The Milliner's Hat Mystery (20 page)

“You will understand, Mr Vincent, that Mr Pitt closed his account here on the day before his death and his passbook was handed to him. Would not his cheque butts give you all the information you require?”

“No doubt they would if we had them, but they have either been destroyed or stolen from his house. There was a mass of burnt paper in the fireplace of his library. In any case it is the credit side of his account as well that we want.”

The manager turned over the leaves of the ledger until he came to the name he was looking for and then pushed the book over to Vincent, who ran his eye down the page.

“You will permit me to make notes, I suppose?” he asked the manager.

“Certainly.”

Vincent made rapid notes in pencil in his notebook. The manager watched him, hoping that something would be said to satisfy his curiosity, but when Vincent closed his book and rose to take his leave, he told him nothing.

“Have you got all the information you hoped for?”

“I think so, thanks to your kindness.”

“If you could give me a hint of what you are specially looking for, I may be able to help you still further,” said the manager, feeling that he was being ruthlessly bereft of a sensation.

“Thank you very much, but I need not trespass further on your kindness. I have found all I want.”

It seemed to Vincent a case in which a word from his chief constable would be valuable. He went back to the Central Office and found Richardson alone.

“I'm sorry to bother you again, sir, but I'd like to talk over with you the latest developments in the Pitt case. To begin with, I have established a connection between Pitt and a Mrs Pearson, who is the sister of Charles Laurillard, one of the directors of the drug factory that has just been raided at Belfort in France.” He related what he had heard about the registered packages that had been received by Pitt at the bank.

“You think that they contained drugs in powder?”

“I think that it is very probable that they did, but there is no proof.”

“Of course the profit accruing from the sale of drugs is large, but so far the methods of importing them that you have discovered would not account for large quantities.”

“No sir; I think we shall find that other means are being used. The woman Dodds, who might be useful to us if she were in a fit state to be questioned, is still in the hands of the police surgeon, who says that nothing that she told us in her present state would be reliable. According to information obtained from the landlady of the flats where Alice Dodds lives, a lady in a Lanchester car used to call there to see her. We have ascertained that this car belongs to Mrs Pearson, who denies any knowledge of Alice Dodds. According to the story of her present chauffeur—a Frenchman—it was he who called on the woman unknown to his mistress. I don't think the story is true but I haven't been able to disprove it. I have also discovered that the chauffeur of Pitt was formerly in Mrs Pearson's service.”

“Can't you question that chauffeur?”

“I saw him yesterday and I can't say that I took to him. He is drinking. At that time I didn't know that he had worked for Mrs Pearson, but now, of course, I shall see him again.”

“A chauffeur out of work can't afford to get drunk at the present price of liquor. He must be getting money from somewhere. Don't lose sight of him on any account.”

“In the one interview I had with Alice Dodds she talked about a woman she called ‘she', apparently a drug addict. This could not have been Mrs Pearson, who, I am quite sure, is not herself given to drug taking, although probably she supplies it to others.”

“The illness of the woman Dodds is bad luck for you, because she changed one of the notes drawn from Pitt's account by himself the day before he was murdered. You haven't traced that any further, I suppose?”

“Not yet, and no more notes have come to light.” Vincent opened his notebook. “I made notes just now of certain entries in Pitt's account at the National Insurance Bank. A good deal of money has been passing from Pitt to a man named Thelusson. The only other cheques for large sums drawn on that account were to ‘self.'”

“Do you know anything about Thelusson?”

“His was one of the names given me by the chauffeur of people that Pitt used to visit.”

“I suppose that you will follow this up?”

“Yes sir; that's what I want to consult you about. Shall I make preliminary enquiries about the man, or go to him direct?”

“You would be in a far stronger position for interviewing him if you armed yourself with information about him. In your place I should get all the information that you can about him confidentially, before you see him. But the thing I want to know is who paid in money to Pitt's account. I suppose you made notes about that?”

“He opened the account in the first place by paying in one hundred pounds in treasury notes. Very few cheques had been paid in—I have the particulars here—but quite frequently, sometimes twice a week, sums were paid in notes.”

“Large sums?”

“They varied from fifty to a hundred pounds.”

“Was the account large when he closed it?”

“Five thousand six hundred pounds.”

“How long had he had the account going?”

“About three years.”

“Well, you've got your work cut out in making judicious enquiries about the people who paid in cheques, although I suspect it is the sums that were paid in notes that would interest us most. Let me know the result, but first of all I advise you to concentrate on Thelusson.”

“Very good, sir, I will.”

Vincent sought out Walker and gave him the list of persons whom he was to question discreetly about cheques paid by them to Pitt.

“I have struck out one of them—Mr Brooklyn— because it will give me an excuse for seeing that gentleman again and getting some further information from him.”

“Very good, sir; it shall be done.”

Vincent looked at his watch. There was still time for his visit to Brooklyn before lunch. He made his way to Jermyn Street.

Mr Brooklyn, he learned, was at home, but was shortly going out to lunch at his club. He sent up his card and was at once admitted to the flat. He found the gentleman in a more serious mood than on the occasion of his last visit. “Come in, Mr Vincent,” he said; “you are always welcome. What can I do for you?”

“I have come to bother you again about that Pitt case, Mr Brooklyn. I see that a good deal of money seems to have passed from Pitt to a Mr Thelusson. Was this in settlement of gambling debts, do you think?”

Brooklyn wrinkled his brow in thought. “It can scarcely have been that,” he said. “Pitt was a careful sort of bloke and no gambler. There was some funny business going on between those two men which I have never been able to make out.”

“What was Thelusson's profession?”

“I had always understood that he dealt in fancy soaps and women's beauty apparatus—cosmetics and such like.”

“But the sums that passed would have been sufficient to keep the beauty parlours of all London in cosmetics for years. The address which I have for Thelusson is 41, Arkley Street. Do you know if he has his beauty parlour there?”

“Oh no. That is his private flat; I've been there to play cards.”

“Does he play for high stakes?”

“He did, sometimes—like the rest of us. If that's a crime I shall plead guilty and take the consequences.”

“Did you ever hear a quarrel or a disagreement at any time between Thelusson and Pitt?”

“They had a minor row on one occasion. I fancy Thelusson had reproached Pitt about the kind of friends he entertained and called them ‘a b—— lot of thieves'!”

“Was this at Pitt's house or at Thelusson's flat?”

“At Pitt's house in Hampstead.”

“Was it the kind of row that might have led to something more serious—you can tell me confidentially.”

“No. If you mean was it enough to culminate in murder, the suggestion would be absurd. Thelusson is rather a gay dog. He has plenty of money and he takes life easily; but why don't you call and size him up yourself?”

“I mean to when the proper time comes, but I mustn't take up any more of your time and make you late for lunch.”

“That's all right. Come and see me again if you think I can be of any use to you. Good-bye.”

Mindful of Richardson's instructions to get all possible information about Thelusson before he called upon him, Vincent resolved to have one more interview with Anton. He drove himself to Hampstead.

He found Anton restored to his usual polite calm. Peace had been unbroken since Vincent's last visit; there had been no disturbing telephone calls; the sensational press had ceased to be interested. Vincent went to the point at once.

“Among the visitors to your late employer, do you remember a Mr Thelusson?”

“Oh yes, sir. Mr Thelusson was a very good friend of Mr Pitt; he came often.”

“And they never had a quarrel?”

“Mr Thelusson never quarrelled with Mr Pitt. No, but there were quarrels.”

“Who quarrelled?”

“Well, sir, there were loud voices between Mr Blake and Mr Thelusson one night. You could not help hearing,” he added apologetically, as if to excuse himself for eavesdropping.

“Of course, I understand that you couldn't help hearing the quarrel. Now think carefully and tell me what you did hear.”

“Well, Mr Thelusson, he say Mr Blake is a cheat.”

“He meant that he cheated at cards?”

“I suppose so, but they did not mention cards. Mr Thelusson say: ‘I have paid you twice, you cheat,' and Mr Blake say: ‘You never paid me for last time. You are a worse kind of cheat, a miserly cheat.' They say other words, very bad words.”

“Was this long ago?”

“Oh no. Only just before my master went away.”

“Did you hear quarrels between Mr Pitt and anyone else?”

“No, Mr Pitt never quarrel. There were never quarrels in this house except that one; that is why I remember it.”

“Well, Anton, I'm glad you have a good memory. By the way, has the chauffeur been to see you since?”

“No, he hasn't been again.”

“You and the rest of the staff didn't like him?”

“No sir; no one liked him.”

“Did Mr Pitt like him?”

“Mr Pitt must have liked him very much, because he let him do what he liked.”

“Thank you, Anton. If I think of anything else that you can tell me I will come round here again, and if anything unexpected happens you ring me up immediately.”

After a light lunch in the mess-room, Vincent went downstairs and looked into the sergeants' room. He narrowly escaped collision with Walker in the door-way.

“I was just going out again, Mr Vincent. I looked in to see if you had left a message for me.”

“I want you to come down to Newquay with me. As you know, the local bench remanded those two rascals in custody and I want to interview them again about some further evidence that has come to hand. They are to come up again tomorrow and unless something fresh transpires we shall have to ask for another remand, so we must get down to Newquay tonight. I suppose you've found nothing compromising about those payments?”

“Only in one case, Mr Vincent, but it's an important one. Among the payments was a cheque drawn by a Miss Hellier for seventy-six pounds. This woman has been up before the Court quite recently on a drug charge and she was reported to the Bench as being a drug addict. The magistrates put her on probation and she is under the care of friends.”

“Where can we find her? I should like to have an interview with her before we go down to Newquay.”

“I have her address here. Her friends are very well to do. You see, their house is only twenty miles from Charing Cross.”

“Have you had your lunch? Yes? Then come along; we'll start at once.”

The house proved to be an old Georgian one. They were shown into a library and a few moments later a very charming elderly lady came in, holding Vincent's card in her hand.

“I suppose that you've come to see Miss Hellier. Unless it's absolutely necessary, I would rather give you the information you require myself. This is her hour for resting and we must if possible keep any disturbing influence away from her.”

“I'm afraid you may not be able to give me the information I want. It concerns the payment by her of a cheque to the late Mr Bernard Pitt, and I want to know what this payment was for.”

She smiled sadly. “I suppose you suspect that it was a payment for drugs.”

“Well, to be quite frank, we do.”

“Is that the man who was murdered recently?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I can tell you that she was greatly upset when she read of the death in the newspapers. In fact she took to her bed for a couple of days.”

Vincent saw that she was ready to help him if she could. “I don't want to upset your establishment in any way. The fact is that I have to trace this connection between Miss Hellier and Mr Pitt, and if I am able to do it indirectly through you it will be quite sufficient.”

“I will tell you frankly what I have learned from her during the past fortnight. I must tell you that she is the daughter of a very old friend of ours and that she was left a considerable income at his death. She was headstrong and insisted upon living her own life without advice from anyone. I can't tell you when or how she first came to take drugs, but I do know that a few months ago she took into her employment a maid who was herself a drug taker.”

“A woman named Alice Dodds?”

“Exactly. You seem to know a great deal about the case.”

“As a matter of fact this woman, Alice Dodds, is now detained by the police and is seriously ill in hospital. I wanted to trace the connection between Dodds and a lady who is French by birth and British by marriage.”