The Bee's Kiss(48)
‘A naval man?’ mused Armitage. ‘One accustomed to climbing rigging, I wonder? With a good head for heights?’
‘I don’t believe rigging features strongly in the modern ship,’ said Tilly. ‘All that went out with Trafalgar, surely? But it’s a thought. He’s definitely worth investigating, sir, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Certainly would. I’ve got him booked in at the Yard for tomorrow morning at nine o’clock sharp,’ said Joe. ‘He’s the blighter, according to Inspector Cottingham, who informed the press of last night’s occurrence. Audrey wouldn’t, perhaps, be aware that this gentleman is now working as a night porter at the Ritz?’
Armitage turned to Tilly with a broad smile. ‘That’s why he’s a Commander, miss!’ he said.
‘Tell me, Tilly,’ said Joe, ‘you mentioned your readings just now of the works of Dr Henry Havelock Ellis. I’m intrigued! His books are available legally only to the medical profession – and the odd policeman who has a professional need for clarification and enlightenment on a murky subject. I had a particularly distressing case two years ago where information of this nature was vital to my understanding of the crimes committed. I had the devil of a job to get my hands on the books. How come you managed it?’
He turned to see Tilly blushing. ‘Nothing underhand, I assure you, sir. I haven’t broken any law! My uncle, my father’s brother, died last year. He was a doctor and left an extensive library. I offered to catalogue it and prepare it for sale. It contained a collection of Dr Ellis’s works.’
‘Ah. Sexual Inversion? Erotic Rights of Women?’
‘Those, among others, featured in the collection, sir. I have to say, they have provided a useful theoretical framework to the practical aspects of my work. In my duties at the railway stations and public parks, I witness and, indeed, have to deal with displays of aberrant human behaviour which would be inexplicable without some guidance.’
Armitage grunted. ‘I could have written a book by the time I was fourteen! And all researched within ten yards of Queen Adelaide Court off the Mile End Road. Mind – we didn’t go in for any of that trans-what’s-it and inversion stuff you’re talking about!’
Joe smiled. ‘Those chapters’ll be reserved for the nobs, I expect,’ he said. If they’d been alone he would have reminded the sergeant of the additional research done in France. There was no doubt that having a woman aboard, however bright and effective she was, changed the atmosphere. He was immediately ashamed of the thought.
‘I’ll need time to sort through this lucky dip,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m going to close my eyes and ponder it. Look – let me know when we’re getting into town, will you, Bill, and you can drop me off at Hyde Park Corner. I’m going to my club and I can walk from there. And why don’t you continue up Park Lane and deliver Tilly safely home, then drive to the Yard and leave the car there? I can take a cab in the morning. And I’d like to see you both in my office at . . . shall we say midday? You are both clear about what you have to do tomorrow?’
‘Yessir.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Joe pulled his hat down over his eyes and nodded off.
It was twilight when he stepped from the car and watched it draw away to the north. When it was out of sight he turned his back on Piccadilly and St James’s which would have led him to his club and started out in the opposite direction. After five minutes’ brisk walk down Knightsbridge he turned off to his left and entered a small square of neat Victorian houses, secluded from the road by banks of thick greenery. The lamps had just been lit and Joe walked quietly along, avoiding the pools of light they created. He reached the house he was looking for and paused in a patch of thick gloom on the pavement opposite, watching.
A casual observer would have assumed that a party of some kind was breaking up early. Taxis were drawing up, a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce purred away from the kerb. A couple, chattering excitedly, climbed into their parked Dodge and set off in fits and starts. A weeping lady being comforted by two escorts was handed, unseeing, into a taxi. Strange guest-list! Joe counted eight people. Some were in an emotional condition, distraught or openly in tears, some were exclaiming and gesticulating. Joe waited until the last motor car had pulled away then he crossed the road and walked quietly up the secluded drive and tugged at the bell-pull.
The door was opened at once by a maid in ribboned cap. Joe stepped inside and handed her his hat. ‘No need to announce me, Alice,’ he said, making for the drawing room.