Princes Gate (15 page)

Worried that Kathleen Donovan might somehow be at risk, Bridges had sent a constable around to her lodgings but there was no sign of her, and her landlady hadn’t seen her since the morning of the previous day. Merlin had got back to the Yard too late for Johnson. He’d have to deal with that tomorrow.

He was in no mood for another long walk home and grabbed a car from the pool. He was dead beat and as he pulled into his street all he could think about was his bed. When he got out of the car and heard a loud shout he realised that this was not yet to be.

“Hola, Frank, you old dago. Where’ve you been? I’ve been waiting here for ages.”

“No fires to put out then, Jack?”

“You know there aren’t any bloody fires, clever dick. This phoney war is a pain in the arse! Anyway, I’m off duty now and I’ve tomorrow off. I thought it would be rude not to start a day’s leave with a major hangover so I popped round here to see if you were up for one yourself.” Jack Stewart had a rumbling Scottish brogue which was one of many things about him that women seemed to find attractive.

”You know you never get hangovers-it's the poor sods who drink with you who get the hangovers.”

Stewart laughed, “Come on then. It’ll only take five minutes to get to The Surprise.”

Merlin sighed wearily. “A couple of drinks and a pie, Jack, but that’s it. I’ve got far too much on to allow myself a binge. So I’ll come if you promise to be a good boy and let me go early.”

“Spoilsport. Alright then. Let’s be off. You can tell Uncle Jack all your troubles and I’ll make sure you’re back in beddybyes in good time.”

He sat down at a table at the back of the pub and smiled to himself. Jack Stewart could be annoying sometimes but more often he was a laugh. They were opposites in many ways. Stewart was a muscular, gregarious, handsome charmer with the gift of the gab and a Rabelaisian hunger for pleasure. Merlin was a loner, perhaps more of one now than he’d ever been. They’d met through football, on opposite sides. Stewart had marked him out of the game for eighty minutes before Merlin had slipped a tackle and scored the winning goal. Stewart had insisted on dragging him on a pub crawl as retribution and he’d been around ever since. He could be coarse and blunt but his charm somehow made that excusable, and Merlin always bore in mind the deprived childhood Stewart had had in the slums of Glasgow. Rather like Merlin’s father, despite an almost complete lack of formal education, Stewart was exceptionally well-read, fiercely intelligent and great company. And, of course, he’d come up trumps when Alice had gone.

Merlin leaned back and surveyed the scene. Two blowsy women who had clearly had more than enough to drink were in his immediate sightline. One of them, whose face was not totally unattractive, gave him a lopsided grin. “Alright, darling? Aren’t you drinking then?”

“My drink’s on the way.”

“Have you got a nice friend with you then?”

Stewart emerged from the scrum at the bar with two pints of Courage and his usual whisky chaser.

“You have got a nice friend, haven’t you?” The two women cackled to each other.

“Aren’t you going to offer us a little drinkie then?”

He sighed, took out his CID badge and waved it in front of them. “Sorry ladies but I’m engaged on official police business. My friend there is Sherlock Holmes’ nephew and I’m about to seek his advice about a murderer who’s copying Jack the Ripper and cutting up ladies he meets in pubs around this part of London. Perhaps you could excuse us just this once.”

A look of hurt shock mingled with elements of fear and disbelief registered on the ladies’ faces. “Sorry, I’m sure,” said the plainer of the two as they picked up their handbags and scurried off.

“That wasn’t very nice of you, Frank.”

“An early night I said, Jack, and an early night it’s going to be. You can go and find them when I leave if you’re so keen.”

“One of them wasnae half bad. Didn’t think much of yours though.” Merlin shrugged and took a sip of his beer. “Crowded tonight again.”

“‘Morituri te salutant’ – those who are about to die salute you.” Stewart looked quizzically up at the ceiling. “No that’s not it. What’s the phrase I’m looking for?”

“‘Drink, drink and be merry for tomorrow you may die’?”

“Something like that. A misery at the station was pontificating today that the government expects 100,000 deaths per night in London when the bombing starts. I calculate that would mean the entire population of London would be wiped out within three months if they kept it up every night. If that’s really the case, no wonder everyone’s keen to drink or fuck themselves into a stupor before the curtain comes down.”

Merlin laughed. “Which particular stupor are you focusing on?”

“I don’t see any reason why I can’t do both, do you?”

“None at all. I don’t think I’ve got time for either.”

Merlin leaned back in his chair and began to relax as the alcohol had its effect.

“Come on then, feel free to unburden yourself to Uncle Jack. You’ll be better for it.”

Merlin trusted his friend implicitly and had respect for the insights Stewart occasionally brought to bear on his cases. He explained the latest developments in the Barnes case. He had told Stewart about the first murder on their previous night out. When he’d finished, Stewart rose. “Another beer is needed, I think.”

“I haven’t finished this one yet.”

“You will have by the time I emerge from this jungle.”

“It’s my shout now, anyway.”

“Och, don’t worry about it. You can pay next time when we go out for a proper drink.” Jack tapped his nose. “I’m no mug, you know.”

Stewart returned with meat pies as well as drinks and Merlin bit into his hungrily.

“And your next line of enquiry?”

“I have to find Kathleen Donovan. We need to know that she’s safe and perhaps she knows who Morgan was seeing last night.”

“No sign of her in her lodgings then?”

“No. I’ve put a high priority search order out but with the administrative chaos here at the moment, I’m not very optimistic. They could put Will Hay in charge of running London these days and he’d do a better job.”

Stewart moved his chair into the table as a portly Chelsea pensioner in full regalia squeezed past him. “I know that you’re not making much progress in this case, and that’s frustrating, but you seem more concerned than usual – or is it just that you’ve been eating too many of those awful sweeties and your facial muscles have collapsed?”

“Ha, ha.” Merlin leaned forward and lowered his voice. “It’s the political angle. Two messy murders of US Embassy personnel – low level personnel but nevertheless Embassy people. We’re undermanned and overworked and I’ve got my boss on my back. I’ve already had warnings about not upsetting the Americans in my investigations, given the delicate nature of our relations with the US and our potential reliance on them in the future. I’ve got two nasty murders to solve, the country’s up against the wall and at present I can’t really see the wood for the trees.” Merlin sat back. “There I go, mixing my metaphors again.”

“I see.” Stewart gulped down his chaser and sucked his lips. “Apart from recommending a substantial intake of alcohol, I’m not sure I can give you much help.” Merlin sat up and shook his head. “Let’s forget all that. Tell me what you’ve been up to. Any news on the romantic front?”

“Och, I’ve had a bit of a disaster there. I think I told you I met a nice Polish girl who lived round the corner from the station. Gorgeous girl. Lovely red-brown hair. I took her out for a drink a couple of times, then dinner. I was getting quite sweet on her. Anyway, a couple of nights ago I’d just got off duty and was having a bite to eat with a friend in some place just off Shaftesbury Avenue. As we were leaving, the light from the restaurant door picked out someone passing and I thought it was my Polish friend. I called her name but there was no reply. I said so long to my mate and went off in pursuit. Not easy, of course, in the dark but I managed to pick out the girl and tried to catch up. She kept moving at quite a lick and before I could catch her up, she’d turned into a side street and I thought I’d lost her. There was a door and I looked at it with my torch. It was a nightclub of some sort. The girl had disappeared so abruptly that it occurred to me that she might have gone into the club.” Stewart paused to swill more beer. “So, I went down the stairs of this place and went through a door guarded by a grim-looking doorman and all of a sudden, out of the murk in the room I entered, I was surrounded by girls. It was a bloody clip joint! I glanced around and sure enough, in a far corner at the bar I could see the lovely Sonia taking her coat off. A bloody clip joint and I was getting sweet on a tart, for God’s sake! So I cleared off. Women, eh!”

Merlin smiled in commiseration. “Plenty more sardines in the can, Jack. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Stewart lit up a cigarette. “Maybe I shouldn’t be so choosy. From what I saw of them, the other girls looked quite smart. Maybe we should go there tonight. That’d certainly help you get your mind off work.”

“I don’t think so, thank you.”

“Here you are. Just for future reference. I picked these up there. The name and address are on the back. You never know, Francisco.”

Merlin picked up the blue book of matches and read the words on the cover – The Blue Angel. Stewart blew a smoke ring. “Not very original, is it?”

CHAPTER 6

Friday February 2nd

Kathleen Donovan sat mute and pale-faced in one of Miss Edgar’s straight-backed and rather uncomfortable chairs, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. They had been telephoned first thing at the Yard and informed that she was back at work. Bridges looked across at his boss who was looking a little the worse for wear. He was aware that Merlin didn’t have much of a head for booze and also that his intake had increased substantially since his wife had died. He was protective of his boss who had been almost like a father to him and worried if he should say something about the drink as well as about the hole in the shoe. Then again perhaps not – the Chief Inspector’s sense of humour had certainly reappeared since the New Year, and he was making some effort with his appearance – look at that flashy hat he had just put down on the table.

“Has Miss Donovan said anything to you about her whereabouts yesterday, Miss Edgar?”

“Not yet, Chief Inspector. She came in and apologised saying she had a bit of flu yesterday. I was going to ask her some questions but then thought you’d prefer to do that. I couldn’t see how I couldn’t tell her about Johnny though.”

“Of course.”

Kathleen whimpered then blew her nose. Bridges moved towards her and placed his hands gently on her shoulder.

“Come on now, love. We need to ask you a few questions.”

She slowly shook her head.

Merlin took Miss Edgar to one side.

“What did she say when you told her about Johnny Morgan?”

“She didn’t say anything. She just burst into tears and has been like this ever since.”

“Perhaps it’s best if we speak to Miss Donovan in private.”

She gazed rather unsympathetically at the young girl.

“Good luck to you.” She picked up a file from her desk and left, muttering something under her breath.

“I know this is very upsetting, Miss Donovan, but we have a duty to Joan and Johnny to find the people who killed them. We’ve only got a few questions. Why don’t you come over here and sit in a bit more comfort?”

Kathleen remained motionless for a short while then abruptly rose and moved across the room to join him on the sofa. Bridges parked himself in the vacated chair. Her face assumed a resigned look as her fingers kneaded the yellow handkerchief she was holding.

“Good. Now can you tell us what happened to you yesterday and the day before?”

“I wasn’t feeling very well so I took yesterday off.”

“So we understand. You had the flu?”

She nodded.

“Can you let us know why you weren’t at home yesterday, because we sent someone round to your lodgings to find you and your landlady said she hadn’t seen you at all since the day before?”

“I went to stay with some relatives.”

“And who would they be?”

A little colour returned to her cheeks. “Why do you need to know that? I don’t want them being bothered. What have they got to do with anything?”

“You were a friend of two people who have been violently murdered. It is our job to know your whereabouts and movements.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Are you saying I’m some sort of suspect or something?”

“We have to explore every avenue. No one’s saying you’re a suspect but we have to make certain that everyone’s telling the truth. We will need to know who you were staying with.”

She looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I was staying with my brother’s family.”

“And your brother’s name?”

“Cormac. Cormac Donovan. He’s been over here for a couple of years. He’s in the building trade. He lives in Kilburn. He’s got a wife and a lovely little daughter. Kathleen she is. Named after me.” Bridges noted a flicker of family pride passing over the girl’s face. He was the proud uncle of a nephew and two nieces himself.

“We’ll need their address.”

“If you must.” She darted a glance at Bridges who waved his notebook in such a way as to indicate he’d take it down later.

“When exactly did you go to your brother’s?”

“That would have been the night before last. Wednesday night.”

“And when was the last time you saw Johnny Morgan?”

“I think I saw him at some time during that Wednesday.”

“In the Ambassador’s residence or outside?”

“Oh, in the residence. Just in passing. In the lobby I think.” Bridges sensed the girl tensing as her shoulders tightened.

“In the morning or afternoon?”

“I think it was in the morning. I bumped into him in the lobby.

“You weren’t so very well that morning, were you?”

Kathleen blushed and cast her eyes back down to the floor. “I suppose the flu was just starting then.”

“Can you remember the last time you saw Mr Morgan before you saw him on Wednesday morning?”

She stared hard at the floral carpet beneath her. She put her crumpled handkerchief to her nose. “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I must have seen him around the day before.”