The Riddle at Gipsy's Mile (An Angela Marchmont Mystery 4) Read online

  The next morning she rose and breakfasted early. To her great disgust she felt a cold coming on, no doubt caused by her adventure of the night before. Her maid, Marthe, wanted her to remain at home and rest, but she refused with decision and called for William, who presented himself promptly.

  ‘We must go to Bow Street magistrates’ court this morning,’ she said as he stood before her. William raised his eyebrows inquiringly and she went on, ‘I have to go and—er—spring Mr. Pilkington-Soames.’

  William’s eyebrows rose further.

  ‘Sounds like it was an interesting night, ma’am,’ he said. ‘What happened?’

  ‘I’m not entirely sure,’ said Mrs. Marchmont. ‘It started with a police raid and ended with a stampede and in my losing my coat.’

  ‘Did you talk to Alvie?’ he asked eagerly. ‘Did he tell you anything about the girl?’

  ‘I spoke to him, but not for long, as the police rather interrupted things,’ replied Angela. ‘However, he knew her, and may be able to persuade one of the other girls to speak to me.’

  ‘Let’s hope so,’ said William, and they went out.

  Bow Street magistrates’ court was filled with a raggle-taggle assortment of people who were waiting about for the various cases to be called. The crowd included several reporters, who were presumably waiting to see Mrs. Chang. Angela went in and sat through several cases of petty theft, public drunkenness and loitering with intent. It was all rather dull.

  Finally, Freddy was brought in, as well as, to her astonishment, Gertie and her friend Walter. They were a sorry sight. Freddy had a black eye, while Walter had a swollen lip. Gertie’s make-up was smeared and she was carrying a crushed peacock feather, but she looked defiant. Angela caught Freddy’s eye and waved. He raised a hand limply in reply, looking thoroughly fed up.

  ‘Who are these people?’ said the magistrate, eyeing them with disfavour. His clerk passed him the next case sheet and he applied his spectacles to his eyes. ‘Frederick Herbert Pilkington-Soames, Walter Peregrine Anstruther, and—what’s this? Gertie McAloon? Is that your full name, young lady?’

  ‘No,’ said Gertie shortly.

  ‘Then what is your full name?’

  Gertie glared at him for a second.

  ‘Lady Gertrude Jacqueline Lucrèce Myrtle Sandford-Romilly-McAloon,’ she said all in a rush.

  Several reporters sat up with interest, and Freddy looked at her in surprise.

  ‘Good heavens,’ he said, ‘that’s rather a mouthful.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ she said out of the corner of her mouth.

  ‘Quiet!’ said the magistrate, although he looked taken aback. ‘Did you get that down?’ he said to the clerk.

  ‘I think so,’ said the clerk.

  ‘What are the charges against these—er—young people?’ said the magistrate.

  ‘Drunk and disorderly conduct and assaulting a police officer, m’lud,’ said the clerk.

  The defendants looked sulky.

  ‘And how do you plead?’ said the magistrate.

  ‘Not guilty,’ said Freddy.

  ‘Not guilty,’ said Gertie.

  ‘N-not guilty,’ said Walter.

  The magistrate sighed in exasperation.

  ‘Could somebody please tell me what happened?’ he said.

  A sergeant of police stepped up to the stand. He appeared to have a sore ear, for he kept on touching it and wincing. He took out a notebook and read:

  ‘On the evening of Tuesday the 20th of September, we were carrying out our duties as members of His Majesty’s Constabulary, to wit—’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said the magistrate impatiently. ‘I know what they are. Just tell me what happened.’

  The sergeant gave him a pained look.

  ‘Yes, m’lud,’ he said, and turned a page in his notes. ‘We were carrying out a raid on the night-club known as the Copernicus Club in Brewer Street, having been tipped off that they were serving alcohol outside licensing hours. We duly entered the premises and ordered all persons found therein to leave. The evacuation proceeded in an orderly fashion, except in the case of the accused, who had seemingly not heard the order to leave and who appeared to be playing some kind of game at their table. P. C. Grimshaw and I approached with the intention of speaking to them politely, but then this young lady suddenly and for no reason assaulted me with a dangerous weapon.’ He paused uncomfortably.

  ‘Indeed?’ said the magistrate, looking at Gertie over his spectacles.

  ‘I whacked him on the nose with a sausage,’ said Gertie. ‘It was an accident. I meant to hit Freddy.’

  There was a shout of laughter from the court.

  ‘Silence!’ said the magistrate sternly. ‘What happened then?’ he asked the sergeant.

  ‘I attempted to restrain the young lady, at which point this gentleman here’ (he indicated Walter) ‘leapt up and abused us using most unseemly language.’

  Angela gazed at the prim Walter, trying and failing to picture it.

  ‘He then attempted to punch P. C. Grimshaw in the face,’ continued the sergeant. ‘I let go of the young lady and intervened to restrain Mr. Anstruther, at which point the lady jumped up onto my back and began beating me about the head with the sausage again.’

  There was more laughter from the court.

  ‘You hit him!’ cried Gertie. ‘You oughtn’t to hit people.’

  ‘And why is this other young man here?’ asked the magistrate tiredly.

  ‘He got into a fight with Mr. Anstruther and then punched me on the ear,’ said the sergeant.

  ‘That’s not how it happened at all,’ began Freddy, but was immediately silenced by the magistrate.

  ‘I’ve heard quite enough of this,’ he said. ‘I find you all guilty and fine you each ten pounds—except you,’ he said to Gertie. ‘I am fining you twenty pounds since you are a woman and ought to have known better. Next!’

  The three of them were hustled off, protesting, and Angela rose to follow them into the lobby.

  ‘But whatever shall I do?’ Gertie was wailing. ‘I lost all my money at the club. Walter, you must pay.’

  The hapless Walter was patting his pockets and looking worried.

  ‘There you are, Angela,’ said Freddy when he caught sight of her. ‘We’re in rather a hole, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you could see your way clear—?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Angela. ‘That’s why I’m here. I feel rather responsible for this whole thing, although I hadn’t realized that all three of you were involved.’

  ‘I-I say,’ stammered Walter. ‘I’m aw-awfully sorry, Freddy. I’ve n-never been able to hold my drink very well.’

  ‘So I see,’ said Freddy, fingering his black eye gingerly.

  ‘Why on earth did you hit a policeman?’ said Angela.

  ‘I was aiming for Walter,’ said Freddy. ‘I pulled him off the bobby and he took it rather amiss and gave me this shiner. Well, a chap can’t take a thing like that lying down, so I had a go at him—landed him rather a splendid one on the kisser, as a matter of fact—sorry, old chap—but then he swung at me again and then ducked when I returned the blow, and I found my fist connecting with a policeman’s fleshy ear instead.’

  Angela shook her head but made no comment.

  ‘I suppose we had better get the three of you out of here,’ she said.

  Fifteen minutes later they were standing outside the court and Angela was waving away their fulsome thanks.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ she said. ‘Now, let’s get you all home. My car is waiting around the corner.’

  William’s face was impassive as he stood to let them into the car, but there was a pink tinge to the tips of his ears that spoke of great inner amusement.

  ‘Now I have to go and confess to Father,’ said Gertie. ‘Or perhaps I shall just sneak into the house, collect my things and leave the country for a few months before he finds out. I hear Australia is very nice.’

  ‘P-perhaps he won’t f-find out,’ said Walter.
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br />   Freddy laughed hollowly.

  ‘No such luck!’ he said. ‘One of our chaps was there in court, looking as though it were his birthday. I’ll be surprised if I still have a job by tomorrow.’

  ‘Why don’t you tell them you were doing research?’ suggested Angela. ‘You could say that you wanted to bring them the story of the seedy side of London’s night-life, having experienced it for yourself.’

  ‘Tell them I sacrificed myself deliberately, you mean?’ said Freddy thoughtfully. ‘That’s an idea.’

  ‘Just as long as you don’t sacrifice me, too,’ said Gertie. ‘I’m in enough trouble as it is.’

  Walter and Gertie were set down at their respective homes, leaving only Freddy in the car.

  ‘I suppose there’s no chance of Gertie staying out of the papers with a name and title like that,’ remarked Angela. ‘I wonder how she will explain it to her father. I feel rather sorry for her.’

  ‘I shouldn’t bother if I were you,’ Freddy assured her. ‘She is as tricky as a whole zoo-full of monkeys, and quite capable of getting around her old man. Oh, he plays the stern paterfamilias all right, but really she can wind him round her little finger. She’s quite safe.’ He yawned. ‘I have a beastly headache and should like nothing better than to go to bed for the rest of the day, but I suppose if I want to play the hero as you suggest, I had better go to work.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Angela, ‘then we ought to have gone to Fleet Street first.’

  ‘No, no,’ said Freddy. ‘I wanted to get rid of Gertie and Walter so we could talk about what this chap Alvie said to you.’

  ‘He didn’t have time to say much at all,’ said Angela. ‘All I have is the name Lita. I don’t even know if it’s the same girl. It might be somebody quite different, in fact. But Alvie said that one of the other hostesses might be willing to speak to me.’

  ‘You will be sure and let me know whenever you hear, won’t you?’ said Freddy. ‘I swore not to write anything, and I won’t, but I still want to know who she was.’

  Angela promised to tell him if she had any news, and they continued on to Fleet Street in a silence that was explained when Angela looked across and saw that Freddy had fallen asleep.

  FIFTEEN

  Angela did not have to wait long before she heard from Alvie Berteau again. Two days later, William presented himself respectfully and said that if it were not inconvenient to Mrs. Marchmont, his friend Alvie would like to introduce her to someone who was willing to talk about the person they had discussed the other night at the Copernicus Club. Angela, who had been sniffling at home for two days with the cold she had caught that same night, was now feeling much better and was only too happy to get out of the house for a while.

  Accordingly, on Saturday afternoon they sallied out to Soho in the Bentley. The place in which Alvie had suggested meeting was a little café of sorts—rather grubby, but home to the best coffee in that part of London, according to the large sign that hung in the window.

  ‘You had better come in with me,’ said Angela to William. ‘I dare say you’d like to see your friend.’

  William agreed with alacrity and sprang out of the car. He held the door open for her and they entered the dingy little establishment.

  Alvie was sitting at a corner table with a young woman. She was dressed in ordinary day clothes, but Angela recognized her immediately as the hostess who had waved at Freddy on Tuesday night. Alvie stood up and greeted William with great affection, then introduced the girl as Geraldine.

  ‘How do you do?’ said Geraldine politely enough, but she looked uncomfortable. Angela saw that it would be difficult to speak confidentially to her in such a large group, so she turned to William and said:

  ‘William, I’m sure you and Alvie have lots of things to talk about. Suppose you go and take a walk outside. You can come back in half an hour or so.’

  The two young men went out obediently and Geraldine smiled gratefully. Angela summoned the waitress.

  ‘What will you have?’ she asked the girl. ‘I should like to try this famous coffee of theirs.’

  ‘I’ll have one too,’ said Geraldine. The waitress nodded and went off, and Geraldine said, ‘Alvie says you want to know about Lita.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Angela. ‘Did he also tell you why?’

  ‘He says she’s dead,’ said Geraldine flatly.

  ‘We don’t know for certain,’ said Angela, ‘but a woman’s body was found recently, and in her luggage was a handbill for the Copernicus Club, which indicates that she may have worked there at some time. When did you last see Lita?’

  ‘I can’t remember exactly,’ said Geraldine. ‘We don’t always work the same nights, but it must have been about three weeks ago, I reckon. We shared a room, you see. I’d been out and got back and she wasn’t there, but I didn’t think too much to that at first, because it was quite normal for us not to see each other for several days. Anyway, I went to bed and when I got up again I suddenly noticed that she’d packed all her things and hopped it.’

  ‘And did nobody remark upon her disappearance? Mrs. Chang, for example?’

  Geraldine shook her head.

  ‘No. Girls come and go in this business. One day they’re here and the next they’re not, and nobody ever asks where they went. I mean, it’s hardly a steady job, is it? But I was friendly with Lita, and I would have expected her to mention something to me—give me her new address, at least—even if she said nothing to the Changs.’

  ‘Tell me about her.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘What did she look like, for example?’ said Angela. ‘Was she pretty?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Geraldine without hesitation. ‘She was a beauty, right enough. All dark and exotic-looking, if you know what I mean. Lots of people thought she was Spanish or South American, but she was English through and through as far as I know. She called herself Lita de Marquez, but that wasn’t her real name.’

  ‘What was her real name?’

  Geraldine shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘She never told me.’

  ‘You say she was dark,’ said Angela. ‘Did she dye her hair?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the girl. ‘She did it a couple of months ago, just for a change, she said. I didn’t think it suited her but she said she liked it. How do you know?’

  ‘I was the one who found her body—if indeed it is she,’ said Angela. ‘The woman I saw had blonde hair and a blue coat, but I have since heard that the hair colour was not her own.’

  ‘She did have a blue coat,’ said Geraldine, thinking back. She looked sober. ‘She really is dead, isn’t she?’

  ‘It looks like it,’ said Angela.

  ‘Who killed her?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. Will you help me by telling me a little more about her?’

  ‘Why, I don’t know that there’s much I can tell you,’ said Geraldine. ‘I liked her but we weren’t what you might call close friends. I don’t think she was the sort of girl to have close friends—not girls, anyhow. She liked to keep her own secrets. She didn’t want to talk about what she’d done before she came to the Copernicus—there were things she wanted to forget, she said. I got the impression her home life wasn’t a very happy one.’

  ‘Did she have a child?’

  ‘A child?’ said Geraldine, surprised. ‘If she did, she never mentioned it. Why do you ask?’

  ‘There was a photograph of a little boy in her suitcase,’ said Angela. ‘I wondered whether he was hers.’

  ‘Why, she never told me about it. Are you sure? I can’t see her as the motherly type, myself. And she never said anything about a husband—although, of course, I s’pose she might not have had one. That would explain why she didn’t like talking about herself.’

  ‘Yes.’ Angela hesitated, wondering exactly how to put her next question. ‘Do you know anything about her men friends?’ she said at last. ‘I suppose she must have met quite a lot of men through her w
ork. Do you think she might have—’

  ‘Been tangled up with one of them?’ finished Geraldine. She looked away, not meeting Angela’s eye, and was silent for a moment. ‘This job doesn’t pay very much, you know,’ she said at last. ‘Sometimes a girl has to get along off her own bat.’

  Angela understood her reply as an affirmative.

  ‘Do you know of anyone in particular?’ she said. ‘I mean, anyone with whom she might have formed a closer association?’

  Geraldine shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I swear I don’t know of anyone.’

  Angela looked at her. Was the girl telling the truth?

  ‘You understand, don’t you, that we are looking for a murderer?’ she said.

  Geraldine nodded.

  ‘Lita wasn’t killed by a passing stranger,’ Angela went on. ‘She was murdered by someone she knew, and we need to find out about the events which led up to her death. We know, for example, that she packed her things and left them in the cloak room at Charing Cross station, then went down to Kent—presumably by train—and never came back. What we don’t know is: whom did she go with? Or, if she didn’t go with someone, then whom did she go to meet? Are you quite sure you don’t know where she was going? If you have any clue at all, then please tell me. Perhaps it will help us discover who did this to your friend.’

  ‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ said Geraldine at last. ‘She was friendly with lots of the men at the Copernicus—of course she was, that was her job—but she didn’t tell me about anyone in particular. And her note never said anything about a man.’

  ‘Her note?’ said Angela. ‘You didn’t mention she’d left a note.’

  ‘Didn’t I?’ said Geraldine. ‘Of course she did. That’s how I knew she’d hopped it.’