‘It’s not here.’
‘Not here?’ Joe hoped he didn’t sound too anxious.
‘No. It’s over the court at his aunty Bella’s. Half a mo. I’ll give her a yell and tell her you’ve come for it.’
A ritual exchange of hallooing and bellowing went on from the doorstep and their safe passage across no man’s land was negotiated. With handshakes all round, they wound their way through the washing lines to a similar house opposite. Predictably this was ‘Daisy Villa’.
‘You’ve come for it, then?’ said Bella, a buxom woman with frizzy hair, a gap-toothed smile and large red hands. ‘Hang on, I’ll get it.’ She disappeared for a moment, leaving them on the doorstep.
‘Not the nicest job I’ve ever had from Bill,’ she said cheerfully, handing them a parcel done up in brown paper and tied with string. ‘In fact, that were right nasty! “Wash it carefully,” he said. “You sure that’s what you want?” I says. “I mean, I don’t want to go washing evidence down the plughole, do I? You can get into trouble that way.” “Just you wash it,” he says. “Careful, mind! None of your carbolic and pack it up neat for me. Keep safe till required.” He often asks me to keep things for him. I splashed out on a box of Ivory Snow soap flakes. Cost me eightpence! Hope that was all right?’
‘Quite all right. Quite all right,’ said Joe. ‘Well done, Bella. Now, here’s half a crown for your trouble and we’ll be off.’
They regained their car and settled in the back, Cottingham clutching the parcel on his knee.
‘Well, we broke no rules at least,’ said Joe. ‘It was freely handed over to us, whatever it is!’
Cottingham squeezed it gently, held it to his ear and shook it. ‘It’s not a handbag. It’s soft, squashy and soundless. When shall we open it?’
‘As soon as we’re unobserved. Lord knows what might come spilling out to embarrass us. But tell me, Ralph, what was that card you found on the mantelpiece? A pawn ticket? That would be useful!’
‘No. Bit of a puzzle that. It was a steamship ticket. It was a booking for a passage from Southampton to New York on board the Mauretania. It’s this Friday’s sailing. Two passengers, sir. Travelling in one first class cabin.’
‘Ah,’ said Joe. ‘Bill’s going to be very upset to miss the boat.’
‘Do you think this might be the reward for services rendered? No financial record to be traced and your instrument is shipped off out of the way. Perhaps this is how it happens nowadays? One shot and throw away, like razor blades. Disposable assassin? Seems a waste of a very particular talent. I wonder who else is going to be disappointed, sir?’
‘Well, his father . . .’
‘. . . is expecting to pay a visit to Harley Street at the end of May. Poor old sod! I wonder who Bill was intending to share his palatial accommodation with? And why he would draw attention to himself by booking first class. I’d have gone second.’
‘It’s not so special any more, Ralph. Since it was refitted they’ve got more first class cabins than second on that boat. Over five hundred. Easier to get one at short notice? I expect the second class get snapped up quickly. Be interesting to find out where the cash has come from. Must have been saving up his ill-gotten earnings for years, I’d guess. And now he’s restarting his life in the style he means to adopt in the New World.’
‘Perhaps his travelling companion is someone who insists on nothing but the best, sir?’ suggested Cottingham. ‘Oh, by the way, I managed to give the cape a frisking while you and the old man were shouting to Bella. Nothing in the pockets. Not so much as a cigarette paper. But there was something – I turned the pockets out and, not easy to see, the lining being navy, but there was a large dark stain in the right-hand one. No smell. I assume it had been scrubbed out, but you know what bloodstains are – the devil to get out completely.’
Asking Charlie to make sure they were not disturbed, they went into Joe’s office and closed the door. They stood over his desk, the package in the centre between them. ‘Will you do the honours?’ said Joe, offering a penknife.
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.