The Bee's Kiss (21 page)

Joe took the sheet and decided the moment had come to bite the bullet and tell them what instructions he had received from his head of department. Looking at the eager faces before him, he knew his task would not be an easy one. Carefully he outlined his interview with Sir Nevil and waited for their response. For a moment they sat in silence, eyes downcast. Then they exchanged a brief look. Neither, for a change, seemed to want to speak first.

Finally, Armitage said in a level voice, ‘Sorry to hear that, sir. Goes against the grain being cut off like that right in the middle of something. I thought we were getting somewhere.’

‘That, I suspect, is the nub of it, Bill. Someone doesn’t want us to get any further. And we are not encouraged to wonder why or who.’

‘Don’t need to wonder, do we? Obvious really. We ought to have expected it as soon as we found the Dame was a bit dodgy. The Admiralty put pressure on Special Branch via Room 40 – though they’re not supposed to – the Branch duly report directly to the Commissioner himself. He picks up the phone and asks Sir Nevil what the devil he thinks he’s doing allowing one of his best blokes to poke about inside this anthill. Upshot – you get pulled off the case and now we’ll never get to interview old Monty Mathurin. Pity that . . . I was looking forward to it.’

Joe grinned with relief. ‘Very philosophical approach, Bill, and I’m sure you have it right. Westhorpe?’

Westhorpe would not be prepared to take lightly her dismissal from a case where she had shone and her abilities had been acknowledged. But training and good manners carried her over her disappointment. ‘A pity, I agree. But there are larger issues even than the Dame’s killing. I can see some good people might be embarrassed by the findings we were making – so lightly, I now have to think. And the official story is very credible. The burglary turning to violence, I mean. It really has always seemed to me to be the most likely explanation. You could say they’ve just made us take a short cut but we’ve arrived at the right destination.’

Some of the assurance faded from her voice as she added, ‘I have enjoyed working with you, though so briefly, sir. And with the sergeant.’

‘And may I return the compliment? said Joe sadly. ‘Who knows? Perhaps we may find ourselves working together again should someone find himself stabbed at the Strand . . . garrotted at the Garrick . . .’

‘Clubbed at Claridge’s?’ suggested Westhorpe. ‘I could help with that!’

Joe smiled. ‘So – it only remains for me to pass on Sir Nevil’s instruction to take a few days’ paid leave. You are required to fade into the background. Disappear. Can you manage that?’

‘I’ve got an aunt runs a boarding house in Southend,’ said Armitage dubiously. ‘She’s not too full at this time of year.’

‘No one sends me away from the capital,’ said Westhorpe firmly. ‘Of all the cheek! I shall get Daddy to have a word with Sir Nevil.’

Joe couldn’t be quite certain that she was teasing him. ‘Two further matters to clear up before you make yourselves scarce. Individual things – I’d like to see you one at a time, if you wouldn’t mind. Won’t take long. Tilly, go and sit in the corridor for a moment, will you, while I speak to Bill and then I’d like a word with you.’

In some surprise, Tilly withdrew, leaving Joe facing his sergeant.

‘Your career, Bill . . . there’s something I want to discuss with you.’

Before he could go further, Armitage had adopted a defensive posture. ‘There aren’t any problems, are there, sir?’ His voice had an edge of anxiety. ‘I suppose you’ve had a look at my record? It’s clear, isn’t it? Have they got me for the leg?’

‘Is there something else that’s troubling you, Bill? Something you fear may be on file against you?’

‘As a matter of fact, there is. Been meaning to bring it up but there never seemed to be a right time. I’ll come straight out with it and perhaps you can advise me what to do . . . Every Tuesday evening after work I go to a flat in Bordeaux Court, that’s off Dean Street. It’s a neighbourhood favoured by immigrant families, sir.’

‘Know it well.’

‘There’s a Russian émigré lives there. He does a bit of waiting at tables and teaches Russian in his spare time. At least he did until trade dropped off after last year’s hue and cry after reds under the beds.’ Armitage’s head went up in defiance. ‘Nobody was asking
me
but I thought that whole thing was a load of bollocks. A set-up, sir. I learn Russian. The language – nothing to do with politics. Always been keen on languages. This chap’s a good teacher. Inspiring. And I count him my friend.’

‘I appreciate your honesty,’ said Joe. ‘And, on a personal level, I can sympathize with what you say – but have a care, man! These are strange times. The country’s like a champion boxer who’s damn nearly been knocked down in the final round and knows he may have to pick himself up in time to fight another challenge to his title before he’s recovered. There are some who think the gauntlet’s already been thrown down.’

‘And some who think the real enemy’s closer to home. The unions, the strike they’re threatening next week. Could lead to panic and witch hunts . . . people denouncing their neighbours. Could be nasty. Civil War all over again? With the divide along class lines this time? We never did have our French-style revolution over here,’ said Armitage gloomily.

‘Have you seen the news from Parliament this week? “Rigorous measures” are being proposed to counter red tendencies in HM forces. Apparently, the loyalty of the army and navy are thought to be in danger of being undermined by what MPs are calling “the cunning and devilish ways of the communists”. They’ll be looking at the police next . . . indeed, I believe we are already under scrutiny. And I don’t much like the intemperate tub-thumping they’re having printed in the newspapers. Just take a look at today’s
Mirror
, Bill! Stirring stuff!’

He passed his copy over the desk. ‘I don’t often dole out advice,’ said Joe, ‘but – leave it, Bill. Leave it over. Don’t give them anything. Spend your Tuesday nights at the dogs or at the pictures. It wouldn’t be a good idea to bring down the attention of the Branch on you.’

He watched Armitage’s face closely as he mentioned the Special Branch. The political police force bridged the gap between the Met and the Intelligence Service and, surely, if anyone was taking an unhealthy interest in the sergeant, it was the Branch.

What he saw in the handsome face was not alarm or suspicion but, surprisingly, concern. Bill grinned and shook his head. ‘And I’ve never given
you
advice, Captain, but just this once, I’ll say: let this case go. I know what you’re like. The words bloody-minded ferret come to mind. Leave it, sir!’

They smiled at each other and shook hands.

‘Show Westhorpe in, will you?’

With Armitage’s advice still sounding, unheeded, in his ears, Joe broke into a charming smile and asked briskly, ‘Tilly. Do you happen by any chance to be free this evening?’

Guardedly she replied, ‘Yes, as a matter of fact, I shall be free – in the changed circumstances, sir.’

‘Jolly good! Right then. Why don’t you slip into your glad rags and I’ll take you out to a supper dance? We’ll go and cut a rug or two at the Embassy, shall we?’

Joe was pinned to his chair by the sudden flare of astonishment she turned on him. But, in a second, this gave way to amusement and she replied flirtatiously with a good deal of fluttering of eyelashes, ‘Oh, but sir! This is so sudden!’

Then, knowingly, ‘Who are we trailing? Monty?’

‘The very same! I’m no longer officially allowed to chat to the fellow so we’ll have to work our way around it.’

‘Can you be sure he’ll be at the Embassy tonight?’

‘No. Not certain. Inspector Cottingham has established that nightclubs are where he generally spends his evenings and this one is his favourite but . . .’

Her eyes flicked to the telephone. ‘Can you get an outside line on that?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘May I?’

She took a notebook from her bag and leafed through it then picked up the receiver and in a starched voice asked the operator to connect her with a number she read out. A few moments later, Joe was surprised to hear her asking in a breathless, little girl’s voice, ‘Oh, hello? Jenkins? Joanna here. Look, I’ve gone and forgotten where Monty asked me to meet him tonight. Drat! This is a terribly crackly line! Can you hear me? What have you got in his diary? Was it Ciro’s? No? . . . Oh, silly me! Yes, of course! Thank you, Jenkins. You are a poppet!’

Joe had left his desk to stand by Tilly as she made her phone call, alarmed but intrigued by her boldness. He leaned towards the earpiece but was not able to make out the words to which she was responding with wide-eyed mischief.

She set down the telephone and turned to him. ‘Got it! The Kit-Cat Club tonight at eight.’

‘Well, of course! The Kit-Cat! Where else?’ Joe slapped his forehead with the heel of his palm in a stagey way but he couldn’t disguise a spurt of real excitement. ‘We should have guessed. Mathurin’s not known for missing out on something special, is he?’

‘Special? What’s special?’

‘You’re telling me you hadn’t heard? And you one of the brightest young things about London? There’s to be an appearance every day for a week – this week! – by Paul Whiteman and his band. Shove over Jack Hylton and your creaking orchestra and make way for a touch of American glamour!’

‘Paul Whiteman? Are you sure?’

‘Yes. He’s touring England. They’ve been playing at the Tivoli cinema but just for a short time they’ve been lured away to the Kit-Cat.’

‘Ah. Not difficult to guess why,’ said Tilly knowingly. ‘They have very well-placed admirers, the sort who expect cocktails and dancing laid on when they hear their favourite band perform. The Mountbattens and, they say, even the Prince of Wales . . . Ooh, sir! Do you think he’ll be there?’

‘I should think it very likely. Put your best frock on just in case!’

Tilly was struck by a depressing thought. ‘There’ll be crowds there. We’ll never get in. And don’t you need to be a member? I think you do, you know.’

‘You do and I am. A sort of honorary member. And for the same reason, we’ll get past the doorman however crowded they are.’ He smiled to see her puzzled face. ‘I raided the Kit-Cat soon after it opened. Just routine, to establish our authority, you understand. Gave them a clean sheet. Since when the management is always careful to extend a warm welcome. Oh, don’t worry – I shan’t arrive with cuffs clanking in my back pocket.’

She smiled back nervously. ‘I say, sir, this is a very surprising side of you. I mean, I didn’t take you for a jazz fiend. Um . . . can you dance?’

Without warning, Joe advanced a step, caught her in a tight embrace and swung her into a showy quickstep around the room, growling the tune of ‘You Took Advantage Of Me’ in her ear. She responded without hesitation, moving with him as nimbly as her heavy uniform would allow. The impromptu dance came to a sudden end as Tilly knocked over the hat-stand by the door, got the giggles, missed her step and crunched down hard on Joe’s foot with her police boot.

They sat down again, each slightly embarrassed, and Tilly was the first to recover her poise and her breath. ‘I’ll be wearing the lightest of dancing shoes this evening, I promise. I must say, I’m looking forward to it very much but . . .’

‘You’re concerned that we might be contravening instructions?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Then stop worrying. We’re both off duty.’

‘But you were told not to do any more interviews and to wrap up the case, you say. Why are you – excuse me for being so inquisitive, I can’t help it! – pursuing the enquiry?’

Joe considered the question for a moment. ‘I can’t leave the Dame adrift. I can’t bury her without knowing who put her in her coffin and why. It’s always like that with murder cases. The moment I look into the dead face I’m claimed by it.’

She was silent, waiting for more, understanding that this was perhaps the first time he’d given words to the thought.

‘Like the Ancient Mariner with his wretched albatross, an unavenged corpse hangs around my neck and I go about bothering people until I know the truth. I shan’t be able to cut her loose until I know. It’s not necessary for heads to roll or even for justice to be done (though that would be good) – just as long as someone cares enough to unravel the tangle and say to her memory: “I know what happened. I know who did this.”’

Tilly nodded. ‘Very well. I’ll help you to bother some more people. Mathurin will be there with his fiancée. At least he’ll start the evening with her. Her name’s Joanna and I know her quite well. Good family. Filthy rich. We came out in the same year. Not a bosom pal but we’re friendly enough to meet casually and share a table perhaps. Then I could lure her to the ladies’ room and leave you to talk man to man with Monty. What about that?’

‘Sounds perfect to me!’

‘But how will you get him to talk about anything we want to hear? You can’t exactly get out your notebook between numbers and ask his precise whereabouts on the night of his cousin’s murder. He’s not a fool, though people would like to believe he is.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ll think of something. Shall I pick you up at eight? Explain to your father, will you? I wouldn’t like him to have any misgivings.’

‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t misconstrue the situation, Commander. Or should I call you Joe now we’re walking out?’

‘Everything all right, sir?’ enquired Charlie, righting the disturbed furniture as he entered to take away the tea tray. ‘Bit of a racket in here?’

‘Perfectly all right. Some of these young women police can be remarkably clumsy. Have you noticed the size of their feet? Don’t seem to know where to put them. No – leave those mugs, will you? Take the rest of the things away but leave the mugs. And here’s a file to go back to its home. Oh, and, officially, I’m out for the rest of the day to anyone except Inspector Cottingham.’

He reached for the telephone.

‘Larry? Look, I’m sorry to bother you again. Tell me – is the department still . . . um . . . expediting work on the Jagow-Joliffe case? No counter order as yet? Excellent! I’ll be bringing you a little extra.’