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

by Madalyn Morgan

  ‘I’ll show you out the back, it’s nearer to the station than going through the bar.’

  Mr Walters didn’t return to the hotel after showing Ena out, he walked with her to Waterloo Station. ‘When you send the bill for the work you’ve done for me, would you put Doreen’s bill in with it?’

  ‘She won’t be getting a bill, Mr Walters. Doreen and her sons did my husband and me a great service last year. The investigative work I’ve been doing for her doesn’t begin to repay the debt we owe her. Thank you, anyway, I shall send you a detailed breakdown of my hours and expenses next week.’

  They crossed Waterloo Road to the station and the taxi rank. At the first cab, Mr Walters opened the door for Ena to get in before tapping the driver’s window. ‘Take the lady to 4 Rutland Park Road, wait for her, and then to 27 Rutland Road.’ He looked over the driver’s shoulder. ‘And then to Mercer Street, Mrs Green?’ Ena nodded. Mr Walters took a wad of notes from his back pocket, peeled several from it and gave them to the cabby. ‘If it’s any more, I’ll give it to you tonight. Call into The Wellington and have a drink on me.’

  Mr Walters moved away from the cab and it pulled out onto Waterloo Road. ‘Stop!’ he shouted and ran to the back of the vehicle. Ena wound down the window. ‘Tell Maisie not to come back to the hotel and tell Doreen her job is waiting for her when she feels up to coming back.’ He stepped away from the car again, the driver put up his hand and pulled out into the South London traffic.

  As she walked along the narrow concrete path to number 4 Rutland Park Road, Ena noticed the net curtains in the front window twitch. Maisie was in. She knocked on the door and when there was no answer, crouched down, lifted the flap of the letterbox and shouted, ‘I’ve come from the Duke of Wellington hotel with your wages, Maisie.’ When there was still no response, Ena turned and began walking back to the taxi. In case Maisie was still looking out of the window and could see her, Ena stopped halfway down the path and opened her handbag. Taking out the distinctive buff wage packet, she held it up and pretended to read what was written on the front. She shrugged and let it fall back into her handbag. Walking away again, Ena heard the front door open and someone call, ‘Hello?’

  Ena turned to see Maisie Hardy, thief of Doreen’s husband as well as her money, leaning against the frame of the front door. With her arms crossed over her chest, she looked ready for battle.

  Walking towards her, Ena could see that Maisie had been crying. The remainder of what she suspected had earlier been a fully-made-up face, had been washed off by tears, leaving tramlines of black mascara down her cheeks. One cheek was pink, the other devoid of rouge, and her smudged lipstick looked like a crude red slash across her thin lips. She wore a pale blue costume; the skirt was too short for her thick legs and the jacket too tight for her over-sized breasts. It was a hot day, but Maisie was shivering.

  ‘Can I come in?’ Not waiting for a reply, Ena pushed past the snivelling Maisie and took in her surroundings. Cheap ornaments adorned every surface, the glass was cracked in a small china cabinet, the net curtains were yellow from cigarette smoke and unlike Doreen’s neat orderly front room, Maisie’s was a jumble of uncoordinated colours. Doreen’s furniture may have been old, but she had taken care of it a damn sight better than her sister-in-law. The room, like the woman, was a mess.

  Maisie took a pack of cigarettes and box of matches from the mantle shelf, lit a cigarette and threw the match into the fireplace, where it landed among a dozen other spent matches and dog-ends in a grate of ash and coal dust. Blowing out a long stream of smoke, she said, ‘Well, have you got my wages, or not?’

  Ena cringed. What Arnold Hardy saw in Maisie was neither style nor good looks. It was obviously something that was not immediately visible. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I have them?’ she asked, without looking at Ena.

  ‘They’re your wages; you earned them.’

  Maisie flinched. Her body stiffened, but she didn’t move.

  Taking the wage packet from her handbag Ena held it out to her. Still Maisie made no attempt to take it. ‘If you want it, come and get it,’ Ena taunted.

  Looking down, Maisie threw her cigarette into the grate and sauntered across the room.

  As she approached, Ena saw for the first time since she’d been in the house that the pink blush on Maisie’s left cheek was not rouge, but the start of a bruise. Her left eye was beginning to swell and her eyelid was turning blue. ‘Ouch!’ Ena said, ‘that’s going to be a shiner.’ Reaching out, Ena lifted up Masie’s chin. Maisie jerked her head and turned her face away. ‘A gift from Arnold, was it?’

  ‘None of your bloody business. Give me my money and get out!’

  Ena had riled her, and would keep on doing so until she had Doreen’s money. ‘I’ll make a deal with you, Maisie. I’ll give you your wages if you give me the money you stole from Doreen this morning?’

  Maisie shot a look at Ena that was somewhere between shocked and relieved. She took a step back, stumbled, fell onto the settee and buried her head in her hands. ‘God forgive me. Oh my God, my God, my God,’ she mumbled.

  ‘Forgive you for what, Maisie? For killing Doreen?’

  ‘Doreen’s dead? No!’ Maisie said. Her hand flew to her mouth and she lifted her head. Except for the purple bruising on her face and around her eye, she was deathly white. ‘I didn’t kill Doreen. We argued, yes. She came into the kitchen and saw me taking her money. She flew at me and I pushed her. She tripped. It was an accident. I didn’t mean for her to fall; I swear I didn’t. The last time I saw her she was sitting on the floor holding her head. On my kid’s lives, Doreen was alive when I left her house.’

  ‘So, you didn’t drag Doreen, unconscious, to the oven and turn on the gas?’

  ‘No!’ she screamed. ‘No, I did not. I swear on my kids’ lives,’ she said again.

  ‘My associate and I found Doreen on her kitchen floor overcome by gas fumes. Another five minutes and she would have been dead.’

  Maisie shook her head again. ‘You’re lying. You couldn’t have. I don’t believe you!’

  ‘Why would I lie about something like that? Doreen is adamant that she doesn’t want the Police involved because of the children. However, I don’t have the same responsibility to her children, or to yours, so give me the money you stole and I might not go to the Police.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘What do you mean, can’t?’

  ‘I haven’t got it.’ Tears began to fall from the wretched woman’s eyes. ‘Arnold took it.’

  ‘Then I’ll have the money you earned doing double shifts at the Wellington!’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘He took that too. He took it all except—’

  ‘Except?’

  ‘A few bob the kids have in their money boxes.’

  ‘That’s something, I suppose.’

  ‘He didn’t know the kids had it.’ Then Maisie took a sharp breath. Her eyes were wide as if she’d had a shock.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The kids were outside playing when Arnold arrived. He promised them he’d see them after school and came in the front door. I gave him Doreen’s savings and he said we didn’t need it because he had a plan that would make us rich when we got to Margate. He said we’d be living like royalty and Doreen’s bit of money was chicken feed. When I left the house, he said he was going to give Doreen her money back to keep her quiet.’

  ‘He tried to keep her quiet alright by knocking her out and putting her head in the gas oven.’

  Tears streamed down Maisie’s face as she rocked backwards and forwards staring into the fireplace, moaning and crying.

  If Ena hadn’t known her, she might have felt sorry for her. ‘Maisie? Maisie!’

  She jumped. ‘What?’

  ‘Was the money you took from Mr Walter’s bureau yesterday the money Arnold took from you today?’

  Pretending to be outraged, Maisie ranted that she hadn’t stolen any money from Mr Walters and that it was Dolly the waitress w
ho had stolen it, saying she had seen her take money before.

  ‘Stop it!’ Ena shouted so loudly that Maisie stopped immediately. ‘Stop lying for once in your life!’

  Maisie drew her feet up under her and hugging her knees cowered in the corner of the settee.

  ‘Mr Walters knows it was you who took the money this morning.’ Maisie opened her mouth to protest again. ‘It doesn’t matter now! All that matters is that money is now in Arnold Hardy’s possession?’

  Maisie resumed her rocking. Ena was exasperated, but exasperation was not going to get Maisie to talk. Ena took a calming breath and sat down in the chair opposite her. ‘Mr Walters isn’t going to the Police about the money you stole. He told me to tell you not to go back to The Wellington, which I’m sure you don’t want to do anyway. Come on, Maisie, not only is he not going to the Police, but he’s giving you your wages. And, I won’t go to the Police if you tell me whether Arnold took the money you stole from Mr Walters when he took your savings?’

  Maisie looked up at Ena. ‘He won’t go to the Police?’

  ‘He said, he wouldn’t as long as you stayed away from The Wellington. You’re very lucky, Maisie. You made some bad decisions when you hooked up with Arnold Hardy, but you’re being given a second chance. So, what’s it to be? Come on, Maisie, it’s important.’

  ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘He took it all.’

  Ena exhaled and got up to leave. As she passed Maisie, she threw the wage packet onto the settee next to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Don’t thank me, Maisie. If you didn’t have children to feed you wouldn’t have seen that.’ Ena pulled opened the door.

  ‘Stop! Please!’ Maisie ripped open the wage packet, took out the contents, and held half of it out to Ena. ‘If I hadn’t got the children, I’d give Doreen all of it. Tell her I’m sorry about what happened, about everything. I should never have got involved with Arnold. Tell her I didn’t know what he’d done to her. I didn’t, honestly,’ she said, her eyes pleading with Ena to believe her. ‘Tell Doreen I’ll pay her back what he stole. They’re taking people on at the canning factory, in Elephant. I’ll get a job there and pay her back every penny.’

  Ena wanted to shove the money down Maisie’s throat, but Doreen needed to feed her children too.

  ‘You will tell her what I said, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ Ena took the money, opened the door and stepped out into the warm sun.

  ***

  ‘Would you stop at Barclays Bank?’

  The taxi driver slowed down and reversed the cab into a space between two cars in front of the bank. Ena jumped out. ‘I won’t be long.’ The short queue soon dispersed, She cashed a cheque for ten pounds and was back in the cab in a matter of minutes. Ten minutes after that the cab pulled up outside 27 Rutland Road.

  Doreen must have seen the cab arrive as before Ena had time to knock on the door, it opened and she beckoned Ena into the house.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘My eyes keep running and my throat’s still sore, but my head isn’t as bad now.’

  ‘I’ve got a taxi waiting. If you want to go to St. Thomas’ to get checked over…’

  ‘No, I’ll be fine.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Alright. I can’t stop, but Mr Walters asked me to give you this.’ Ena gave Doreen ten pounds. ‘It’s an advance on your wages. He said there’s no rush, but your job is waiting for you when you’re ready to go back.’ Ena saw Doreen’s eyes sparkle. ‘No more tears,’ Ena warned. Doreen shook her head. ‘And this,’ she said, giving her several notes, ‘is half of Maisie’s wages.’

  Doreen stiffened. ‘I don’t want that woman’s money.’

  ‘It isn’t her money, it’s yours. Take it. Mr Walters wanted you to have all of it, but because of her children… Oh, and I have something else to tell you. Arnold didn’t only hurt you and take your money, he walloped Maisie and stole the money she’d saved – and stolen – from the hotel. She’s going to have one hell of a black eye.’ Ena began to laugh and Doreen trying not to join in, pressed her lips together until she was unable to keep a straight face. She too laughed. ‘And this,’ Ena said, pushing another ten pounds into Doreen’s hand, ‘is towards what you’re owed for the wonderful job you did getting the office knocked into shape for me, and for keeping it looking spick and span.’

  ‘I’m not taking your money, Mrs Green.’

  ‘It isn’t my money. It’s Dudley Green Associate’s money, and it’s only a fraction of what I owe you.’

  ‘But how will you manage at the office without me to do the cleaning?’

  ‘Marigold do a very nice line in latex gloves. I shall buy a large pair for Artie.’

  ‘And there’s the investigation? I owe you for clearing my name.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that.’ Ena, pretending to be deep in thought, put up the fingers of her right hand one at a time as if she was counting. ‘That’s what you owe me. Hang on. Now,’ she said, putting up the fingers of her left hand, ‘that’s the work you have done for Dudley Green Associates. I think that makes us even.’

  Ena turned on her heels and ran down the path. ‘Call in and see us any time,’ she shouted over her shoulder before jumping into the waiting taxi.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ‘Inspector Powell telephoned again.’

  ‘Damn. I should have phoned him back.’ Ena picked up the telephone and dialled the number for Bow Street Police Station. When she was through to the inspector, she apologised for not returning his call.

  ‘It wasn’t important,’ he assured her, ‘but I thought you’d like to know that O’Shaughnessy was found guilty on two counts of murder – Sid Parfitt and Hugh Middleton – and one count of attempted murder – Eve Robinson.’

  ‘He’s going to hang for killing Sid?’

  ‘You sound surprised?’

  ‘I am. Nick Miller told me it wasn’t O’Shaughnessy who killed Sid, it was Helen Crowther.’ For a fleeting moment Ena thought of Nick Miller and smiled. ‘O’Shaughnessy wouldn’t have been brought to justice without the help of the old rogue,’ she said.

  ‘He wouldn’t,’ the inspector agreed. ‘Bending the rules sometimes pays off. Sir John Hillary said O’Shaughnessy didn’t kick up about the sentence. I don’t suppose he thought it was worth it. Brighton Police had enough evidence to hang him three times for Hugh Middleton’s murder. Your testimony helped, but Hillary said it was Mrs Robinson’s that was the clincher.’

  ‘Thank you for letting me know, Inspector. I’ll be in touch about the art theft case soon. I have two suspects, but at the moment I’ve as much gut feeling as I have proof. I need a lot more on them before I come to you. The Hardy investigation is over. Arnold Hardy has done a runner with Doreen’s savings.’

  ‘He has what?’

  ‘Stolen every penny she had, but Doreen has refused to press charges.’ Ena bit her lip. If she could trust anyone in this world it was Dan Powell. She had promised Doreen she wouldn’t tell the Police, even so… ‘You must give me your word that you won’t take what I’m about to tell you any further.’ The inspector didn’t answer. ‘Dan?’

  ‘You have my word.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Ena still wasn’t sure, but said, ‘Arnold Hardy tried to kill her. He probably thinks he has.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He didn’t, and she’s fine, so don’t say anything!’ Ena ordered. ‘Some of the money he stole was what Maisie had given Doreen for looking after her children while she worked at the hotel. He promised Maisie he’d take her away and they’d set up home together.’

  ‘Once he’d got rid of Doreen?’

  ‘Precisely. However, after taking Maisie’s savings – and smacking her about, leaving her with a bruised face and black eye, he left her too. The good news is that Maisie stole money on her last day working at the Duke of Wellington hotel and the notes were marked.’

 
‘If we knew where he’d gone and could catch him splashing marked notes about, we could put him away again for stealing money from The Wellington, as well as from Maisie?’

  ‘And he beat Maisie up?’

  ‘I’m sure she could be persuaded to press charges if the Police didn’t charge her for stealing the marked money in the first place.’

  Inspector Powell laughed. ‘Do we know where Arnold is now?’

  ‘Maisie told me they were going to start a new life in Margate.’

  ‘I’ll give the DI at Fort Hill a ring.’

  ‘Another of your Hendon chums?’

  ‘Unfortunately not, but no one likes scum like Arnold Hardy on their patch.’

  ‘Don’t mention Doreen’s name, will you?’

  ‘I gave you my word I wouldn’t.’

  ‘I know, sorry.’

  ‘I’ll let you know what the DI at Margate says.’

  When Inspector Powell had finished the telephone conversation, Ena sat at her desk and laid her head on the ink blotter. When she sat up, she was smiling from ear to ear. ‘I am pleased to be back in my office, in my chair, in charge of what I do and where I go instead of having some posh arse of a lawyer asking me loaded questions and twisting everything I say.’

  ‘It was worth it,’ Artie said, putting a cup of coffee in front of her.

  ‘Yes it was. O’Shaughnessy was given a fair trial, which was something he didn’t give his victims when he played judge, jury and executioner. You know,’ Ena said, taking a sip of her coffee, ‘at last I feel that Sid and your friend, Hugh, have got justice.’

  ‘And when O’Shaughnessy is hanged it will be over.’

  ‘It’s over now.’

  ‘I suppose it is. He’ll never leave Wandsworth Prison. The building, yes, but not the grounds.’

  ‘What have you been doing while I’ve been out?’