by Clive Mullis
Cornwallis put on his sombre face. ‘I’d rather not say if you don’t mind, but I don’t think you’d like to know anyway.’
‘Really? Oh well, you young men and your adventures. You had better come through so we can have a proper look.’
Mr Gillimot led Cornwallis through the curtain and into the fitting room where a big long table, ordinarily used for cutting, took up half the space. He placed the package on the table and drew the manky suit out. He sniffed with disgust again at the smell and then separated the jacket from the trousers. ‘Definitely one of ours, though I have never seen one in quite such a bad way before.’ He fussed over it, like the prodigal son returned from adversity.
‘I wonder if you can tell me who it belonged to?’
Gillimot scratched his chin in thought and then, realising what he had just been handling, stopped abruptly. ‘We do have a thing called client confidentiality, I’m afraid, Mr Cornwallis. I’m sure you understand,’ and then he smiled at Cornwallis, holding eye contact.
Cornwallis returned the scrutiny. There were a few moments of silence between them, and then finally Cornwallis pulled out his wallet. He counted out ten dollars and placed it on the table, with Mr Gillimot watching the fall of each note. Mr Gillimot kept smiling, but said nothing, so Cornwallis counted out another ten and placed that on the table too.
‘That’ll do very nicely, sir; now let’s see what we’ve got.’ The money disappeared in a flash into one of his pockets and then he got down to business. ‘Classic cut, Mr Cornwallis, see the lapels? They are slightly wider than yours, and slightly longer in the length; the back is slightly longer too which would indicate one of our more old fashioned clients.’ He reached into the inside pocket of the jacket and pulled out a little label. He moved closer and squinted, and then wrote in his little pad. ‘I’ll just go and get the ledger and see what we’ve found.’
Mr Gillimot went through into a back office and returned a few minutes later carrying a large leather book. He placed it on the table next to the suit and began to turn the pages. ‘Here we are.’ He ran his finger down the entries and then stopped hesitantly with his finger poised. ‘Oh my!’ He checked his pad again, then checked the little label again, and then checked the book again. ‘Well, this is a surprise.’
Cornwallis leant over and saw the name beneath the finger: Pelegrew Kintersbury.
*
‘Maxwell is dead.’ Kintersbury paced the office with his hands thrust deep into his pockets.
‘How?’ asked Dumchuck, shocked. He sat back in his chair and just stared in astonishment. ‘Who?’
‘Cornwallis; who else?’ replied Kintersbury. ‘I’ve just heard and came rushing here. Maxwell was at the warehouse when they came to take him, apparently when he tried to escape they just ripped his head clean off his shoulders.’
‘Oh, that’s gross.’
Kintersbury nodded. ‘It means that we will have to bring it all forward now. Don’t worry, it’s all been agreed by the other party. Steps have been taken to ensure that we’re safe.’ He scratched at the cuts on his face which were now starting to itch. ‘We won’t contact each other again until it’s all in place. The day after tomorrow should give me enough time to sort it all.’
‘Oh, I do hope so, Pelegrew. I do hope so.’
*
They sat around the table in the piazza outside the Stoat, each of them nursing a pint pot as Cornwallis told them what had happened at Biggins and Shute and that now they could at least connect Kintersbury to Freddie the Weasel.
‘It doesn’t prove anything though,’ said Rose. ‘Only that Freddie wore one of his old suits.’
‘No,’ agreed Cornwallis. ‘But it is circumstantial, and when we add everything else to it, a judge would sit up and listen.’
Frankie smiled to himself.
‘What’s tickling you?’ asked Cornwallis, after taking a long gulp.
‘His Lordship actually, what wouldn’t he give for a quarter of what Freddie had, eh?’
‘Oh Frankie,’ admonished Rose. ‘That’s not exactly fair. He’d just come out of the river and stood in a draught, he was wet through and shivering. Even I know that everything disappears when it’s cold. Poor little Cecil looked mortified.’
‘Little is the right word there,’ laughed Frankie. ‘Ye Gods, he stood at the back of the queue when that got handed out.’
‘When what got handed out?’ asked MacGillicudy, making an appearance. He pulled over another chair and sat down. ‘Might as well come and annoy you lot, it’s either that or sit at home waving goodbye to my career.’
Rose smiled at him and patted his arm. ‘I’m sure things will work out.’
‘Hmmm, we’ll see. Who handed out what then?’
‘Dewdrop,’ explained Frankie. ‘You missed a good day today. Dewdrop came out of the river sopping wet in just his underpants; Rose here stood just in front of him. You can imagine what happened next, can’t you?’
MacGillicudy opened his eyes wide. ‘Oh, he didn’t, did he?’
Frankie nodded and then raised his little finger in demonstration.
MacGillicudy laughed. ‘Oh, how I wish I could have seen that. Why did he go in the river anyway?’
‘Fishing out Maxwell’s head,’ explained Cornwallis.
MacGillicudy looked confused.
‘Oh, I forgot, you’ve been out of the loop. Maxwell killed Freddie, who we can connect to Pelegrew Kintersbury and the Gornstock Trust and Holdings. We found him down the docks, and when we tried to pick him up, he broke away and fell into a boat. One of the workers down there tried to pull him out of the boat by his legs, but unfortunately his head had gone through the timbers, and when he pulled, the head and the body parted company, end of Maxwell.’
MacGillicudy still looked confused; he looked at each of them in turn with his face a blank. There were a few seconds of telling silence, and then Cornwallis said. ‘I tell you what, let’s get you a pint and we’ll tell you all about it.’
It took two pints to get MacGillicudy up to speed on the investigation, and another two to dissect it. All that excitement and he’d missed it, just for a moment’s aberration when he landed that punch on Grinde. A couple of clues, one or two questions in the right ears, a bit of observation and leg work, a murderer discovered, albeit now a dead murderer, and he had missed it all.
‘What next then?’ asked MacGillicudy, feeling deflated.
‘We have to tie Kintersbury in with Dumchuck. Algernon is keeping an eye on them for the moment, so we’ll just have to see if he comes up with anything,’ explained Cornwallis. ‘Those are two men who we will have to be very careful with.’
Frankie drained his pint, stretched his arms and grinned. ‘Well, if you ain’t gonna need me anymore, I’m off to bed.’
‘This early?’ queried Cornwallis.
‘I didn’t say mine, did I?’
Rose tutted and wagged a finger. ‘If I had said something like that you would have accused me of being a loose woman.’
‘That’s because all the virtue goes to the giver, and not the receiver, my darling,’ replied Frankie, just ducking in time.
MacGillicudy laughed. ‘At least you have all cheered me up; I’ll walk a little way with you, Frankie, if I stay here any longer I won’t want to move.’
Frankie and MacGillicudy left the table and together walked towards the alley at the far end, they were talking and laughing animatedly as they disappeared from view, and Frankie’s raucous laugh could still be heard long after they’d gone.
Cornwallis and Rose sat quietly for a few seconds luxuriating in the peace. He leant forward and toyed with his glass for a few moments as if in contemplation, then sat back again as if he’d made up his mind. He turned to look at Rose and smiled, and then she smiled in return. The light from the oil lamps cast a gentle romantic glow around the piazza on the warm balmy evening and a low hum of conversation from the tables around accentuated the intimate atmosphere. They both took a sip of their drin
ks and gently placed the glasses back down.
‘There’s something I’d like to talk to you about, Rose,’ began Cornwallis quietly, thankful that at long last he’d found the courage to say what he wanted to. He felt awkward, and a little bit scared of what she might say; she might turn him down.
She waited another few seconds and then gave a half-nod. ‘I know, Jack. I thought you wanted to, and you’re right, we should discuss things,’ she replied seriously. ‘It’s not something we can hide from, I know that, but I’m just worried that you might think it would affect our work.’
He reached out and held her hand. ‘It won’t affect our work, I promise you that.’ He looked directly into her sultry eyes.
She squeezed his fingers in hers. ‘Thank you, Jack, that means a lot to me.’
He smiled again, and for the first time didn’t struggle to keep eye contact. He could sense her chest heave as she took a deep breath, but he manfully managed to hold her gaze; after all, things were going far better than he expected and there would be plenty of opportunity later. ‘I think just one step at a time; I won’t push you into anything before you’re ready, but sometimes it happens, just the same; we have to go with the feeling. Neither of us are children, so if it happens, then it happens for the best.’
Rose nodded her agreement and smiled, her lips moist and slightly parted. ‘I think you understand these things much more than me, you’ve had so much experience.’ She reached over with her other hand and clamped his hand in hers, squeezing tightly. She then leant her head back and sighed as if a great weight had been taken off her mind. ‘I’ve been thinking about it most of the day, even when…’ and she chuckled ‘… your hand kept stroking my bum.’
Cornwallis looked at her longingly, feeling that everything was going to be all right; but from behind, he heard a very soft exclamation.
‘Lucky bastard,’ it said.
He whipped his head around, but all he could see were the backs of the drinkers as they picked up their glasses.
‘Yes,’ continued Rose. ‘It’s been a strange day, and it also crossed my mind when you made me have that orgasm in the warehouse.’
‘Oh no, this ain’t fair!’ The voice came again, and this time with a hint of desperation.
Cornwallis thought he was quicker this time, but he still couldn’t discern where the voice came from. His eyes bore into the backs of all within sight, willing one of them to turn. When nobody did, he eventually returned his gaze to Rose.
‘So I’m glad we can talk about it,’ she said, with not a hint that she had heard the errant voice. ‘I promise that I won’t do it again, Jack. Think of it as a one off, and it only happened because it scared me.’
Cornwallis continued to look at her with a smile on his face, and then as she spoke his brow became furrowed in confusion. ‘Er…?’
Rose returned the look and smiled, her tongue licking her lips. ‘You know, at Scooters Yard, when I had a little panic.’ She patted the hand she still held. ‘I’m glad you understand.’
‘Oh, er… yes, of course I do.’ He groaned inwardly, there wasn’t a hole big enough for him to fall into at that moment. ‘Yes, er… right. I’m sure it won’t, Rose.’
She sighed again, her chest heaving. This time Cornwallis looked, and mentally waved them goodbye.
‘Do you know, Jack, I’ve just replayed that conversation in my mind, and it sounded very much like you and I were talking about, you know, having a relationship.’
Cornwallis recovered well. ‘Did it really?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m so glad we weren’t talking cross purposes; that would have been so embarrassing.’
‘Yes, it would,’ he agreed, quietly.
They lapsed into silence again while Rose sipped at her drink. ‘You know, it’s so warm tonight; we could do with Big George and his fan.’ She held the front of her shirt open and gave it a shake to move some air.’ I won’t be able to wear a thing in bed tonight; I’ll just have to gently perspire, as that's what good girls do instead of sweat. I’ll be all slippery; I just hope I can sleep.’
A groan came from behind Cornwallis.
‘Right. That’s it. Which one of you is it?’ he demanded, spinning around and standing up. ‘Which one of you has been listening to our conversation?’
Nobody moved, and nobody said a word.
‘The next time I hear any of you say anything, I’ll arrest the sodding lot of you, understand?’
‘Jack? What’s going on?’
He stood there for a few more moments looking daggers, and then relented again. ‘You didn’t hear anything?’ he asked.
Rose shook her head. ‘No. Anyway it’s not important.’ She finished her drink and put the glass down. She had in fact heard, and out of the corner of her eye, she had seen the men at the table lean closer to hear better; but she’d decided that she didn’t want an audience when talking about how they felt about each other, and perhaps they should wait until this job had finished anyway. ‘Ah well, it’s been a busy day. I’m off to bed now, just me and my slippery sweat.’ She flicked an eye to the men. ‘If I can’t sleep, I’ll think about that orgasm all night long.’ She winked and placed a kiss on his cheek. ‘Goodnight, Jack.’
‘Goodnight, Rose,’ he said, as hope left him.
As she made her way to the door, a quiet voice came to Cornwallis’ ears again. ‘I know I won’t sleep, slippery and orgasm, oh ye Gods!’
*
The next morning saw them all in early at the office, with Rose coming in slightly nervously. Cornwallis still wondered if she really knew what he wanted to say last night, but thought it best now to forget it; the opportunity came and then it went. He decided that she had diverted the conversation just in case he became embarrassed when she turned him down. She had turned the conversation like an expert and it left him floundering. Maybe he’d misread the signs and perhaps friends were all they were destined to be. He watched her sit down and then his eyes focused on the copy of yesterday’s Gornstock Chronicle that she had tucked under her arm. As they scrutinised it, Cornwallis and Frankie were momentarily lost for words. They were looking at an advert, in the recruitment pages.
Secretary/Office worker required
Apply
Cornwallis Investigations
Hupplemere Mews
Gornstock
In person at 9 of the morning
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ asked Cornwallis eventually. ‘We don’t need a secretary.’
Rose became defensive. ‘You didn’t say that, so I assumed that you agreed to it.’
‘But I had a hangover.’
‘Yes, but that was hardly my fault,’ she said indignantly, pointing a finger at her chest.
‘All right. All right.’ He held up his hands in surrender. ‘We’ll give it a go, see what turns up. But we’ll only take someone on if they’re perfect for the job. They can have a week’s trial, and if they’re no good, they go. Does that satisfy you?’
Rose huffed and nodded, and then sat there with her arms crossed, hiding the feeling of triumph as advised. Cornwallis’ father had made the suggestion the other night at dinner, he had told her that his son would never get around to getting a secretary if left to his own devices, and he agreed that they desperately needed one. So when they had finished eating, he had helped write out the advert, and together they dropped it off at the offices of the Gornstock Chronicle. He also told her not to tell him until the applicants were imminent, as he would probably do all he could to get out of it. It was now eight o’clock and they should all be queuing up very soon.
Frankie warmed to the idea very quickly. He had a vision of what type of secretary they should have, his primary requirement being that she would be young, attractive, and eager to please; just being eager would be enough. He rubbed his hands together and then slurped his coffee. ‘You know, Jack; it ain’t such a bad idea after all. Just think of the saving in time; we could devote all our energies to the job in hand.’
‘Yeah, but if there’s always someone here, then anyone who does come in, ain’t gonna go away, are they?’
Cornwallis had to agree with Frankie’s logic there, but would it really work? Some of the cases they deal with are very sensitive, and to have someone they didn’t know handling the files could be asking for trouble. When he voiced those concerns, Rose shot them down.
‘You didn’t know me until the other night,’ she reasoned, ‘and now look. Are you telling me you don’t trust me?’
‘No, no, of course I trust you. But you’re Rose, you’re different.’
‘Jack, I could have been a homicidal maniac and you wouldn’t have known. If you cast your mind back you spent more time talking to my chest than you did to my face. It’s only in the last couple of days that I’ve been confident that when I do speak to you, you are going to look back at me properly.’
Cornwallis felt his cheeks flush because she had a point. He and Frankie had spent a long time that night talking about her various points of interest, and he agreed to try her out because of the effect she had on the men at the Stoat, and the fact that she could scrap,. The main reason though, and he had to admit it, had to do with the effect she had on his trouser department. But things had changed since the other night. He could still see the same strikingly beautiful girl with all the skin and breasts and hair and legs but he could now see more than that. He’d scratched the surface, and underneath it, he found a clever spirited girl, as vulnerable as everyone else. He had already come to the conclusion that she would stay; she had become an integral part of the team. He knew now too, that the likelihood of the relationship developing into something more, would be remote, to say the least, but somehow that didn’t matter; it was more important to be friends, which is as it really should be.
