‘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.’
It couldn’t possibly be the same girl, Joe decided, as he sat next to Tilly in the taxi. A short, spangled red dress and matching shoes, a black velvet wrap clutched around her scented shoulders, huge eyes and red mouth and a general air of lively anticipation made him wonder. No, not the same girl. But, whoever she was, they made a handsome pair, he thought, not unaware that he always looked his best in evening dress. He nervously adjusted his white tie.
The Haymarket was bustling with motor cars and taxis and all seemed to be heading for the Kit-Cat. One hand lightly on his arm, Tilly watched with an assumed lack of interest but with bated breath as Joe presented his credentials at the door and was hurried through with a warm smile and a wink.
The assault on the senses was overwhelming. Joe stood for a moment, enjoying the loud laughter and bold glances, the whirl of colour against the austere black and white background of the men’s evening dress, the musky hot blend of female sweat overlaid by expensive perfume. And all were moving joyfully to the creamy sounds of a jazz band. They were whisked through the milling guests by a maître d’hôtel who led them out on to the gallery where diners were gathering, drinking cocktails at small tables overlooking the huge dance floor below. The sounds of ‘Whispering’, always the band’s opening number, spiralled up from the stage, lifting Joe’s spirits further. With a rush of pleasure he slipped an arm around Tilly’s slender waist and she raised an excited face to his.
‘Oh, Joe! We’re not too late. Isn’t this wonderful!’
She reached up and kissed his cheek, murmuring, ‘They’re right next to us.’
‘I never like to leave things to chance,’ he murmured back, slipping a folded white banknote into the maître d’hôtel’s discreet hand.
‘Un moment, monsieur.’ Their guide spoke to a couple seated at one of the best tables at the edge of the balcony with a good view of the nine-piece band and the dance floor. With many a gesture he was enquiring whether he might impose on them to share their table with two other guests. . so crowded this evening, you understand. .
Before a refusal could be risked, Tilly had rushed forward with an excited shriek. ‘Joanna! Well, good heavens! Fancy seeing you here! How wonderful! But I hear you’re engaged now?’
‘Oh, Tilly! Do come and sit with us and I’ll introduce you. .’
She seemed all too delighted to have company at her table. Perhaps tête-à-têtes with Monty were beginning to lose their charm?
Joe had to fight back a laugh to hear the innocent little girl’s voice identical to the one Tilly had used on the telephone. Joanna was a knockout. She was slim and dark-haired like Tilly with a short nose and full, pouting lips. Her green, heavy-lidded eyes moved slowly and speculatively over Joe. He felt uneasy with her appraisal and fought down an urge to run a finger around his collar. With a sudden smile, she released him from scrutiny and began to perform the introductions.
‘My fiancé, Sir Montagu Mathurin. .’
‘My friend, Commander Sandilands. .’
Too late, Tilly heard her faux pas. Surprisingly, it was Mathurin who unwittingly rescued the situation. ‘Naval man, eh? Might have guessed! Put your head too close to the boom, hey, what?’ he laughed, looking at Joe’s scarred forehead.
‘Sorry, Joe! I shouldn’t have announced your rank just like that.’ She smiled sweetly at the other two. ‘You know what these war heroes are like! They do so hate to be reminded of it.’
Sir Montagu didn’t appear to Joe to have the slightest knowledge of war heroes or the war. His dissolute good looks were marred by a fleshiness acquired during a life of moneyed indolence. His thick black hair was swept off his forehead and plastered to his scalp with brilliantine. The dark eyes were bright and, set in a less bloated face, would have been handsome.