The Corpse at the Crystal Palace

by Carola Dunn

  “Pity.”

  “I can give you a general idea of what he said about them, though, if that’s any use to you. I couldn’t help hearing some of it.”

  “I never know what will be useful. Please go ahead.”

  Angela hesitated. “I suppose I’d better go back to when we were growing up. You see, Teddy was always the favourite, naturally, because he was the only boy. He was always indulged.”

  “Spoiled rotten,” Daisy murmured. Alec shot her a repressive frown. He was amazed she hadn’t opened her mouth more often.

  “As a result,” Angela went on with a faraway expression, “if he was ever thwarted, he was convinced he was being picked on and, if he could, he retaliated. He usually got away with it.” She stopped, dismayed at where her thoughts were leading.

  Alec decided to press her. “With no repercussions, he came to enjoy the mean tricks he played on people? He started to indulge his taste even without provocation, real or imagined?”

  “Ye-es. Yes, I’m afraid so. He was such a nice little boy! Last time I saw him, he seemed to positively delight in scoring off people, even artists and writers and people like that whose work he admired.”

  Daisy’s inarticulate mutter sounded like agreement. Alec shot her another glare, but she wasn’t looking, being busy stroking Mr. Fisher’s head. Not that it would have deterred her if she had seen it.

  Again, Angela didn’t appear to have heard her. “It was horrible to listen to his gloating. He revelled in telling me how clever he’d been, so that they could never be sure whatever he’d done wasn’t an accident. He couldn’t fool me that he kicked Mrs. Tiggywinkle by accident! He told me he tripped over her, but I saw him do it, absolutely deliberately. I’ll never forgive him. I’m sorry he’s dead, but all the same … Was he killed by someone he’d provoked?”

  “Probably, given the circumstances.”

  “The circumstances?” She sounded puzzled. “Was there something odd about it?”

  “You haven’t read the papers.”

  “Lord no, I never read them. What … What happened?”

  Apparently Daisy had funked the explanation, and Alec couldn’t blame her. If there was a delicate way to tell a woman her brother had been murdered in a ladies’ room while dressed as a nursery nurse, he couldn’t think of it. He was glad someone else had had to break the news to Teddy’s parents.

  He had to be blunt. Though he tried to be gentle, his words made Angela flinch.

  After a moment, she said, “He always did like dressing up, amateur theatricals, that sort of thing. And the ladies’ room—just the sort of prank he would get involved in just for kicks. Or a dare, perhaps. He never could resist a dare.”

  Judging by Mr. Fisher, she was more upset than was obvious. The dog returned to her, laid his head in her lap, and licked her hand lavishly.

  Alec sipped his tea, recognising the distinctive flavour of lapsang souchong. Teddy’s taste, not Angela’s, of course. It was lukewarm, so he hurriedly swigged down the rest. “Did your brother ever want to go on the stage professionally, Miss Devenish?”

  “Not that I recall, but I didn’t pay much heed. My father would have cut him off without a shilling. He considers all actors effeminate, and besides, it would have been ‘betraying his class.’ As I do, in his eyes. He’d approve if I kept any number of hounds and dashed about the countryside killing innocent animals, but rescuing hurt and abandoned dogs is beyond the pale. Not that I care,” she finished defiantly.

  “No, why should you? How long do you expect to stay in town?”

  “As short a time as possible. London’s a horrible place. I’ll have to stay a few days, though. Teddy’s solicitor wrote that I’m co-executor of his will. I’ve no idea what that entails but with any luck Mr. Cranford will do it all.”

  “Do you know how he’s left his assets?”

  “Not a clue. Father will be livid if Aunt Eva’s money doesn’t revert to the Devenish estate, even though most of it came from her husband. I daresay it will. What else would Teddy do with it?”

  Alec was as certain as he could be that she was not aware of being her brother’s sole legatee. If Teddy had revealed the fact, he would have been badgered to change his will. It would come as a nasty shock to Sir James, which was undoubtedly just what the baronet’s undutiful son had planned.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Thank you for the lift, darling,” said Daisy, as Alec let in the clutch and the Austin Twelve moved smoothly away from the curb, “but if you think I don’t realise you just wanted to get me away from Angela, you’ve got another think coming.”

  “I know you far too well to suppose anything of the sort. However, I was sorry to see how disconsolate she was to lose your company, and I’m not at all sure there’s any need to keep you apart, though we do need to check her alibi.”

  “It looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “Excellent. In any case, that was not my sole motive. I’m quite certain you haven’t wasted your day. Tell me what you’ve been up to, besides beating me to Angela.”

  “I do have quite a bit of news.” Daisy frowned in thought, casting back her mind. “Where shall I start?”

  “Only you can decide.”

  “I’d better tell you about Mrs. Gilpin first.”

  Alec’s relaxed grip on the steering wheel tightened. “She remembers?”

  “No, and don’t get your hopes up. Dr. Ransome still says it’s quite possible she never will.”

  “Damn!”

  “She’s worrying about it, which doesn’t help and may hinder, for all he knows. He thinks she should go away for a rest, so I wrote to her sister, to see if she could go there for a week or two. What do you think?”

  “If we haven’t solved this by other means in a week…! It can’t hurt. She’s no help as she is. Yes, let her go, assuming she’s willing.”

  “I haven’t asked her yet. I wanted to hear from her sister before I suggest it. I hope she’s not going to make a fuss about leaving the twins with Bertha.”

  “She can hardly do that, when she left them to Bertha at the Crystal Palace.”

  “I wish I knew why! Well, never mind. I went out to lunch with Sakari.”

  “She said in a portentous voice. Where?”

  “The Café Royal. We met friends of Sakari’s there. You know her thirst for knowledge. She likes to talk to artists and writers.”

  “And there’s nothing writers and artists like better than to talk about themselves. Did they also talk about Teddy Devenish?”

  “Only briefly. Someone came in with a newspaper that gave the identity of the ‘Crystal Palace Corpse.’ No one had heard before who it was.”

  “No, we didn’t release it to the press till just in time for the noon editions.”

  “Several people made comments on the lines of ‘good riddance to bad rubbish,’ though not quite so crassly. We were all crammed together at a large table so I’m afraid I couldn’t very well ask Sakari who they were. The only person I recognised was a would-be sculptor called Purdue, who was a neighbour when Lucy and I lived in Chelsea. I don’t think he said anything at that point. He was too busy arguing with another chap.”

  “That’s a fat lot of use! Whence the portentous tone?”

  “Patience, darling, patience. You’re always telling me to start at the beginning and not to wander.”

  “Also to cut the cackle and come to the horses. Never mind, go your own sweet way.”

  “I will! They didn’t talk about Teddy for very long, really it was only those few remarks on hearing the news. If anyone said anything complimentary or sorrowful, I didn’t hear it. The next thing was two foreigners came in. One was holding the same paper, with the headline about Teddy, and they both seemed all a-flutter over it. I’m sure they were Russians. Of course, I couldn’t understand a word they said.” In view of her proposed expedition to see the Zverevs next day, Daisy moved hastily on. “We left a few minutes later.”

  “You were able then to ask Mrs.
Prasad the names of Devenish’s detractors?”

  “No, we weren’t alone. One of her friends invited us to see her studio.” She described the visit to Judith Winter. “I didn’t get any names from her either. She was very discreet. But I bought two very pretty bowls.”

  “Bronze?” Alec asked absently.

  “No, china.”

  “But you said Miss Winter works in bronze.”

  “Both.”

  “I wonder whether those bronzes in Teddy’s flat are—”

  “Three of them are. It’s a pattern. Did I tell you about Lord Berners?”

  “Lord Berners! Where the deuce does he come in?”

  “He’s a successful composer and involved in all sorts of other artistic endeavours—writing and painting for a start. Sakari has a theory that Teddy aspired to be a second Berners. When no one took him seriously, he’d be bound to blame anything and anyone other than his own lack of talent. It would explain his animus towards all sorts of artists. Especially good ones.”

  Alec grinned. “Mrs. Prasad is as bad as you for wild speculation, if not worse. When you say ‘it’s a pattern,’ what exactly do you mean?”

  “If you’re going to scoff…”

  “Only if I can’t see this pattern of yours.”

  “Oh, all right,” Daisy sighed, giving in. “It seems to me he had a genuine appreciation of the arts. He not only admired and bought, he displayed what he’d bought. Then he became jealous of the creator’s talent, and that’s when the nastiness surfaced. It happened over and over again; that’s where the pattern comes in.”

  “It’s a reasonable interpretation,” Alec agreed. “Another would be that he bought in order to win the artists’ trust, so that when he turned on them it would come as a shock and be that much more painful to them, amusing to him. Alternatively, if they regarded him as a patron and friend, he could more easily pass off his tricks as accidental.”

  “Or perhaps all three, at different times. He was rather pathetic, wasn’t he?”

  “Not to his victims.”

  “No.” One had been upset enough to do him in. “What I can’t fathom is his reason for inviting or coercing one of them to dress up and go to the Crystal Palace with him. If they were unmasked, he’d be equally humiliated, or in equal trouble. Is it against the law for a man to masquerade as a woman and enter the ladies’?”

  “That’s a good point. I’ve no idea. As for his purpose, I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. He surely wouldn’t have revealed it to his companion.”

  “Probably not, though you can’t be sure.”

  “All right, we’ve covered your gleanings from the Café Royal.” Alec turned into Constable Circle, circled the communal garden, and pulled up in front of the house. “What about Angela, before I arrived on the scene? Did she say anything of interest?”

  “Not a thing.”

  He opened the car door for her. “If I hadn’t kidnapped you, were you going to keep all this to yourself?”

  “Of course not, darling! I was going to ring up the Yard and spill the beans to Mr. Mackinnon or Ernie. If you weren’t there,” she added quickly. “Will you be home for dinner? Half an hour early, remember, because of the children.”

  “I expect so. I’ll ring if not. Thanks for the leads. We had no starting place for delving into the artistic community. Oh, by the way, I called on your friend Fay Fanshawe. Alias Florrie Phipps—”

  “No!”

  “Yes. You’ll be glad to hear she’s a respectable young woman, living with her parents, and low on my list of suspects. All the same, I suppose I have to thank you for discovering her, too, though I’m not happy about your wandering round backstage at the Kit-Cat. The Café Royal was a good idea—an innocuous place on the whole. I’m glad you had Mrs. Prasad with you, especially when you visited the sculptor. But please, Daisy, no more investigating!”

  A sudden flurry of rain gave Daisy an excuse to dash up the steps without answering. She waved from the shelter of the porch and went into the house.

  The dog came scampering down the stairs to greet her.

  “Nana!” Belinda called from the landing. “Sorry, Mummy, I told Charlie to shut the door.”

  Charlie was close behind Nana. Ben and Belinda followed.

  “As long as she’s clean and dry, no harm done.” Daisy let the little dog sniff her hands, which undoubtedly smelled of Mr. Fisher.

  “She is, Aunt Daisy,” Charlie promised. “We just got home so we haven’t had time to take her out. We went to Madame Tussaud’s. It was … it was specacular!”

  “Spectacular,” Bel corrected.

  “And there was lots of history, too,” said Ben more soberly.

  “In history, they used to cut people’s heads off. There was a big fat king, his name was Henry, and he had lots of wives and he cut off their heads, like in the Arabian Nights.”

  “Not nearly so many,” said Ben.

  “Eight. That’s lots, isn’t it, Aunt Daisy?”

  “Six. Far too many wives, but he only cut off the heads of two, you bloodthirsty creature.”

  “Then we went to a magic place—”

  “Maskelyne’s.”

  “And Mr. Maskelyne cut a lady in half!”

  “What fun,” Daisy said dryly.

  “She was all right,” Charlie assured her. “It was magic. She came out and bowed afterwards and we clapped.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Have you had tea?”

  “I saved enough for penny buns,” said Belinda. “We ate them on the bus.”

  “With currants,” Ben elaborated, “and icing. They were good but they made me thirsty.”

  “Go and ask Mrs. Dobson for a drink.”

  “And then may we take Nana out, Mummy?”

  “Yes, but take umbrellas and be back in time to tidy yourselves for dinner. Daddy said he’d probably be home in time.”

  “Oh, goody! He’s always in a rush at breakfast.”

  Daisy went upstairs rather wearily. She popped into the nursery to find the twins with their mouths full of fishcake and surrounded by milk moustaches.

  “Are you managing all right, Bertha?”

  “Oh yes, madam, very nicely. They’re such good children, aren’t you, my poppets? I wondered, madam, seeing you’re here, if you fancied helping bath them? Not that I can’t manage,” she added hastily, “but I ’member you once asked to and Mrs. Gilpin was ever so—didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  “I’d love to. I’ll go and change.”

  “And I’ll lend you one of my aprons, madam.”

  Daisy had such fun splashing with the twins and washing their little faces, she wished she’d put down her foot long ago. Then she helped to put them to bed, heard their prayers, and read them a story, watching their eyes close as they drifted off to sleep. How much of their childhood she had missed because of Nurse Gilpin’s rigid ideas! Yet Oliver and Miranda were happy and healthy …

  Unless the woman had absolutely no excuse for her behaviour at the Crystal Palace, Daisy would give her an excellent reference and recommend her to Lucy. Lady Gerald Bincombe was unlikely to want to bathe her baby, and if by some remote chance she did, she was quite high-handed enough to overrule Mrs. Gilpin.

  Dinner was enjoyable too. The older children took Alec’s mind off his case with their chatter about waxworks and magic. At last Elsie removed the scant remains of the rhubarb tart, what little was preserved from the insatiable appetites of growing boys.

  The three youngsters went off to play Happy Families, if Bel could find the cards. Alec and Daisy settled down to coffee in the small sitting room.

  Daisy badly wanted to find out whether there were any developments in the investigation, but she didn’t want to disturb a rare peaceful evening. Nor did she want to open the possibility of questions about Russians.

  However, not many minutes past before he remarked, “You’re like a cat on hot bricks. Give me a small brandy and I’ll spill the beans.”

  “Why do I s
ense a quid pro quo?” Daisy poured a small tot. “Water? Soda?”

  “Neat, thanks. Because there is one. A quid pro quo. Not that I expect any objections: I want to pick your brains.”

  “Darling!” She fanned herself with her hand. “I was beginning to think you didn’t think I had any!”

  “I know you do. Sometimes you’re very good at hiding them.”

  “Well, thanks for the compliment. If that’s what it is. What can I do for you?”

  “It’s about the handbag. Mackinnon’s team found it—pretty much where Ben and Charlie between them said it would be, by the way. Bright boys, both of them.”

  “That’s my impression. What about the handbag?”

  “It’s black patent leather, just about the perfect surface for fingerprints, and the dabs people found plenty in spite of a couple of days’ immersion. Too many, in fact, both male and female.”

  “And nothing inside to identify it by?”

  “It was empty. Not so much as a matchbox. It took Ernie’s sharp eyes to notice the label of Angels, the theatrical costumier, sewn in to the lining at the bottom. Then the clothes were checked, both the discarded bundle and those Devenish was wearing, and unsurprisingly they too had Angels labels.”

  “They must have recorded the name of the hirer, of course. I’d bet it was Teddy.”

  “You’d win.”

  “So you’re no further forward. Why do you think I might be able to help? Not, I trust, just because I’m female?”

  “Well, yes,” he admitted. “How is a mere man to understand the female attitude towards handbags?”

  “They’re a nuisance to carry, but I’d as soon abandon mine as you would empty your pockets and abandon the contents.”

  Reflexively, Alec reached into a pocket and produced his pipe and tobacco pouch as he queried, “Even if it were an empty prop?”

  “I can’t conceive of carrying an empty handbag. If I did, I expect I would hang on to it by instinct.”

  “That’s what I suspected. I’m more and more persuaded that the assailant of Devenish and Mrs. Gilpin is a man.”

  “The more I find out about Teddy’s character, the more I’m convinced of it. There would be no earthly point in his taking a woman with him into the ladies’. She’d have every right to be there, even in hired plumage.”