by Lynda Wilcox
“He’s an American.”
“So? Dash it all, Eleanor. I know quite a few Americans, I met them both during and after the war, but I don’t know anyone by that name.” He paused, appeared to consider the question again, but still shook his head. "No, sorry. I'm sure than name means nothing to me.” He tilted his head and looked at her gravely. “Anyway, what’s this all about?”
“You were talking to him only this afternoon.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Yet she’d seen them together. What did Tommy — dear, sweet Tommy — have to hide? There was an obvious answer to that. Sadness swept over her at his denial and deceit.
“Don’t lie to me, Tommy.”
He took a step back, his jaw tightening, his normally open and honest face suffused with colour. “Steady on, Eleanor.”
“I saw you.”
He still shook his head. His brow furrowed. “No, no, I assure you. I — ah, whereabouts?”
“On the corner of Mount Street near Piccadilly.”
“Was this chap tall, well built, and with sandy hair?”
“Yes. So you do know him?”
Her despair that he had confessed to knowing the secretary evaporated almost instantly at his next words.
“Hang it all, I didn’t know his name. He was just some chap — though now I come to think of it he did speak with an American accent — who stopped me and asked for directions. I didn’t think to ask for his name, rank, and bally serial number.”
“Was that all? But, you gave him something.”
Tommy stepped back even further, this time pulling Eleanor with him, to keep them out of earshot of the ever encroaching crowd of guests.
“I gave him back what he’d first given me. It was a little book of maps, street maps of London. He wanted to know where Collingwood Place was.”
“And that was all?”
“Yes. Honestly, Eleanor. I’d never seen him before until he stopped me in the middle of the street and I’d forgotten all about it ‘til you reminded me.”
“Oh.” Dejected that her idea had come to nothing, she grimaced. At least Tommy was exonerated of colluding with Eisenbach’s secretary, even if Jensen could still be guilty.
Unaware that Eleanor had suspected him of treason and murder, Tommy ran a hand through his unruly locks and peered suspiciously at her.
“Why did you want to know? Are you checking up on me? I thought Sophie was bad enough, always wanting to know what I get up to when I’m not with her. Dash it all, can’t a man have a life to call his own?”
He looked decidedly frowsty, until Eleanor pulled him close and kissed him. “Tommy, old dear, I think you’re absolutely wonderful.”
Chapter 18
Relieved of the crippling fear that Tommy Totteridge was in the pay of an enemy power, Eleanor decided to put all thought of espionage behind her and enjoy her day out with Howard Eisenbach.
“Are you really going to let me drive your Lagonda?” he asked, eyes shining at the prospect.
“I might, although the track has a few cars available to drive. There’s a Bugatti and a Sunbeam, if memory serves. It might be best to start with one of them.”
That would allow her to judge his driving skills before she entrusted her beloved vehicle to his tender clutches.
Just in case he had any designs on getting Eleanor into tender clutches, she had again brought along her maid as chaperone, and a bored Tilly sat in the back. As on their previous outing, she had come well supplied with rugs, picnic basket, and trusty revolver.
Brooklands motor racing circuit lay not far from Weybridge, a drive of about an hour south-west of London. Eleanor had been a member of the Brooklands Automobile Racing Club for some time and didn’t dawdle on the way there.
Howard relaxed beside her as they motored at a good pace through the English countryside for the second time in three days.
“I must thank you for taking Carolyne out the other evening, my lady.”
“Oh, I enjoyed it,” Eleanor said.
“So did Carolyne. It helped to take her mind off things, and she thought it the bee’s knees to see Prince Edward.”
“Oh, the Prince of Wales is a regular visitor.”
“Well, to hear her talk, you’d think he’d turned up at that nightclub just for Carolyne’s benefit. She wouldn’t shut up about how handsome he was.”
“Not my type,” Eleanor said. She had met David, as he was known to family and close friends, on several occasions and did not care for him.
“Well, anyways, I’m grateful to you for taking her under your wing. The only female company she has is her maid and before we came she knew no one in London other than Lady Ann.”
“Did you?”
“No, but it’s different for men, isn’t it?”
Eleanor glanced at him sharply. Howard Eisenbach had just gone up a notch in her estimation.
A lot of things had changed since the war, and mostly for the better where women were concerned, but men still had far greater freedom and rights. Men would always be able to go where they liked, when they liked, and do as they pleased short of breaking the law.
Although not part of the suffrage movement, Eleanor applauded their efforts to get all women the vote, not just those aged over thirty and with sufficient property to their name. Universal emancipation would, she believed, be a good start to further improving a woman’s lot.
“Yes it is, and this is a difficult time for both of you. I’m more than happy to help your sister.” She negotiated a tight left hand bend, and pointed ahead to a stand of trees on the skyline. “Not far now.”
The track lay in a hollow at the end of a lane. Eleanor reduced her speed. They soon reached their destination and pulled up beside the Club House.
She tooted her horn and the door opened to reveal a steward. He greeted them warmly when he recognised Lady Eleanor, and readily agreed to her driving the Lagonda onto the circuit and into the inner paddock.
“Mind how you go,” he said. “There’s a few out there already including the Count.”
Eleanor acknowledged this with a wave, waited while he opened the gate, then let in the clutch and drove through.
“Here we are,” she said, pausing at the edge of the track then crossing the wide expanse of concrete into the inner paddock.
“Wow. It’s big.” Howard twisted this way and that in his seat as he tried to take in the spread of the circuit.
“Yes, I think it’s the biggest in the world, though I’ve never been to your Indianapolis.”
“I’d love to build a place like this, maybe in upstate New York. Any idea how much it cost?”
“Not to the penny, no, but I can tell you it bankrupted the owner.”
Though now that his father was dead, the cost of building an American Brooklands shouldn’t bother Howard. Not with all the millions he’d soon have at his fingertips.
Eleanor brought the car to a stop near a wooden hut next to which huddled a group of tables and benches. “I’m going to drop Tilly and the picnic hamper off here and then I’ll take you for a spin.”
For their first lap of Brooklands, Eleanor drove at a steady pace and stayed close to the inside of the track. This served two purposes, it allowed her companion to get a feel for the track and its layout — the circuit was roughly oval in shape and possessed two banked areas and two straights — while allowing other users travelling at faster speeds ample room for overtaking.
Her own speed increased on the second circuit. She guided the Lagonda with a fair degree of skill which her passenger approved of, marking his appreciation by tapping the dashboard. “Think you can handle it?” she asked, and drove back to the garages in the centre when Howard grinned.
“You betcha!”
They had several cars to choose from and after a short discussion with one of the mechanics, settled on a Napier. Howard took the wheel and round they went again.
Apart from a tendency to have a heavy foot on the gas pedal, he proved to
be a competent driver. Eleanor, at ease beside him, thought again what a very attractive man Howard Eisenbach was, how charming he could be when he was doing something he loved.
He clearly relished speed; his face was flushed with exhilaration as he rounded the curves, swept up and down the banking, and pushed the car to its limits on the straights.
“This is great, Lady Eleanor. This makes everything worthwhile. I’m glad now that I did it.”
“Did what?”
“Accepted your offer to come here today. I’ll admit I felt a mite guilty at leaving Carolyne in London, but I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. This is top dollar stuff.”
“Now that you have the Bugatti, you can come here whenever you please. I’d prefer not to race against others today, but there’s nothing to stop you doing so, next time we are here.”
They returned the car to the garage, Howard enthusing over it with the mechanic. As they chattered an almighty roar set their ears ringing. The ground beneath them them vibrated.
“Geez. What is that monster?”
“You'll be able to see for yourself, sir. He’ll be pulling in in just a moment,” said the mechanic. “This is his test lap.”
A huge automobile thundered past, mounted the banking in a smooth curve before descending again to the concrete and disappearing around the bend in the track.
“Come on.” Eleanor took Howard’s hand and pulled him towards the far end of the line of wood built workshops. “I’ll introduce you.”
The car pulled onto the grass, and seeing Eleanor, the driver waved and raised his goggles.
“Hello there, my lady. Delighted to see you back at Brooklands.”
“Louis, may I present Mr Howard Eisenbach of America. Howard, this is Count Louis Zborowski. He's raced here many times.”
The two men shook hands. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Howard has just bought George Ripley’s Bugatti Brescia. He’s hoping to race it at home and on the Continent.”
“Really? Well, it’s an excellent car. Lord Ripley always kept it in top notch condition.”
“May I ask what you’re driving, sir?” Howard was almost slavering over the machine.
“Oh, it’s one of my own designs. The reason it’s so big and long is because it’s powered by an aero engine. I call it Chitty Bang Bang. Want to go for a spin?”
“I’ll say!”
Eleanor stood back out of Howard’s way, as he almost leapt into the passenger seat. She watched them roar off, then went to join Tilly. She was desperate for lunch and a hot drink.
“Did you enjoy that, my lady?” The maid poured tea out of a vacuum flask.
“Not as much as our American friend, but yes, thank you, I did. I’ll have to start coming again once the better weather arrives in the Spring.”
However, Eleanor refused to be drawn on whether she had learned anything pertinent to espionage and murder. She needed time to mull over her jumbled thoughts on that subject, and that of handsome young Americans.
Howard, disdaining hot tea and veal pie, spent the next hour with Count Louis, either sitting next to him in Chitty Bang Bang, or racing against him in the Napier.
He had evidently enjoyed the day and, on the drive back to London, discussed the plans he had made with the Count for taking part in that year's Monte Carlo rally.
Eleanor, wanting to talk about Theodore Jensen and the accident that had happened to his predecessor, listened politely, and covered her frustration as best she could. When she did get the chance to ask about the secretary, her companion claimed he knew little about the man.
“That was Dad's affair. I had nothing to do with the man, though I remember one time that Dad complained that Jensen wasn't good at his job.”
“Did he say why?”
“I don't think so.” He shrugged, bored with the subject. “Have you ever driven the Monte Carlo rally, my lady? I think it will be a hoot.”
Later, after they had dropped Howard back at the Ritz and were heading to garage the Lagonda at Bellevue Mansions, she spoke to her maid.
“By the way, Tilly, I rather think we’ll get a visit from Major Armitage this evening.”
“Huh. Well, he better hadn’t want feeding.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t think so. Why?”
“Because we’re having omelettes, and I’ve only got enough eggs for two.”
Eleanor drove on. She needed a break in this case, but the murder of Henry T. Eisenbach was not proving as easy to crack as an egg.
Chapter 19
For the sake of Tilly’s peace of mind and the state of the larder, it was fortunate that Major Armitage arrived after dinner.
“Come in, Peter.” Eleanor flashed him a smile of welcome as Tilly relieved him of coat and hat and left them to it. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“Thank you. Scotch and soda, if you have one, please.”
“Certainly.”
She fixed him a drink and waved him to the chair on the opposite side of the fireplace.
“Did you enjoy your party last night?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you, though I didn’t learn anything to help you. Have you found your missing papers, yet?” There was an element of mischief in her smile as she handed him the glass.
Armitage glowered. “No.” Then he brightened. “You look well, my lady.”
“Thank you. I’ve been out today getting plenty of fresh air.”
He crossed one leg over the other. “Yes, with young Eisenbach, I understand.”
It was Eleanor’s turn to scowl. Was Armitage having her watched? It was not a pleasant thought. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Major?”
A shake of his head. “No, but I do have a man stationed at the Ritz. He saw you depart this morning. Go anywhere nice?”
“To Brooklands, actually. Howard Eisenbach is mad keen on becoming a racing driver. He has plans to buy an automotive factory in the States, something his father disapproved of.”
“Oh?”
“They had a lot of arguments about it, apparently. Arguments that started before they left New York, continued on the Laconia, and still carried on in London, until Mr Eisenbach’s death.”
“And you think those two things are connected?”
Eleanor, weighing up what she’d learned, took a while before she answered. “Not necessarily. As a starting premise it was useful, but now I’m not so sure that Howard had anything to do with his father’s murder.” She sipped at her own drink, a glass of Burgundy wine. “Understand, to start with, I only wanted to know who had poisoned Eisenbach senior. Your missing documents simply threw a spanner in the works.”
“How so?”
“Because you don’t poison a man in order to steal something from him.”
“Ah.”
Eleanor had no doubt that Armitage had worked all this out for himself, but she pressed on.
“By the time he is dead, he is unable to tell you where the documents are, and if there’s no antidote, then he has no reason to do so.”
“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought.”
“Yes.” She nodded, gazing into the fire, watching the flames flicker and dance. “Though I can’t seem to make any sense of it.”
If someone had waved a gun in Eisenbach’s face and threatened to shoot him, or held a dagger to Carolyne’s throat until he handed over papers and formula, then she could have understood it. As it was, she was left wondering if Eisenbach’s death had anything to do with espionage at all.
“Go on,” he prompted when she remained silent.
“Are you really interested in what I think?”
“Oh, yes. You, of all the people involved, are probably closest to the Eisenbachs. I’d like to know what you think of them, what opinions you’ve formed. You are a trained observer.”
He should know. It had been Armitage himself who had taught her to observe and not just see. To spot the flicker of a lying eye, the rustle of a betraying leaf.
“Was, Major. I was a t
rained observer. That’s all in the past.”
“Personally, I don’t think it’s a skill you ever lose.”
Personally, she wished he’d stop looking at her like that. Was he assessing her every move, her every word, maybe even her every thought? It was hard to concentrate with those all-seeing eyes boring into her own.
Did he ever stop doing his job?
“What about the doctor? The man who came to my assistance when Mr Eisenbach collapsed. Could he have had something to do with it?”
“Blount’s checked him out pretty thoroughly. He is who he says he is.” He pulled at an earlobe and changed the subject. “So, what was your impression of Carolyne?”
“She’s a spoilt little madam at times, which given the money that’s been lavished on her is understandable, though I think she’s a nice kid at heart. Unfortunately, she’s another one with a motive for murder.”
“Oh? How so?”
Eleanor passed on the information about the boyfriend and Carolyne’s comment that she was now free to do as she pleased.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think she murdered her father, either.” She blew out her cheeks. “Like I said, I can’t get this to add up. I don’t think either of Eisenbach’s offspring murdered him, but if they did, it’s doubtful that espionage had anything to do with it. If, on the other hand, he was murdered for his papers, then why kill him? And why use poison?”
“A masterly summation.” He ran his tumbler back and forth between his palms.
Eleanor glared at him. “Don’t laugh at me.”
He took one hand from his glass and held it palm outwards towards her. “No, no, I wouldn’t dream of it. I meant what I said.”
She shrugged. Just at the moment, his opinion of her was immaterial. “This is all fine and dandy, but where are your missing papers?”
“Where indeed.”
“I can think of two, possibly three places.” She stood and brought down the cigarette box off the mantelshelf.
“And they are?” He helped himself to a cigarette, then lit hers before his own.
“I take it Blount and his men searched the servants’ rooms as well as the Regal Suite?”
