Mydworth Mysteries--London Calling!

by Matthew Costello

  Right at the end – and there it was. She pushed against it, swung it open to reveal a narrow flight of stairs.

  Bingo!

  She stepped through and shut the door carefully – but then a sound in the corridor behind her made her pause. A conversation. Low voices – people approaching, then stopping, the discussion continuing.

  She gently pushed the door open again just half an inch, peered through the gap.

  Across the corridor, she could see one of the other doors was now open, revealing what looked like an office. Inside – a desk, chairs, shelves loaded with files.

  In the doorway, with his back to her – she saw Charlie Leet, the club bouncer.

  Looking about as out of place as he could be.

  And beyond him, another man she didn’t recognise from the “party” room: glossy, corpulent, in a slick dress suit, monocle in one eye.

  The man was stooped over a large safe.

  A classic safe that she recognised. An American Mosler.

  “What about booze?” said the man over his shoulder. “Bar stocked?”

  “Plenty, Mr Grosvenor. Got a few pills too, if anyone asks.”

  So this is Grosvenor, thought Kat, not surprised. If ever a man looked like his voice sounded, here he was.

  “Excellent,” said Grosvenor. She watched him, as he unfolded a small piece of paper and started to read from it – while he turned the tumblers of the safe.

  Kat held her breath, peering through the tiniest gap in the open door, watching.

  Grosvenor entered the final number, then reached across and pulled the heavy lever.

  The safe opened.

  And even from this distance, Kat could see inside. Stacks of banknotes. Folders. Envelopes.

  Grosvenor turned back to Leet who handed him a wad of banknotes.

  “They all paid up then?” said Grosvenor, taking the money.

  “Every one,” said Leet.

  Kat watched Grosvenor lick one finger and quickly count the notes, before wrapping a band around them and placing them in the safe. Then she saw him reach in, remove a camera with a flash, and hand it to Leet.

  Then he closed the safe, spun the combination wheel.

  Kat kept her eyes on the piece of paper in Grosvenor’s hand – but Leet stepped in the way at the last moment – and when he stood aside, the paper with the combination was no longer visible.

  Damn, she thought. Now that could have been useful.

  Had he slipped it in his pocket? Put it in one of the files on the shelves? In the desk?

  She didn’t know.

  She watched, as both men now turned and came back to the door, then stepped out into the corridor. Neither of them noticing the service door, just slightly open, where Kat still peered through.

  She saw Grosvenor take a key from his pocket and lock the door. Then the two men headed back in the direction of the party, with Leet carrying the camera.

  When they’d gone, she quickly slipped back into the corridor, tried the door – just in case – but no, definitely locked.

  There was no way she could get in there tonight. But at least now she had a good idea where Grosvenor kept the incriminating photographs of the girls.

  She headed back through the service door, and tiptoed down two flights of steps, until she emerged in what looked like a storeroom, shelves loaded with wooden crates of soda, bottles of beer, wine.

  Not a sound in this part of the house. The servants probably given the weekend evenings off, when there was “entertainment” planned above stairs.

  She walked through the storeroom, the only light coming through high windows that looked up through gratings onto the street lamps outside.

  At the back of the storeroom, a door. Next to it a rack of keys, each one carefully labelled.

  She looked at them in the dim light, and made out two keys marked “kitchen door”.

  Taking care to make no sound, she tried them in the door. They both worked, the door popping open. She put one back on the rack, opened the door – and stepped out into a small, below street level courtyard.

  She locked the door again, slipped the key into her pocket.

  Turning, she now saw a worn flight of stone steps that led up to a gate. Crouching, she climbed the steps, opened the gate and slipped through, shutting it silently behind her.

  She was out!

  She breathed a sigh of relief. She was back in the street, in the fog and the yellow light from the lamps.

  Safe.

  She looked down the street, along the side of the great house from which she’d just emerged. And she could just see the familiar shape of the Alvis. With the key clutched in one hand, she walked towards the car, her sparkling heels clicking on the sidewalk.

  Thinking – God – what must I look like?

  No coat, in her sparkling tights, sequinned top and tiny bits of red fur…

  She walked up to the car, then leaned down by the passenger window and peered in.

  Harry’s smiling face looked back at her.

  She watched him lean across and open the door.

  “Well, hello,” he said. “Out for a stroll? Spot of fresh air?”

  She shook her head, grinning as she climbed into the car, and sank back, relieved, into the leather seat.

  “Kat – you okay?” he said, placing his hand on hers.

  Kat nodded. “I am. The other girls up there though… Where’s Alfie?”

  “On a tail,” he said. “We staying here?”

  “No, we can head back,” said Kat. Another smile. “Done for the night.”

  “But – let me guess. Got a plan?”

  “Kinda,” she said.

  “That’s good,” he said, starting the engine and pulling quietly away. “I do like plans. So very useful.”

  As they drove down the empty street towards Bloomsbury, Kat could see the first hint of dawn in the sky ahead, over the tall London houses.

  It had been such a long night.

  And she felt, now, it was going to be a long day too.

  14. Breakfast Meeting

  Harry woke to the sound of the telephone ringing all too loudly in the other room, and was instantly alert.

  He looked across at Kat – who still slept soundly – then slipped quietly out of bed, put on his dressing gown, and went through to take the call, gently closing the door behind him.

  They’d only had a couple of hours’ sleep, after sitting together over tea and toast, quickly catching up with the night’s events.

  He picked up the receiver.

  “Museum 642,” he said, then waited for the pips to finish. The call was from a telephone box.

  “Harry,” came Alfie’s voice.

  “Alfie. What news?”

  “Followed Pleasance to a block in Pimlico, where he stayed all night,” said Alfie. “Six-thirty sharp, he comes out, takes a bus to Bank. I hopped on, without him seeing.”

  “Good man! And?”

  “Right now, he’s in the tea rooms on Ludgate Hill. Reckon he’s meeting someone. Thought you should know.”

  “You got eyes on him now, Alfie?”

  “Call box opposite, boss. He’s got a seat, right by the window.”

  “I’m on my way. If he moves, stay with him. We can both phone in here, Kat can liaise.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “One more thing. He still got that envelope?”

  “Like it’s glued to him.”

  “Be with you in twenty minutes, Alfie.”

  Harry put down the phone, then went back to the bedroom to wake Kat – and tell her the latest addition to their plan.

  “Wakey, wakey,” he said, leaning down to her.

  *

  Kat sat alongside Harry in the back of the cab, glad of her coat on this chilly morning. They wove through a maze of busy streets on their way to Ludgate Hill, the city alive with a throng of determined workers heading to offices, markets and stores.

  There was no way she was going to stay back in the ap
artment and let Harry have all the fun. So the two of them had dressed fast, and gotten out of the door and picked up a cab in a fast five minutes.

  “Oh, this is Fleet Street,” said Harry, as they paid the cab and emerged onto a highway busy with buses, taxis and trams – as well as some horses and carts. “Very famous, and all that.”

  On either side of the bustling street she could see newspaper offices and giant billboards. On the corners, boys shouting, selling their stacks of the day’s news. And just visible between the buildings, the distant dome of St Paul’s.

  It was quite something.

  Just a minute later they reached Ludgate Hill, and she saw Alfie standing by a call box, looking like he was reading the morning paper but with his eyes locked on the tea rooms on the other side of the street.

  “He still there?” said Harry, shaking Alfie’s hand as they both slipped into the cover provided by the call box.

  “Window in the corner,” said Alfie, nodding to the tea rooms.

  Kat looked across and, through the gaps in the rush-hour traffic, saw a face she recognised from the club, sitting alone at a table in the bustling room, a mug of tea in front of him.

  “That’s Pleasance all right,” said Harry. “And well… what do you know? Kat, look!”

  He gestured to a man in a raincoat, crossing the street, head down, heading towards the tea rooms.

  At the door, the man turned and gave a nervous glance over his shoulder – and Kat recognised him instantly.

  “Aubrey Spence!” she said, as he slipped into the tea rooms. “What’s he doing here? Can’t be a coincidence.”

  “Indeed not,” said Harry as she saw Spence pull up the chair opposite Pleasance.

  “That Lizzie’s old man?” said Alfie. Kat nodded. “Strewth. He involved in this racket too?”

  “Right now, I have no idea,” said Kat. “But, if he is, it would certainly explain why he didn’t want us on the case.”

  As they watched, Pleasance took out the envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table to Lizzie’s father – who then took out a smaller envelope from his own pocket and handed it to Pleasance.

  Pleasance nodded, looked around, then got up from the table, crossed the room and appeared at the door onto the street.

  “You want me to stay on his tail?” said Alfie.

  “No need,” said Harry. “Get some sleep, old friend – and we’ll give you a ring this afternoon. Methinks today is going to get rather hectic.”

  Kat saw Alfie nod, then fold his newspaper and slip away into the crowd. A few seconds later, it was as if he’d never been there.

  “Time to have another chat with Aubrey, don’t you think?” said Kat.

  “Absolutely,” said Harry. “Mug of tea and a bacon sandwich too while we’re at it.”

  “Heaven,” said Kat. And together they crossed Ludgate Hill, dodging buses and trucks, and entered the tea rooms.

  *

  “What the hell are you two doing here?” said Aubrey Spence, looking up from his tea as Harry sat opposite him. Harry saw that Spence was shocked. And maybe a bit afraid.

  “I might well ask you the same thing,” said Kat, taking the seat next to Aubrey and clearly shocking him even more.

  Harry saw the man’s eyes dart from one to the other behind the small round spectacles, a glossy sheen of sweat appearing on his pink, domed forehead.

  “Th-this is preposterous!” said Aubrey, pushing his chair back and beginning to stand – until Kat’s firm hand on his shoulder made him pause.

  Harry saw Kat, in one deft move, slip her other hand into Aubrey’s jacket pocket, remove the envelope and slide it across the table to him.

  “Dammit, you can’t just—” said Aubrey, leaning forward and trying to snatch the envelope back. “This isn’t America! The Wild West! You can’t—”

  But Harry held the envelope close – just as the woman from behind the counter forced Aubrey to sit back by sliding mugs and plates onto the table.

  “Two teas, two bacon sandwiches, one special with a lovely fried egg!” she said, and was gone as quickly as she’d arrived.

  Harry smiled at Aubrey, passed the plate and mug to Kat, and took a sip of tea.

  “Needed that,” he said, watching Kat dig into her bacon sandwich.

  “Ooh, me too,” said Kat, mouth full. “When was the last time we ate?”

  “What the hell’s going on?” said Aubrey. “I’m going to call the police!”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, Aubrey, old pal,” said Harry. “Not unless you want to explain why you’re buying photos of dancing girls – and I’m guessing here – in all sorts of indelicate states of undress? Respectable gentleman like yourself?”

  He opened the envelope and peeked inside, shook his head, then peered at Aubrey as he tried to calculate what was happening, his eyes blinking behind those round glasses.

  Aubrey seemed shaken, as though his bluster was about to be replaced with something else – something much more dire.

  “I’m not buying the photographs,” he said. “It isn’t like that at all, not at all.”

  “Isn’t it?” said Kat. “It’s what it looks like to us.”

  “Oh God,” said Aubrey, shaking his head. “This is the end. I’m ruined. Ruined.”

  “Quite possibly,” said Kat. “And from where I’m sitting, maybe you deserve to be.”

  “I told you two not to get involved, didn’t I?” said Aubrey.

  “And it’s a very good thing we ignored your request,” said Harry. “At least with us around Lizzie has a chance to get out of whatever mess she’s in.”

  Spence shook his head.

  “You can’t help her. Nobody can.”

  Harry saw Aubrey put his head into his hands then stare back at them both, his eyes red.

  “You got an explanation, Mr Spence?” said Kat. “Because if you do, we need to hear it.”

  Harry took another sip of tea, waited as Aubrey appeared to weigh up all the options.

  “All right,” he said, looking around the busy tea room and leaning forward, speaking softly. “I’ll tell you.”

  *

  “When Lizzie first disappeared, we waited, of course, a few days for her to get in contact,” said Aubrey. “But then there was no news. Nothing at all. So I started to stay late in town after work – go round the theatres, see if anyone had seen her. Perhaps knew where she might be. But nobody had!”

  The plates had been cleared away, and Kat had moved round the table to sit next to Harry – so she could see Aubrey’s face clearly.

  Look for any lies.

  So far, he seemed to be telling the truth. In fact, she could see him struggling not to break down completely.

  “It was as if she’d just disappeared into thin air,” he continued. “Then, one day, in the office, I got a letter in the post. It contained… a photograph.”

  “Of Lizzie, yes?” said Harry. “A photograph like one of these?”

  “Yes, yes – and it was awful,” said Aubrey, nodding. “Devastating. I couldn’t believe…”

  “Go on,” said Kat, as Aubrey wiped his eyes with his handkerchief.

  “There was a letter with it. It said I had to come here, the next morning, sit in this corner, and somebody would come and talk to me, about Lizzie. I didn’t know what to expect. I thought perhaps someone had rescued her, was going to help us.”

  “But they didn’t want to help, did they?” said Kat. “They wanted to blackmail you.”

  She saw Aubrey nod.

  “The man who came, who was here just now, you know him, don’t you?” said Aubrey. “I saw you talking to him in Mydworth.”

  “Oliver Pleasance,” said Harry.

  “Pleasance,” Spence shook his head. “Scum of the earth. He said, oh yes, Lizzie was safe. But she’d fallen in with a bad crowd. Said there were more photographs. Lots of them. But he could get them, stop them being made public. Make sure nobody at my company, Imperial, saw them… and nobody
back at Mydworth.”

  “As long as you paid up,” said Harry.

  “For the effort of getting hold of them, he said. So… I did.”

  “How much?” said Kat.

  “Fifty pounds,” said Aubrey.

  “Phew,” said Kat. A small fortune.

  “Then – let me guess,” said Harry, “a week later, you got another letter, asking for more.”

  “You’re right – but how did you know?”

  “It’s a very old game,” said Kat. “A mug’s game. Get the fish on the hook and keep it wriggling there.”

  “And I’m the fish, I suppose?” said Aubrey, his shoulders slumped.

  “How many times?” said Harry.

  “Today’s the fourth. Each time I give him the money, he says it’s over and that Lizzie will come home. But it never is. And she never comes home.”

  “Two hundred pounds?” said Kat. “My God, you could buy a car with that!”

  Kat saw Harry look at her, figuring something else out.

  She listened carefully, Harry’s voice low.

  “Where did you get the money, Aubrey?” said Harry.

  Kat saw Aubrey blink again – his automatic response to any difficult question.

  “I… I… There’s one of the investment accounts I administer for Imperial. I have sole authority, I can make withdrawals you see, so I…”

  “You stole it,” said Harry, his voice still low.

  “Yes,” said Aubrey.

  “And nobody at the office has found out?”

  “Not yet. But there’s an audit next week. The missing money will certainly be spotted. And that will be the end of it. Of me. Of Lizzie. Of everything.”

  As Aubrey put his head in his hands again, Kat knew now that he was telling the truth. He simply didn’t have the cunning to lie. He seemed totally broken.

  Then she looked at Harry, an idea beginning to form.

  The beginnings of a plan.

  “Aubrey, tell me. Do you have a way of contacting Pleasance?”

  “There’s an emergency phone number if I can’t meet him. It’s just some kind of answering service, I think.”

  “Good,” she said. “And this evening – if you have to – can you stay in town?”