by Lynda Wilcox
“Yes, his team was thorough. None of the staff had what I’m looking for stuffed under their mattress, if that’s what you mean.”
Again she got the sense that he was mocking her. This time she chose to ignore it. “What about a strip search? Any of the five could have the documents about their persons.”
“Hmm. Slightly trickier, they are all US citizens.”
“Are they? Are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be, though I suppose their passports might be forged. So, what’s your third suggestion?”
“That the enemy already has them and they’ve been taken out of the country by now.”
He ran a hand around his jaw and chin, the corners of his mouth turned down. “I sincerely hope not.”
“Well, it could be someone at your end. Someone who knew the password and was given the documents in exchange.”
“And then poisoned him?”
Eleanor thought about this, remembering that Eisenbach had left the Ritz to conduct business of his own on New Year’s Eve. “It’s a possibility. The spy would be covering his own back. With Mr Eisenbach dead, he would not be able to tell who he had passed the papers onto, or when he’d done so. This is all speculation, of course, and if it happened at all, I think it must have been around lunchtime.”
While she relayed Carolyne’s account of her father leaving the suite on business and coming back complaining of indigestion, she refreshed their drinks.
“Thank you.” He took the glass and sat back, smiling at her. “You’ve managed to gather an awful lot of information.”
If it was praise she brushed it aside. “Bah! Fat lot of good it does us, though. I’m no wiser now than when I started.”
“Yes, it’s a mystery right enough. I can’t believe that we were betrayed from within, any more than you can think his offspring guilty. There were only three people who knew that password, the Prime Minister, the Foreign Secretary, and me.”
“What was it? One that could be easily deduced?”
“Uh uh.” He waved a finger at her. “You know I can’t tell you that.”
His words were like a knife to the belly. He still didn’t trust her. Eleanor turned away from him, eyes narrowing.
She helped herself to another cigarette. “If you want my co-operation, Major, then it would be as well not to leave me in the dark.”
He shook his head. “On the contrary. The less you know the safer you’ll be.”
“That wasn’t what you told me in France.”
“That was different.” He gazed at her sombre-eyed. “Then you had a specific job to do, and needed all the information we’d gathered in order to do it —”
“I did what you asked, got you what you wanted.”
He smiled, his eyes losing their focus at the memory of the dark-haired young girl who, head held high, had bravely walked into the enemy stronghold. She had distracted them for long enough for him and his men to creep into the rear of the compound, rescue the prisoner the Germans guarded, set explosives, and get out.
She would never know how many sleepless nights he’d had over that assignment, both before and since. The picture of the eager, yet terrified, kid — she’d been eighteen — with the long legs and short skirt had never been far from his mind. No wonder he had failed to recognise this self-assured, charming blonde when they’d met again.
“You did,” he acknowledged. “The success of that mission was entirely down to you, but it’s not the same now. Besides, if the papers are gone, then there’s no need for you to know what the password was.”
She could not fault his logic, though it left her grinding her teeth in frustration. “So, where do we go from here?” she asked.
“That depends on what else you’ve found out.”
He made her feel like a child’s clockwork toy, something he could wind up and set going. She baulked at the idea of being controlled in that way.
“I have no facts, though I do have some wild surmises.”
His lips curved in a smile. “Then that will have to do. Prithee, fair lady, share your rampant speculations with me.”
“Really, Major. I never expected poetry from you.” From under lowered lashes she checked the level of liquid in his glass. He had barely touched the second drink.
“Oh, I’d hardly call it that. I was pretty good at doggerel, though.” He drew himself up and became businesslike once more. “So, your surmises.”
“I think Mr Eisenbach’s secretary, one Theodore ‘Teddy’ Jensen, may be worth a closer look. No doubt you have him under scrutiny already. From what I’ve gathered, he only joined the Eisenbach party at the last minute, his predecessor, who had been with Eisenbach for many years, was unable to travel owing to an accident.”
“Yes, that's worth checking. Go on.”
“Well, Jensen supposedly came from an agency and I assume must have supplied good references, but he seems the likeliest choice if you’re looking for a spy. Um...” She drew her brows together, wondering how to pass on her suspicions without involving anyone else.
A coal settled in the grate, sending up a shower of sparks.
“What is it, my lady? Thought of something?”
“I don’t know. Jensen may just have been sightseeing in London, but yesterday he stopped a friend of mine and asked for directions to Collingwood Place. I don’t know whether that’s significant or not, but it struck me as odd.”
“Collingwood Place, eh? That’s all residential, I think.”
“Yes, for all we know he may have friends or relatives in London. I can’t imagine there is much for him to do now that Mr Eisenbach is gone, so maybe he spent some free time looking them up.”
“All right, leave that with me.”
Grateful that she hadn’t had to mention Tommy Totteridge, Eleanor was more than happy to do so. Besides, he probably had plenty of men to do the leg work for him. She certainly wasn’t going to go to Collingwood Place and start knocking on doors.
Armitage swallowed the last of his whisky, threw her a regretful look and got to his feet.
“I’ve taken up a lot of your time. I must be going.”
“Well, I think I’ve told you everything that I can think of. I’ll call you if anything new comes up.” Her smile was coy. “If you’re prepared to give me your number, that is.”
“Of course.” He reached into an inside pocket and brought out a small enamelled case full of business cards. He removed one and handed it to her. “That usually finds me, if not there’s always someone there to take a message.”
Eleanor rang for Tilly to bring the Major’s coat and hat and escorted him to the door.
“Peter.” She put a hand on his arm. “If you, or Chief Inspector Blount, do discover who killed Henry Eisenbach, will you let me know? Please?”
“Yes, Lady Eleanor, I will. You deserve that much.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “Be careful.”
Chapter 20
It was with a degree of trepidation that next morning at around eleven o’clock, Eleanor paid a further visit to Lady Ann Carstairs.
The day was murky and overcast, smoke from hundreds of chimneys added to the gloom and she huddled in her coat wishing she’d had the sense to take a taxi, or even driven around to Ann’s in the Lagonda.
After Armitage’s departure the previous evening, and with Tilly having an evening out at the pictures, she had spent the remaining hours until bedtime going over and over what scant facts she had about Henry Eisenbach’s death.
Two things had occurred to her, and now she was impatient to discover the answers. Ann had better not still be abed.
“Eleanor, darling, you’re just in time for coffee,” said her hostess, as the maid ushered Eleanor into the drawing room. “You really are an early bird, aren’t you?”
Lady Carstairs might be dressed and up and about, but her face bore the hallmarks of her lifestyle. Dark smudges under her eyes showed through the make-up she had applied to cover them. So too the crows' feet, a
nd the lines across her forehead. Long nights consuming too much alcohol and smoking too many cigarettes were all beginning to wreak havoc on her once youthful features. If she didn’t ease up soon she would look an old hag by the time she was thirty.
Suppressing a sigh, Eleanor took the cup that Ann handed to her and sat in her usual place on the settee.
“Yes, I’m sorry to bother you again so soon after last time. What time did you get home from Olivia’s birthday party, by the way?”
Ann gulped coffee. “A smidgen after one, I think, so quite an early night for me. You were long gone by the time I left.”
“I need my beauty sleep.” Eleanor smiled.
“Nonsense! You’re blooming.” Ann peered at her friend. “Have you got a new man in your life?”
Eleanor coloured. “Nothing of the sort. It’s just an effect of the fresh air.”
One could hardly call Peter Armitage a new man in her life. He was an old acquaintance and there was no romance between them, although the way her heart had thumped in her chest and her hand tingled when he’d kissed it last night suggested otherwise.
Their relationship was purely platonic, a business arrangement and nothing more.
“You have, haven’t you? I can tell.”
Ann’s persistence was unnerving. Eleanor deflected her with a truth that did not tell the full story.
“I have been seeing rather a lot of Howard Eisenbach lately.”
“You sly minx, you.” Ann clapped her hands and grinned.
“It’s nothing, honestly, Ann. I’ve just been keeping him entertained” — she held up a hand as her friend’s eyebrows rose and a twinkle appeared in her eye — “and not in the way you’re thinking, either. He hasn’t even kissed me.”
“Why ever not? Are you keeping him at arm’s length? I wouldn’t.” She gurgled with laughter.
As anxious as Eleanor was to change the subject and get on to the reason for her visit, she played along. A too eager questioning might alert Ann, who despite her partygoing lifestyle had a sharp intelligence, that there was something more behind Eisenbach’s murder than she might have supposed. She didn’t need to know about espionage. She was safer out of it.
“Howard has a certain charm, I’ll grant you, but he really isn’t my type.”
“Well, you should pass him over.”
“Oh? I thought your interest was mainly financial. You wanted him to invest in your venture into the US market.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a more personal investment. Should it ever arise, that is.”
Eleanor smiled. “Then I’ll put in a good word for you.”
Ann poured more coffee from the silver pot. She offered it to Eleanor, who shook her head. “I suspect that Howard, now that he’s come into his father’s millions, will have every girl in the States, as well as London while he’s here, vying for his attention. I wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“The cynic in me thinks you’re probably right.”
“Hmm. So if you didn’t come here to ask for my advice on your affair with Howard Eisenbach, why are you here?”
There it was again, that sharp mind and keen gaze. Eleanor debated how much to tell her friend, and decided on the truth — or as much of it as she considered wise.
“I’m afraid I’m here with yet more questions about the New Year’s Eve party.”
Ann groaned. “I suppose I’m to blame for asking you to investigate after that awful Chief Inspector Blount almost accused me of killing Henry. Go on, then. You know I’ll help if I can.”
“All right. You told me that you met the Eisenbachs at the door.”
“Yes.”
“Did you bring them straight into the ballroom or did you introduce them to anyone else en route?”
“Well now, let me think. There were an awful lot of people milling around in the lobby, including other hotel guests who weren’t on my invite list. Some were going out for the evening, some heading for the dining room. You saw it, you know how busy it was.”
Eleanor’s heart sank. She hadn’t considered the possibility that another of the Rudolph’s guests might be involved. Had Peter Armitage or the Chief Inspector?
“But, no one that you knew or introduced to the Eisenbachs?”
“No, though I was rather having to beat a path through the crowd. I took them straight into the ballroom and found you, then commandeered a table. We didn’t stop to talk to anyone on the way.”
“Did anyone bump into Mr Eisenbach, do you know, either by accident or design?”
“If you mean did someone get close enough to jab a hypodermic needle into the poor man, then I can’t say. I walked slightly ahead of the three of them.
“I see.” Eleanor nodded. “Did you know everyone who turned up at the Rudolph that evening? For the party, that is.”
“Yes, yes, I did. There weren’t any gate-crashers, if that’s what you mean.”
Eleanor drained her coffee cup. “Not entirely. I was thinking more of men who brought girlfriends that might not have been known to you. And vice versa, of course.”
“Oh, I see.” Ann’s brow creased. She sat back, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke at the ceiling. “No, I had met everyone at least once before.”
The next question would be more difficult, though Eleanor considered it necessary. How to phrase it?
“Please don’t ask me why I want to know this, because I won’t tell you, though it’s frightfully important.”
“Ooh, I’m intrigued.” Ann waggled perfectly arched eyebrows. “Go on.”
“Do you know if anyone that you invited was good at party tricks?”
“Party tricks?”
“Yes, magic tricks, sleight of hand, that sort of thing.”
Ann stubbed out her cigarette. “Oh, I see what you mean. Well, Esme Wainwright is a scream at charades. Anthony Pilkington does excellent impressions of the royal family and some cruel, but terribly funny ones of his friends, but I don’t know anyone that pulls rabbits out of hats.
“You know, Eleanor, one of these days when this whole horrid affair is over and done with, you’re going to have to tell me the meaning of all this. It’s simply all too mysterious for words.”
“Yes, darling, I’ll explain when I can. Now, one final question and then I’ll leave you in peace. Where can I find the Dashing Dashwoods, please?”
“Oh, that’s an easy one. Polly and Penny Dashwood are enjoying a run as part of a revue at the Variety Hall theatre, though I must warn you, if you’re thinking of hiring them they don’t come cheap.”
Eleanor had no intention of hiring the pair of singers, nor any reason to do so. Her interest in them had everything to do with their engagement at the Rudolph.
“What about the orchestra that night? Do they regularly play at the Rudolph, or did you hire them, too?”
“No, I booked them. It’s all part of the job of being a party organiser. I provide everything — for a fee, of course — that my clients ask for. That includes musicians, singers, artistes, streamers, decorations, even the booze and the glasses if necessary. And that’s on top of finding and booking a venue. Not everyone has a home, and deep-pocketed parents, like Olivia Drew-Stenton, for instance.”
“So, where did you find Delaney and his pals?”
“Oh, I got them from an agency. Would you like its name and number?”
Eleanor had no real need of it, but agreed nonetheless. Derek Delaney, the band leader, had his back to the room for most of the evening, but one of the other musicians might have noticed something. If she had no joy with the Dashwoods, that would be her next line of attack.
She took her leave soon after, sallying forth into the murk, until Ann called her back to give her a hug on the doorstep.
“Be careful out there, Eleanor,” she warned. “Don’t forget there’s still a killer on the loose. Somewhere.”
Chapter 21
Eleanor needed no reminding, though she doubted the murderer of Mr Eisenbach would be lying in wait f
or her between Ann’s house and the Variety Hall theatre on the Charing Cross Road.
Situated on a corner, the imposing building with its crenellations and statues, couldn’t make its mind up whether to be a castle or a Roman temple.
She wasted no time in admiring this muddled up architecture, but stepped inside expecting to be directed to the stage door and was pleasantly surprised, on giving her name to a flunkey, to be whisked straight off to the dressing rooms at the rear of the stage.
There are benefits to having a title.
“This way if you please, Lady Bakewell. There’s a matinee performance in a little over an hour, so the Misses Dashwood won’t be able to give you too long.”
“That will be all the time I require,” Eleanor assured him.
Along a corridor lined on both sides with identical doors, the flunkey stopped at the fourth one he came to and gave a discreet tap.
“Lady Bakewell to see you, girls.”
The door was wrenched open and two almost identical faces peered out.
“Hello, ducks, what can we do for you?”
“I’d like to ask you a few questions about your booking on New Year’s Eve, if I may?”
“Oh yes? Well come on in, then.”
A hand clamped on her arm and pulled her inside, while the other girl called up the corridor to the retreating back of the usher.
“Make the next visitor a feller, will you, Joe?”
His reply was lost in the distance and she giggled and shut the door.
Inside a typical cramped dressing room, Eleanor presented her card. The Dashwood who had tugged her inside looked at it with cocked eyebrow, while her companion cleared a pile of clothing from a chair and offered her a seat.
“Take a pew, dear.” She threw the clothes into a corner and pulled a screen in front of it. “You’ll forgive me and Penny if we continue with getting ready, won’t you? Curtain up in an hour.”
Without waiting for a reply, she sat beside her twin in front of a long wall-mounted mirror, picked up a tube from amid the clutter on the dressing table, and began applying foundation to her face. Both of them wore satin dressing gowns, their hair held back by bandeaux.
