Page 19

Late morning on Saturday, Toby arrived early for their appointment at St Bride’s Tavern , which proved to be a nice little pub with a comfortable, well-lit back room and none of the affectation of The Swan With Two Necks . This was the genuine article.

Alasdair arrived hard on his heels.

“You look a touch flustered. What’s up?”

“A mare’s nest, I hope.” Alasdair shrugged off his coat and settled himself. “I thought I was being followed. I came on the tube and another chap got into the same carriage. I didn’t think anything of it until he got out at Chancery Lane with me. Then he seemed to take the same route, keeping behind me, but he went off towards Ludgate Hill while I swung round here.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for him when we leave. Maybe there’ll be a taxi chase.”

The door opened again and Jonny entered, accompanied by a handsome man around their age whom Toby assumed was Neil, until Jonny introduced him as Roger. Toby had got it into his head—from the way that Jonny spoke about him—that Roger was significantly older than his partner, but if he was a year or so the elder that was all. He did, however, have an air of maturity about him that contrasted with the youthful exuberance of Jonny, which was perhaps why the latter referred to him as ‘old Roger’ although that could be an affectation. Roger was a stunner, though and there could be no surprise about Jonny having fallen for him.

“Pleased to meet you,” Roger said, sticking out his hand. “Sorry if this turns out to be a mare’s nest.”

Toby shook hands enthusiastically. “I promise you, it’ll be worth it whatever happens. This conflab has saved me from a studio function that would have seen me surrounded by starlets and while some men might think that a dream come true, it fills me with anxiety.”

“I think we can all sympathise with that,” Alasdair said. “It’s fine playing a part for the screen but when that has to continue all the time, it’s wearing. Artificiality in every word and deed.”

Jonny tapped the table. “That reminds me of the pub we met Moira in. The one that reminded us of a film set. I might be able to help clear that up. Or rather, Roger can.”

“Don’t get excited, because I’m not handing you a vital clue or anything so grand, I just wanted to confirm your ideas about The Swan with Two Necks . I hadn’t realised that was where you and Jonny had gone to meet your mysterious pals until I’d got a couple of glasses of red wine into him and the whole tale came out.”

“Half a bottle of red ensures candour?” Toby sniggered. “We’ll make a note of that and tell his aged relative. Jonty or someone else in his family might have cause to employ it.”

“Steady on there!” Jonny exclaimed. “Play fair. Go on with your story, Roger and no more snitching out of school.”

“Sorry.” Roger’s grin clearly showed he was anything but. “You thought the place felt synthetic, somehow? Well, to an extent it is. I know someone who goes there a lot and the place is deliberately decked out to remind demobbed folk of the messes they were used to during the war, in an effort to recreate the sense of camaraderie people felt then. It’s supposed to be popular with ex-servicemen and women, even though it’s years since VE and VJ days. Finding something they’ve lost in peace time.”

“No wonder our three lost souls feel at home there,” Toby said. “There were plenty of people who found it hard to adjust after the Great War and it’s the same now. You know, I keep thinking about Bessy and Geraldine, who were our escorts for the recent film premiere, Roger. A pair of ladies, more on the mature side than our usual dates, whom we came across during our last case. The degree to which they must understand people is astonishing because the ideas they batted about have come to fruition again and again in relation to Moira’s crew.”

“Indeed,” Alasdair replied. He appeared to be on the verge of waxing lyrical on the topic but was interrupted when the door opened and a tall, thin chap entered the room. This had to be Neil, from the greeting Roger gave him prior to performing the usual introductions. Despite having the sort of build that suggested a stiff gust of wind might blow him over, Neil had an air that made it clear that he was a man who would stand no nonsense. He also exuded an air of bonhomie perhaps suited to a career which must combine salesmanship with diplomacy and the ability to say “Sorry, no.”.

“Thanks for agreeing to see us,” Toby said, as they shook hands.

“I was about to thank you all for making time to see me. Thanks for this, too.” Neil took his seat and then grasped the half pint of beer which Roger had ready on the table for him. “I hate going into any meeting half cock and that seems particularly important this time, given that Roger here seems to think there might be something dodgy about my prospective customer. I understand this might link to a case you’re investigating?”

“Yes,” Alasdair said, “We have two cases at present that are twining themselves around each other. Your prospective client—if he is who we think he is—could be involved in both. To clarify, we’re looking to solve a past crime and also prevent a future one, the latter being the more urgent. All of which comes with the caveat that a man is innocent until proven guilty because much of the evidence we have for who’s involved in both cases is circumstantial. Forgive us if we don’t explain all until we can link your man to ours.”

Toby made a mental note that when Alasdair was too long in the tooth to play the love interest, he’d be perfect as a judge in a courtroom drama.

“I appreciate your discretion.” Neil took another swig of beer. “You’d do well in my line of work, so if you ever tire of acting, let me know. Give me a name for this chap, and I’ll say nay or yea.”

Alasdair, evidently delighted with the complimenting of his discretion, said, “Billy Chapman.”

Noticeable relief swept across Neil’s face. “I’m afraid—for you, not for me—that’s a nay. Not a name I recognise.”

“Oh.” Jonny’s expression resembled that of a child on Christmas morning who’s opened his present to find a lump of coal, not the toy drum he wanted. “Then it looks like all the clues we’ve had are red herrings.”

“I think we need to apologise for wasting everyone’s time,” Roger said.

Toby raised a hand. “Belay that. Those clues could also point to other people. Here’s some more names for you, Neil. We’ll start with a Mr Herbert, Christian name unknown. James Salt. Robert Archer.”

“Robert Archer?” Neil hastily laid his glass down. “Your nay has become a yea. I think you’d better tell me what you know about him.”

“Alas, very little,” Toby said, not bothering to hide his grin of satisfaction. “We can start with the death of an actor, though, and a mention of Archer at the inquest.”

He gave a summary of what they knew about Carstone’s death, then what they’d surmised—and why—leaving out only Alexandra’s name. “Therefore, our conclusion at present is that this tragic death was a murder made out to look like an accident and Archer is involved. That’s not primarily why we’re here, though. Alasdair, do you want to pick up the urgent part of the case?”

“I will. It starts with an overheard conversation about a threat of disruption to the coronation, between Billy Chapman and person unknown.”

Jonny raised his hand. “Hold on. Two overheard conversations. We keep forgetting the one the secretary blundered in on, which talked about an act of violence. Either or both of those discussions could have featured Archer as the second party.”

Alasdair nodded. “You’re quite right. Because we weren’t allowed to follow up on her, I’d put the secretary out of mind.” Alasdair detailed what the two women had heard, matching this with what those present had discovered about the characters of Messrs Herbert and Chapman, including the strange contents of the bin and how this all related to what Dennis’s son had reported. He concluded with, “We’ve already informed both the police and a friend of a friend who is involved with coronation planning. The latter was the one who insisted we didn’t get too close to the firm. Back off or act at your peril—you know the sort of thing.”

Neil raised an eyebrow. “This sounds like something out of a thriller.” He didn’t appear perturbed, though, so perhaps his experience with selling arms had taken him onto similar territory.

“What kind of arms is Archer looking to buy?” Toby asked.

“Small materiel, in a relatively small quantity. He says it’s on behalf of a foreign potentate, to equip his personal bodyguard, so Archer wants predominantly firearms, plus a range of items such as grenades, body armour and the like. Does that sound like what your man might want?”

Toby stuck out his bottom lip. “Grenades fit in with the practicing darts bit, although I’m not sure about the rest.”

“If it is our Archer,” Alasdair said, clearly beginning to worry that they’d gone down the wrong track, “then the scale of what he wants is concerning. We were thinking it would only be a few grenades to lob into a parade. Although if he simply wanted those why not ask around his dubious pals, because plenty of such things came home as souvenirs during the war, as did small arms or kukris and the like.”

“Maybe they’re only there to reinforce the bodyguard story,” Jonny suggested. “It might look odd only wanting a handful of small explosives.”

Neil nodded. “Yes, that could be so. As for accessing those items which servicemen sneaked home, Archer did tell us his original supplier—which he didn’t name—had let him down, so he needed things urgently Apparently this no doubt non-existent potentate had an important visit abroad coming up. Having said that, if he’s involved in a terrorist plot, then it’s a surprise he should be going down a legitimate channel by contacting us, unless he had no other option and he knew we could supply him at short notice. It’s not long until the coronation, so it may be Hobson’s choice.”

“What about the trail back to you afterwards?” Alasdair asked. “Granting that if nobody could prove a connection between the man who buys the goods and the man intending to do the deed, Chapman, they might think themselves safe.”

“His name appears in Fred’s signing in book,” Toby pointed out, “although they could plead he was simply a client and how did they know what he was up to? We should still consider that, if he wants all that stuff, this thing could be larger than one man lobbing Molotov cocktails at one carriage in a parade.”

“All guns blazing—literally?” Jonn’s eyes widened. “Wouldn’t they be taking a hell of a chance, to get away with all the crowds there’ll be? Many of whom saw active service not that long ago and who won’t be averse to getting stuck in.”

“Perhaps Chapman and co aren’t bothered. They might want to be martyrs for their cause.” Toby shrugged. “I could never fathom the minds of people like that.”

Neil rapped the table. “So, gents, what action do we need to take? I’m not bound by the order to back off, but I am bound by my duty as a citizen. Could I ask for the name of your police contact and where’s best to reach him on a Saturday? I’ve a feeling he’s going to be interested in a report of my upcoming conversation.”

“Matthew Firestone and via Scotland Yard,” Jonny said. “If he’s not there they’ll contact him for you. He’s my godfather so mention of this conversation and those involved won’t come as any surprise.”

“What about Archer?” Alasdair asked. “How will you leave things with him to ensure he doesn’t realise he’s been rumbled?”

“I have my ways. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do something like this and I’m sure it won’t be the last.” Neil gave a rueful smile, one that also made it clear he wouldn’t be elaborating.

“Then we’ll leave things to the professional in his field, Roger said. “I suppose we’ll now gracefully bow out of today’s action and await developments.”

“Not so fast, said Toby, who’d been incubating an idea since the previous morning and felt that now was the time for it to hatch. “There’s a connection with Herbert and Chapman that we haven’t pursued, and we can go in initially on the Carstone side of things. It’s someone we should have spoken to before but Bruce’s embargo prevented us, as did our consciences. A lady whose job we didn’t want to put at risk, given her personal circumstances, but I think I now have a solution for that problem.”

“The game’s afoot on her now, is it?” Alasdair asked, obviously having realised whom Toby meant and as keen as any greyhound in the slips to get cracking on a new lead.

“I think so. This morning, I had the confirmation I needed for us to proceed, and we’re ideally placed geographically to get on with things. It’s not far to Eagle Street and we’ll just have to hope it’s a Fred day, not a Ted day.” Toby scanned the company, delighted to Roger and Neil’s bewildered faces. “After that, we could be heading anywhere, so we’d better grab a quick bite to eat first.”

***

On leaving the tavern, having had a round of excellent sandwiches at St Bride’s Tavern to keep them going, Toby suggested Alasdair and Jonny went first while the rest kept an eye for suspicious characters, but if anybody was hanging around to spy on them, he or she was doing their job extremely well. They decided to walk to Eagle Street, because that would give them time to bring Roger up to date. The bloke wouldn’t have as much information as they did—albeit that not amounting to much—concerning the secretary who’d blundered into a discussion she shouldn’t have heard. Toby rectified the situation with help from the others, so by the time they’d almost reached their destination, Roger was as fully prepared as the time allowed.

“I understand why you wouldn’t want to make life any harder for this woman,” Roger said the briefing ended. “Are you going to enlighten us regarding your solution to that problem or will you continue to play your cards close on that?”

“The latter, I think, at least for the moment. It’s not sheer cussedness, honest, so much as not wanting to jinx matters until we have her name, address and an assurance that she’s willing to talk to us. Several things will need to line up for all that to be achieved.” Toby gestured airily. “I also don’t want prematurely to dangle so bright a lure that we’re given misinformation simply so that the fish can grab for it.”

“Nicely put,” Alasdair said. “It’s hard enough to tell from fact from fiction in this case. Who’s that waving, by the way?”

“Where?” Toby glanced around him, then returned the wave. “Chap I saw last time I was here, who asked if the game was afoot. One of our aficionados, I guess, although not in Miss Crouch’s gang, more’s the pity.”

“He is rather fetching,” Roger said. “Shame he’s heading in the other direction.”

“Should we be worried about him popping up twice?” Alasdair asked. “He couldn’t be James Salt, keeping an eye on us?”

“Not him. I’ve seen his and Archer’s pictures in the newspapers and that chap’s far too sylph-like to be either of them. Anyway, wouldn’t any observer be unwise, drawing attention to himself twice running?”

With which they arrived at the door of Clanfield House, where Jonny pointed out the vexatious lack of a nameplate. “See? Trouble all round, that bunch.”

On entering the building, the first thing that needed to line up clicked into place, because not only was Fred the man on duty, he seemed delighted to see Toby again.

“Mr Bowe!” he exclaimed, as the four men came towards his desk. “You’re quite mob handed today. Have you come to start a card school?”

“Perhaps another time, as long as you promise not to fleece us of our hard-earned cash. Let me make the introductions. You probably recognise Alasdair and these other two reprobates are Jonny and Roger, our associates in detection for our present case.” Toby glanced over his shoulder, checking that nobody else was in the offing. “We’re working on that investigation this afternoon, Fred, and we need the help of a man who knows.”

Fred, sitting up straighter in his chair, tidied away his newspaper. “I’ll try my best, Mr Bowe.”

“We’d like to speak to a lady who, for her sins, works for Herbert and Chapman . All we know about her is that she’s a loyal and pleasant sort, with a parent who’s unwell and who relies on her totally. Any help you could give us about finding said lady would be gratefully received.”

“It would also possibly help to prevent somebody evading proper justice,” Alasdair added.

“I think I can tell you what you need, but I have to admit I’m reluctant to divulge it, Mr Bowe and Mr Hamilton. The lady in question is not in a position to risk losing her job.” Fred studied his hands.

“We know that,” Toby said in his most sympathetic tones, “which is why I didn’t ask about her the last time I was here. The situation’s different now and I can promise you that she won’t end up the worse off for agreeing to see us, because there’s an elegant potential solution if the problem arises. Trust me, Fred.” Trust Sir Ian, as well, who was—thank the lord—a man of his word and who also had a secretary who was never short of a bright idea.

The doorman considered for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll tell you, but you can trust me never to forgive you if this goes pear shaped.”

“Absolutely fair.” Toby bowed. “I wouldn’t blame you at all.”

“Right, well I think the woman you want is Vera Brook. She and her mother live in a bungalow at Theydon Bois although I can’t remember the exact address. I went there just before Christmas for a do Vera had to celebrate her mother’s birthday but I’d need to go home to get the road and number because it’s not stored here.” Fred tapped his head then his desk. “The place is not far from the tube station, although that’s no help.”

“Is Miss Brook on the telephone?” Alasdair asked. “I’ve assumed she’s a Miss, so sorry if that’s wrong.”

“She is a Miss and an independent one. I can help with her telephone number, though. Hold on.” Fred—who’d looked a touch rueful at the word independent —scuttled into his little office, returning with a small book. “I keep odds and ends jotted down here of the off chance I’ll need them. I’ve got Vera’s number in case I ever had to ring home for her. Easier for me to say she’s working late and not to worry rather than her getting delayed further making the call.”

Patently obvious that Fred was happy to help Miss Brook and probably hoped to get another invitation to the house in Theydon Bois. “Can we make a note of that, please? If we can ring her now and nip over there as soon as possible, it would be very helpful.”

“Feel free, Mr Bowe.”

While Toby wrote the number down, Jonny said, “How ill is Miss Brook’s mother? It might be useful to know so that we don’t go blundering in with our size tens and saying what we shouldn’t.”

“She’s not breathing her last, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Fred, smiling, shook his head. “She’s not gone senile, either. Mind as sharp as a pin and always cheerful, despite the pain and not being able to move as she’d like. The problem is she’s badly crippled with arthritis and so can’t fend for herself for more than a few hours. A neighbour goes in during the day to make sure she’s doing okay when Vera’s here but it’s a burden on her, even if she doesn’t complain, either.”

“You’ve put our minds at rest,” Toby said. And had there been more than a hint in Fred’s reply that he was distinctly taken with both women?

Roger tentatively raised his hand. “Actually, I appreciate I’m the most recent call up to the detection squad, but might I make a suggestion? Rather than one of us ringing Miss Brook out of the blue, could Fred here do it and then introduce both us and our purpose? Surely that would increase our chances of winning her over?”

Fred thought for a moment and then gave a nod. “I think the best plan would be to have Vera talk to Mr Hamilton here, because that’ll send your chances soaring. You’re an actor she has a lot of time for, Mr Hamilton, whereas her mother has a soft spot for you, Mr Bowe. The old woman loves reading her film magazines.”

Alasdair jiggled his eyebrow appropriately. “Does she indeed? We must ensure we make a good impression, then.”

“Yes, don’t let either lady down. Mrs Brook only gets out every couple of months because it’s such a palaver to get her and any transport organised and then the effort takes so much out of the pair of them. Her favourite outing’s being taken to the pictures, so you can imagine how much work that involves. She’s a brave soul, though, and so is her daughter.” Fred, evidently moved, fished out a handkerchief to blow his nose.

Was there an incipient romance going on, perhaps only foiled by Miss Brook’s duty towards her mother, or was Toby reading too much into things? “We’ll have to hope that when you ring they’re not off at a matinee this afternoon.”

“It’d be a rum go if they were out watching your latest, wouldn’t it? When they could have had the real thing on their doorstep, eyebrow and all. Is it really insured or is that just magazine gossip?”

“Absolutely, Fred. If I lost this in an accident, my career would be over.”

Fred, grinning, picked up the telephone receiver and had the call put through.

Toby and the others then had to suffer the inevitable frustration that went with only hearing half of a call, having to guess the other end of the conversation from Fred’s responses and his facial expressions. Initial pleasantries were evidently followed up with a question about why he was calling and his reply—that he had Alasdair Hamilton in his lobby and that the actor was playing at Sherlock Holmes off-screen—was clearly met by disbelief.

“God’s honest truth, Vera. You know from the newspapers how him and Toby Bowe like to do their amateur sleuthing. Well, he’s on a case and needs to speak to you about it.” Fred hastily handed the telephone to Alasdair.

“Miss Brook? Yes, it is me and not one of Fred’s jokes. Oh, does he? Not this time, though. Quite.” Alasdair perched his backside on the desk. “I’m calling to ask if there’s any chance of seeing you today. We have some important questions to ask you regarding an actor who used to work for Landseer.”

Toby resisted mouthing, “She can’t see your eyebrow, no matter how well its’s trying to convey both sincerity and concern, so don’t bother.”

Alasdair continued, oblivious. “No, not that one. You’re right to say he blotted his copybook and yes, he’s long gone form the studio, so he’s of no concern anymore.”

Roger, Jonny and Fred shared puzzled looks. Toby could have guessed who was being referred to but would keep shtum: if they didn’t know already, then best not to enlighten them.

“Indeed, a great relief. This concerns another actor and I—we’d—rather discuss it in private. Yes, that’s Mr Bowe and myself. We can promise you our utmost discretion and that nobody at Herbert and Chapman will come to know about it from us. Fred here isn’t going to blab, either.” There followed a prolonged pause from Alasdair’s side of things, only punctuated with a series of “Hmphms” and nods. “I understand exactly how tricky things are. Nicholas, who used to work with you, mentioned it. We promise we’ll make sure you’re no worse off, should the very worst come to pass. I have Toby’s assurance on that and he's always reliable. Yes, indeed. Dependable and constant offscreen as well as on. Oh, is he? He’ll be pleased to know that. Yes, I’m sure he’d be delighted to oblige. Quite. Now, will this afternoon work?” Another frustrating pause until Alasdair said, “Excellent. We’ll be there as soon as we can, if you could give me the address. Fred, helpful as he is, couldn’t run to that. Yes, I’ll tell him he has a memory like a sieve.”

As soon as the address had been noted and the call ended, Toby leapt in. “It sounds like we were successful, but what was all that about people being delighted to do something?”

“I promised that when we visit this afternoon, you’ll be thrilled to go and chat to old Mrs Brook, while I speak to the daughter, because apparently you’re the old lady’s absolute favourite. She’d be mortified not to have the chance of entertaining you.”

“Does that mean I miss out on Miss Brook’s interview? It hardly seems fair, given that it was my idea all along and I’ve done all the groundwork in order to make it possible.” Toby knew he sounded like a petulant child, but he’d facilitated the brilliant way of ensuring that Vera wasn’t left worse off. “I’m jolly well minded not to tell you the key part of the plan. I’ll whisper it in Vera’s mother’s shell-like, she can reassure her daughter and you can all be left in the dark.”

“Temper, temper. This isn’t the spirit that got you through every time Jerry came over and you had to scramble,” Roger pointed out, with such a huge grin that Toby couldn’t help smiling, too. He was quite right, of course.

“I suppose I can sacrifice my desires in a greater cause but I will insist that someone comes along with me. Jonny, what say you regale the old lady with tales of the aged relative? If she’s a film fan she’d love that. Might be her generation, too.”

“I’ll accept the sacrifice, as well. Although I insist that Alasdair gives us a full briefing afterwards.” Jonny eyed his partner sidelong. “Can Roger go along with him to take note, whether mental or actual? Two sets of eyes and ears are always less likely to miss something.”

“That sounds a splendid idea,” Alasdair said. He turned to Fred. “Miss Brook says I have to upbraid you for not remembering her address. She also still has some reservations about this interview but seems to have been mulling things over these last few weeks. She said she’s had a small crisis of conscience and will welcome getting some things off her chest.”

Fred made a sweeping gesture. “You have my blessing then, gentlemen. Only if you upset her or it ends up that she finds herself out of a job, don’t you dare come back here. I won’t be answerable for my words then and the air will turn seven shades of blue.”

“Message received loud and clear, Fred.” Toby pitied anybody who found themselves on the wrong end of such a tirade. “We’ll treat Miss Brook like the queen herself.”

And hope that she shared the latter’s sense of duty to a higher cause.