‘Commander Sandilands. CID.’
‘Indeed? How do you do? My name is Arthur as you have heard. Sometimes I’m known, in a jesting way, as King Arthur and this — ’ he waved expansively at the great length of the bridge — ‘is my kingdom.’
‘I had understood that gentlemen of the road were discouraged from taking up residence on His Other Majesty’s bridges,’ said Joe, responding in kind to the thespian flavour of his companion’s language.
‘Indeed. But I am happy to say I am tolerated here. This beautiful bridge — and being a man who appreciates the spare, the classically correct, the understated, I concur with Canova that it is the loveliest in London — is much frequented by tourists. Tourists have money to spend and even to give away and I find them very generous, particularly our American cousins. Very large-hearted. But they despise — and are embarrassed to find themselves despising — beggars. So, I entertain them to earn a copper or two. I tell them the history of the bridge; I identify the buildings to north and south from the dome of St Paul’s to the tower of Big Ben and I accompany my perorations with appropriate verses.’
‘I had marked your facility for poetic effusions,’ said Joe. ‘Look, can we stop all this nonsense, cut the cackle and get down to business?’
Arthur smiled. ‘You may be able to converse in the blunt transatlantic mode of recent fashion but I’m not sure I can change my style for a police interview. Though I will try.’
‘What were you in a previous existence? A schoolmaster? A butler?’
A flash of some emotion lit the old man’s eyes as he replied swiftly, ‘I employed both in my time. No matter.’
He quickened his pace and Joe plodded on, glad of the protection of the police cape as a chill breeze sprang up on nearing the middle. Arthur pointed to the central recess jutting out from the level bed of the nine-arched bridge, on the north-east side facing St Paul’s. Behind them, to the left, the lights of the Savoy Hotel shone out their seductive promise of warmth and comfort, a shimmering mirage when, yards away, under Joe’s feet, separated from them by a low balustrade, coiled the black river that had taken Audrey’s life. Joe hated crossing rivers. They were alive. They had a character, snake-like and sinister, which repelled him. He gripped the granite handrail tightly as they looked over. It eased his vertigo but could not dispel it. As they stood looking down with fascination Big Ben boomed out the twelve strokes of midnight.
‘That’s where she was standing.’
‘And where were you?’
‘There in the next recess. I was bedding down for the night.’ Arthur produced two penny coins from the depths of his hairy overcoat and held them in front of Joe’s face. ‘They can’t move you on if you’ve got visible means of support and twopence will pay for a night’s lodging. I always keep twopence handy.’
‘Very well. Let’s go to your recess then you can tell me what happened. Try to keep it short and clear, will you, Arthur? It’s been a long night already and it’s only just midnight.’
‘So I observe, Commander. Time first. You’ll need to establish the time,’ he began briskly. ‘Accuracy guaranteed by Big Ben over there. The lady came along this side of the bridge about two minutes before a quarter to nine sounded. I approached her and she was kind enough to give me a sixpence from her bag. Yes, she had a bag. It was not found with her body. They rarely are. They get washed away and picked up by mudlarks who do not turn them in. Pretty girl, in a good humour, I’d have said. I thought she might have been on her way to an assignation. She had that look of suppressed excitement about her.’
‘She didn’t strike you as a potential suicide?’
‘No. I would have taken strenuous steps to divert her from her intent, had I suspected that.’
Joe thought an intervention by Arthur might just well have tipped the balance. ‘And then?’
‘She stopped in the central bay and loitered. She looked at the river. She looked up and down the bridge. I assumed she was waiting for someone. As she stood there the nine strokes of the three-quarter hour sounded.’
‘Tell me what the conditions were? Light? Visibility? Were there people about?’
‘The gloomiest moment of the day. Exactly halfway between sunset at eight thirty and lighting-up time half an hour later. There was hardly anyone about. It’s a very still time. A couple passed. They crossed to the other side when they saw me. A few taxis went by. The eight forty-five omnibus clanged past on time. I began to bed down so I couldn’t see her any longer but I could hear.
‘A minute or two after she arrived, she greeted someone and held a brief conversation. A few minutes later, before the hour struck at any rate, I heard a shriek though at the time I thought it was a ship’s hooter and then there was a splash. I got up and looked about me and the bay was empty. The lights were not yet switched on and I could see only a few yards in the poor light. I assumed that she’d met her intended and gone onwards to the Embankment.
‘Just after half past nine o’clock I was disturbed by the river police and I volunteered to go with them to offer my observations. I expect they are also seeking the testimony of the last person to speak to her. The one she appeared to recognize. He passed the time of day with me before he approached her.’
‘Good Lord!’ said Joe. ‘Do you know what you’re saying?’
‘I do. I hope I express myself with clarity.’
‘Who was this man? Can you give me a description?’
‘Nothing easier, Commander!’ The old eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘It was a policeman.’
Chapter Seventeen
Joe fought down his surprise and irritation. He thought he would get the best out of Arthur if he showed a little patience and allowed the man to enjoy his moment in the limelight.
‘A policeman you say you know by sight?’
‘Of course. It was the beat bobby. Charming young chap. Always stops for a word. He’s Constable Horace Smedley and he bears the number 2382 on his collar.’
‘And you gave this information to the river police?’
‘Yes. Observe!’ He pointed to the southern end of the bridge. ‘They are acting on it at last. Do you see the red flashing light? They are signalling to Constable Smedley that there is an emergency. As soon as he sees it he will enter the mysterious confines of the blue box atop of which it glows and pick up the telephone therein. He is being summoned to return at once to the sub-station.’
Joe was annoyed to have police procedure explained to him by a down-and-out but he pressed on, keeping his tone polite. ‘Where may we find you if we need to refer to you again for a testimony, Arthur? Are you always to be found here?’
‘In the daytime hours, yes. At night, if trade has been good, I make my way to a Rowton House. It costs one and sixpence a night or six and sixpence for a week for decent, if plain, accommodation and the opportunity to take a bath.’
Joe was familiar with the excellent hostels for the out-of-pocket dotted around London. ‘And which one do you favour?’ he asked, thinking he could guess the answer.
‘The Bond Street branch, of course,’ said Arthur with a smile.
‘Well, here’s a retainer,’ said Joe, fishing two ten shilling notes out of his inner pocket. ‘I would be most obliged if you would make yourself available to the force by residing in Bond Street for the next fortnight.’
‘It will be my pleasure, Commander,’ said Arthur.
Constable Smedley, Officer 2382, presented himself, breathless, at the sub-station minutes after Joe got back there himself. Intrigued and articulate, he was eager to answer Joe’s questions, and, Joe guessed, to enliven what had been a dull beat.
‘So you passed the time of day with Arthur and moved on down the bridge? Tell me about the lady you observed in the central bay.’
Smedley gave a succinct police-approved, training-manual description of Audrey.
‘Tell me why you approached her.’
‘Always do, sir. Lonely lady. She was looking a bit lost. Always the danger of jumpers from this bridge, sir. It’s a favourite. Whichever side they pick, they go down looking at the best view in the city. And the balustrade’s low. Suicides fell off — sorry! no pun intended, sir — while it was being repaired but they’re back now the scaffolding’s been removed. I can always spot ’em!’