The Ebenezer Papers

by Dawn Harris

  After I’d taken the oath the prosecuting counsel established my identity, emphasising that I was the widow of Archie York, V.C., no doubt to give weight to my evidence. He took me through the dreadful events of that day, starting by asking how I’d come to be at Peter’s house that Sunday. I explained that Peter and Monica had become engaged the previous evening and a celebration lunch for friends had been organised at the Savoy. ‘I drove to Mr. Crawley’s house, picking up Miss Taverner on the way. We were a little early, and we were just sitting talking when the doorbell rang. Mr. Crawley went to answer it and.......’

  ‘Did Mr. Crawley have a manservant?’ he interrupted.

  ‘Yes, but he’d gone to post some letters.’

  ‘Did you hear what was said?’

  ‘Yes, I did. A man inquired in a polite cultured voice if he was Mr. Crawley, and Peter acknowledged that he was.’

  ‘A polite, cultured voice? You’re sure of that?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘No, he didn’t.’

  ‘Did Mr. Crawley speak again?’

  ‘Yes. He said “Here I say” and “What the devil” and then we heard a shot.’

  ‘What tone of voice did Mr. Crawley use?’

  ‘He was alarmed.’ He asked what I did next and I explained I’d rushed into the hall and found Peter dead on the floor.

  ‘Are you quite sure he was dead when you first saw him?’

  ‘Absolutely certain. His eyes were staring.’

  ‘It must have been a great shock to you.’

  ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘What did you do then, Mrs. York?’

  ‘I picked up one of Mr. Crawley’s golf clubs from the bag in the hall and ran after the man. But I was too late. He’d gone.’

  ‘If you had caught up with him, what did you mean to do?’

  ‘Stop him any way I could.’

  ‘Wasn’t that a little foolish? You knew he had a gun.’

  ‘Yes. But I was very angry, you see.’

  He didn’t comment, but looked briefly at his papers before asking, ‘Tell me, what was your opinion of Mr. Crawley?’

  ‘I liked him,’ I said at once. ‘He was a good man. Decent, hard-working and honourable.’

  He nodded, then looked me right in the eye and demanded, ‘Would you describe Mr. Taverner in the same terms?’

  I’d fallen straight into the trap, but I only hesitated for a second, aware my opinion would count for nothing unless I was honest. Besides I was on oath. ‘Mr. Taverner is very hard-working, but no two men are exactly alike or.............’

  ‘So you don’t find him decent and honourable?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I.............’

  ‘But your opinion of him is not high?’ I started to protest, but he cut in saying, ‘That is all. Thank you, Mrs. York.’

  I looked at the defence counsel and saw he was already getting to his feet. ‘Mrs York, who told Mr. Taverner that Mr. Crawley had been murdered?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘What was his reaction?’

  ‘He was devastated. Not for himself, but for his daughter. He might not have wanted Monica to marry Mr. Crawley, but he can’t bear her to be upset. In the end he always gives her what she wants, whether it’s going to university, a sports car, or the man she wants to marry. To suggest he had Peter murdered is ridiculous. He would never cause her that much pain and unhappiness. Mr. Taverner blusters and threatens, but he never means what he says when he’s angry.’

  The rest of the day was taken up with medical and forensic evidence, and that given by Inspector Nabber, as the officer first called to the murder scene, and Superintendent Burns, as the arresting officer. When the court adjourned for the day, Emily waited with Monica, who hoped to be allowed to see her father. Jean and I didn’t have time to hang about, but we promised to be in the public gallery in the morning. As Al drove us home, Jean said, ‘That’s if I haven’t been arrested by then.’

  Neither of us had ever been in a courtroom before, and she told me how the prosecuting counsel had set out its case at the beginning. ‘He made it sound so simple. Saying Peter was shot two days after Mr. Taverner had been overheard threatening him. And that evidence would be presented to show that Mr. Taverner had paid Gentleman Charlie Jones to kill Peter.’

  ‘Evidence,’ I echoed in derision. ‘He means the murder weapon, the five hundred pounds and Mr. Taverner’s telephone number, that the real murderer planted in Jones’s flat.’

  ‘Superintendent Burns fell for that?’ she scoffed.

  ‘He saw it as conclusive proof.’ And I asked, ‘Did the barrister say anything else?’

  ‘Yes, he said the police were still investigating Jones’s murder, and they expected to bring that case to a successful conclusion shortly. You could tell the inference was that Mr. Taverner had done it, but he didn’t even flinch.’ She gave a sudden shudder. ‘I hope I will be as brave when it’s my turn. I shall plead guilty, of course, provided I’m not charged with spying for Germany.’

  Jean, as always, was facing up to things. I glanced at my watch as we dropped her off, and she promised, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be in Hyde Park at five thirty.’

  ‘I know that.’ I smiled at her and found myself fighting back the tears again. What she was about to do took immense courage.

  As for Mr. Taverner, the opinions of his character given at his trial today would count for very little. If he was to be set free, proof of his innocence was what we needed, and so far we had none. Today, with Jean’s help, I hoped that would change.

  CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN

  The instant I reached home I washed and then changed into black slacks, a plain white cotton short-sleeved blouse, and comfortable flat shoes. Which I hoped would enable me to melt into the background at the Lyons Corner House.

  Al drove me there in the Rolls and agreed, unhappily, to wait rather than come in, aware his presence would only draw attention to me. I’d promised to be there by five, and I was a few minutes early. As I went through the big glass doors a plain clothes policemen quietly introduced himself and escorted me to where Inspector Nabber was waiting in the restaurant.

  The Inspector’s eyes gleamed with pleasure when he saw me. ‘Good girl.’ He was seated at a table close to one of the columns that were a feature of the room, and behind two very large flamboyant potted palms. These pretty much hid us from the view of people coming into the restaurant, while judicious manoeuvring of the greenery allowed us to see the customers. On the table were some official looking ledgers, suggesting we were employed on the firm’s business.

  When my escort left us I sat beside the Inspector, who told me he had men placed at every exit, and others were seated at tables in the restaurant itself. ‘At this moment there isn’t one man under fifty sitting alone at any table, but as Ginger won’t collect the letter until five thirty, I wouldn’t expect our quarry to be here just yet.’ Taking out his pocket watch, he pronounced, ‘Still, he ought to arrive within the next twenty minutes.’

  ‘What if Ginger does a runner.......?’

  ‘He won’t. I’ve warned him there will be four armed police watching him all the time, and if he tries to escape, he will be shot dead.’

  ‘Four armed men?’ I repeated in amazement. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘Of course. Do you think I’d lie to him, cariad?’ he said in a bantering tone. ‘Only their job is to stop the other man escaping. Ginger wouldn’t get far, he doesn’t have the brains. And there are two men whose sole job is to see he doesn’t try anything. Should be interesting if he does.’ And he rubbed his hands together in glee.

  ‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’

  He gave a quiet chuckle. ‘Since I met you there hasn’t been a dull moment. This is much more fun than nicking a petty thief in some rotten slum in the east end. This job has taken me to the magnificent Kelfield Hall, across the Solent in a motor boat, half way round the Isle of Wight, and now here, w
here I have already been given Welsh rarebit and a delicious cup of tea, all on the house. What more could a man ask for?’

  I shook my head at him, laughing. ‘Is it more fun than Abergavenny?’ His eyes began to dance, but before he could answer, I laid my hand on his arm. 'There he is,‘ I hissed.

  He was wearing the same brown suit, with a white shirt and brown tie. Tall, slim and ordinary, he could melt into a crowd with ease. He walked to a table well away from us, and some distance from where I’d seen him and Ginger before, probably so that he was served by a different waitress each time. His table was close to a big column but, thankfully, he was not hidden from our view.

  Although one of the Nippies greeted him with a cheery smile, he made no attempt to respond, merely giving his order. The popular gypsy band had most customers tapping their feet, but not our man, who completely ignored it. He was also clearly suffering from a bad cold, with bouts of sneezing, and the frequent use of a handkerchief to blow his nose. When the Nippy put his order of two poached eggs on toast and a pot of tea in front of him, the time was exactly half past five.

  ‘Jean will be leaving her letter on the bench now,’ I murmured. ‘Are you quite sure Ginger can’t get away from your men in Hyde Park?’

  ‘Sergeant Lane’s in charge of that operation, and he’ll remain close to Ginger at all times. You remember Sergeant Lane?’

  ‘Of course.’ He’d accompanied the Inspector to Peter’s house on the day of the shooting. ‘He seemed sensible.’

  ‘He is. Ginger won’t get the better of him.’

  Even so, the minutes dragged like hours as we waited, having nothing to do except watch Ebenezer demolish his poached eggs. When he’d finished he poured himself a cup of tea, glanced at his wrist watch again, sneezed a couple of times, and drank slowly.

  ‘He’ll be finished soon,’ I whispered edgily. ‘Where the devil is Ginger?’

  ‘You can stop worrying, cariad. He’s just come into the building now.’

  ‘How did you---?’

  ‘One of my men signalled to me.’

  ‘I didn’t notice.’

  ‘Well, we do try to be subtle,’ he said, laughter in his eyes. And he gave a firm nod to a man nearby.

  ‘What’s that for?’ I asked.

  ‘Now they’re both in the building, I want the police cars brought up to cover the exits. I’ve told Al to bring your Rolls too.’ And he quickly added in a serious tone, ‘Whatever happens, you are to stay here. Is that clear?’ I nodded. ‘If he puts up a fight it could get very nasty.’

  Ginger came in, stood for a moment looking round the enormous room, waved away the ‘sitter,’ who offered to find him a suitable place, then made his way over towards Ebenezer. As he sauntered past, he surreptitiously slipped the envelope onto the table, and walked on. I hadn’t seen him do that when the two men were here before, and thinking about that I realised my view on that occasion had been hampered by other customers walking between the tables. Ebenezer took one look at the envelope and his head came up sharply. Stuffing the letter in his pocket, he hurriedly scanned the room. ‘Bugger,’ muttered the Inspector. ‘Ginger’s tipped him off.’

  Ebenezer didn’t waste a second; he suddenly heaved his table up in the air, whirled it round above his head, showering surrounding tables with crockery and cutlery. Women screamed, and a man who tried to remonstrate with him had hot tea thrown in his face. Our quarry then rushed towards the exit, overturning unoccupied tables, ripping tablecloths off others, so that everything on them landed on customers’ laps or over the floor. He knocked loaded trays out of the Nippies’ hands, and threw chairs and scalding teapots at the pursuing policemen. Customers fleeing in panic, skidded and slipped up in the squelching mess of soup, cream cakes, ice cream, tea, milk, sugar, eggs and other meals, broken crockery and glasses. The whole thing was like a Hollywood farce and would have been funny if it hadn’t been so deadly serious.

  The band played on, customers not in his path stared open-mouthed with shock, people entering the room froze in horror, or ran back the way they’d come. The Inspector didn’t rush to join the melee or attempt to calm the terrified customers. Ordering me to stay put, he hurried off to the main public exit to direct operations.

  Ebenezer headed in my direction, and finding a policeman in his way, he lifted one of the potted palms which had screened me from view, and hurled it straight at him. Suddenly, I was no longer hidden and he saw me at once. ‘You!’ he seethed, his voice filled with loathing. ‘I should have guessed.’ I jumped up, but he was too fast for me. Quickly overturning the table, he used it to pin me up against the nearby wall, and taking a pistol from his pocket, he placed the end of the barrel against the side of my head.

  Several women fainted, others hid behind columns or under tables, and Inspector Nabber ran to my aid. ‘Put that gun down,’ he ordered.

  The gunman laughed. ‘Try and make me.’ The Inspector took a step towards me. ‘Stay where you are,’ he was told, ‘or I’ll shoot her.’

  The Inspector stopped at once. Ebenezer meant it and the Inspector knew it. Strangely I wasn’t that frightened. I saw, quite clearly, that he meant to use me to get out of this place. Until then I was safe. The gun was meant to terrify, not to kill, not yet anyway, unless he had no choice. I prayed no-one would do anything stupid.

  My life was now in the hands of the man who was behind the murders, and who’d already made three attempts on my own life. The false drowning incident in Sussex, the falling scaffolding, and the lorry that tried to force my car off the road. And worst of all, I believed he and Muller had kidnapped Johnny. If Johnny and I were to survive I had to keep a cool head.

  The restaurant was quiet now; the band had stopped playing, customers who hadn’t managed to get out hid as best they could. The silence was eerie, broken only by the faint sobbing of a woman in a far corner, and the gunman’s heavy breathing, caused by his exertions, and exacerbated by his cold. He was so close I could feel his hot breath right down my neck. He didn’t sneeze, but his nose was dripping, and as he did nothing to stop it, the drips landed on my bare arm. It made my skin creep, but I pushed that from my mind, and concentrated on looking for a chance to escape.

  He saw the Nippies trying to help the distraught customers, and ordered six of them to join us. They could have run away, but not one of them did. He made them form a ring around us, and with the pistol still against my head, used them as human shields, while we made our way out of the restaurant, and then out of the building. The brave young Nippies were all quaking, yet somehow they kept their nerve.

  The management had stopped all new customers entering the building, consequently a rather large crowd had gathered outside. But the instant they saw the gun, women screamed and the crowd dispersed in seconds, running in all directions.

  Only one person didn’t run. Al was standing by my Rolls. The instant the gunman spotted him he ordered Al to get in the car at once. ‘We’re going for a ride,’ he hissed into my ear, his nose dripping onto my shoulder. ‘Do exactly as I say or this will be your last day on earth. Do you understood?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  The Nippies shielded us up to the car, the gunman told me to get in, and he followed so closely I had no chance to escape. As the Nippies moved out of the way, a policeman tried to stop the car door being shut. The gunman didn’t hesitate, he fired at the policeman, who fell to the ground. Then, pointing the gun at me again he yelled at Al, ‘Get the hell out of here, nigger.’

  Al drove off at once, in his usual smooth manner, and I prayed the policeman had survived. ‘Take me to the German Embassy,’ he ordered Al, finally wiping his runny nose with his handkerchief, without taking his eyes off me.

  ‘W-w-w-wh-wh-where’s that?’ Even to me Al sounded terrified.

  ‘Scared?’ he sneered. ‘You niggers are all the same. The Embassy’s at Carlton House Terrace. And step on it.’

  ‘Y-y-y-y-es, s-sir.’

  To me, he said, 'The Embassy will look
after me. Get me there safely, then you and that snivelling nigger will live. Try any of your tricks and I’ll shoot you both. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, putting as much relief into my voice as I could. Which was difficult, because I knew he was lying. He’d tried to kill me three times already, and now he was in a position to polish me off without having to make it look like an accident. And I had no doubt that’s what he intended to do. Letting me think I’d live if I did precisely what he said was his way of taunting me. Once we reached the Embassy, he would shoot us both. Unless I did something to stop him, this would be the last journey I ever made, and I’d never see Tim or Johnny, ever again. It was only a couple of miles to the Embassy, not much time in which to save our lives.

  First I said, ‘Where’s Johnny?’

  He smirked. ‘I thought you’d never ask. You won’t find him. He’s in a place where no-one ever goes. He’ll die of starvation.’

  ‘Tell me where – please.’ I hated to plead, but I would have done anything to keep Johnny from starving to death.

  ‘Not a chance. I want you to suffer. Punishment for the trouble you’ve caused me. But for you, everything would have gone the way we planned.’ Attempting to distract him, so he wouldn’t notice how slowly Al was driving, I asked how he knew I was onto Ginger. ‘I got someone to keep an eye on that dimwit in Hyde Park in case he messed things up. I was told you watched what he did, then followed him to the Corner House, and later back to his car.’ I said nothing, but guessed it was Muller who’d seen me.

  He still held the gun to my head, and at last I saw why he wanted to get rid of me. I hadn’t actually seen Ginger pass the letter to him at the Corner House, on that first occasion, but he believed I had, and was afraid I’d recognise him again. And that I’d eventually work out who was behind the murders. As indeed I had. And now he wanted revenge.

  ‘I suppose you killed Charlie Jones too?’

  ‘Made a mess of things, didn’t he.’ It was then he noticed how slowly Al was now driving, and he became extremely aggressive. ‘I told you to put your foot on it, nigger.’