Swiftly Cottingham cut through the string and peeled back two layers of brown paper. He exclaimed in astonishment when he caught his first glimpse of the contents. Plunging both hands in, he took out and held up to the light a black lace evening dress. A faint trace of the scent of Ivory Snow soap flakes lingered in the delicate fabric. He shook it and two black satin gloves slithered to the ground.
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘What’s it say on the label, Ralph?’ He had a memory of Tilly paying respectful attention to such details in the Dame’s room.
‘Lanvin. Paris.’
Joe fingered the flimsy fabric. ‘Bloody old Bella! If this was caked in blood, and I think we can guess it was Group III, it’s all been washed away. No use to Forensics at all.’
‘What is Armitage doing with a bloodstained dress? Keeping it as evidence? But why, then, wash the best bit of the evidence away? Was he filing it away as insurance? Blackmailing someone? It still makes more sense to leave it caked with blood, surely?’
They were gazing in fascination at Armitage’s secret when Joe’s telephone rang. The duty sergeant was relieved to hear Joe pick up the receiver. ‘She’s been trying for the past two hours, sir,’ he said in a pained voice. ‘It’s a Mrs Benton. Claims to be your sister. Says it’s urgent.’
‘Put her through.’
‘Lydia? Joe here. Got a problem? Can you make it fast? I’m up to my ears here.’
‘Only your ears? Well, lucky old you! I’m in over my head. I went to King’s Hanger this morning as I promised and walked into the most appalling scene. Melisande’s gone mad. Quite mad! She was, according to Dorcas, having a row with Orlando all weekend. He moved out of the house — or she threw him out — and he spent the night in the caravan. She went out early this morning and set the thing on fire. Not a bad move, I’d have thought, but Orlando was in there at the time. He’s all right. Shaken and furious of course but not much damage done — Yallop pulled him out in time. . I see what you mean about Yallop, by the way! Oh my goodness!’
Joe groaned. ‘Lyd, I really can’t look at a domestic problem or even arson at the moment. Has Mrs Joliffe called the local police? That would be the thing to do.’
‘Joe! She’s had enough bad publicity for one week, don’t you think? She’s washed her hands of the whole thing and retreated into her room.’
‘Where are you now, Lydia?’
‘I’m at home. I loaded the children and Melisande into the car and brought them all back with me before worse occurred. Any chance you could come over here and calm them all down? That gallant little Dorcas is quite a trooper but she swears like one too and I’m having to keep my girls out of earshot in the nursery.’
‘I can’t get down before the weekend. Oh, Lydia, I’m sorry to have landed you with this! I’ll do my best to get over the minute I can wrestle down a problem or two I’ve got on my desk. Look, Lyd, I’m going to impose further on you! Can you spare a minute to answer a question?. . The dress label Lanvin. . Expensive? And who would wear and for what occasion a. .’ He studied the dress Ralph was still holding, ‘. . short, lace dress, black, straps at the shoulders, no sleeves and a pair of black satin gloves?’
‘So — they’ve turned up, have they?’
‘Eh? What do you mean, Lydia?’
‘Ah! You hadn’t noticed then? Well, aren’t I clever? I looked at your files on Thursday night and, Joe, there was something missing. Probably something it would take a woman to see. That list of belongings so meticulously put together by your constable — it was quite obviously everything the Dame would need for a two-day stay at the Ritz, down to the last handkerchief. I was curious to know what she was planning to get up to on her second night so I cross-checked with her diary. You didn’t correlate the two, did you?’ Lydia was triumphant.
‘She was booked in for a dinner at the Savoy with an admiral. But, Joe, where on the list was a suitable outfit for a glamorous evening like that? The long formal frock she was wearing for the Ritz party wouldn’t have been quite right and I don’t imagine she’d wear the same thing two nights in succession. There was no second dress, no second pair of gloves listed. But what you’re describing sounds just perfect. Jeanne Lanvin, eh? Discreet but dressy. Quiet elegance. Perfect for the Savoy. Whoever the owner is — and I think I can guess! — she has jolly expensive taste!’
‘Perfect for the Ritz too,’ Joe added silently. ‘God, Lydia! I wish you’d mentioned this earlier!’
‘Ralph! Someone’s been playing Blind Man’s Buff with me all along!’ he exclaimed as he replaced the receiver.
He sank into his chair, head in hands, lost in dark thoughts.
‘You all right, sir?’
‘No. I’m not. I’ve just shaken off the blindfold and got a clear look at the jokers who’ve been spinning me around, tripping me up and walloping me with a pig’s bladder! Trouble is — I can’t see why. Why would they do it? Listen, Ralph and tell me if you think I’m quite barmy. .’
Ralph listened in growing horror and confusion while Joe outlined his theories as to how the murder had been committed.
‘It all holds up, sir, even the poker halfway down the building and the bloodstained dress — balancing each other out, you might say — except for that very fundamental question, why the hell? I acknowledge the Dame could be a most irritating lady but what on earth had she done to bring down such a vicious attack? It does smack of a personal involvement — hatred, revenge, outrage, something of that sort. Which is what you’ve been saying all along. Where’s the link between victim and murderer? Can’t see one! And that story you got out of Armitage? So much misleading blather, I suppose? He never was up on the roof to break in and kill her.’
Cottingham looked sideways at Joe and his eyes widened. ‘Great heavens, man! You never did believe all that Assassination Branch stuff, did you?’
Joe smiled. ‘No, Ralph. Armitage is a good yarn spinner but he doesn’t have the monopoly on blather.’
‘And your “insurance policy” — all those letters to lawyers and various holders of exalted state office?’
‘I was afraid I’d gone a little over the top. Can’t be sure it deceived Armitage. Still, he’s never heard me lie before, he may have been taken in.’
‘I’d say he was, sir. I was. But how did you know he wasn’t what he was implying — a state-paid killer, working alone?’
‘In the later stages of the war I worked in Military Intelligence while I was recovering from a wound. Interrogation. Breaking up spy networks. You learn to be very suspicious of the ones who tell you a story. The genuine undercover men say nothing. They wouldn’t tell you the time from your own watch if you asked nicely in six languages. Armitage could have given Scheherazade a run for her money! He still had something to gain by spinning us another yarn.’
‘But why put his hands up to a crime like this if he didn’t do it? Suicidal, surely?’
‘No. We all know — and most importantly he knows — there’s no way an articulate time-bomb like Armitage is going to be allowed to take centre stage on a very public platform in the witness box at the Old Bailey. His detailed knowledge of the Dame and her doings — and we can guess where he got that from! — and his readiness to share it with the Great British News Readership amounts to his immunity from prosecution. But there’s something more. Two things. We know he’s protecting, for whatever reason, the murderer’s identity but he’s also disguising his own particular crime or crimes.’
‘What? This is a different crime we’re talking about?’ Cottingham was bemused.
‘Yes. He’s an intelligent man, largely self-educated, I’d say, but — educated. He’s also an exceptional fighter. Distinguished record. Had he been born into a higher class of society, Armitage’s talents would have been recognized and valued — he could have been running the British Army in a few years’ time. And he knows that. A proud man. He would go to great lengths to avoid being identified by his commanding officer — and I think he’s always had a grudging respect for me — as no more than a common thief.’