Old Cases New Colours (A Dudley Green Investigation) (The Dudley Sisters Saga Book 9)

by Madalyn Morgan

  Tomorrow morning first thing, Ena thought, thanked the woman and drove up to Maiden Lane to see Margot’s dancer friend, George, who had told Artie when she phoned the office that she’d be with Natalie Goldman at the Prince Albert Theatre.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As she entered the stage door of the Prince Albert Theatre, Ena was greeted by Stan, the stage doorman, who shook her hand for so long she thought it would drop off. ‘Good to see you, Ena, it’s been too long.’ Stan took a step back, opened his arms and looked Ena up and down. ‘You look a picture. Now,’ he said, patting her hand, ‘what can I do for you?’

  ‘I’d like to see Natalie and George Derby-Bloom, if she’s still here.’

  ‘I’ll ring through and tell Mrs Goldman you’re here. Take a seat, I won’t be a jiffy.’ Ena sat on the familiar bench opposite the glass hatch of Stan’s office. She didn’t have to wait long before Stan was back by her side again. ‘Mrs Goldman said they’re both in her office.’

  Ena thanked the doorman and went through the door marked, ‘No Entrance’. She followed the green fluorescent dots on the floor of the winding corridor at the back of the stage that her sister Margot had called the ‘rabbit warren’ until she came to Natalie Goldman’s office.

  The door was already open. ‘Come in, Ena,’ Natalie called, as Ena lifted her hand to knock. ‘Ena, I don’t think you know George.’

  ‘We haven’t actually met, but I’ve heard a lot about you, George. Pleased to meet you,’ Ena said, shaking George’s hand.

  ‘Hello, Ena. I’ve heard a lot about you too from Natalie.’ Ena pulled a worried face. ‘All of it good,’ George added.

  Ena gave Natalie, their mutual friend, a warm smile. ‘You were here at the Prince Albert in the shows with my sister Margot, in the war.’

  ‘That’s right, and then Margot, Betsy and I joined the ENSA concert parties.’

  ‘I remember Margot telling me.’

  ‘The three musketeers,’ George grinned, attempting to laugh.

  Natalie fetched a chair from the other side of the office and placed it next to George.

  ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Please.’

  After pouring three cups of coffee, Natalie took her seat behind her desk as Ena asked George how she could help her.

  George took a shaky breath. ‘My father’s in a private nursing home called The Willows. At least he was until today. He was convalescing after an operation on his knee. This morning, Mrs Sharp, the manageress of the nursing home, telephoned and told me that Dad had been taken ill after breakfast and that I should get there as soon as possible.’ George wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Take your time,’ Ena said, sympathetically.

  George nodded and, giving Ena a grateful smile, continued. ‘When I got there, Dad was dead. I know he was getting on in years, but apart from his knee he was in good health. He had a good appetite and he kept himself fit. Until the problem with his knee, he walked several miles every day. He liked the occasional port and a glass of wine in the evening with his dinner.’ George put her hand up to her mouth and stifled a sob. She took a couple of calming breaths and when she had recovered, said, ‘My father wasn’t ill, Ena. He only went into the nursing home to recover from the operation. Unless he had underlying health problems which neither he nor I knew about, he shouldn’t have died.’

  ‘Did the manageress of the nursing home give you any explanation?’

  George shook her head. ‘No, except the nurse who took Dad back to his room said he closed his eyes as if he was asleep and the next thing he had gone. She told Mrs Sharp that he didn’t appear to be in distress, nor was he in any pain.’

  ‘And that’s all she said?’

  ‘Yes. The manageress said I could go over tomorrow and collect Dad’s belongings.’

  ‘I don’t mean to alarm you, George, but tomorrow might be too late. If a mistake has been made, and it sounds to me as if it has, we need to go to the nursing home today, before anyone has time to clean the room. I’d also like to speak to the nurse who attended to your father this morning.’

  George nodded. ‘Alright. Are you free to go now?’

  Before Ena could answer, Natalie said, ‘Are you sure you’re up to going back today, George?’

  ‘Yes!’ George said with determination. ‘I need to get this sorted out as soon as possible so I can bury Dad.’ She looked tired. Her eyes were red-rimmed. ‘If Ena has the time…?’

  ‘I do.’ Ena said goodbye to Natalie, hugging her and kissing her on both cheeks as was Natalie’s custom.

  ‘I’ll see you later, Natalie.’ George kissed her friend goodbye in the same continental manner.

  George took her jacket and shoulder bag from the coat stand behind the door and followed Ena out of Natalie’s office, along the labyrinth of backstage corridors and through the stage door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The Willows Nursing Home was set in several acres of countryside. Gardens surrounded by tailored lawns with benches at regular intervals faced brightly coloured flower beds. On the left of the three-storey 19th Century, gabled, country house was a small lake, and on the right hand side, two strikingly white willow trees – one either side of a stream – gave the nursing home its name.

  ‘A beautiful setting,’ Ena remarked. ‘I can see why the house and grounds would be ideal for anyone recuperating after an operation.’

  ‘There are permanent residents here too, I believe,’ George replied.

  The door was opened by a nurse who George didn’t recognise. She led them along a corridor to George’s father’s room. ‘If you’d like to go in, I’ll let Mrs Sharp know you’re here and she’ll arrange for someone to pack up your father’s belongings.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Nurse,’ Ena said, looking at her wristwatch. ‘It’s lunchtime, and I’m sure everyone’s busy. I’ll help George pack her father’s things.’ Ena made a mental note of everything in the room before opening the wardrobe door. ‘Oh,’ she said, turning back to the nurse, ‘Do you know who was with Mr Derby-Bloom when he died?’

  ‘Yes. Nurse McKinlay.’

  ‘Is she here?’

  ‘She should have gone home by now. She’s on the early shift this week; six till twelve, but after Mr Derby-Bloom … she was upset. She said she didn’t want to go home and offered to help in the dining room. Would you like me to see if she’s still here?’

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ Ena said, looking at George for reassurance. George nodded and the nurse left.

  George took her father’s suit from the wardrobe and laid it on the bed while Ena emptied the chest of drawers of shirt, vest, socks and underpants, putting them all on the bed next to the suit.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Dad didn’t bring much.’ George took her father’s clothes, folded them and placed them in his suitcase. ‘I’ll get his toiletries.’ She disappeared into the small en suite bathroom and reappeared with a leather shaving bag. ‘What else?’ she asked.

  ‘A handkerchief, a book and a pair of spectacles,’ Ena said, taking them out of the drawer in the bedside cabinet. ‘And –’ the toe of her shoe caught on something under the bed – ‘what’s this?’ Taking the handkerchief so she didn’t add her fingerprints to those she hoped belonged to the last person to see Mr Derby-Bloom alive, she carefully picked up a glass from the floor and held it at eye level. White sediment had settled in the bottom of the glass. Holding it by its base, she put it to her nose and sniffed. It smelt sweet and slightly fruity. She sniffed again. Lemon cordial she thought, or perhaps lime. Hearing someone outside the door, Ena wrapped the handkerchief around the glass, stood it upright in her handbag and turned round.

  A stout woman in her late-fifties with dyed black hair, wearing a smart navy-blue two-piece, plain white blouse and flat serviceable shoes, entered the room. She gave George a concerned smile. ‘I’m afraid the nurse who was with your father this morning, Nurse McKinlay, has left for the day. Is there anyth
ing I can do, Miss Derby-Bloom?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Sharp. My father was doing really well after he came out of hospital. I don’t understand why he suddenly died. Did something go wrong with the operation that no one knew about, did he have other health issues, or perhaps it was his medication?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Derby-Bloom, the truth is we won’t know until the doctor has examined your father, Until then, I can’t say.’

  ‘How long will that take?’ George asked. ‘I need to bury Dad within twenty-four hours, forty-eight hours at the most.’

  ‘I don’t think that will be possible, George,’ Ena said. ‘There should be a post-mortem to establish exactly how your father died.’

  George looked horrified. ‘Autopsies and post-mortems are forbidden. They are considered to be a desecration of the body. There must be some other way.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t realise. George?’ Ena chose her words carefully, ‘You need to know why your father died and it may take longer than forty-eight hours.’

  ‘If I can get permission from Dad’s rabbi to delay the funeral, the doctor could examine him, but not cut him open and only if the rabbi is there.’

  George’s request rendered Mrs Sharp speechless. She then looked at Ena and scowled. ‘Personally, I don’t think a post-mortem is necessary.’ She turned to George. ‘The operation your father had on his knee could have put a strain on his heart – and at his age—’

  Ena was losing her patience. For George’s sake she needed to keep herself in check. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Sharp, but as Mr Derby-Bloom was in good health apart from his knee, I think it’s necessary by whatever method, to find out why he died. However, it’s up to George…’

  ‘Dad was coming home at the end of the week,’ George said as if she were a million miles away. She looked at Ena. ‘There has to be a reason why Dad died so suddenly, doesn’t there?’

  Ena nodded sympathetically.

  ‘Then I’ll speak to the rabbi and ask him to liaise with you,’ George said, turning to Mrs Sharp. ‘If that’s alright?’

  ‘Of course. And I shall speak to the doctor and explain the situation to him.’

  Ena looked at her watch. It was almost one o’clock. ‘Will the nurse who was with Mr Derby-Bloom when he died be here tomorrow?’

  A worried look appeared on the manageress’ face. She cleared her throat. ‘Nurse McKinlay is very experienced. She is also a very caring young woman.’

  ‘I’m sure she is, but we’d like to speak to her because she was the last person to see Mr Derby-Bloom.’

  The manageress turned to George. ‘Nurse McKinlay would not have been neglectful in any way, Miss Derby-Bloom…’

  ‘That isn’t why we want to speak to her,’ Ena said, cutting in. ‘We would just like to ask her a couple of questions.’ Ena crossed the room to the door and George followed. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ***

  While they waited for Natalie to join them, as well as to take George’s mind off the death of her father, Ena asked her about her time at the Prince Albert Theatre in the war, when she was in the shows with Margot.

  ‘I wasn’t what you’d call a natural dancer. I wasn’t overweight,’ George said, thoughtfully, ‘I had big-bones. And I was tall. I was too tall for a chorus line, but the right height for a showgirl. I was cast as every female warrior from Sekhmet in Egyptian mythology to Zeus the Greek God of sky and thunder. I was able to stand in a dramatic pose without moving for ages.’ She grimaced. ‘Some of the dancers wobbled like jellies after a few seconds. Margot could hold a pose without moving too.’ George rolled her eyes in fun. ‘Margot could do anything and everything; she could sing, dance, was a terrific actress – and she could hold a dramatic freeze.’

  ‘Margot told me if it hadn’t been for you and Betsy pushing her onto the stage of a nightclub to sing, she may never have had the confidence to be in the show.’

  George laughed. ‘Margot didn’t tell you everything. Singing in front of an audience might have given her the push she needed, but she had learned every step to every dance and every word to every song long before that night. It’s why she wanted a job as an usherette. As soon as she had shown people to their seats and the curtains had been drawn across the exits, Margot went to the back of the auditorium and practised the moves and steps that the dancers on stage were performing. Margot’s ambition was to be a professional dancer and she achieved it. She was a natural, unlike me. Not that I wanted to dance, but I needed to…’ George brushed the air sending the reason why she needed to dance into the ether.

  ‘I had the traditional pantomime wicked stepmother from an early age who, when I was sixteen, tried to marry me off. She introduced me to the sons of all her well-to-do friends; boys who had good prospects but were as dull as dishwater. “He’s good husband material,” she would say. I had no interest in boys and, even at the tender age of sixteen, I knew I didn’t want to get married – not then, not ever. When I told my stepmother, she packed me off to a finishing school in Switzerland.’

  ‘Switzerland? I was in Austria last year. Flew over the Swiss Alps… But that’s another story.’

  ‘I spent my winter holidays in the Alps, skiing. I loved Geneva, but I loathed finishing school. It was full of the daughters of wealthy socialites. It would have been perfect for the daughter of my stepmother if she’d had one, but not for me. I didn’t fit in. Most of the girls were there to bag a wealthy husband when they came out.

  ‘It was good in the respect that I learned deportment and dance, how to dress my hair and apply make-up – and how to act in the way society thinks a young lady should act – perish the thought. And I made some friends. But,’ she said, ‘working here during the war was where I made real friends. It was here that I learned how to be myself. The Prince Albert Theatre changed my life.’

  ‘And you changed the lives of many other people,’ Natalie said, coming into the office. As she passed George, she gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘How did you get on?’

  ‘Alright.’ George caught her breath. ‘I’m glad I wasn’t on my own today,’ she said, smiling at Ena, and picking up the suitcase containing her father’s clothes. ‘I have to make arrangements with the rabbi to be with Dad when the doctor at the nursing home examines him.’ George looked from Natalie to Ena. ‘Would you think it rude if I left? I’d like to see the rabbi and give him the telephone number of the nursing home before I pick Betsy up from her parents’ house.’

  ‘Is there anything else I can do?’ Ena asked.

  ‘No, you’ve done enough. I’m sorry to dash off.’

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow. We need to get to the nursing home before the nurse who was with your father today finishes her shift. Would ten-thirty be alright for you?’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine. Shall I come to your office?’

  ‘No, I have an appointment in the morning. I’ll pick you up here on the way back.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Natalie saw George out of the theatre and returned to her office where Ena was waiting. ‘It’s so unfair George’s father dying so suddenly. He was a wonderful man. Anton respected him greatly.’ Natalie smiled at the memory and poured Ena a cup of coffee.

  Ena felt Natalie wanted to talk about George’s father and her late husband, Anton – and she was happy to listen.

  ‘In the war, George and her father helped Jewish students escape the Nazis. George was at finishing school in Switzerland and got to know people in a Jewish organisation who smuggled students across the German border into Switzerland and then across the Channel to England. George persuaded her father to finance getting the students out of Germany to America, and she asked Anton if he would hide them when they got to England.’

  ‘I remember when I was at your house last year, Margot mentioned dressing rooms eight and nine?’

  ‘Yes, that’s where we hid the students. After the children, their nanny and nurse had been evacuated to Foxden, lights on in an empty house would have been noticed. So,
as there were only two or three students at a time we brought them to stay at the theatre. Young people came and went all the time unnoticed. With young women being called up on a regular basis there were always cast changes. No one noticed that there were more chorus girls one week and fewer the next.’

  ‘What happened to the students? Where did they go?’

  ‘First to Ireland and from there to America. Another wonderful network of people in New York found homes for them.’

  ‘Margot told me about Goldie, the dancer who she took over from when she was beaten up by her Nazi boyfriend, Dave Sutherland. She said Goldie was smuggled out of London.’

  ‘She was. We got her to Ireland with the Jewish students, but then, instead of travelling on to America, members of the escape network took her from the ship to her aunt where she had her baby.’ Natalie’s voice became abrasive. ‘And where Goldie died soon after giving birth. It’s a miracle the poor child lived long enough to give birth, the injuries she sustained at the hands of that monster. But she did live. Goldie was determined to see her baby and she named her Nancy after Nancy Diamond, the Albert Theatre’s beautiful leading lady who was killed when a bomb fell on the taxi she was in. If she had arrived at the theatre earlier... Two minutes, and she’d have been in the backstage area when the bomb fell.’ Natalie wiped tears from her eyes.

  ‘In different ways, the war took both Nancy Diamond and Goldie.’