‘Are you quite certain about that, Millie?’
‘Yes, Mrs Gosling.’
‘It’s a serious allegation. Are you ready to stand by it?’
‘Well … I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,’ said the other. ‘But I’ve told you the truth, honestly. I couldn’t understand why he used a torch when he could’ve switched on the light.’
‘All the light bulbs were removed.’
‘Why?’
‘Mr Chell will explain that. We need to see him at once.’
Alice was surprised to realise that she was talking to a priest but the man himself was utterly astounded when accosted by a policewoman. He backed away in embarrassment. He was a middle-aged man with an unusually pale face and he wore a pair of spectacles.
‘You were watching her, weren’t you?’ she asked him, putting as much authority into her voice as she could muster. ‘You were hiding back there so that you could keep your eyes on Jenny.’
‘She’s a parishioner of mine.’
‘Does she know what you’ve been doing?’
‘Frankly,’ said the man, asserting himself, ‘that’s none of your business. Who are you, anyway?’
‘My name is Alice Marmion. I’m a friend and colleague of Jenny’s. She told me about the anguish it’s caused her.’
‘What anguish?’
‘That’s what she feels when she’s being followed everywhere by someone who never shows his face. It’s frightening.’
‘I meant no harm,’ he said, defensively.
‘Well, you certainly caused it. Because of you, Jenny has been thinking of leaving the police. She can’t stand being watched like that. It’s shattered her confidence.’
‘That’s terrible. I had no idea she was even aware of me.’
‘Who are you, anyway?’
‘My name is Father Howells. I’m the curate at Jenny’s church. We see each other every Sunday. We’re good friends. She never shies away from me.’
‘That’s because she can see you,’ said Alice. ‘She knows that she can trust you. When she can’t actually see you – and doesn’t know who you are – then you become a threat to her.’
‘Do I?’ he said, genuinely distressed.
‘It’s cruel of you, Father Howells.’
‘I would never deliberately cause her any pain.’
‘Nevertheless,’ said Alice, ‘she feels it. Jenny was such a happy person when she joined us, but she’s now scared to go home at the end of her shift because someone is dogging her footsteps.’
‘I just enjoy …’ His hands fluttered. ‘I just enjoy … looking at her.’
Alice could see the love in his eyes. He was no menacing stalker with designs on her friend. Father Howells simply liked to watch the young woman he adored. During his pastoral work, he would have helped many of his parishioners to cope with their troubles. Ironically, he’d only created a problem for Jennifer Jerrold. When she saw the remorse in his eyes, Alice was tempted to feel sympathy for him, but her first duty was to her friend.
‘It has to stop,’ she said, firmly. ‘I must ask you to give me your word that you’ll never stalk Jenny again.’
‘I give it willingly. I feel so ashamed.’
‘That’s your problem, Father. My only concern is to help Jenny escape from the fear that’s ruining her life.’ She saw him wince. ‘That’s how bad it is from her point of view. You claim to be her friend, but friends don’t do what you’ve been doing to Jenny all this time.’
‘But she wasn’t expected to know,’ he argued.
‘That’s no excuse.’
‘You’re right – it isn’t.’
After taking a deep breath, he buried his face in his hands.
Marmion had faith in Keedy’s belief that the couple posing as Mr and Mrs Baker would be keen to head for France and put distance between them and the ghastly crime that had taken place in Chelsea. He spent some time on the telephone, talking to the chief constable of Kent and reinforcing the importance of finding the pair before they vanished beyond British jurisdiction. After being promised full cooperation, Marmion put down the receiver and turned to Keedy.
‘If they are on the south coast,’ he said, ‘they won’t get through customs. If they’re that keen to go to France, they’ll have to swim there.’
‘In their place, I’d prefer to hide over here. The moment they get to the coast, they’ll be able to hear the guns pounding away. Does anyone in their right mind really want to head for a war zone?’
‘If one of them committed a murder, they might have to.’
‘Good point,’ said Keedy.
‘By the way, did you manage to see Alice last night?’
‘Yes, I did. My visit was short and sweet because I had to get over to Chelsea at a time when that taxi driver was likely to come back on the night shift. Alice was in good spirits. She told me that she was following in her father’s footsteps.’
‘Oh?’
‘She’s doing some detective work for a friend.’
‘That sounds like my daughter,’ said Marmion with a smile. ‘I had a surprise when I got home last night. Ellen was not only waiting for me, she was wide awake and dying to tell me about her triumph.’
He told Keedy about the lecture given by Quentin Dacey and the way that Ellen had lost her temper with the man and spoken up in defence of the police.
‘At least it cured her of believing that the streets of London were populated by German spies. If they really did exist, they’d have killed Dacey by now just to shut the idiot up.’
At that moment, the door opened and Chatfield marched in. He was just in time to hear the last half-dozen words and they made him scowl.
‘Show respect for senior officers,’ he demanded.
‘We always do, sir,’ said Marmion.
‘It didn’t sound like it, Inspector.’
‘Ah, you heard what I said, but I wasn’t talking about you, sir. The sergeant and I were discussing Quentin Dacey. My wife went to hear a lecture he gave yesterday. Fortunately, she saw how misguided he is.’
‘I agree with Mrs Marmion there,’ said Chatfield, relaxing. ‘I’m all for free speech but Dacey abuses the privilege. He’s getting to the dangerous stage. Anyway,’ he continued, ‘let’s put that troublesome fool to one side. I’ve come to report a small success.’
‘What’s that, sir?’ asked Keedy.
‘Everyone who’s stayed at the Lotus Hotel was sent a handbill that drew attention to its supposed lack of security.’
‘The inspector told me about that. It sounds like Buchanan’s work.’
‘It was. We have proof of that now.’
‘How did you get that, sir?’
‘The inspector got someone to contact London printers in turn and we soon got the name of the company we wanted. They do all of Buchanan’s printing, apparently. It gives me an excuse to speak to the man directly.’
‘Is there any point, sir?’ asked Marmion.
‘Of course there is.’
‘I’m not convinced that it’s a police matter at all. Why not let Mrs Fleetwood’s solicitor fight it out with Buchanan’s?’
‘Aren’t you forgetting something, Inspector?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Mr Buchanan is, technically, still a suspect in a murder case.’
‘Not in my book, sir.’
‘Nor mine,’ added Keedy. ‘You read my report, Superintendent. The man who hustled Vesta Lyle out of the Lotus that night was French. He has nothing whatsoever to do with Buchanan.’
‘That remains to be seen.’
‘You’ll be going into a cul-de-sac.’
‘Do you dare to question my judgement?’ said Chatfield, sharply.
‘No, no, sir,’ said Keedy, backing off.
The telephone rang and Marmion picked it up. They could see from his expression that he’d been told something of real interest. When he put down the receiver, he beamed at them.
‘Mr Farrier is here.
He has something to show us.’
It was worth it. Because she had to wait for a bus, Alice arrived late and was reprimanded by Inspector Gale in front of the other policewomen. The harsh words bounced off her. Alice was in such high spirits that she felt impregnable. As they formed into pairs, she looked across at Jennifer Jerrold, who offered a sympathetic smile. Alice replied with a wink.
Seeing how nervous Millie Jenks was, the first thing that the manager did was to ask her to sit down. Lena Gosling sat beside her, ready to prompt the girl. Chell smiled at Millie to put her at ease then asked what she had to report. As she described what had happened the previous night, he watched her carefully. He made no comment until she’d finished.
‘Mrs Gosling tells me that you’re a truthful girl,’ he said.
‘Oh, I am, sir. I’ve been brought up that way.’
‘What did you think was going on?’
‘I didn’t really know, sir. I went to an empty room and I suddenly saw a light under the door. It sent shivers through me.’
‘Are you quite certain that it was the night porter?’
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Did he see you?’
‘Oh, no – I’d have fainted if he’d spoken to me.’
‘I told Millie that the light bulbs had been removed,’ said Lena. ‘I said that you’d explain.’
‘Willingly,’ said the manager. ‘You see, Millie, some people, I fear, have a ghoulish disposition. If there’s a serious road accident or a house on fire, they love to stare at other people’s disaster. Most of our guests would never dream of doing such a thing, mind you, but one can never take chances. There might be someone who’d want a perverted thrill out of standing in the middle of a murder scene.’
‘That wasn’t why I went there, Mr Chell,’ said Millie, hurriedly. ‘I never meant to go in. I thought it would be locked.’
‘And so it should have been. But Mr Rogan has a master key.’
‘He was obviously counting on the fact that nobody would be about at that time of night,’ said Lena. ‘It was sheer chance that Millie turned up.’
‘I wish that I hadn’t now,’ cried Millie, close to tears. ‘I never want to go through anything like that again. I still feel sick.’
‘You’re excused duties until you feel better.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Gosling.’
‘And you mustn’t say a word of this to anyone,’ instructed Chell.
‘I won’t, sir, I promise.’
‘You can leave me to deal with Rogan. Were he still here, I’d tackle him myself, but he went home some hours ago. I’ll need to tell Mrs Fleetwood what happened and take her advice. But I’m so glad you had the courage to come forward, Millie,’ he said, gently. ‘It was very brave of you and your account might turn out to be far more valuable than you imagine.’
When he arrived in Marmion’s office, Maurice Farrier was carrying a parcel wrapped up carefully in swathes of brown paper. He was introduced to the superintendent, who indicated the parcel.
‘You’ve brought something for us, I gather.’
‘Yes, I have,’ said Farrier. ‘It was my wife’s idea, really. We’ve had one of her cousin’s paintings up in our attic since she gave it to us. Gwen wondered if it might be of interest to you.’
‘It certainly would,’ said Marmion.
‘Hopefully, it might tell you something about Vesta.’
‘Any scrap of information about her is welcome,’ said Chatfield. ‘But why didn’t you show the painting to my detectives when they came to see you in Berkshire?’
‘To be candid,’ admitted Farrier, ‘we’ve always been rather embarrassed by the gift. You’ll soon see why. We felt that the attic was the best place for it until my wife wondered if it might be evidence of some sort.’
‘We’re very grateful to Mrs Farrier,’ said Marmion, ‘and to you, of course, for bringing it here.’
Taking out a penknife, Farrier used it to peel away the brown paper layer by layer. The painting was roughly two feet by eighteen inches and enclosed in a simple wooden frame. When the final piece of paper was taken off, Farrier set the object on a chair and stood back out of the way. Reactions differed.
‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed Chatfield.
‘That’s fascinating,’ said Marmion.
‘It’s so beautifully painted,’ observed Keedy.
What they were looking at was a group of eight people reclining on the bank of a river. All were completely nude and most of them were female. The figures were well drawn and the use of colour was arresting. At the centre of the group was a woman flat on her back on the grass with her arms outstretched. When he looked at her face, Marmion was the first to notice the similarity.
‘The one in the middle looks very much like our murder victim,’ he said. ‘In fact, I’d swear that it is her.’
‘So would I,’ said Keedy. ‘There’s no question about it. But look what she was wearing.’
Everyone seemed to have discarded their clothes at random. They lay scattered on the grass. Beside the figure who’d caught the attention of the detectives was a wimple and a nun’s habit.
Chatfield was mesmerised. Marmion couldn’t resist a dig at him.
‘There you are, sir,’ he said. ‘The woman was a nun, after all.’
It wasn’t until their break that Alice had the opportunity of speaking to Jennifer Jerrold. She took her friend aside to explain why she hadn’t been upset by the earlier reprimand from the inspector. Jennifer was amazed to hear that Alice had gone to such trouble on her behalf, standing out in the rain for a long period and making herself late for work. She was also perplexed.
‘But there was no point, Alice,’ she said. ‘I’m safe when I’m at home. It’s only when I leave here that I feel a pair of eyes on me.’
‘The same man watches you leave home every morning and get on the bus. Because he’s able to control his time, he waits for you outside here when you leave work.’
Jennifer was startled. ‘You saw him?’
‘I did more than that, Jenny. I talked to him.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Before I tell you,’ warned Alice, ‘I must stress that there was never any real threat to you. I know that you felt hunted but that was not his intention at all. He just liked to look at you.’
‘I just want to know who he is,’ said Jennifer, anxiously.
‘You see him at church every Sunday. To be more exact, Jenny, he sees you. Do you realise who I’m talking about?’
‘Oh, no … it’s not him, surely?’
‘When I challenged him, he admitted it.’
‘Father Howells?’
‘He promised to write a letter of apology to you.’
‘But he’s such a kind, caring man. He’s our new curate. Since he joined the ministry team, he’s made a real difference.’
‘He told me that he used to pray for Sunday to come so that he could talk to you instead of being forced to peer at you from hiding places all the time. He loves you, Jenny.’
‘But he’s so much older than me.’
‘He’s very much aware of that,’ said Alice. ‘His wife died years ago and his life has been very empty since then. Without realising it and without wanting it, you helped to fill that emptiness.’
Jennifer was at once relieved and alarmed. She was glad that her stalker had finally been unmasked but disturbed to learn who it was. It would now be very uncomfortable for her to go to church.
‘Don’t worry, Jenny,’ said Alice. ‘Father Howells realises the awkward position he’s put you in. He’ll be leaving the parish as soon as it can be arranged.’
‘I don’t want to drive him away, Alice.’
‘He’s doing it for his own benefit as much as yours. Look on the bright side, Jenny. You won’t have to leave here in fear every evening and the Women’s Police Force will retain a first-rate officer.’ She smiled. ‘You won’t have to resign now, will you?’
On hearing what had happened, Griselda F
leetwood’s immediate reaction was to confront Leonard Rogan in person. He had no reason to be in a room that had been sealed off from the rest of the hotel. Rex Chell pointed out that the night porter would be at home in bed and it was not her responsibility to chase after him. He advised her to contact Scotland Yard to see what Inspector Marmion made of the information. Reacting quickly to the telephone call from her, the inspector sent Keedy off to investigate. The latter had the use of a car to take him to the grimy little house in Paddington.
It was Mrs Rogan who answered the door. She recognised Keedy.
‘Len isn’t here,’ she said.
‘How long is he likely to be?’
‘I don’t know. He told me he had to see Ian about something.’
‘Ian?’
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Ian Maitland. He’s a good friend of Len’s. He works at the Roath Court Hotel.’
The arrival of Vesta Lyle’s painting had told them a great deal about her. While Marmion had reservations about her choice of subject, he could see that the artist had extraordinary talent. The fact that she’d featured her friend was significant. To be given a central position in the painting, the woman had to have an important role in her life. After thanking him, Marmion had waved Farrier off and asked him to pass on his thanks to his wife. Shortly after that, he’d taken the call from the Lotus Hotel and, as a result, sent Keedy off to Paddington. He was now seated alone in his office, thinking once again about Vesta Lyle and wondering who had abducted her and how the man had possibly got into the hotel in the first place. There was a knock on the door and it opened for the commissioner to enter. As Marmion jumped to his feet, his visitor raised a palm to ease him back into his seat.
‘There’s no need to get up, Inspector.’
‘Thank you, Sir Edward,’ said Marmion. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘It’s more of a question of what I can do for you. As I’m sure you recall, you wanted me to find out about Alphonse Dufays. Thinking that he might be part of the French secret service, I felt that I had little chance of getting any information about him.’
The Unseen Hand Page 24
