Murder at Madame Tussauds

by Jim Eldridge

  ‘I’m suggesting that she hires men to do it.’

  ‘But why? She’s rich! Very rich!’

  ‘How did she get to be so rich?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘Her husband left her money.’

  ‘How much did he leave her?’ pressed Abigail.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Armstrong.

  ‘It’s possible,’ put in Feather thoughtfully.

  Armstrong looked at him, annoyed.

  ‘What’s possible?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Caroline Dixon?’

  ‘The sister of one of the bank clerks who died said her brother had recently got involved with a woman. A woman who could afford very expensive perfume.’

  ‘That means nothing!’

  ‘It does because he died soon after the bank robbery. I believe he’d been seduced by some rich woman into passing on details of when there’d be enough money in the bank to make it worth robbing.’

  Armstrong shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Caroline Dixon is a respectable figure. She’s revered for what she does for the Florence Nightingale Fund by the most eminent people in society. She’s been at guest at the prime minister’s, for God’s sake! Both at Downing Street and at Chequers. She’s been received by the queen at Buckingham Palace.’

  ‘There are plenty of examples of people in high society whose wealth is founded on fraud and criminal activity,’ continued Abigail. ‘At least look into her late husband’s finances. Find out if he really did leave her as rich as everyone believes. If he didn’t, then I think you’ll find the money she pours into the Nightingale Fund is more than can be raised by social get-togethers at her house. The apparently wealthy are notoriously mean with their money.’

  Armstrong deliberated on this, then said, ‘All right. Inspector Feather, you’re in charge of the bank raids, you look into the late Mr Dixon’s financial affairs. But discreetly. Very discreetly.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  The superintendent turned to Inspector Jarrett. ‘Inspector, you’re to keep looking for Gerald Carr. In my view he’s still more likely as the person at the heart of this. You can start by bringing in Foxy and seeing what you can get out of him.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Jarrett.

  ‘What do you want us to do?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Armstrong firmly. ‘You’re here on sufferance because you found the tunnel. This is a police operation. You stay out of it.’

  ‘We can hardly do that. We have a duty of responsibility to our client, Mr Tussaud. He was the one who hired us to look into the murders and find out why they were done, and who by. John Tussaud now knows about the tunnel in the museum cellar.’

  Armstrong fell silent, then said, ‘All right, you can mention we think it’s connected to the bank robberies. But not a word about Caroline Dixon, is that clear?’ He gave a nod of his head to indicate the meeting was over. ‘Right, let’s keep in touch. If any one of you gets any information at all about either the bank robberies or the murders at Tussauds, let me know and I’ll make sure it’s shared. But be careful. With this many people already dead, we’re dealing with some very dangerous people.’

  ‘Yes we are,’ said Daniel. ‘I was attacked by two men who told me they work for Gerald Carr, warning me off investigating the murders. They threatened to harm Abigail if I didn’t desist. And Abigail was pushed under a wagon in Oxford Street. Luckily she just managed to get out from under the hooves of the wagon’s horses.’

  ‘Did you report this?’ demanded Armstrong.

  ‘We’re reporting it now,’ said Daniel.

  ‘It’s a bit late now,’ growled Armstrong.

  ‘We weren’t sure where we stood with Scotland Yard,’ added Daniel.

  Armstrong didn’t reply; instead he scowled and gave a grunt and gestured for them to leave. As they all got up, the superintendent said, ‘One moment, Inspector Jarrett. I need to talk to you before you go.’

  Feather, Daniel and Abigail left the office, and Jarrett resumed his seat.

  ‘You wanted to tell me something else, Superintendent?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. Why didn’t you find that tunnel in the cellar at Tussauds?’ Armstrong demanded.

  ‘There was no reason for it to be there,’ protested Jarrett.

  ‘There was a bank not far away.’

  ‘Three doors away! With no cellars in between, just solid earth.’

  ‘Dudgeon and Bagshot were tunnellers. You knew that as well as Wilson.’

  ‘No one could have thought anyone would do such a thing. Inspector Feather said it was out of the question. And so did Wilson’s own partner, Miss Fenton. I know because Inspector Feather told me.’

  ‘But it’s what they were doing,’ grated Armstrong.

  ‘No one could have known!’ Jarrett defended himself.

  ‘Wilson did,’ snapped Armstrong. ‘From now on we find out everything that Wilson and Fenton are up to, and we act on it.’

  ‘Say it’s wrong information?’ protested Jarrett. ‘Wilson isn’t always right.’

  ‘If it’s wrong, we make sure they get the blame. If it’s right, we get the credit.’ He gestured towards the door, dismissing the inspector. ‘Now go and bring in Foxy and squeeze him.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Daniel, Abigail and John Feather sat in Feather’s office, deliberating on their meeting with Armstrong and working out a strategy for their part of the investigation, finding answers about Caroline Dixon.

  ‘Where’s Sergeant Cribbens?’ asked Abigail. ‘I expected to be suffocated by his pipe.’

  ‘He’s out checking on those banks in expensive areas which have a shop with a cellar next door.’

  ‘That’s a lot of shoe leather to be worn out,’ commented Daniel.

  Feather shrugged. ‘We have to be seen to be doing something.’ He looked inquisitively at Daniel. ‘How sure are you that Caroline Dixon’s behind the bank raids and the murders?’ he asked.

  ‘At the moment it’s just a gut feeling,’ admitted Daniel. ‘But of all the people we’ve met so far on this case, she’s the one who fits. She worked in wax, first at Tussauds then at Greville’s. She’s a rich woman, which fits with the bank clerk who was possibly seduced by a rich woman for information about when money was in the bank vault. We don’t know where her money comes from. Her late husband was said to have left her wealthy, but looking at her house and her lifestyle, unless she’s got additional money coming in, her wealth will soon start to disappear. And I believe she’s very ruthless. And you know, John, I’ve met a few ruthless people in my time and can recognise that evil quality in people. She’s one. And it would need someone very ruthless to account for all the people who’ve turned up dead in this case.’ He ticked them off on his fingers. ‘Eric Dudgeon. Walter Bagshot. Michaels. Your two bank clerks. Five people disposed of. And not just disposed of, but three of them killed in a gruesome and high-profile way to make sure the message went out: stop these tunnelling bank robberies.’

  ‘The message intended for Gerald Carr, I assume,’ said Feather.

  ‘And anyone else who might have the same idea. Which brings us to the question: where is Gerald Carr? Where was he heading for when I saw him leaving his yard this morning?’

  ‘Let’s hope that Inspector Jarrett gets some clues to that when he brings in Carr’s man, Foxy,’ said Abigail. ‘So, how do we go about this? We need to find out how well-off Mr Dixon left Caroline when he died. And also, where did his money come from? Was there some criminality involved?’

  ‘If there was, there was no whisper of it at the Yard,’ said Feather.

  ‘That doesn’t mean there wasn’t something dubious,’ pointed out Daniel.

  ‘It’s not going to be easy digging up that information without Caroline Dixon finding out what’s going on,’ said Feather unhappily.

  ‘There always gossip,’ said Abigail. ‘Newspaper reporters always seem to know things.’

  ‘But if we go down that road, don’t ask Joe Dalton,’ warned Da
niel. ‘As far as he’s concerned, Caroline Dixon is a paragon of virtue.’ He turned to Feather and said, ‘The way I see it is you go through the official channels, see what the police have, if anything, while Abigail and I see what we can dig up unofficially.’

  ‘Without anyone finding out,’ Feather reminded them.

  Foxy Wood plonked himself down on the chair in Inspector Jarrett’s office and scowled at the Inspector and Sergeant Pick.

  ‘You’ve got no right to bring me in,’ he told them angrily. ‘Mr Carr left me in charge of looking after his yard while he’s out. There’s precious stuff in that yard. You didn’t even give me a chance to get someone else in to keep an eye on it.’

  ‘Where is Mr Carr?’ demanded Jarrett, ignoring Foxy’s outburst.

  ‘How should I know,’ said Foxy.

  ‘He’s your boss. He must have said where he was going.’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  ‘He must have said how long he’d be away for,’ pressed Jarrett. ‘An hour? Three hours? A day? Longer?’

  ‘He never said.’

  ‘Who were the dead men who were taken out of the yard on the back of a wagon this morning?’

  Foxy shook his head. ‘There were no dead men.’

  ‘Two dead men, covered with a cloth,’ continued Jarrett. ‘Did Carr kill them?’

  ‘There were no dead men,’ repeated Foxy firmly, his eyes fixed on Jarrett.

  ‘We have an eyewitness who saw the dead men on the wagon, and saw it drive out of the yard. This same witness saw Gerald Carr being driven off in a carriage with two other men about the same time. Who were the other men, and where were they going?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Foxy defiantly. ‘I don’t believe there is such an eyewitness. And if there is, they’re lying.’

  ‘Why would anyone do that?’

  ‘Because there’s lots of people who’ve got it in for Mr Carr. They’re jealous of him. So they tell lies about him.’

  ‘Carr isn’t going to be pleased when he returns to his yard to find it’s been left open and unguarded,’ said Jarrett.

  ‘That’s not my fault,’ said Foxy. ‘Like I said, you took me in without giving me a chance to make arrangements.’

  ‘And Carr will believe that, will he?’ sneered Jarrett. ‘He won’t hold you responsible for falling down on the job.’

  Jarrett could tell from the uncomfortable look on Foxy’s face that he’d hit a nerve. Carr was notorious for blaming his operatives when things went wrong, even if it wasn’t their fault, and he exacted terrible punishments.

  ‘Like I say, I don’t know where Mr Carr went, and I certainly don’t know anything about any so-called dead men,’ said Foxy defiantly. ‘And you can’t keep me here!’

  ‘Yes, we can,’ said Jarrett. ‘You’re a vital witness in a murder enquiry who’s refusing to answer our questions. That’s obstruction of the police in the course of our duty.’

  ‘I’ve answered your questions!’ Foxy burst out.

  ‘Not to our satisfaction,’ snapped Jarrett. He turned to Sergeant Pick. ‘Sergeant, take him down to the holding cells.’ He looked at Foxy. ‘You’ll have time to think about your answers there. Maybe, when you decide to give us the truth, we’ll let you go back to the yard.’

  ‘I want a lawyer!’ said Foxy.

  ‘Oh yes?’ asked Jarrett. ‘Who is your lawyer?’ He smiled. ‘I bet that’s done through Mr Carr, so when he comes back he can arrange one for you. Until then, you’re staying in a cell here. As soon as you’re ready to tell us what we want to know, you can leave.’

  Daniel and Abigail walked away from Scotland Yard, discussing how best to delve into Caroline Dixon’s finances.

  ‘What we want is someone who doesn’t like Caroline Dixon,’ said Daniel. ‘A muck-raking gossip.’

  ‘Like that rag you brought home,’ said Abigail, ‘The Whistler.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Daniel, his face breaking into a smile. ‘I think a visit to their offices might be called for.’

  ‘I can imagine nothing worse than consorting with the people who produce that.’

  ‘When you’re looking for information you have to try a range of people and places,’ said Daniel. ‘Not all of them nice. Many of them, in fact, downright disgusting. But that’s the nature of being an investigator. And you have to make them think you’re sympathetic to them to get them talking. Do you think you can do that at the offices of The Whistler?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Abigail.

  Daniel grinned. ‘I’m not sure about that. At some point your facade will crack and you’ll look down your nose at them and they’ll see your disapproval.’

  ‘You make me sound like a prig,’ said Abigail. ‘A snob.’

  ‘No, I make you sound like a very honest person who is not a hypocrite, and however much you pretend to be on their side, the kind of rather sleazy people who write for The Whistler will see that. Because they know they’re viewed as rather nasty people by the upper and middle classes and so they’re watching out for hints and signs of condemnation so they can defend against them.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about these kinds of vermin,’ sniffed Abigail.

  ‘I’ve been a police officer and a private investigator for twelve years,’ said Daniel. ‘In my early days I learnt that if you wanted to get information it sometimes meant swimming in a sewer. The important thing was not to let it drag you down so that you forgot why you were doing it.’

  ‘I imagine you’re referring to those police officers who one reads about who are caught taking bribes and such.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Daniel. ‘Abigail, you know I have the greatest respect for your skills as an investigator, but in this case, I suggest I drop into this particular sewer on my own.’

  ‘You don’t trust me.’

  ‘It’s not that. The reality is that The Whistler will only be the start, and I’m fairly sure that will lead me into even murkier waters with even less desirable people than those at The Whistler.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Anarchists. Radicals. People with a deep loathing for the rich, like Caroline Dixon, and also for figures of popular importance. Like Florence Nightingale.’

  ‘Why Nightingale?’

  ‘I’m thinking of using the Nightingale Fund as the basis for my investigation. We’re after finding out the source of Caroline Dixon’s money, after all, and she provides much of the money for the Nightingale Fund. Find some people who are seriously opposed to Nightingale and her work and they’re sure to have some dirt on her, and the fund, and possibly Caroline Dixon, even if that dirt is only libellous, untrue gossip. There’ll be a grain of truth in there somewhere.’

  ‘And you’re going to befriend these sorts of people?’

  ‘If we’re going to get the information we need. And honestly, I’ll be able to do it better on my own. I just know that at some point your face or your silence will convey your disapproval of these people.’

  Abigail looked unhappy, but she nodded. ‘All right, but you need to teach me how to swim in the sewer, as you term it, if I’m to play an equal part in what we do.’

  ‘I will,’ Daniel promised her. ‘But let’s nail Caroline Dixon first.’

  ‘You’re really sure it’s her?’

  ‘I am,’ said Daniel. ‘But proving it is going to be another matter entirely.’

  ‘So, what can I do?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘I suggest you return to Tussauds and update John Tussaud on what’s happening: the link between the current bank robberies and the tunnellers, and the murders.’

  ‘But without mentioning Caroline Dixon,’ said Abigail. ‘You want me to be deliberately vague.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Daniel smiled. ‘Talk a lot and say nothing. That’s the trick.’

  Abigail stood with John Tussaud in the cellar of the wax museum, looking into the hole in the wall. It was the first time she’d seen the tunnel.

  ‘It’s quite remarkable,’ she
said.

  ‘One could almost admire it,’ said Tussaud, ‘until one considered what it was intended for. To rob a bank!’ He gave an unhappy sigh. ‘You must consider me very foolish, Miss Fenton.’

  ‘Foolish?’ said Abigail, puzzled. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I employed the two men who did this!’

  ‘In good faith,’ said Abigail. ‘And more than that, you had references to their good character. And they did not rouse any suspicions while they were here. There is no need for you to feel responsible in any way.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why anyone would want to kill them. And in such dreadful ways!’

  ‘We’re still looking into that,’ Abigail told him. ‘And working closely with the police. We’re looking into the possibility that a rival gang of bank robbers were responsible, who objected to the fact that the men were copying their method for breaking into bank vaults.’

  ‘Do you have any evidence that points to who this rival gang are?’

  Abigail hesitated, then said, ‘Not at this moment, but we are gathering information. There are a couple of likely suspects, but at the moment Scotland Yard have asked us not to say more until we have more information.’

  ‘Of course.’ Tussaud nodded. ‘I understand. At least it doesn’t appear that the murders were a deliberate attack on the museum, which was one of my major concerns.’

  ‘No, I think you can be reassured on that point,’ said Abigail. ‘If there’s nothing else, Mr Tussaud, I’ll take my leave of you now and join Mr Wilson. He’s making enquiries about possible suspects and I’m keen to see what he’s uncovered, if anything.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Tussaud. As Abigail walked towards the cellar door and the stairs up to the ground floor, Tussaud gave a slight awkward cough, which brought Abigail back, and she looked at him inquisitively.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘There is something else.’

  Tussaud looked disconcerted, obviously weighing up what he had to say. There’s something difficult he wants to tell me, realised Abigail. Something bad.

  ‘Miss Fenton,’ began Tussaud awkwardly. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but there’s something I feel I ought to share with you. About Mr Doyle.’