Murder at down street st.., p.21
Murder at Down Street Station, page 21
‘We are not having an affair. Like I said, she dossed down on my sofa because she was tired and the bombing was dangerous.’
‘So why did she climb over the wall into the back lane and sneak off?’
‘For the precise reason you just said, to stop people getting the wrong idea. In a way it’s your fault, turning up at six o’clock. If you and Terry had seen her, you would have started asking questions. And Terry might have got the wrong impression.’
‘So you’re saying it’s my fault!’ said Mr Lampson, outraged.
‘Yes,’ said Lampson. ‘She wouldn’t have had to climb over into the back lane if you hadn’t turned up so early.’
‘And that’s what you’re going to say when the school sack her, is it?’
‘I’ll tell them the truth and challenge it.’
Mr Lampson shook his head. ‘That’ll only make it worse.’ He hesitated, then stated flatly, ‘You’ll have to marry her.’
‘Marry her? Because she spent the night on my sofa?’
‘No one will believe that. It’s up to you to do the decent thing. And your mum agrees with me.’
With that, Mr Lampson turned on his heel and marched off.
There was one major topic of conversation over breakfast at Dawlish Hall: why had the Germans decided to bomb the parish hall?
‘I don’t believe they did,’ said Coburg. ‘There are more and more reports of the Germans dumping the remainder of their bomb load before they return home. I think that’s what happened here.’
‘Three hundred and fifty years that parish hall has stood,’ said the angry Magnus.
‘We’ll rebuild it,’ said Malcolm. ‘There are enough good people who’d volunteer their efforts.’
‘And to think we came here to be safe from the bombing,’ sighed Rosa ruefully.
‘Not just the bombing. We also left to get away from that madwoman Bella Wilson,’ Coburg reminded her.
‘It might be better if you stayed here,’ suggested Magnus.
‘No,’ said Rosa firmly. ‘I will not be driven out of my own home by her. I’m not going to let her control my life.’
‘I don’t like to think of you at risk,’ put in Malcolm, concerned.
‘I won’t be,’ Rosa assured him. ‘Edgar can take me to the ambulance station on his way to work. I’m well protected by Doris and Mr Warren and the others while I’m there. And Edgar can pick me up at the ambulance station and run me home. It’ll be a pain, but it’s only till she can be found.’ She looked fondly at her husband. ‘And I have the greatest faith that Edgar will find her.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Monday 6th January 1941
‘Where to, guv? The Yard?’ Lampson asked Coburg as the chief inspector vacated the driver’s place and moved across to the passenger seat, letting his sergeant get behind the steering wheel.
‘No, the Houses of Parliament,’ replied Coburg.
As they drove, he filled in Lampson on his meeting with Pauline Higgins on Saturday afternoon, and her accusations that Bidlow was behind her husband’s murder.
‘She’s hinted that Higgins was blackmailing Bidlow over something, which is why he killed him. Or had him killed. I must admit, I can’t see Bidlow having the guts or the skill to come up behind Higgins unnoticed and put a bullet in his head. So we’re going to put that to Mr Bidlow and see how he reacts.’
‘I can tell you how he’s going to react,’ snorted Lampson. ‘He’ll threaten to sue you.’
‘I’m pretty sure he will, but it’ll be good to rattle his cage. How did the football go on Saturday?’ asked Coburg.
‘We won,’ said Lampson.
‘Excellent!’ said Coburg. Something in his sergeant’s voice made him give him a concerned look. ‘You don’t sound exactly overjoyed,’ he said.
‘Yeh, well, there’s a complication,’ said Lampson reluctantly.
‘What sort of complication?’
Lampson hesitated before replying in an awkward and despondent tone. ‘After the fire-watching on Friday, it was so late that Eve decided to stay at my place.’
‘Oh?’ said Coburg guardedly. He, too, hesitated before saying, ‘It sounds to me like a good step forward.’
‘It was. Is,’ said Lampson. ‘But then my dad turned up at six o’clock the next morning bringing Terry home, before she’d had time to get away. So, to avoid embarrassment, she nipped out the back door into the yard and over the wall into the back lane.’
‘Good move,’ commented Coburg. ‘Unless someone saw her.’
‘Which they did. A real old gossip called Mrs Edgar. Of course, she told someone, and the next minute everyone knows.’
‘Oh dear,’ sympathised Coburg.
‘The trouble is the board at the school is very strong on moral conduct. A teacher spending the night at the house of the father of one of the children in her class is big trouble.’
‘You could always tell them nothing happened. That she slept on the sofa because it was late and too dangerous for her to make her way home with the bombing.’
‘I did,’ groaned Lampson. ‘No one believed me. And Terry got into a fight with Mrs Edgar’s son after he made jokes about me and his teacher.’
‘Worse and worse,’ said Coburg. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lampson helplessly. ‘My dad came round and had a go at me for ruining Eve’s reputation. He reckons I ought to marry her.’
‘Do you want to marry her?’ asked Coburg.
‘I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind,’ said Lampson. ‘But I’m not sure if she feels the same way.’
‘The fact she stayed the night suggests she might not be averse to the idea.’
‘Yeah, but if we did, we’d be getting married for the wrong reason. Because we were forced into it.’
‘Frankly, Ted, I think your dad’s being more than a bit old-fashioned. Downright Victorian. Rosa and I were together for some time before we decided to get married.’
‘Yes, but you upper-class people can get away with it,’ said Lampson. ‘There’s no one more Victorian towards men and women in their attitudes than the English working class. Although if she wasn’t a teacher at Terry’s school, I doubt if anyone would be bothered.’ He sighed heavily. ‘The trouble is, I’m worried she might lose her job over it.’
When they got to the Houses of Parliament, they found Henry Bidlow in his office, going through letters from his constituents that had come in at the weekend.
‘I thought we’d finished our business.’ Bidlow scowled when they entered his office. ‘I’ve told you everything I know.’
‘You have, but some new information has been brought to our attention,’ said Coburg. ‘Was Martin Higgins blackmailing you?’
Bidlow stared at the two detectives, shocked.
‘How dare you?’ he said indignantly. ‘What on earth makes you ask that?’
‘Martin Higgins had told someone he expected a large sum of money from you in exchange for his silence on a certain topic.’
Coburg saw the alarm in Bidlow’s eyes.
‘A certain topic! What certain topic?’ he blustered. ‘I say again, how dare you!’
‘In a murder enquiry, we have a duty to follow up every lead,’ said Coburg.
‘Well, you can ignore that outrageous slander,’ said Bidlow stiffly. ‘I was not being blackmailed by Martin Higgins, or anyone else. I have done nothing that would give anyone cause to attempt to blackmail me.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Coburg as he and Lampson walked down the corridor away from Bidlow’s office.
‘I think he’s guilty as sin,’ said Lampson darkly.
Inside in his office, Bidlow was making a telephone call to the Merrie Tumbler.
‘Is Danny Bell there?’ he asked.
‘Not right now,’ said the voice at the other end. ‘He don’t usually come in till after ten. Who wants him?’
‘Would you tell him that Henry Bidlow, the MP, wishes to see him. I’d be grateful if he could telephone me and we could arrange to meet.’ Bidlow gave the man the telephone number of the Houses of Parliament where he could be contacted and hung up.
Damn Martin Higgins! he thought angrily. This was supposed to be finished. And now there was another dangerous obstacle to be removed.
Coburg and Lampson had barely arrived back in their office at Scotland Yard when the telephone rang.
‘DCI Coburg,’ said Coburg.
‘This is Group Captain Crombie, Chief Inspector,’ came the group captain’s clipped tones. ‘We met when you came to Biggin Hill.’
‘Yes indeed. What can I do for you, Group Captain?’
‘It’s not so much me as for young Colin Upton. You remember you met him when you came to ask about that Russian woman?’
‘I do indeed.’
‘It seems he’s been arrested. I’ve just had a telephone call from a police station in Soho. It seems he threatened a woman with a knife. He claims she stole his wallet. I’m sorry to bother you with this, but we’d be grateful if you could make contact with them, tell them you know Colin and what sort of chap he is. Decent.’
‘I’ll certainly do that, Group Captain. Did you get the name of the officer who contacted you?’
‘It was a Sergeant Reg Dancy.’
Coburg hung up the phone and proceeded to pull on his outdoor coat.
‘That was the group captain at Biggin Hill,’ he told Lampson. ‘Colin Upton’s been arrested for threatening a woman with a knife. He claims she stole his wallet. He’s at Soho police station. Our old friend there, Reg Dancy, made contact with Biggin Hill to let them know.’
‘So it could be that simple after all,’ mused Lampson. ‘It was Upton who did for Svetlana?’
‘I’m reserving judgement,’ said Coburg. ‘But it’s definitely a possibility. But why would he kill her brother?’ He looked at Lampson, who still hadn’t moved from his desk. ‘Soho?’ he asked.
Lampson looked at him awkwardly. ‘Guv, would you mind if I took some time off? I need to sort out this business of Eve, and do it before it gets worse for her. All Somers Town will have been talking about it over the weekend, and she’s in there today facing the kids and the staff. I need to stand by her. Sort it out.’
‘Can you?’ asked Coburg.
‘I can at least try,’ said Lampson. ‘If you’ll let me.’
Coburg nodded. ‘You can take the car, after you’ve dropped me off in Soho.’
‘Thanks, guv,’ said Lampson.
Lampson braced himself to be confronted with accusing and hostile glares when he arrived at the school, but there was no one around in the corridors. All the pupils were in their classrooms with their teachers. Lampson made his way to the office of the headmaster, Jerrold Barnes, and knocked.
‘Come in!’ called Barnes.
Lampson entered and noticed the very wary look Barnes gave him. He knows, he thought.
‘Yes, Mr Lampson?’ said Barnes.
‘Mr Barnes, I need to talk to you. Urgently.’
Barnes continued to regard him warily.
‘If it’s about what I think it is, I agree.’ He gestured at the empty chair on the opposite side of his desk. Lampson sat.
‘What have you heard, Mr Barnes?’ he asked.
‘I’ve been told that Miss Bradley spent the night at your house, and was seen early the following morning climbing over your back wall and moving off in – and I use the word as it was said to me – in a secretive fashion down the back lane.’ He looked sternly at Lampson. ‘Do you have anything to say to that?’
‘I do,’ said Lampson. ‘Yes, it’s true that Miss Bradley stayed the night at my house, but not in the way that’s been suggested. We were fire-watching the previous night, Friday. At midnight our fire-watching shift ended and my father and Andy White took over. The bombs were still falling and at that time of night the buses have stopped, and you can’t get a taxi for love nor money. So I suggested to Miss Bradley that she stayed at my house and slept on the sofa and left for her home in the morning when it would be safer. After she’d considered it, she agreed. But she said she’d have to be up early because my son, Terry, was staying with my parents and they’d be bringing him back, and she didn’t want them to get the wrong impression about our relationship.
‘Unfortunately, my father brought Terry back earlier than I expected. So it was my suggestion that, to avoid them seeing her there, she go out the back way, over the wall and into the back lane. And that’s what she did. But unfortunately, Mrs Edgar saw her and started telling stories about me and Miss Bradley, the wrong stories.
‘Now I’ve been told that because of them she might lose her job. As a policeman I’ve always been taught that people are innocent until it’s proved otherwise. That doesn’t seem to be the case here. Miss Bradley is being found guilty of something she didn’t do by a group of people who are acting like vigilantes, without her being given the chance to tell her side of the story.’ He looked at Barnes. ‘That’s what I’ve come here to say.’
‘Thank you, Mr Lampson. I will admit I’ve heard the story being told. I was accosted by a group of mothers expressing their outrage at what they believed had happened and calling for Miss Bradley’s dismissal. I haven’t had the chance to talk to Miss Bradley about it; I was planning to do that during lunch break. But I will bear in mind what you have told me.’ He looked intently at Lampson and asked, ‘Do you swear that’s what happened?’
‘I do,’ said Lampson.
‘Very well,’ said Barnes. ‘Then I shall let you go about your duties, and I shall go about mine.’
Lampson rose, then asked, ‘Would it be possible for me to have a brief word with Miss Bradley? I just want to reassure her, because she must be very worried at these accusations about her going round.’
Barnes thought it over, then said, ‘Ordinarily, I would say no, because I’d rather hear Miss Bradley’s version of events first. But, on this occasion, I will allow you to talk to her briefly.’ He stood up. ‘I will take charge of her class while you talk to her to ensure the children maintain good order.’
‘Miss Bradley is very good at keeping discipline amongst the children,’ said Lampson as they walked along the corridor.
‘She is,’ agreed Barnes. ‘That’s one reason I’d hate to lose her.’
Barnes knocked at the classroom door and entered. As he did so, the children in the class automatically stood to attention. As Barnes had agreed, Eve had trained her class well in matters of disciplines.
Barnes took charge of the class, and Eve came out to join Lampson in the corridor, pulling the door shut. She looked at Lampson and the sergeant could see the worry on her face.
‘I needed to tell you I’ve squared it with Mr Barnes,’ Lampson told her. ‘I’ve told him you spent the night on the sofa, and that nothing happened between us.’
‘He believed you?’
‘He did. So, bear that in mind when he asks you about the stories. Because he’s going to. A party of outraged mothers went to see him this morning, including, I guess that gossiping old cow, Mrs Edgar.’ He looked at the door of the classroom. ‘We’d better not spend too much time talking. Mr Barnes asked me to keep it brief.’
She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
She was about to open the door and walk back into her class when Lampson stopped her.
‘There was another alternative my dad suggested,’ he said. ‘He told me I ought to make an honest woman of you.’
She looked at him, surprised. ‘Us get married?’
‘My guv’nor, DCI Coburg, suggested that as well.’
She stared at him, wondering what to make of this. Then she said, slightly sarcastically, ‘But you went for this option instead?’
‘I’d be just as happy with us getting married,’ said Lampson. ‘Happier.’
She looked at him, then suddenly laughed. ‘That’s the worst proposal of marriage I’ve ever heard.’
‘Yeah, well, it’s an option,’ said Lampson.
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. And, to his relief, she gave him a warm smile, before rearranging her features into those of a stern schoolmistress, and went back into her classroom.
She’ll think about it, thought Lampson happily as he made for the exit.
Henry Bidlow walked into the Merrie Tumbler and found Danny Bell waiting for him, but today there was no welcoming smile on Bell’s face, just curiosity tinged, it seemed to Bidlow, with a slight annoyance. This was reinforced by the fact that when Bidlow settled himself into the empty chair at the table where Bell was sitting, there was no offer of a drink for him. There was a definite air of wariness on the part of Bell.
‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Bell.’ Bidlow smiled, hoping to reintroduce the warmth he’d felt from Bell last time they’d met.
‘Jerry said you told him it was urgent,’ said Bell, still keeping up the formality.
‘Yes,’ said Bidlow. ‘That man I told you about who was causing me trouble.’
Bell gave a curt nod. ‘Dealt with.’
‘Yes, so I understand, and I am hugely grateful. The problem is that someone else appears to have got involved and is making things difficult for me.’
‘Who is he?’
‘It’s a policeman. A DCI Saxe-Coburg from Scotland Yard.’
Bell held up a hand to silence Bidlow and said in low and definitely menacing tones, ‘I hope you’re not asking me to arrange the demise of a senior Scotland Yard detective. Trust me, if anything of that nature befell someone of the stature of DCI Saxe-Coburg, the whole machinery of the police force would spring into action, and there is a serious risk that anyone undertaking such an act would be caught and hanged. Only a fool or someone with nothing to lose would even consider it.’ He paused, then added, ‘And a person with nothing to lose – for example, someone who’s already dying – would want to receive a very large sum of money to ensure his family were OK. A very large sum of money. Many thousands.’
Bidlow gulped. ‘No, I’m not asking for him to be … er … killed. I was just wondering if there was a way the – er – situation could be handled.’
