The Bee's Kiss(71)

‘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!’

‘And you took this lady for a potential suicide, did you?’

The constable considered this. ‘Well, obviously I got it wrong . . . but no . . . she can’t have struck me as such because I let her be and passed on. She greeted me with a smile and some words . . . “Oh, there you are” or something like that as though she was expecting to see someone she knew. Then, realizing her mistake, she fumbled about a bit in her pocket and took out a calling card and looked at it. Checking the details. Even looked at her watch. A bit of pantomime, I thought. Establishing her bona fides on the bridge. For a suicide she was a damn good actress, sir.’