now, she wasn’t going to risk losing him in a motoring accident. Anyway, getting back to the Americans, did Henry look quite well when he arrived?”

  “As far as I could tell. Why?”

  “Because according to his children, he’d been suffering from indigestion earlier. I just wondered if he’d completely recovered.”

  The implications weren’t lost on Ann. “Or if it was something else, you mean?”

  Eleanor nodded. “Perhaps.”

  “Hmm.” Ann ran a painted fingernail beneath her lower lip while she considered. “It had been a while since I’d seen any of them, don’t forget. Henry certainly didn’t look ill. He wasn’t rubbing at his stomach or anything like that. When we shook hands I don’t remember
smelling peppermint or similar on his breath.” She shook her head. “That’s the best I can do, I’m afraid.”

  “No matter.”

  “Has it helped?”

  Eleanor lifted her shoulders and let them fall. “I don’t know, at the moment. It may be unimportant anyway. He didn’t die from indigestion.”

  The two friends parted shortly after — Ann had spotted someone else she wished to speak to, and Eleanor headed to where she’d last seen Totters and Sophie Westlake.

  The room that the Stenton’s had set aside for dancing was not that much smaller than the room she had left. Stepping around the open door with its pale, linen fold panelling, Eleanor leaned back against the wall, hidden from anyone in the main apartment.

  She saw her friends, both good dancers, and watched them for a while, wondering when the pair would make a match of it. It was obvious that Sophie adored Tommy and Eleanor suspected that, if he would only admit it to himself, Tommy felt the same way about the vivacious Miss Westlake.

  If that eventuality ever came to pass, Eleanor would be delighted. She did not know Sophie well, but liked her, while Tommy was one of her oldest friends.

  She gave them a little more time to dance together, then cut in as they took a breather.

  “My turn,” she said, brightly. She turned her face to the girl and whispered. “I need to borrow him for a moment. I shan’t keep him long.”

  “That’s fine,” Sophie said, looking slightly puzzled. “I could do with another drink, anyway.”

  “Get me one while you’re about it, will you, old thing.” Tommy grinned and Eleanor dragged him further into the room where there were fewer people around to overhear.

  Now that she had achieved her objective and had him to herself, she came straight to the point.

  “How long have you known Theodore Jensen, Tommy?”

  “Eh? Who?” Surprised by the directness of her question, he appeared nonplussed and stared at her blankly.

  “Theodore ‘Teddy’ Jensen,” she repeated. “How do you know him?”

  A shake of his head. “No, sorry. Never heard of him.”