‘So you go back out through the window, parting company with the poker halfway down. .’ Joe hesitated. ‘Then you smarten up, with all the time in the world, in the staff cloakroom and rush about efficiently when called upon later on the discovery of the body. Of course, as it turned out, you didn’t have all the time in the world. You hadn’t bargained for Tilly Westhorpe taking it into her head to pay the Dame an impromptu visit. Very nearly wrecked everything for you, Bill. No wonder you wanted her off the job. Sharp-eyed, saucy young Tilly watching your every move! Playing detective! Nightmare!’
‘You’re doing well, sir,’ said Armitage affably. ‘There’s only one thing wrong with it and I don’t mind mentioning it as I see you’ve clocked it as well. Doesn’t quite make sense, does it? I didn’t kill Dame Beatrice. They’ve paid me for it all right but I had to confess that someone had already done the job for me. She was lying there dead when I went in. Just as you saw her later.’
‘So what happens now, Bill?’ Joe sighed.
For a moment he thought he might have overplayed his role. Indecision from his commanding officer was not what Armitage would have expected. But he seemed to think it a reasonable question in the circumstances and replied with a perceptible relaxation of his taut muscles. ‘Only one thing that can happen, Captain. You say, “Case closed and let’s look forward to working on the next one.” Then I bugger off.’
Joe narrowed his eyes, flinched, exclaimed sharply and examined the end of his cigarette which, unregarded in his absorption with the story, was burning his fingers. Armitage’s eyes followed it. A tap on the door divided his attention for a split second. It was long enough.
‘Come in, Ralph!’ Joe called.
The inspector entered to find Armitage still seated, staring, unbelieving, down the barrel of the Browning Joe was holding steadily in his left hand.
‘Ralph, did you bring them? Good. Cuff him to the chair, will you, and remove his gun. It’ll be on his inside left. Holstered. Try and stay out of range, Ralph — if he moves, I’ll shoot him.’
A pale but defiant Armitage, hands locked behind his back and a further set of handcuffs fastening him to the chair, listened in silence as Inspector Cottingham produced a warrant for his arrest and began to read it out.
‘This is a bloody farce!’ he hissed, exasperated. ‘There’s nothing you’ll be allowed to stick on me. Don’t think it! And I told you,’ he sneered, ‘I didn’t even bloody well do it.’
‘I know you didn’t. Just have a little patience, old chap, and hear the inspector out. He’s about to do you for. . what have we got, Ralph?. . breaking and entering the premises of the Ritz, stealing an emerald necklace, interfering with evidence to a murder, pre- and post-commission obfuscation. . Carry on, Ralph. You read it — I’ll sign it.’
Cottingham, having completed his arrest manoeuvres with professional smoothness, now stood to one side, agitated and questioning. His eyes flicked nervously between the revolver which Joe still held at the ready and its target.
‘He wasn’t armed. Sir! It’s Armitage! He’s one of us!’
‘Was one of us. Technically still is. He goes through the motions, draws the pay, uses the cover but his loyalties are with some other department. Probably under the same roof, though we’ll never know it.’
‘Special Branch?’ asked Cottingham. ‘One of McBrien’s busy boys?’
‘Special? No, I’d have said rather — Extra Special. We’re not allowed even to think about it. A branch of a branch of the Branch, perhaps? A twiglet?’ He composed his features. Mistake to descend to levity. In a voice of purring conspiracy he added, ‘And if I guess rightly, there’ll be several firewalls between the grandee who first murmured from the depths of his leather armchair in a St James’s club that perhaps the Dame had gone too far and the time, sadly, had come. . and, at the end of the line: the finger on the trigger, the hand on the poker.’
Cottingham was uncharacteristically nervous. ‘Dangerous work perhaps, sir, to meddle in matters like this?’
‘Oh, yes! Which is why I’ve taken certain precautions. I sent off this weekend a thick envelope for delivery to my lawyer. In the event of my unforeseen death, the letter will be copied to. . and there follows a list of ten influential people. And, just to be sure, memos have gone to Sir Nevil, the Head of the Branch, the Foreign Secretary, the editor of the Mirror and, perhaps most importantly, to the Leader of His Majesty’s Opposition, to inform them of my insurance policy. A mixed bag of heroes and villains there! Having this in common — none of them will want what I’ve said to become public knowledge. I’ll be roundly cursed in some quarters but — what the hell! — this is England, not bloody Russia!’
He wondered if he’d been melodramatic but Cottingham seemed impressed by the speech.
‘Should have included your resignation with that little lot,’ Armitage growled.
‘But what will happen to him?’
‘Yes, Ralph. I share your concern. The situation is most dangerous for the sergeant. Broken tools get thrown away. If we let him loose on the streets we’d probably find that a passing hackney cab driver would accidentally lose his grip on the wheel with disastrous consequences for the sergeant within the week.’
‘Harsh retribution, sir? Considering you seem to agree with him that his only crime was burglary and tampering with evidence. That’s five years maximum.’
‘It’s just a holding charge, Ralph. He’ll be out of our control — and protection — as soon as his papers reach a certain level. Get your coat and hat. We’ve some ground to cover before he gets released. We’re going to pick up evidence of his other crime and then we’ll have to think about a further warrant. Get on the phone, will you, and whistle up an escort down to the cells?’
Armitage had turned pale and was frustratedly tugging at his handcuffs. He glared in silence as Ralph asked, ‘Other crime, sir? What have you in mind?’
‘The murder of Miss Audrey Blount. Let’s not forget Audrey.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Where are we going, sir?’ Cottingham asked as Joe commandeered a police car and driver.
‘We’re going to pay a call on Armitage senior. According to the file, Bill’s home address is Queen Adelaide Court, just off the Mile End Road beyond Whitechapel. Being unmarried, his next of kin is a Mr Harold Armitage, his father. Retired soldier. Nothing so helpful as a search warrant in our pockets, Ralph, so we’ll just have to charm our way in. And while we go, I’ll fill you in on the latest developments in the Hive you discovered.’
‘What are we hoping to find chez Armitage, sir?’
‘Audrey’s handbag? The negatives? If Armitage is motivated by money he might have kept them back to do a little business on his own account. He claims to be motivated by patriotism but. . I don’t know, Ralph. . I think perhaps financial reward might play a starring role in all this. And let’s not lose sight of that necklace. No information from the usual sources?’
‘None, sir. Usual fences claim no knowledge. Could have gone abroad by now.’
‘Or been hidden until someone thinks we’ve taken our eye off the ball.’
‘But what’s the connection between Audrey and Armitage?’
‘She was prowling the corridors well before the murder — we only have her word that she saw nothing untoward. Did she catch sight of Armitage doing something questionable? Like letting himself into the Dame’s room with a pass key? She needed money in her changed circumstances and I think she was bold enough to attempt a spot of blackmail. She was certainly giving him a close inspection when we interviewed her down in Surrey. I put it down to the sergeant’s charming exterior but I think she very probably recognized him. She’d only have to ring up the Yard and leave a message. He would ring her back and arrange a meeting. The whole murder scene on the bridge has a professional ring to it. The rendezvous was set for exactly the time of poorest visibility. The witness, Arthur, said she turned to greet someone when the beat bobby approached. Wrong chap in fact but she could have been expecting to see a man in uniform.