‘What a mercy! Tell me, Sergeant. What was the reaction of Miss Bella Pinkus?’
‘She knew nothing until she came looking for Lola, sir. I broke the news to her myself. She refused to believe me at first. Couldn’t see how the trick had worked so perfectly if it killed her sister. I had to show her the body to convince her. She took it well, though. They’re practical people, these theatricals. There’s a streak of toughness about ’em I wouldn’t mind seeing in certain members of the Force, sir.’ Cribb said this with such a bland expression that Jowett could not possibly take issue.
Even so, the inspector rose to take up a stance on the tiger-skin rug in front of the mantelpiece. A sepia photograph of himself in hunting-kit was displayed behind him. Thackeray reflected without much charity that the chair in the picture was identical to one he had seen in a studio in Bayswater.
‘There is one thing that is not entirely clear to me, Sergeant. You implied that the patrons of these midnight performances were influential and wealthy members of London society.’
‘The promenade was like Rotten Row at the height of the season, sir.’
‘Kindly explain to me, in that case, how two common members of the Police Force gained admission.’
‘They made the acquaintance of Mr Plunkett’s daughter, sir,’ said Cribb, as though that explained everything.
‘I see,’ said Jowett, frowning. ‘And you mingled freely with the audience? Both of you?’
Thackeray’s cup and saucer vibrated audibly in his hand.
‘We separated to allay suspicion, sir,’ said Cribb. ‘I found myself a place in the pit. Thackeray was—er—more prominently placed.’
‘Which must account for his being first on the scene when Miss Pinkus was found,’ Jowett observed.
Thackeray nodded vigorously.
‘Well, Sergeant,’ said Jowett, straining to appear casual, ‘I am confident that you can bring this squalid little affair to a summary conclusion. It should not be difficult to establish where Miss Pinkus purchased the means of her self-destruction. It was acid, you say?’
‘Prussic, sir. Just about the deadliest known. There was plenty of it, too. More than half of what was in that tumbler must have been pure acid.’
‘Then we should have no difficulty. No chemist will have sold that amount of acid without making an entry in his poison-book.’
‘I’m having the usual checks made, sir, but I ain’t optimistic. There’s too much of the stuff about already. It’s used on rats, you know. The railway companies fumigate their carriages with it periodically. There’s a devil of a lot of rats in ships’ holds, too. God knows how much acid they use in the Port of London. Plunkett even thought they had a bottle at the Paragon but we haven’t found it. After Tuesday night’s display I can well understand that the hall wants fumigating regular, sir.’
Jowett rapped his pipe several times on the mantelpiece and started digging at the contents with a match-stick. ‘Come, come, Sergeant. That sounds uncommonly like the outpourings one reads in the daily Press from retired schoolmasters who sign themselves “Father of Three Daughters” or “Pure in Heart”. I can’t believe there’s a prude hiding under those side-whiskers of yours.’
Cribb accused of prudery? The sergeant wouldn’t like that at all. Thackeray closed his eyes and waited for the explosion.
‘Far be it from me to encourage wickedness,’ the inspector continued, ‘but Heavens, man, there’s worse sights in London than a few fillies in fleshings. You’re old enough to have done a tour of duty at Kate Hamilton’s in your time, aren’t you?’
Somehow Cribb was keeping himself in check. ‘But I can’t see how that affects these shows at the Paragon. Why, there were people in the audience with names respected throughout the land, sir. Sitting there openly in the company of loose women—expensive courtesans, I admit, but no better for that in my opinion—and watching indecencies no music and dancing licence gives a music hall manager the right to exhibit. I certainly mean to see Plunkett get his deserts, irrespective of Miss Pinkus’s death.’
‘It was an indecent show, sir,’ Thackeray confirmed. ‘We’ll get him under the Police Acts.’
‘And fine him forty shillings for allowing an indecent song to be sung within view of a constable?’ Jowett said scornfully. ‘You can’t hurt Plunkett like that. Let me give you some advice, gentlemen. On Tuesday night you contrived an entrance to an entertainment arranged for a class of audience accustomed to take its pleasures in private. You can be forgiven for mistakenly believing that what you saw might have a corrupting effect upon such people. But you were in no position to judge, nor should you set yourselves up as judges. They live on a different plane from yourselves, gentlemen, or from me.’
‘Are you saying they’re above the Law, sir?’
‘Good gracious, no, Sergeant. But the Law takes account of circumstances, and the circumstances into which you insinuated yourselves last Tuesday were quite foreign to your experience. Such private performances are not unknown in London. The patrons know what to expect when they attend, and we receive no complaints about the nature of the entertainment. If there is anything one learns at the Yard about administering the Law it is the importance of discretion. Discretion, gentlemen, discretion in everything.’
This was orthodox Jowett, now. Cribb passed Thackeray a knowing look, almost a wink. ‘So you’d like us to concentrate our investigations on the death of Miss Pinkus, sir, and exercise our discretion over the matter of the midnight shows?’
The inspector nodded contentedly. ‘Precisely, Sergeant. Devote your energies to the matter in hand. It shouldn’t take you long to discover why she killed herself. There’s a houseful of wagging tongues at Kensington ready to give you information. Gossip is part of the music hall tradition. You’ve already got your statements from the Paragon. No need to waste any more time there, eh?’
Cribb shook his head. ‘Sorry, sir. Location of death. We’ll be returning there, for sure.’
‘Sergeant, Sergeant,’ appealed Jowett, waving his pipe at Cribb, ‘where’s the discretion you agreed to exercise? Mr Plunkett has a reputation to keep up. He doesn’t want detectives blundering about his stage.’
Cribb stood up decisively. ‘If that’s the way you see our work, sir . . .’
‘For God’s sake, Sergeant! Don’t take umbrage, man. We’re all members of the same Force, dammit. Surely we’re not so confoundedly sensitive that we can’t speak a few plain words to each other. I simply suggested that you concentrate your inquiries on Philbeach House and leave Mr Plunkett to—’
‘Continue with his charitable work, sir? Yes, I understand you,’ said Cribb, ‘and if it’s an order you’re giving me to lay off Mr Plunkett I’ll not defy it. But I’d be obliged if you’d give it to me as an order, because I’m apt to take suggestions for what they are, and set ’em aside if I don’t see the logic in ’em.’
Jowett sighed. ‘You’re a difficult man, Cribb. Very well. I order you not to enter the Paragon again without consulting me.’
‘Thank you, sir. And while we’re exchanging plain words I’d like to make it clear that blundering about ain’t an accurate description of the way your officers conduct ’emselves. I’m not sure what prompted that remark, sir, but if it’s Constable Thackeray’s part in last Tuesday’s performance that’s in question I should tell you that I take full responsi- bility. It was immaculate detective work, as discreet as you could wish and deserving of the highest commendation. That’ll be in my report, sir.’
‘I shall look forward to reading it, Sergeant,’ said Jowett icily. ‘The expression I used was a mere form of words. I was trying to see things from the point of view of Mr Plunkett. Nothing personal was intended. I have no more to say to you at this stage.’ He indicated that the interview was over by walking to the window and looking out.