Partners in Crime (17 page)

‘We will now go to the Bon Temps,’ said Tommy. ‘A little food for starving sleuths is clearly indicated. Let’s just get a few girls’ photographs first.’

This proved rather more difficult than was expected. Turning into a photographers and demanding a few assorted photographs, they were met with a cold rebuff.

‘Why are all the things that are so easy and simple in books so difficult in real life,’ wailed Tuppence. ‘How horribly suspicious they looked. What do you think they thought we wanted to do with the photographs? We had better go and raid Jane’s flat.’

Tuppence’s friend Jane proved of an accommodating disposition and permitted Tuppence to rummage in a drawer and select four specimens of former friends of Jane’s who had been shoved hastily in to be out of sight and mind.

Armed with this galaxy of feminine beauty they proceeded to the Bon Temps where fresh difficulties and much expense awaited them. Tommy had to get hold of each waiter in turn, tip him and then produce the assorted photographs. The result was unsatisfactory. At least three of the photographs were promising starters as having dined there last Tuesday. They then returned to the office where Tuppence immersed herself in an A.B.C.

‘Paddington twelve o’clock. Torquay three thirty-five. That’s the train and le Marchant’s friend, Mr Sago or Tapioca or something saw her there about tea time.’

‘We haven’t checked his statement, remember,’ said Tommy. ‘If, as you said to begin with, le Marchant is a friend of Una Drake’s he may have invented this story.’

‘Oh, we’ll hunt up Mr Rice,’ said Tuppence. ‘I have a kind of hunch that Mr le Marchant was speaking the truth. No, what I am trying to get at now is this. Una Drake leaves London by the twelve o’clock train, possibly takes a room at a hotel and unpacks. Then she takes a train back to town arriving in time to get to the Savoy. There is one at four-forty gets up to Paddington at nine-ten.’

‘And then?’ said Tommy.

‘And then,’ said Tuppence frowning, ‘it is rather more difficult. There is a midnight train from Paddington down again, but she could hardly take that, that would be too early.’

‘A fast car,’ suggested Tommy.

‘H’m,’ said Tuppence. ‘It is just on two hundred miles.’

‘Australians, I have always been told, drive very recklessly.’

‘Oh, I suppose it could be done,’ said Tuppence. ‘She would arrive there about seven.’

‘Are you supposing her to have nipped into her bed at the Castle Hotel without being seen? Or arriving there explaining that she had been out all night and could she have her bill, please?’

‘Tommy,’ said Tuppence, ‘we are idiots. She needn’t have gone back to Torquay at all. She has only got to get a friend to go to the hotel there and collect her luggage and pay her bill. Then you get the receipted bill with the proper date on it.’

‘I think on the whole we have worked out a very sound hypothesis,’ said Tommy. ‘The next thing to do is to catch the twelve o’clock train to Torquay tomorrow and verify our brilliant conclusions.’

Armed with a portfolio of photographs, Tommy and Tuppence duly established themselves in a first-class carriage the following morning, and booked seats for the second lunch.

‘It probably won’t be the same dining car attendants,’ said Tommy. ‘That would be too much luck to expect. I expect we shall have to travel up and down to Torquay for days before we strike the right ones.’

‘This alibi business is very trying,’ said Tuppence. ‘In books it is all passed over in two or three paragraphs. Inspector Something then boarded the train to Torquay and questioned the dining car attendants and so ended the story.’

For once, however, the young couple’s luck was in. In answer to their question the attendant who brought their bill for lunch proved to be the same one who had been on duty the preceding Tuesday. What Tommy called the ten-shilling touch then came into action and Tuppence produced the portfolio.

‘I want to know,’ said Tommy, ‘if any of these ladies had lunch on this train on Tuesday last?’

In a gratifying manner worthy of the best detective fiction the man at once indicated the photograph of Una Drake.

‘Yes, sir, I remember that lady, and I remember that it was Tuesday, because the lady herself drew attention to the fact, saying it was always the luckiest day in the week for her.’

‘So far, so good,’ said Tuppence as they returned to their compartment. ‘And we will probably find that she booked at the hotel all right. It is going to be more difficult to prove that she travelled back to London, but perhaps one of the porters at the station may remember.’

Here, however, they drew a blank, and crossing to the up platform Tommy made inquiries of the ticket collector and of various porters. After the distribution of half-crowns as a preliminary to inquiring, two of the porters picked out one of the other photographs with a vague remembrance that someone like that travelled to town by the four-forty that afternoon, but there was no identification of Una Drake.

‘But that doesn’t prove anything,’ said Tuppence as they left the station. ‘She may have travelled by that train and no one noticed her.’

‘She may have gone from the other station, from Torre.’

‘That’s quite likely,’ said Tuppence, ‘however, we can see to that after we have been to the hotel.’

The Castle Hotel was a big one overlooking the sea. After booking a room for the night and signing the register, Tommy observed pleasantly.

‘I believe you had a friend of ours staying here last Tuesday. Miss Una Drake.’

The young lady in the bureau beamed at him.

‘Oh, yes, I remember quite well. An Australian young lady, I believe.’

At a sign from Tommy, Tuppence produced the photograph.

‘That is rather a charming photograph of her, isn’t it?’ said Tuppence.

‘Oh, very nice, very nice indeed, quite stylish.’

‘Did she stay here long?’ inquired Tommy.

‘Only the one night. She went away by the express the next morning back to London. It seemed a long way to come for one night, but of course I suppose Australian ladies don’t think anything of travelling.’

‘She is a very sporting girl,’ said Tommy, ‘always having adventures. It wasn’t here, was it, that she went out to dine with some friends, went for a drive in their car afterwards, ran the car into a ditch and wasn’t able to get home till morning?’

‘Oh, no,’ said the young lady. ‘Miss Drake had dinner here in the hotel.’

‘Really,’ said Tommy, ‘are you sure of that? I mean–how do you know?’

‘Oh, I saw her.’

‘I asked because I understood she was dining with some friends in Torquay,’ explained Tommy.

‘Oh, no, sir, she dined here.’ The young lady laughed and blushed a little. ‘I remember she had on a most sweetly pretty frock. One of those new flowered chiffons all over pansies.’

‘Tuppence, this tears it,’ said Tommy when they had been shown upstairs to their room.

‘It does rather,’ said Tuppence. ‘Of course that woman may be mistaken. We will ask the waiter at dinner. There can’t be very many people here just at this time of year.’

This time it was Tuppence who opened the attack.

‘Can you tell me if a friend of mine was here last Tuesday?’ she asked the waiter with an engaging smile. ‘A Miss Drake, wearing a frock all over pansies, I believe.’ She produced a photograph. ‘This lady.’

The waiter broke into immediate smiles of recognition.

‘Yes, yes, Miss Drake, I remember her very well. She told me she came from Australia.’

‘She dined here?’

‘Yes. It was last Tuesday. She asked me if there was anything to do afterwards in the town.’

‘Yes?’

‘I told her the theatre, the Pavilion, but in the end she decided not to go and she stayed here listening to our orchestra.’

‘Oh, damn!’ said Tommy, under his breath.

‘You don’t remember what time she had dinner, do you?’ asked Tuppence.

‘She came down a little late. It must have been about eight o’clock.’

‘Damn, Blast, and Curse,’ said Tuppence as she and Tommy left the dining-room. ‘Tommy, this is all going wrong. It seemed so clear and lovely.’

‘Well, I suppose we ought to have known it wouldn’t all be plain sailing.’

‘Is there any train she could have taken after that, I wonder?’

‘Not one that would have landed her in London in time to go to the Savoy.’

‘Well,’ said Tuppence, ‘as a last hope I am going to talk to the chambermaid. Una Drake had a room on the same floor as ours.’

The chambermaid was a voluble and informative woman. Yes, she remembered the young lady quite well. That was her picture right enough. A very nice young lady, very merry and talkative. Had told her a lot about Australia and the kangaroos.

The young lady rang the bell about half-past nine and asked for her bottle to be filled and put in her bed, and also to be called the next morning at half-past seven–with coffee instead of tea.

‘You did call her and she was in her bed?’ asked Tuppence.

‘Why, yes, Ma’am, of course.’

‘Oh, I only wondered if she was doing exercises or anything,’ said Tuppence wildly. ‘So many people do in the early morning.’

‘Well, that seems cast-iron enough,’ said Tommy when the chambermaid had departed. ‘There is only one conclusion to be drawn from it. It is the London side of the thing that
must
be faked.’

‘Mr le Marchant must be a more accomplished liar than we thought,’ said Tuppence.

‘We have a way of checking his statements,’ said Tommy. ‘He said there were people sitting at the next table whom Una knew slightly. What was their name–Oglander, that was it. We must hunt up these Oglanders, and we ought also to make inquiries at Miss Drake’s flat in Clarges Street.’

The following morning they paid their bill and departed somewhat crestfallen.

Hunting out the Oglanders was fairly easy with the aid of the telephone book. Tuppence this time took the offensive and assumed the character of a representative of a new illustrated paper. She called on Mrs Oglander, asking for a few details of their ‘smart’ supper party at the Savoy on Tuesday evening. These details Mrs Oglander was only too willing to supply. Just as she was leaving Tuppence added carelessly. ‘Let me see, wasn’t Miss Drake sitting at the table next to you? Is it really true that she is engaged to the Duke of Perth? You know her, of course.’

‘I know her slightly,’ said Mrs Oglander. ‘A very charming girl, I believe. Yes, she was sitting at the next table to ours with Mr le Marchant. My girls know her better than I do.’

Tuppence’s next port of call was the flat in Clarges Street. Here she was greeted by Miss Marjory Leicester, the friend with whom Miss Drake shared a flat.

‘Do tell me what all this is about?’ asked Miss Leicester plaintively. ‘Una has some deep game on and I don’t know what it is. Of course she slept here on Tuesday night.’

‘Did you see her when she came in?’

‘No, I had gone to bed. She has got her own latch key, of course. She came in about one o’clock, I believe.’

‘When did you see her?’

‘Oh, the next morning about nine–or perhaps it was nearer ten.’

As Tuppence left the flat she almost collided with a tall gaunt female who was entering.

‘Excuse me, Miss, I’m sure,’ said the gaunt female.

‘Do you work here?’ asked Tuppence.

‘Yes, Miss, I come daily.’

‘What time do you get here in the morning?’

‘Nine o’clock is my time, Miss.’

Tuppence slipped a hurried half-crown into the gaunt female’s hand.

‘Was Miss Drake here last Tuesday morning when you arrived?’

‘Why, yes, Miss, indeed she was. Fast asleep in her bed and hardly woke up when I brought her in her tea.’

‘Oh, thank you,’ said Tuppence and went disconsolately down the stairs.

She had arranged to meet Tommy for lunch in a small restaurant in Soho and there they compared notes.

‘I have seen that fellow Rice. It is quite true he did see Una Drake in the distance at Torquay.’

‘Well,’ said Tuppence, ‘we have checked these alibis all right. Here, give me a bit of paper and a pencil, Tommy. Let us put it down neatly like all detectives do.’

They looked at each other.

‘Well, it looks to me as if Blunt’s Brilliant Detectives are beat,’ said Tommy.

‘Oh, we mustn’t give up,’ said Tuppence. ‘Somebody
must
be lying!’

‘The queer thing is that it strikes me nobody was lying. They all seemed perfectly truthful and straightforward.’

‘Yet there must be a flaw. We know there is. I think of all sorts of things like private aeroplanes, but that doesn’t really get us any forwarder.’

‘I am inclined to the theory of an astral body.’

‘Well,’ said Tuppence, ‘the only thing to do is to sleep on it. Your sub-conscious works in your sleep.’

‘H’m,’ said Tommy. ‘If your sub-conscious provides you with a perfectly good answer to this riddle by tomorrow morning, I take off my hat to it.’

They were very silent all that evening. Again and again Tuppence reverted to the paper of times. She wrote things on bits of paper. She murmured to herself, she sought perplexedly through Rail Guides. But in the end they both rose to go to bed with no faint glimmer of light on the problem.

‘This is very disheartening,’ said Tommy.

‘One of the most miserable evenings I have ever spent,’ said Tuppence.

‘We ought to have gone to a Music Hall,’ said Tommy. ‘A few good jokes about mothers-in-law and twins and bottles of beer would have done us no end of good.’