The Bee's Kiss(98)

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.’

‘A what!’

‘A thief, Ralph. He was up on that roof that night to do exactly what he did – steal a jewel or two. What better cover for his activities? Sent in as uniformed security, if he’s observed observing – well, good man, he’s doing his job, isn’t he? I don’t believe he’s the only nimble gent on the rooftops of London but he’s one of them. I checked his work record. Several spells of duty at grand hotels. Overtime willingly undertaken. Far too bright to queer his pitch by nicking stuff on his own watch but he was able to do his reconnoitring at leisure. Robberies Section were able to provide me with some interesting dates on these. A carefully irregular pattern, but a pattern, of thefts following on Armitage’s overtime stints. A week, a fortnight, sometimes a month later. No one would have spotted the connection.’

‘But he was breaking his routine that night at the Ritz?’

‘A last flourish? Couldn’t resist those emeralds? Any thief knows the best moment to grab the goodies is when a single lady, travelling without her maid, retires to her room, tired, intoxicated even, chucks her jewellery on to the dressing table and heads for the bathroom. Just too tempting! Probably planning to do a runner by then anyway.

‘If all had gone according to plan, he’d have unlocked the window while on patrol and later, when she went to her room, he would have climbed up intending to watch through the window for the moment when she went into the bathroom. He’d have let himself in quietly and, just as quietly, left. By the time she raised the alarm – which might well have been the next morning – it would have been put down to her own carelessness.