`Can't you imagine what a clever lawyer could do with all those points, Mr Bitton? And I am only a policeman.'
Bitton hoisted up his big body. His hands were shaking and the rims of his eyes were red.
`Damn you,' he said, `that's what you think, is it? I'm glad you didn't make an unutterable ass of yourself before you told me how good your case was, and arrested her. I'm going to blow your whole case higher than hell without stepping any further than that flat across the hall. Because I have a witness who saw her the whole time she was at the Tower of London, and can swear Driscoll was alive after she left him.'
Hadley was on his feet in an instant.
`Yes,' he said, in a louder voice, `I rather thought you had. I rather thought that was why you came to Tavistock Chambers tonight. When you heard about the murder, you couldn't wait for the usual report of your private detective over there. You had to go to her…. If she knows anything, bring her over here and let her swear to it. Otherwise, so help me God! I'll swear out a warrant for Mrs Bitton's arrest.'
Bitton shouldered out of the chair. He was fighting mad, and his usual good sense had deserted him. He flung open the, door with the broken lock, and closed it with a slam.
Rampole drew a hand across his forehead. His throat was dry and his heart hammering.
`I didn't know,' he said — `I didn't know you were so certain Mrs Bitton. had… '
There was a placid smile under Hadley's clipped moustache. He sat down again and folded his hands.
`S'h-h!' he warned. `Not so loud, please; he'll hear you. How did I do it? I'm not much of an actor, but I'm used to little demonstrations like that.'
He caught the expression on the American's face.
`Go ahead, my, boy. Swear. I don't mind. It's a tribute to my performance.'
`Then you don't believe-,’
`I never believed it for an instant,' the chief inspector admitted, cheerfully. `There were too many holes in it. If Mrs Bitton killed Driscoll, what about the hat on Driscoll's head? That becomes, nonsense. If she killed him by Traitors' Gate with a blow straight through the heart at one-thirty, how did he contrive to keep alive until ten minutes to two? — Why didn't she leave the Tower after she had killed him, instead of hanging about unnecessarily for nearly an hour and getting herself drawn into the mess without reason?… Besides, my explanation of the faked telephone call to Dalrye was very thin. If Bitton hadn't been so upset he would have seen it. Dalrye, of course, never talked to Sheila, Bitton this morning and told her Driscoll had made an appointment. But I had to hit Bitton hard while his guard was down.'
Rampole stared across at the smashed plaster on the hearthstone. `You had to do that. Otherwise you'd never have got Mrs Larkin's' testimony. If she followed Mrs Bitton, she knows all Mrs Bitton's movements, but… '
`Exactly. But she would never tell them to the police. This afternoon she swore to us she had seen nothing. That was a part of her job; she took the risk. She couldn't tell us she was following Mrs Bitton; without exposing the whole thing and losing her position. More than that — and a much sounder reason — I think she has tidy blackmail schemes in her mind. Now we've knocked that on the head.'.'. She's already told Bitton, of course. So if she won't tell, he will to clear his wife.'
Rampole pushed back his hat.
`Neat!' he said. `Very neat, sir. Now, if your plan to persuade Arbor to talk works as well…'
`Arbor…. '' The chief inspector sprang up. 'I've been sitting here explaining my own cleverness, and I clean forgot that. I've got to telephone Golders Green, and do it quickly. Where' the devil is the phone? And, incidentally, where's the man who was supposed to be guarding this flat; how did Bitton get in here, anyhow? And where, by the way, is Fell?'
He was answered without delay. From beyond the closed door, somewhere in the interior of the flat, there was a scrape, a thud, and a terrific metallic crash.
`It's all right!' a muffled voice boomed out to them from some distance away, 'No more plaster figures broken. I've just dropped a basket of tools.'
Hadley and Rampole hurried in the direction of the voice. Beyond the door through which the doctor had gone, a narrow passage ran straight back. There were two doors in either wall; those on the left leading to a study and a bedroom, and those on the right to a bath and a dining-room. The kitchen was at the extreme rear of the passage.
To add to the confusion of the room, Driscoll had never been especially neat in his habits. The study had been cluttered up long before the woman's frantic search that afternoon. The floor was a drift of papers; rows of shelves gaped where whole sections of books had been' tossed out; and the drawers of the desk hung out empty and drunken. A portable typewriter, its cover off, had become entangled with the telephone, and the contents of several brass ash-trays were sprayed across some carbon paper and pencils.
Hadley glanced quickly into the other rooms as Dr Fell opened the door of the kitchen.' The bed was still unmade in the bedroom. The search here had been more perfunctory, confined to the bureau. And the dining-room had not been touched at all. It had seldom or never been used for eating purposes, but there had palpably been a use for it. Two gigantic rows of empty soda-siphons had been lined up on the sideboard. Under a mosaic dome of lights over the table there mingled in confusion empty bottles, unwashed glasses, a cocktail-shaker and ash-tray.
`The kitchen also,' Dr Fell observed at his elbow, `seems to have been used chiefly for mixing drinks' He swept his arm about. `You see? That sitting-room he kept tidy for casual visitors like his uncle. This is where he really lived. H'mf.'
He was wheezing in the kitchen doorway. Over his arm he carried a large market-basket which jingled with iron.
`You said tools?' inquired Hadley, sharply. `Was that what you were looking for? You mean a chisel or a screwdriver used to force open the outer door of this flat?'
'Good Lord, no!' snorted the doctor. `You don't suppose the woman got into the flat, came back here, found a chisel, and went out, again so that she could break open the door for sheer amusement, do you?'
`She might have done just that,' said the inspector, quietly, `to give the impression it was some outsider who had burgled the flat.'
`It's entirely possible, I grant you. But, as a matter of fact, I wasn't interested in the breaking or entering. It was an entirely different sort of tool I was looking for.'
`It may further interest you to know,' the chief inspector pursued, rather irritably, `that while you have been poking about in the kitchen we've learned a great deal from Bitton….'
The doctor nodded several times, and the black ribbon on his glasses swung jumpily.
`Yes,' he agreed, `I thought you would. He was here to get information from his private detective, and you've scared him into forcing, her to tell what she knows by making out a thundering case against his wife. I imagined
I could safely leave that to you. But from my point of view it wasn't necessary. I'm rather sure I can tell you what the Larkin woman knows, Come over here to the study for a moment, and have a look at Driscoll's character.'
"You infernal old stuffed-shirt bluffer…!' said Hadley, like one who commences an oration.
'Oh, come,' protested the doctor, with a mildly injured air. `Tut, tut! No. I may be a childish old fool. I admit that. But I'm not a bluffer, old man. Really, I'm not. Let's see, what was I talking about? Oh yes; Driscoll's character. There are some rather interesting photographs of him in the study,'
Sharply and stridently through the silent passage the telephone in the study rang.
12. Concerning X—19
`That;' said Hadley, whirling about, `may be a lead. Wait a moment. I'll answer it.'
They followed him into the study.
He said: `Hello!… Yes, this is…. Chief Inspector Hadley speaking… Who?… Oh yes.. It's Sheila Bitton,' he said to, the others over his shoulder, and there was a tinge of disappointment in his voice. `Yes…. Yes, certainly, Miss Bitton.' A long pause. `Why, I suppose you may, but I sh
all have to have a look at everything first, you know. No trouble at all! When will you come over?'
`Wait!' said Dr Fell, eagerly. He stumped across. `She's coming over here to-night?'
`Yes. She says there are some belongings of Philip's that her uncle wants her to bring to the house.'
`H'm. Ask her if she's got anybody to bring her over here.'
`What the devil…! Oh, all right,' Hadley agreed, then spoke again. `She says she's got Dalrye,' he transmitted after a moment.
`That won't do. There's somebody in that house I've got to talk to, and I've got to talk to him out of the house or it may be no good. Let me talk to her, will you?'
Hadley shrugged and got up from the desk.
`Hello!' said the doctor. `Miss Bitton? This is Dr Fell, Mr Hadley's colleague.You do? Oh yes; from your fiance.
HEY?'
'You needn't blow the mouthpiece out,' Hadley observed, sourly. `What tact! What tact! Ha!'
'Excuse me, Miss Bitton. I may be, of course, the fattest walrus Mr Dalrye has ever seen, but… No, my dear, of course I don't mind….'
they could hear the phone tinkling in an animated fashion; Rampole remembered Mrs Larkin's description of Sheila Bitton as a `little blonde,' and grinned to himself. Dr Fell contemplated the phone with an expression of one trying to smile in order to have his picture taken, presently he broke in.
`What I was trying to say, Miss Bitton, was this. You'll undoubtedly have a number of things to take away, and they'll be quite bulky…. Oh! Mr Dalrye has to be back at the Tower by ten o'clock? Then you will certainly want somebody to handle them. Haven't you somebody there who could?… The chauffeur's not there? Well, what about your father's valet? What's his name? — Marks. He spoke highly of Marks, and… But please don't bring your father, Miss Bitton; it would only make him feel worse. Oh, he's lying down? Very well, Miss Bitton. We shall expect you. Good-bye.'
He turned about, glowering, and shook the tool-basket until it jangled. `She burbles. She prattles. And she called me a walrus. A most naive young; lady. And if any humorist on these premises makes the obvious remark about the Walrus and the Carpenter…'
`Dr Watson… ' Hadley muttered. `Thanks for reminding me. I've got to put a call through to the police station at Golders Green. Get up from there.'
He began a series of relay-calls through Scotland Yard, and finally left his orders. He had just finished informing some mystified desk sergeant on the other wire to phone him here after he had made sure the message was delivered to the guard at Arbor's cottage, when they heard footsteps in the sitting-room.
Evidently it had taken some time for Lester Bitton to persuade Mrs Larkin that it would be advisable to talk. Bitton was pacing the front room, looking flushed and dangerous. Mrs Larkin was holding back the: curtain of the front window and peering out with extreme nonchalance.' When she saw Hadley she examined him coldly.
`You tecs,' she said, her upper lip wrinkling; `pretty damn smart, ain't you? I told his nibs here you'd got nothing on his wife. He should have sat tight, and let you go ahead, and then we could both have got a sweet piece of change out of you for false arrest. But no. He had to get scared and spill the beans.'
Hadley opened his brief-case again. This time he was not bluffing; the printed form he opened carried two decidedly unflattering snapshots.
"Amanda Georgette Larkin",' he read. "`Alias Amanda Leeds, Alias Georgie Simpson. Known as 'Emmy' Shoplifting. Speciality, jewellery, large department stores. Last heard of in New York …
'You needn't go through all that,' interrupted Emmy. `There's nothing on me now. I told you that this afternoon. But, go on and get his nibs to tell you what agency I work for. Then you'll tell them, and, bingo! I'm through.'
Hadley folded up the paper and replaced it. `If' you give us a clear statement, I don't think I need warn your employers about Georgie Simpson.'
She put her hands on her hips and studied him.
`All right. Here she goes.'
Mrs Larkin's manner underwent a subtle change. That afternoon she had seemed all tight corsets and severe tailoring, like an especially forbidding schoolmistress. Now the stiffness disappeared into an easier slouch and she dropped into a chair.
`What we want to know is everything you did to-day, Mrs Larkin,' Hadley told her.
`Well, in my profession a man we always look for is the postman. I was up early, ready for him. He always puts the letters in the box of Number 1, my place, first, and then goes across the way. I can time it so that I'm picking up the milk bottle outside my door when he gets out the mail for Number 2. And that was easy. Because X19 — that's the way we have to describe people in the confidential reports — X19 always wrote her letters on a sort of pink-purplish kind of paper you could see a mile off.'
`How did you know,' inquired Hadley, `that the letters were from X19?'
She looked at him. `Don't be funny,' said Mrs,Larkin, coldly. `It's not healthy, for a respectable widow to get into people's flats with a duplicate key. And it's a damn sight less healthy to be found steaming open people's letters. Let's say I overheard them talking about the first letter she wrote him.
`All right. I'd been warned X19 was coming back to London Sunday night, and so I had my eyes open this morning. I was kind of surprised when I went out to pick up my milk bottle and found Driscoll picking up his milk bottle just over the way. He never gets up before noon. He had his door open, and I could see the inside of the letter-box.
`He stuck his hand in the letter-box, pulled out the pink letter, and sort of grunted, and put it in his pocket without opening it. Then he saw me, and let the door slam.
'So I thought, "What ho!" And I knew there was going to be a meeting somewhere. But I wasn't to watch him. I'd only been planted opposite so I could catch X19 with the goods.'
`You have been a long time in doing it,' said Hadley.
She made a comfortable gesture. `No use finishin' off a good assignment too quick…. But all the times she's been there I never saw anything. The best chance I had was the night before she went away, about two weeks ago. They come in from the theatre or some place, and they was both pretty tight. I watched the door, and everything was all quiet for about two hours, so I knew what was up. Then, the door opened, and they both come out again for him to take her home. And they stood there swearing eternal love to each other and he was saying how he was going to do a piece of work that would get him a good newspaper job, and then they could get married..
`But I wasn't certain,' explained they practical Mrs Larkin, kin, `because that's what they all say when they're drunk. And besides, I heard him telling the same thing to a little red-head he had here while X19 was away. But that night, of course, I wasn't on duty. I was just getting home myself, and he came staggering down the steps with his arm around the red-head, and she was trying to hold him up… '
`Stop it!' Lester Bitton suddenly shouted. `You didn't,' he said heavily — `you didn't put into your report you didn't say this'
`Time enough. But I am off the subject, ain't I?' said Mrs Larkin. She straightened the puffs of hair over her ears. `Don't take it so hard, mister. They're all like that, mostly. I didn't mean to give you the works.
`I'll go on about to-day. Oh yes; I know where I was. Well, I got dressed and went up to Berkeley Square. It's a good thing I did, because she come out of the house fairly early. And believe it or not, that woman walked all the way from her place to the Tower of London!
`Well, I seen her buying tickets for all them towers, and I had to buy 'em all, too, because I didn't know where she'd, go. But I thought, this is a hell of a place to pick for rendy-voo, and then I tumbled to it. She was wise to being watched. I thought probably that trip to the country tipped her off, and her husband had maybe said something to let her guess….'
`They had never gone there together before?' interrupted Hadley.
`Not while I was watching them'
She was more subdued now when she spoke, and she told her story without comm
ent. It was ten-minutes past one when Laura Bitton arrived. After buying her tickets and a little guide, she, had gone into the refreshment-room and ordered a sandwich and a glass of milk. All the time she ate she watched the clock with every sign of nervousness and impatience. `And, what's more,' Mrs Larkin explained, 'she wasn't carrying that arrow-thing you had on your desk this afternoon.'
At twenty minutes past one Laura: Bitton left the refreshment-room and hurried away. At the Middle Tower she hesitated, looked about, and presently moved along the causeway, and hesitated again at the Byward Tower. There she consulted the map in her guide-book and looked carefully about her.
`I could see what was in her mind, Mrs Larkin told them. `She didn't want to hang around the door, like a tart or something; but she wanted to be sure she saw him when he got there. But it was dead easy — Anybody who came in would've had to walk straight along that road — up towards the Traitors' Gate place and the Bloody Tower. So she walked along the road, slow, looking all around. Then when she got near the Traitors' Gate place she turned to the right and stopped again….'
So that, Rampole reflected was what Philip Driscoll saw when he kept looking out of the window in the general's quarters, as Parker had described. He saw the, woman waiting for him down in Water Lane. And soon afterwards he said he would take a stroll in the grounds, and hurried out.
`She'd moved back,' Mrs Larkin went on, `in a doorway on the right-hand side of the Traitors' Gate. I'd flattened myself against the same wall, a little distance back. Then I saw a little guy in plus-fours come out from under; the arch of the Bloody, Tower. He didn't see er — X19 because she was back in the door; I thought it was Driscoll, but I wasn't sure. Neither was she, I guess, for a minute, because she'd expected him to come the other way. Then he starts to walk back and forth, and next he goes over to the rail. I heard him use a cuss-word, and there was a sound like a match striking.
The Mad Hatter Mystery dgf-2 Page 12
