by Evelyn James
“Hello Tommy, you know Victor?” O’Harris greeted his friend, pretending they had not concocted this plan together, or that he was aware of where Tommy had been that morning.
“Mr Darling,” Tommy greeted Victor. “We met on the beach yesterday.”
“Oh yes,” Victor nodded happily. “Call me Victor, I can’t get used to ‘Mr Darling’.”
“Lunch will be very soon, Tommy. You will be staying?”
“Certainly,” Tommy grinned, keeping up the charade that he had just casually dropped by. “I was coming over to see if you had that book you mentioned I could borrow?”
“Ah, of course, the manual on car engines,” O’Harris played along with their little ruse. They had arranged it over the telephone that morning. He turned to Victor. “Tommy is keen on cars too. He’s learning about the way they work, aren’t you old boy?”
“Always interested in broadening my mind,” Tommy agreed. “I don’t have a car of my own yet, but one day I plan to.”
Victor nodded enthusiastically.
“I don’t own a car. I want to, but the cost,” Victor stopped himself. He had been cautious about revealing information all day, but it was hard to keep on top of yourself when you were bubbling with excitement.
“They are a price,” Tommy pretended not to notice Victor’s reticence. “They will get cheaper, I believe. What we all need to do is to marry someone wealthy!”
Tommy laughed at his jest, hoping he had not pushed it too far. Victor joined in, apparently not taking offence.
“Except O’Harris, of course,” Tommy added. “He inherited his fortune. When it comes to money you have to either make it or marry it, unless you have a rich family.”
Tommy grinned at Victor.
“I’m afraid I fail on all counts.”
“You don’t work?” Victor asked.
“Not since the war. I was badly hurt,” Tommy glossed over that part of his history quickly. “I only recently recovered my health and I have to consider my future a bit harder. For a while I didn’t think I had one, now I feel things are looking up. But I missed out on going to university and I struggle to think what skills I have that are actually useful in a work environment. It’s all a bit depressing, sometimes.”
“Tommy sells himself short,” O’Harris interrupted. “I believe there are plenty of opportunities out there for him, if he just had the confidence to take them.”
Somewhere in the house a gong rang out.
“That is the dinner bell, this way gentlemen,” O’Harris ushered them towards the dining room where the other men were gathering.
“What sort of work would you like to do, Tommy?” Victor asked as they walked in.
“I really would like to work with engines, or at least cars in some capacity,” Tommy explained. “I know it is not expected of a man of my station to get his hands dirty fixing engines, but why not? And even if that was not possible, I could sell them, maybe?”
Victor was thoughtful as they approached the table and took the two chairs O’Harris indicated for them.
“The car industry is growing rapidly,” Victor spoke again once they were seated. “I have a friend, for instance, who works for an engineering firm. He helps to test new engine designs in this great workshop. There are all sorts of tests you have to do on engines to see how efficient they are, how fast, how reliable. Engines are the heart of a car and manufacturers are constantly trying to improve them. It can take years to perfect a new engine, but if you get it right you can make a fortune.”
“That sounds interesting,” Tommy was genuinely intrigued. He wondered if Victor’s ‘friend’ was really himself. “But I haven’t studied engineering.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. You just need a good head for figures and the ability to follow instructions. A lot of it is watching dials or operating a stopwatch,” Victor was becoming enthusiastic again. “Timing the firing of pistons, that’s an interesting one. Pistons can be a tricky business. If they misfire or don’t work at all, that’s an engine messed up at once. There is a lot of work going into pistons right now.”
Tommy was now certain that Victor was talking about himself. He was too knowledgeable on the subject to be referring to a friend’s line of business.
“Where does your friend work?” Tommy asked.
“Red Lion Engineering, in London,” Victor answered without hesitation. “The company does not make cars, but conducts research on engines for car manufacturers. If someone has designed a new engine they send it to Red Lion to have it fully tested. Red Lion have facilities for all manner of tests. Equally, if an engine develops a fault and the manufacturer wants to know why, they might send it to Red Lion to be taken apart and examined. Red Lion has a lot of top experts in its employ. They don’t just test car engines either, but plane and ship engines. Plus, just recently, they secured a contract with the military to test any future engines they may use in tanks and armoured vehicles.”
Victor dropped his voice as he said the last bit. He tapped the side of his nose to indicate he was giving Tommy top-secret information.
“That sounds fascinating,” Tommy didn’t have to work hard to be interested. “Do you think I could get a job there?”
“It would depend if there was an opening,” Victor suddenly became a little cagey.
“You could ask your friend for me?” Tommy suggested.
Victor smiled but did not say anything more. He had become wary and Tommy surmised that he now realised he had said too much. He was probably worrying that if Tommy made enquiries at Red Lion, his name might come up and it would be revealed that he worked there. What was curious was how this engineering assistant, who tested engines for a living, got to know about Nellie Holbein in the first place.
They were distracted by lunch being served. It was a cold plate of ham, cheese, thick bread and salad. There was a good variety of homemade pickles to accompany everything. For a while Tommy and Victor were absorbed in their meals and that gave a sufficient break in the conversation for Tommy to change the subject.
“Was that Miss Nellie Holbein you were with yesterday?” He asked, throwing in the topic carelessly.
Victor concentrated on his food.
“Yes.”
“I thought so. Not that I had seen her in many years. In fact, she was just a girl last time,” Tommy used his knife to put a blob of pickle on his cheese. “It was sad about her mother.”
“Yes, terrible,” Victor’s conversation had all dried up.
“Having lost her father too when she was young, can’t be easy. She has an aunt, though.”
“She lives away,” Victor mumbled. “But Nellie has mentioned her.”
“I’ll be honest with you Victor, I always thought Nellie was a little bit spoiled when she was a girl. Didn’t always make her the nicest of company. Bit too used to getting her own way,” Tommy toyed with a salad leaf. “I hope she treats you all right, old boy!”
“She is fine, really,” Victor was keeping his eyes down, his spark had gone. Tommy almost felt bad bringing up the subject.
“I’m surprised she doesn’t own a car, actually,” Tommy hoped to drag a little something else from Victor. “She has the money for one.”
“I don’t think she cares for them,” Victor said. “Or maybe she is just not interested.”
“At least she now has you to keep an eye on her,” Tommy remarked lightly. “Rich girls all alone can be terribly vulnerable. Have you been walking out long?”
“No, just a couple of weeks,” Victor tossed the comment aside, as if it didn’t really matter.
“Be honest now, old boy, is she hard work? She always struck me as the sort.”
Victor did smile a little at that.
“She can be strong-willed,” he conceded.
“Her mother was too,” Tommy said without really knowing if that was true, but he was confident Victor had no clue what Mrs Holbein had been like. “Did you know she was an opera singer? Just for one season, but appar
ently she was very good.”
“I had heard,” Victor nodded. “Nellie makes no mention of it, though.”
“Really?”
“Yes, never mentions it. Barely mentions her mother at all. I don’t think they always got along. Mrs Holbein sounds like she was very protective.”
“Mothers can be,” Tommy agreed. “Especially when they only have the one child. If Mrs Holbein were still alive, I would say you were a very brave man taking on Nellie.”
Victor did laugh at that. He had relaxed somewhat, and no longer seemed so tense about the conversation.
“I say similar things about my own sister, though,” Tommy chuckled. “In her case, it is she who is the challenging one. Stubborn, strong-willed, dogmatically independent. Captain O’Harris is taking his life in his hands with her.”
“Oh, are they…?”
“Yes,” Tommy winked at Victor. “But they haven’t figured that out just yet. It’s obvious to everyone else, not to them.”
Victor was amused.
“Isn’t that always the way?”
“Always,” Tommy found his gaze wandering to O’Harris who was at the far end of the table. “I like O’Harris, however, so I hope it works out for him and my sister. I think they would be good for each other.”
“And what about you?” Victor asked.
His question was so direct that it startled Tommy for a moment and he actually blushed. His thoughts had jumped back to Annie, but he also had a pang of guilt over his recent encounter with Miss Holbein.
“I have someone, I ought to make my intentions clearer to her.”
“Why don’t you?” Victor persisted.
“I don’t know. Fear, maybe? We are happy as we are, I don’t want to destroy that. Marriage is such a big thing.”
“It doesn’t have to be,” Victor continued. “Not if you listen to your heart.”
Tommy found it was his turn to pause. He felt confused, a little unsettled by their talk. What did his heart say about Annie? That he knew all too well, what he could not be certain about was whether Annie felt the same. They were great friends, of course, but would she want to marry him? It occurred to Tommy that was why he was reluctant to ask her, in case she said no.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Victor had taken his silence as a sign he was upset.
“You didn’t,” Tommy assured him. “You made me stop and think, that’s all. Not such a bad thing.”
Tommy decided that he had had enough of playing detective and just wanted to enjoy his dinner. He glanced up as further plates were brought into the dining room and a smile returned to his lips.
“Look at this! Pudding too,” he nudged Victor. “Spotted Dick, you can’t say fairer than that.”
Chapter Twelve
Clara decided she ought to report what she had learned about John Morley’s last hours before he died to Inspector Park-Coombs. Her professional relationship with the inspector was based on mutual trust and reliance on the sharing of information. She would not like to think he would withhold something important from her, and she had to show him the same respect in return.
Park-Coombs looked morose when she was shown into his office. He had the first two fingers of each hand pressing into his temples, while his elbows rested on the top of the desk.
“Clara,” he said dully.
“You look unwell,” Clara said with concern.
“I have a terrible headache. Would you mind drawing the curtains on that window?”
Clara walked across the room and pulled the dark curtains, blocking out the bright sunlight.
“Thank you,” Park-Coombs said quietly.
“Have you taken anything for it?” Clara sat before his desk and opened her bag. “I have aspirin.”
“I will be all right, thank you,” Park-Coombs drew in a deep breath then sat back in his chair. “I get these terrible headaches when I am stressed, and nothing is more stressful then getting no sleep and then being harassed by the Director of the Natural History Museum for an hour on the telephone.”
“Oh,” Clara didn’t know what else to say.
“You know the Natural History Museum is behind this exhibition and has loaned a number of the fossils, including the bird-lizard one?”
“The Archaeopteryx.”
“Honestly, Clara, I’ve tried getting that mouthful out enough times today already. From now on it is the bird-lizard or the lizard-bird, depending on my mood,” Park-Coombs closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Anyway, the Director of the museum is irate that someone nearly destroyed a precious artefact and is threatening to have it removed from the exhibition, which of course is creating a backlash from Dr Browning and the other sponsors of the tour. So, I get it in the neck from the Director for not providing adequate security for the exhibition. No matter that it is not my responsibility to provide guards for his display of stones. If he wants security, he can pay for it. But, no, I get an ear-lashing first from him and then from my Chief Inspector, who the Director called after talking to me. Right at this moment in time, Clara, I hate that bird-lizard.”
“Understandable, Inspector,” Clara said sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear that. I don’t know if this helps at all, but I have spoken to some of John Morley’s friends and it appears he was hired by a man who met him at the Hole in the Wall last night. Depending on who gives the description the man was well-dressed, with a thin moustache and an accent that has been described as Irish, Scottish or South African.”
“Well that narrows it down,” Park-Coombs managed to laugh.
“There is some good news,” Clara added, smiling herself. “According to John’s friends, this man is to return tonight to pay him the rest of the money for the job. It is possible that he does not know John is dead. If that is the case, he should appear, and we can nab him.”
“Nab him?” Park-Coombs raised an eyebrow. “You are spending too much time here. But that does sound promising. At least we could find out who hired him, though it doesn’t tell us who killed John Morley. Unless we suppose the chap who hired him was involved in his death.”
“In which case, he will not come to the pub tonight, he will have no need to.”
“True. Let’s hope he wasn’t involved and that he has not heard about the murder. We have been keeping it quiet.”
“As far as this fellow knows, the police presence at the town hall could be because John Morley was successful in his destruction of the Archaeopteryx,” Clara pointed out.
“Let’s hope that is what he is thinking. I don’t have much else to go on. You know, if it did not seem so improbable, I would have to assume Dr Browning killed him.”
“Except for the missing murder weapon,” Clara said.
“Exactly,” Park-Coombs nodded his head and then regretted it. He cupped his forehead in his hands and groaned.
“You need some of Annie’s finest Madeira cake,” Clara felt sorry for him.
“Does that cure headaches?” Park-Coombs mumbled.
“According to Annie, as long as she soaks it thoroughly in sherry first. I suspect it is more a case that you just don’t care about the headache so much after eating it.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” Park-Coombs had not raised his head. “Unfortunately, I am not allowed alcohol while on duty.”
“I’ve disturbed you too long,” Clara started for the door.
“Wait a minute,” Park-Coombs stopped her, cautiously tilting his head in her direction. “Are we going to this pub tonight together?”
“It would seem a good idea,” Clara smiled. “You may need to arrest this man for conspiring to destroy a valuable national treasure.”
“What time?” Park-Coombs asked wearily.
“I suggest we get there just before nine, the time the man is probably going to arrive,” Clara winked at him. “And then you can have that drink.”
She departed the inspector’s office and headed for home.
~~~*~~~
Tommy was a little stu
ffed after his meal with Victor. He took his time walking home, enjoying the fact that he could walk these days. He entered the front door and was greeted by the ever-jubilant Bramble, a small black poodle with springs in his heels.
“Hello boy,” Tommy rubbed the dog’s head.
He had just managed to negotiate himself around the prancing dog when Annie appeared from the kitchen. He looked up and smiled, before coming to a halt. He had never seen Annie looking so angry.
“A message came for you,” she said, and her tone was like ice. “It’s on the table.”
Tommy noticed that there was a slip of paper on the half-oval table that stood in the hall near the coat rack. Tommy picked it up and saw at once that it was from Nellie Holbein;
“My Darling Tommy, do not neglect to come to me tomorrow. I shall prepare lunch. Victor is a thing of the past, you are the future! My everlasting love, Nellie xx.”
Tommy cringed as he read it. No wonder Annie was fuming.
“It’s part of the case, Annie,” Tommy turned back to her, but Annie had stormed off to the kitchen.
Tommy took a deep breath and followed.
“Annie, this is all to do with Clara’s latest case,” Tommy said as he found her peeling potatoes.
“Really?” Annie glared at him. “This Nellie person seems to think you are her future!”
“I have not said that to her, I only met her yesterday!” Tommy threw the paper down on the kitchen table. “She is a wealthy heiress and Mrs Wilton believes she is being pursued for her money by a man named Victor Darling. Mrs Wilton wants Clara to find out who Victor is. We lured Victor over to Captain O’Harris’ home today, so that I could speak to Miss Holbein and discover what her intentions were with Victor. Somehow the girl got it into her head that I was attracted to her.”
“You must have given her reason,” Annie sniffed, a hint of emotion coming into her demeanour.
“I gave her nothing Annie, she is really quite frightening,” Tommy shook his head. “She has it in her head that I am going back to her house tomorrow, which of course I am not. I barely got out with my life earlier today. Victor Darling is very welcome to her!”
