by Clive Mullis
‘Really, how?’
‘In a moment. Yesterday Dumchuck went to the bank as usual and stayed there all day, and Kintersbury went to the Assembly. However, last night things started to change. Both Dumchuck and Kintersbury went out.’
The beer arrived, and Frankie and Rose waited patiently until Algernon had his prawns served, but this time from a different waiter who steadfastly refused to look at Rose. A couple of minutes later the prawns had disappeared and the waiter arrived again with a couple of footlongs and the cutlets. Algernon began digging in and at last remembered he should be saying something.
‘Well, Dumchuck went out first and went on a visit to an address not far from here,’
‘Where?’ interrupted Rose.
‘Gods, you two are impatient, aren’t you.’ He loaded his fork and stuffed his mouth full of cutlets. He chewed and grinned at the same time while Rose and Frankie held on to their footlongs, not daring to start. He swallowed and then continued. ‘A little later Kintersbury went out, and guess what, he went to the same address, and what’s more it was the same address that he sent a note to the night before.’
‘And?’ said Frankie and Rose together.
‘They went home.’ Algernon dived into his food again as if he had now finished all he had to say.
Frankie and Rose looked at each other in the silence, and then Frankie leant forward and grabbed Algernon by the throat. ‘Algie, this is not funny.’
Algernon had a full mouth at the time, and Frankie’s hand around his throat was not conducive to good digestion. He coughed and sent splatterings of pork flying across the pub’s patio.
‘If you don’t carry on telling us the story, I’ll be ramming this footlong somewhere where the sun don’t shine, closely followed by the one that Rose is holding.’
‘Frankie,’ exclaimed Rose, letting her dinner fall to the plate. ‘I was just looking forward to eating that.’
‘Well?’
Algernon nodded and Frankie let go. He coughed again and then swallowed, rubbing his neck at the same time. ‘I was just getting to that Frankie, honest. They went to Havelock Crescent. Dumchuck went first, but left before Kintersbury got there, so they weren’t there at the same time.’
Frankie held on to Algernon’s hand to stop him eating and indicated that he should continue.
‘I then made some enquiries about the place, and what came back was quite interesting. It would seem that your two friends share the same sort of recreational activities. The place is a brothel.’
‘A brothel?’ queried Rose. ‘You mean that they were both…’ and she made a circle with her thumb and forefinger and used the finger on the other hand to indicate a time honoured gesture. ‘… doing it in the same place?’
‘Not only the same place, but the same woman. It’s a one woman operation, and she only caters for the rich and powerful. She is by all accounts very picky about her customers. Apparently, amongst other things, she’s a dominatrix.’
Frankie grinned from ear to ear and leant back in his seat. ‘Oh, that’s beautiful is that — our two little friends are whipping boys.’
CHAPTER 14
‘Oh, it’s you, Mr Cornwallis.’ Mrs Gridlington turned as the door swung open.
Cornwallis strode through with a grin on his face, despite just coming back from a visit to the Bagman. She looked a bit surprised to see him.
‘Yes, it is, Mrs Gridlington. Or it was the last time I looked.’ He grimaced as he heard himself speak; it wasn’t even half a joke. Mrs Gridlington seemed to do that to him. He tried this morning to force a light-hearted comment, but again it seemed to come out as the utterings of a moron.
‘Well, it certainly looks like you, Mr Cornwallis, though I didn’t expect to see you until later, what with all your running around.’
‘Yes, I thought I’d pop back to see how you’re getting on, and I must say you’ve made an improvement. I see the desk came.’
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Cornwallis.’ She turned away from his desk and smiled. ‘Just been tidying all this up. I’m going to put all your current paperwork into the cupboard in this box file; you really need to get a lock on that, even when you’ve knocked through to the other room.’
‘I will, though you’ve done wonders with all the old files. Where did you put them?’
‘Next door, but I’ve locked the door. It makes the whole place look brighter, don’t you think?’
‘It certainly does, Mrs Gridlington.’
She had placed her new desk opposite his, just under where the old files were. She turned back to finish putting the paperwork away and he sat on the edge of her desk and watched as she bent down to the cupboard. His mind went back to the morning when they were on the floor in each other’s arms, and the glint he had seen in her eye. He studied her a little more closely. He thought she couldn’t be much older than him, but she wore no make-up and had a severe hairstyle; but the hair had lustre to it, a rich dark nut brown. Her clothes were very plain and frumpy and covered everything, including her legs. Cornwallis mused on his thoughts, and decided that if she took more care of her appearance, dressed a little differently, and slapped on a bit of make-up, then with what he found this morning, she would turn into quite a good looking woman; and if circumstances were different…
‘Is there something wrong?’ asked Mrs Gridlington, as she stood up and turned around.
‘Uh?’ replied Cornwallis.
‘Only you seemed to be staring at me, is there something not to your liking?’
Cornwallis felt a flush coming. ‘Oh no, not at all. I was just thinking. Miles away, sorry,’ he finished lamely.
She smiled, and held her arms demurely in front of her, clasping her hands. ‘I’m glad. I think I will like working here. Are your two colleagues coming back today?’
‘Er, probably. I sent them to see someone, so I expect they will.’ He stood up, paced a little, and then came to a decision. ‘You can finish early if you like, Mrs Gridlington, you’ve been very busy and I want to go through some things before I go out again.’ There was something a little school-girlish in the way she stood, and a couple of things were definitely being squeezed together.
‘Why thank you, Mr Cornwallis, in that case I will leave you to it. Where are you off to, if I may ask?’
The thought of Miss Thrape entered his mind and he found himself grinning. ‘Just out. Having an evening at the Jerkey Turkey actually, Mrs Gridlington.’
She moved over to her desk and picked up her bag, she brushed herself down and then looked at Cornwallis. ‘In that case I hope you and the young lady have a very nice time.’
Cornwallis’ eyebrows shot up.
Mrs Gridlington grinned back and she winked. ‘Can’t pull the wool over my eyes young man,’ she said, walking past and tapping him on the arm. ‘See you in the morning.’
Cornwallis stared at her back as she went through the door, replaying the conversation in his mind; at no point did he mention going to see anyone, or doing anything — so how did she know? He sniffed and shook his head slowly before grinning to himself. He hoped that he had read Miss Isabella Thrape, just as well as the astute Mrs Gridlington had read him.
He busied himself while waiting for Frankie and Rose by going through the events of the day. He poured himself a coffee as he ordered his thoughts and gazed out of the window. He saw Mrs Gridlington hurrying down the street and he thought he really should have found out a little more about her, like where she lived and what her husband did for a living; all the things a good employer should know about a member of his staff. He would have to address that the next time he had a few minutes with her, and he made a note in his mind. He definitely had the feeling that she would become an asset to the team, and he wouldn’t put it beyond possibility that at some time she might even be good enough for some minor investigating on her own. The future looked very rosy indeed.
He turned away from the window and went over to his desk and pulled out his chair, he sat down and swu
ng his feet up, squirming around in an attempt to get comfortable. He took another slurp of the strong black concoction and felt his senses being stimulated. Now, he thought, the fog had lifted and it had become very clear. He went over it all in his mind again and came to the same conclusion. It was obvious when you pieced everything together, but he still needed proof, and he suspected that that would be hard to come by. Knowing and proving were two totally different things, but at least he could start with the knowing.
Frankie and Rose came noisily up the stairs and he realised that he had been sitting there thinking for quite some time, the light had faded, and it began to get dark outside, but he hadn’t even noticed.
‘There you are, Jack.’ Frankie and Rose burst into the room laughing. ‘You are going to love what we have to tell you.’
Cornwallis looked up and smiled. ‘In that case you’d better tell me before you do yourself an injury, Frankie.’
Rose went around lighting the lamps and then checked the coffee pot; she poured three mugs and then brought them over before inspecting Mrs Gridlington’s new desk. She tried the chair and found that it was one of the new swivel ones that spun around. Frankie, having seen Rose revolve, decided he wanted a go as well. Cornwallis waited patiently while the children played.
‘That’s enough now, you two,’ announced Cornwallis with exasperation. You said you had to tell me something.’
‘We did at that,’ replied Frankie, as he tipped over and fell to the floor; he had spun the seat right off the pedestal. ‘Oh bugger, I’ve broke it.’
Cornwallis sighed.
‘It’s all right,’ said Rose. ‘Those things just screw back again; the secret is to remember not to spin too much.’ She helped Frankie replace the seat and then hand-spun it back to its original position. ‘There, all better now.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re happy now,’ said Cornwallis.
Frankie grinned and looked at Rose. ‘Shall I tell him or do you want to?’
‘You can Frankie; you seem to be enjoying repeating it all so much I’m loath to stop you now.’ She turned to Cornwallis. ‘He must have said it to me at least twenty times by now, and I was there when he first heard it.’
‘Frankie does that,’ agreed Cornwallis. ‘Hears a good story; then flogs it to death, everyone’s bored rigid by the time he’s finished.’
‘But this one’s worth it,’ said Frankie, aggrieved.
‘Well, bloody well tell me then.’
Frankie got himself comfortable and then took a drink to wet his throat. ‘Algernon,’ he began, ‘kept an eye on our two friends. Nothing much to report about yesterday and today, but last night they went out into the bad old world of Gornstock. First Dumchuck and then Kintersbury, and they went to the same place, but not at the same time.’
‘Go on,’ encouraged Cornwallis.
‘Well, Algie followed them and then made some enquiries, and as luck would have it he found out a bit about the place. Kintersbury and Dumchuck have interesting little habits; this house they went to is, and wait for it… ’
‘A brothel,’ interjected Rose laughing.
‘Oi, Rose, that’s not fair. I was telling the story.’
‘A brothel?’ queried Cornwallis, smiling. ‘You mean they’re paying for it?’
Frankie shot Rose a look. ‘Yes, but not only that; this brothel specialises in a particular quirk.’ He raised his eyebrows a little and then broke into a broad grin. He then mimed a whip being cracked whilst at the same time clicking his tongue. ‘I think our friends are bondage boys.’
Cornwallis’ feet slid off the table in surprise. When he righted himself, he leant forward eagerly. ‘Really?’
‘Oh yes, no doubt about it. The place is a one woman business and she only caters for the likes of you.’
‘What do you mean?’ exclaimed Cornwallis, horrified at the implication.
‘I mean rich people,’ adjusted Frankie, quickly. ‘Nobs and such like. Apparently, it reminds them of when they were at school.’
‘Must have been some strange schools around in those days then,’ added Rose, thoughtfully.
Cornwallis laughed. ‘Not really, you should have seen what went on in mine. Thankfully, I emerged untouched and unaffected, but some of the things that went on… Hang on,’ his mind snapped to attention, ‘Tell me, where is this place?’
‘Havelock Crescent,’ answered Frankie. ‘Why? Are you thinking of making an appointment?’
A triumphant look came over Cornwallis. ‘Havelock Crescent,’ he repeated. ‘I heard today that Bertram Radstock goes to the same place. Now, what do you make of that, eh?’
Rose and Frankie looked at each other. ‘I don’t know,’ answered Frankie. ‘What are we to make of it?’
‘Radstock is the Bagman’s informer,’ sighed Rose, picking the point up straight away. ‘That’s two high ranking government officials and the head of the Bank. Are they connected in all this though?’
‘There must be something, too much of a coincidence otherwise,’ said Cornwallis, thinking it through. ‘The Bagman always seems to know just a little bit more than us.’
‘So we will have to keep a watch on the place then,’ said Frankie, stating the obvious.
‘I think so, but Kintersbury and Dumchuck won’t be there tonight as they have a prior engagement.’ Cornwallis explained about the call to the Assembly and the meeting with the Warden that would be happening later tonight, and then he voiced his suspicions about the whole thing so far and what he thought was involved. Frankie, a bit slower on the uptake than Rose, listened slightly bemused at first, but eventually got the drift.
They agreed that the three of them would go to Havelock Crescent in the morning to cast an enquiring eye over the place, and if necessary would then get Algernon to put a man on it. Cornwallis checked his watch and decided that time had come to get ready for his nocturnal appointment, so he ushered out Rose and Frankie, then hurried upstairs.
He showered, shaved, and changed into clean clothes and then inspected himself in the mirror. Satisfied with what he saw, he brushed himself down again before skipping out of his apartment and heading down the stairs. He knocked on Miss Thrape’s door and waited patiently. He knocked again and waited a bit longer; he then began to get a little concerned. He tapped his foot and then looked down, only to see a little piece of paper with his name on it. He bent down and picked it up and saw that it had been attached to the door with a little bit of sticky, but this bit obviously wasn’t up to the job. He unfolded the paper and found that Miss Thrape had gone on ahead, as she put it, to get things ready. He smiled to himself as he headed off down the road in the direction of the Jerkey Turkey; with the promise of an evening of fun and frolics on the cards — the emphasis, hopefully being on the frolics.
It took about twenty minutes to get to the Jerkey Turkey, which was next to Trotters Field, where the city held its livestock market. The Turkey catered for the more wealthy farmers who came to the city and in consequence sold good beer, good food and kept clean rooms.
He had a lively step as he entered Poulterer’s Way and he grinned as his eyes alighted on the swinging sign above the pub, a turkey with a hand around its neck and about to be throttled; the sign writer had the look of dismay on the face of the turkey just about right.
Cornwallis pushed at the door and it swung open, revealing the early evening punters and a small group of farmers supping beer and bemoaning the prices currently on offer for their goods. He stepped up to the bar, nodding greetings and sympathising with the farmers, until the landlord came through with a large plate of pork scratchings, which he laid ceremoniously on the bar in front of the customers.
‘Good evening, sir, and what can I get you?’
Cornwallis was just about to say that he was here for the ghost, when it occurred to him that perhaps that might not be the best thing to say in the circumstances. ‘Er, I’m really here to help Miss Thrape,’ he said instead. ‘Is she here yet?’
‘Miss
Thrape? Oh, yes indeed. She did say she expected someone, come this way.’ He drew Cornwallis hurriedly through a side door in the bar and over towards the stairs. ‘Thank you for not mentioning our little problem,’ he confided. ‘Only some of my customers get a little nervy at the mention of the, er, departed.’
‘No problem at all, landlord, we like to be discreet. Now has Miss Thrape ordered any sustenance for our vigil?’
‘Er, no, sir.’
‘Well in that case, a nice little buffet with a couple bottles of wine and a crate of beer, if you please. It could be a long night you understand, and we can’t allow our concentration to waver now, can we?’
‘No, sir, right you are, sir. I’ll get one of the girls to sort it. Do you think you will be staying all night, sir?’
‘Quite possibly. In these circumstances who can tell, but once we start we can’t be disturbed, you know. Any disturbance could spoil everything.’
The landlord nodded his understanding. ‘I just want rid of the thing. Can’t let the room out until he’s gone, scares the life out of me every time I see him. Now this is the room, sir,’ said the landlord as they turned a corner, he pointed down the corridor to the very end room. ‘The best room in the house as well; I do hope you have a successful night.’
‘So do I, landlord, so do I,’ agreed Cornwallis.
Cornwallis waited while the landlord made his way back downstairs before taking a deep breath and stepping towards the door. He tapped quietly, then turned the handle and entered the room. It took him a few brief seconds to adjust his eyes to the gloom inside, as only a weak light came from a partially covered candle sitting on the chest on the far side of the room, and when he did, he could see Miss Thrape languishing on the bed seductively. She lay on her side, with her head resting on her hand, and the sight quite took his breath away. She had changed from earlier, now wearing a loose blouse with a good few buttons undone. The skirt was long and dark and split right up to the thigh, a leg provocatively peeping out.
