22
DAY TWENTY-TWO
Tuesday 2nd August 1949
It was 9.30am and Linda Collins found herself alone in the CID office, as everyone else had disappeared out to pursue their individual tasks and enquiries. She had grabbed a mug of tea from Doris, and, as there was nobody else in the main office, she had taken one into Cooper.
Linda was back at her desk and was just settling into some paperwork. Although it was early days, Linda felt that she was becoming accustomed to life in the CID, and the support of Alby Cooper had given her comfort and confidence. The department had a complement of two detective sergeants and ten detective constables, although the office was now rather depleted due to sickness, annual leave and the ongoing murder enquiry. That being the case, she allowed herself to believe that she had half a chance of remaining where she was and to become established as a detective.
There was certainly some jealousy over her attachment to CID, and some unfortunate remarks by her erstwhile colleagues on the Women and Children’s Team were starting to reach her ears. The women’s unit consisted of a bitch of a sergeant called Cecily White and five woman constables. Their room was on the ground floor of the police station, adjacent to the front office and one would have to pass it when en route to the back door. Consequently, she had been in receipt of some “stage whispers”, but had chosen to ignore them.
She got on with most of the girls, but a couple of them were sour and two faced, and she had been given the silent treatment on a few of occasions when she had gone back to the office to check her pigeon hole. Still, I can deal with that kind of nonsense, she thought to herself. They want to try being in the WRNS. Some of those women were evil. This lot wouldn’t have survived a week with them. She laughed at the memory.
Linda had lived with her parents for a while and they were beginning to get on her nerves. She had started to think about finding herself digs in town. Her father had given her a dirty look when she had popped home to change her clothes following her night at Alby’s. He hadn’t said anything, but he knew full well that she had not been working late. She anticipated that she would get the third degree later when she arrived home from work. I’m a grown woman, she told herself, Not only that but a police officer and ex-Wren. If he starts, I’ll tell him where to get off!
Linda reflected on the lovely time she had spent with Alby. She liked him a lot. The fact that he was now her boss was a bit tricky, and, taken together with the Stockwell factor, life had the potential to be difficult indeed. But she was going to do her damnedest to make their relationship work.
Linda was an intelligent and confident young officer, but if there was one thing that made her nervous about her present position it was being caught in the CID office alone when the telephone rang. Would she react in the right way if something serious came down the line or would she be found wanting? Linda’s nerves were tested when the phone burst into life on the desk in front of her.
‘CID. WPC Collins. How may I help you?
‘Ah, DC Collins. It’s Quentin Smallpiece here at Tatler. How are you?’
‘Ah, good morning, sir.’
‘Oh, do call me Quentin, please.’
‘Yes, Quentin. What can I do for you?’
‘You wanted us to delve into the archive for anything to do with Monsignor Tarquin Crecy. Well, I went over to Pinner yesterday and I think I’ve found some items you might be very interested in. I’ve brought them back to the office, so you’re welcome to come and have a look at them at your convenience.’
‘That sounds exciting, Quentin. Can I have your phone number, please? I will find Mr Cooper and I’m sure we’ll come back to you quickly to arrange something.’
Smallpiece gave Linda the telephone number for Tatler and then rang off.
Linda walked along the corridor to find Cooper, who was sitting in his office reading a report.
‘Sorry to interrupt you, governor, but I’ve just had Quentin Smallpiece of Tatler on the phone. He sounded quite excited. He told me he has something from the archive to show us that we’ll find very interesting. I said I would speak to you and come back to him ASAP.’
‘That sounds good, Linda. I’m getting swamped with bloody paperwork here and I could do with a bit of fresh air. Will you call him back, please, and ask him if he has time to see us this afternoon?’
‘Will do.’ She rushed back to the main office, made the call and returned after a few minutes.
‘He says it would be convenient up to about 4.30pm.’
‘OK, Linda. Give me twenty minutes to sort myself out and then we’ll go.’
At 2.45pm Cooper and Collins were sitting in the waiting room at Tatler.
On the train journey up to town, their conversation was a mix of business and pleasure. They were both conscious that they were on duty and they had to work hard to maintain a professional approach. But Alby was nervous. He liked Linda a lot. She was just the kind of woman he needed. He was all too aware that he would soon be in his forties and therefore inclined to view any girlfriend as a long-term proposition. He had absolutely no intention of playing games or wasting his time by engaging in casual affairs, but their relationship would have to be a slow burner. As for Linda, she was fearful that her relationship to Stockwell would ultimately put the mockers on things and that Alby’s interest in her would wane.
One thing that did sustain them during the journey was the sense of anticipation as to what lay in store for them at Tatler. Smallpiece had teased Collins with the comment that they might find his discovery “very interesting”. She hoped that his description wasn’t an exercise in overstatement. So, as they both sat in the waiting room, having arrived at Tatler, time passed slowly until, finally, Smallpiece put his head around the door.
‘Good afternoon, folks. Hope you are well? If you would like to come with me, we’ll go and find young Mr Grimes.’
Smallpiece moved swiftly and he virtually danced along the corridors. He clearly couldn’t wait to disclose the fruits of his research.
On entering the studio, they were greeted with a wave by a smiling Grimes, who was using the telephone. When he had finished his call, he ushered them across the room to a long table. Stretched out before them were photographs and news cuttings. Smallpiece provided a commentary.
‘Luckily, our people at the Pinner archive building have designed a very comprehensive indexing system, so I was able to go back over the last ten years or so quite quickly. What I found was very interesting.’
He showed a group shot of two men who were standing either side of one central figure, who was wearing a smart business suit. Smallpiece pointed to the man, standing on the right, who was also wearing a black suit but with a clerical collar.
‘That is your Monsignor Tarquin Crecy enjoying himself at a party in London at the end of 1937. He is identified in the article.’
‘Quite a handsome man, wasn’t he?’ said Collins. Cooper looked sideways at her, more out of curiosity than jealousy.
‘Who is the man in the middle? He’s obviously acting as the host.’
‘That, folks, is Joachim von Ribbentrop, German ambassador to the Court of St James. He was hanged at Nuremburg a couple of years ago, after having been convicted in the war trials.’
‘Bloody hell. Crecy certainly did get around, didn’t he?’
‘Who is the other man in the photo?’ asked Collins.
‘The other one is Fritz Luther the renowned Berlin interior designer. The occasion is to celebrate the opening of the new German Embassy in London. He was responsible for the design and layout.’
‘Do you think that we could have a copy of these?’
‘Certainly, Linda. In fact, we have prepared a copy of everything for you to take away with you. But we haven’t quite finished yet. We have a little bonus,’ said Smallpiece.
‘What, Quentin? You’ve got Crecy with even m
ore Germans?’
‘No, Inspector. Something else entirely,’ said Smallpiece, jovially.
He indicated another table on the other side of the studio.
‘Young Grimes and I were out on our perambulations on Saturday, and we covered the Windmill Theatre reunion. We anticipated that our friend Lady Fanny might be there. And she was. Not only that, she had another man in tow. They appeared to be very intimate. We’re hoping that you might recognise him.’
They were treated to another series of photographs. Fanny was surrounded in most of the shots by a group of tarty-looking women who were obviously contemporaries from her theatrical days. In addition, there were other shots of Raymond Jenkins having a high old time with Lady Fanny, arm in arm, cuddling, dancing and apparently sharing passionate kisses. He was obviously performing well beyond the call of duty.
‘Oh, Raymond Jenkins! What the butler saw!’ said Cooper.
‘What the butler did!’ said Collins laughing.
‘Well, I can certainly identify the man to you, gents. That is Raymond Jenkins, his lordship’s butler and chauffeur.’
‘Thanks for that, Albert. I think we may have the makings of a story there, Harry, don’t you?’ said Smallpiece.
‘Yes, Skipper.’
Then a worrying thought came to Cooper’s mind.
‘When were you thinking of using these photographs, Quentin?’
‘Probably in the next edition. Why?’
‘Were you aware that, unfortunately, on the afternoon that these were taken Lord Roding died at home in his bed?’
‘Blimey! No, we weren’t aware of that,’ said Grimes.
Smallpiece said nothing and the self-satisfied grin left his face.
‘Yes, he did. Although it’s not yet confirmed, he very probably died of natural causes. Of course, these are very interesting photographs from our point of view and they might have implications as far as our murder investigation is concerned, but to publish them in Tatler at this time would be very cruel, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, of course. Well, we won’t do that. Not for a week or so anyway,’ said Grimes.
‘What?’
‘Sorry, just a joke.’
‘Bad taste, dear boy,’ said Smallpiece.
‘Yes. Indeed, it is.’
‘Just a thought though, Inspector. If it turns out that it would prove useful to your investigation to put the photographs into the public domain, we could slip them into a future edition for you.’
‘That might be something to think about. Thank you, Quentin.’
‘Is there anything else that we may help you with, Albert?’
Given the existing legal agreement, Cooper thought he would take a risk, and tell Harry and Quentin something about the victim. The fact that she had been in the UK for about two months, and the fact that she had travelled and entered the country with Monsignor Crecy. The two journalists were agog.
‘You were very successful in finding valuable information on Monsignor Crecy in the archive. Would you look to see whether she is in there as well?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Smallpiece. ‘What details do you have for her?’
‘She was known as Sister Margaret of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Her earthly name was Irma Caro. She had at least one child, whom we have not yet traced, but Caro might be a maiden name. She was born in Austria in 1919.’
‘Leave it with us,’ said Smallpiece, eager to please.
‘Forgive me for stressing this, Quentin, but her real name is not in the public domain and we want it to stay that way,’ said Cooper.
‘We shall be very discreet. You have our assurance on that.’
Grimes handed Collins a pre-prepared bundle containing copies of the material they’d been shown.
‘Gentlemen, we are very grateful to you for your help. It’s a bit early in the day now, but perhaps next time we come to see you we can time it so that I can buy you both a pint.’
They shook hands on the idea, and then left for the return journey.
Cooper was intent on going straight back to the office to place the bundle safely under lock and key. It certainly wouldn’t do for such explosive material to be left unattended or mislaid.
Back at the police station, Alby and Linda signed off duty, but, before they were able to go their separate ways, Linda entered his office and closed the door behind her.
‘Governor, darling. I want to speak to you. Could we go somewhere quiet for a drink?’
Cooper agreed, and so they made their way to the Abbey Arms, which was just a few streets away. As they entered the snug, Cooper was pleased to see that, as it was a Monday evening, the place was as empty as he had hoped it would be. He went to the bar and bought a pint for himself and a half of stout for his companion.
As he returned to the table he saw that Linda was sitting on a high-backed pew with her back to the wall. It had plenty of room for two occupants, but for appearances sake, lest they be seen by a colleague, Cooper elected to sit, across the table, facing her.
‘So, having tricked your way into me buying you a drink, Linda, what is it you wanted to speak to me about?’ said Cooper, light heartedly.
‘I just wondered whether there had been any feedback after my announcement at the meeting.’
‘Only from your uncle Tom.’
‘What?’
‘Yes. He spoke to me the other day and he said, “Listen, Cooper, I know you’re seeing my niece and you’d better look after her or else!”’ he said teasingly.
‘He didn’t! Did he?’
‘Of course, he didn’t, you, daft ha’p’orth.’
‘Well what did he say, then?’
‘I was just giving him an update in his office after we had got back from our trip to the cathedral. I happened to mention that you’d been with me. He asked how you were getting on with being attached to the CID. I told him you were doing very well and that you’re an asset to the department. I even went so far as to say that I would be happy for you to be a permanent member of the team…’
‘You said that?’
‘Yes,’ said Cooper.
‘Oh, Alby. That’s lovely.’
‘Thing is, it’s early days. We’ve only been out a couple of times socially. So, it wouldn’t do to get ahead of ourselves and worry about it, would it? I know that you want to be on the CID, and I certainly wouldn’t want to expose you to the possibility of being accused of benefitting from favouritism or nepotism. So, we must just take things slowly and carefully. But, to put it simply, I don’t want to lose you, either way.’
Linda got up from her pew and walked around the table. She placed a hand each side of Cooper’s face and kissed him passionately on the lips.
‘I’m going to powder my nose, you gorgeous man. She left Cooper to his pint. When Linda returned to the table she had a few questions to put to him.
‘Is it still totally taboo for a senior officer to have a relationship with someone more junior in rank?’
‘Yes, I suppose it is, if the senior officer is a part of the same team. What the job would normally do would be to split them up. They’ve even been known to split up married couples if they happen to have been on the same team before they got married. If it causes a disciplinary problem, it’d be regarded as a display of poor judgement.’
‘I see. And that wouldn’t be good for your prospects, would it?’
‘I suppose not, such as they are. But, of course, it would only be a problem if we make it a problem.’
‘Do you want to keep me a secret, then?’
‘Well, we don’t have to tell all and sundry about our relationship. It’s our business. We can always go over the border into Suffolk if we want to have a day out somewhere. If we carry on like that for now, at least until we finish the murder enquiry, and then I might have to put in to transfer to an
other division.’
‘You would do that for me?’ said Linda.
‘Let’s just see how we get on, shall we.’
They remained in the pub until closing time. Cooper told Linda about his family and how they had come to find their dream house on the island. He was completely beguiled by this young woman and he even suggested that, now they’d returned from holiday, they might pay his parents a visit, so that he could introduce her to them. But, for this evening, it was enough just to be able to walk her home.
*
‘Beaumont Hall, Mr Jenkins speaking, may I help you?’
‘Yes, Mr Jenkins. It’s Geoffrey Green, Lord Roding’s solicitor. May I speak to her ladyship, please?’
‘Just one moment, sir. I will try to locate her.’
Green heard Jenkins’ footsteps on the wooden floor as he walked away from the telephone. After a few seconds, he returned.
‘Hello. Mr Green. Her ladyship will be with you shortly.’
Fanny entered the room in her dressing gown and slippers. She’d had a busy night. She took the receiver from Jenkins.
‘Hello, Fanny Roding speaking.’
‘Good morning, your ladyship. This is Geoffrey Green, Lord Jeremy’s solicitor. I understand that you called the office late yesterday afternoon. I am sorry for not coming back to you sooner, but I have been at the high court in London on another matter.’
‘Yes, Mr Green. I did wonder. I was telephoning to speak to you about the reading of the will. To be honest, Mr Green, I would like to get it over and done with as soon as you can possibly manage it.’
‘Well, as you know, Doctor Stevenson had been attending his lordship on a regular basis and his medical condition was well established. Lord Roding’s death was certainly consistent with that diagnosis and the treatment he was receiving; however, given the fact that the police are still investigating a murder at Beaumont Hall, the coroner has taken the precautionary measure of ordering a post mortem.’
Devotion to Murder Page 22
