David Dickinson - Death Comes to the Ballets Russes

‘They are all like gossamer, my friend, one puff would blow them all away.’

‘I have come with some intelligence that may help you in your cause, but I must tell you that it too is like gossamer waiting for that one puff.’

‘There must be affairs of state involved, Rosebery, if you are coming to me with Delphic warnings like the Oracle.’

‘I’ve always fancied the role of Delphic oracle myself,’ Rosebery smiled. ‘All those potions, all those desperate people coming to you for guidance and then the business of composing the riddle. You and I could have been rather good at riddles, Powerscourt; we could have been sitting there for hours talking nonsense while we worked them out.’

‘We are, alas, in Markham Square, not on the mountainside at Delphi.’

‘We are, that’s true. Let me tell you a secret. Sometimes, if you have held my positions, those in the secret world — the diplomats, the spies, the people opening other people’s mail — keep in touch with you. Sometimes it is for us elders to tell them that they have not gone mad. Sometimes it is for us to tell them they have gone mad. Sometimes it is to tell them that such and such an outcome is almost impossible. They only consult us when they feel the need for an outside eye, a final port of call before the Prime Minister.’

‘This is all rather serious, Rosebery. Are you trying to tell me that the Ballets Russes may be involved in some diplomatic incident?’

‘It could be. All I can tell you today is to watch your step. You may soon be embroiled in deeper waters than you bargained for when you took on this case.’

‘Is that all you can say? I ought to watch my step? There is a killer on the loose out there, Rosebery: I am quite careful with my step already.’

‘I have already said more than I should, my friend. If I have some more definitive news, I shall come straight over. I am staying in town for the present.’

‘So you come to me, if you like, saying that you have received some form of Delphic message that you cannot yet decipher? Is that it?’

‘You could put it like that. When I hear about your need to trust in your wooden walls, or that the bull from the sea is coming at the time of the crescent moon, I shall let you know.’

Inspector Dutfield brought some ballet news to Markham Square later that afternoon.

‘It’s our friend Bolm, my lord. Or maybe he’s not our friend after all. Twice in the last twenty-four hours he has gone up to my men who were following him and swore at them violently in French, or it might have been Russian. Detective Constables do not have to take any exams in foreign languages just yet. Then he spat on the ground. Maybe they’ll get the evil eye next.’

‘Where did this happen? It’s certainly odd, Inspector, is it not?’

‘Once near the front of the opera house, and once on the way out of the chess club. He should have been in a good mood then, for my man asked afterwards about the results of his last match. The manager said he’d beaten a man he usually lost to. And in less than fifteen minutes.’

‘What do you suggest we do about it, Inspector?’

‘I’ve changed the men over, my lord. There’s a whole new detachment looking after Bolm now. It implies he’s jumpy, but about what?’

‘Or about whom? Why should he get jumpy about a couple of English policemen?’

‘The only crimes such people would be interested in are crimes committed here. That would suggest that he’s jumpy about the murder. Of course, you could say he would be quite right to be jumpy about the affair in Covent Garden. He could have been the victim after all. But why now? Why not before?’

Inspector Dutfield was fiddling about in his notebook. ‘I don’t know. We shall just have to keep looking, I suppose.’

‘Well, could you send my thanks and my best wishes to the two officers who received the treatment,’ said Powerscourt.

As Inspector Dutfield departed for his duties, Powerscourt wondered if Alfred Bolm too might have had a message from the Delphic oracle. He wondered if the oracle might be an occasional visitor to the chess club.

Natasha Shaporova was deep into the family thickets of the Rostovs in War and Peace . The idea came to her from out of the blue. She hadn’t gone looking for it. It just popped into her head. They couldn’t all have missed it, the Taneyev family back there in St Petersburg, the Powerscourts in Markham Square, the English police. She thought about it from every angle she knew. Her train was slowing down for a change at Cologne. She checked her timetable. She should have over an hour to spare before the train made its connections and moved off. She shot into the telegraph office and sent a brief message to Powerscourt.

‘Did Alexander Taneyev keep a diary? Regards Natasha. Cologne Station.’

Two senior porters had left their employment at the Premier Hotel, scene of the theft of Anastasia’s jewel money. They had both been there for a number of years. Martin Magee and James Harding were reported to have been looking happy and confident before their departure. They had departed with such of their belongings that they kept on the premises.

This was the news that brought Inspector Dutfield hurrying round to Chelsea. ‘They didn’t bother to give notice,’ he reported. ‘They both seem to have left their lodgings in a hurry too. They paid up, mind you, for the remainder of their time before they left. Their landladies said they were both model guests in their establishments.’

‘How long between their departure and your realizing that they had gone?’ asked Powerscourt.

‘It must have been a couple of days. We were trying to search the hotel to see if the money had been hidden away on the premises. Have you ever tried searching a hotel and its bedrooms, Lord Powerscourt? The guests were not cooperative at all. Two Americans threatened to call the police until we reassured them that we really were the police, if you see what I mean.’

‘Will you call off the search, Inspector?’

‘No, we’ll have to carry on. There’s no proof that they left with the money. Luckily we were able to get very good descriptions of the pair. Every policeman in London will be on the lookout for them soon. If that brings no answers, we’ll circulate them round the country, concentrating on railway stations and ports. They could be on the Continent by now, my lord.’

‘Where they could change the stolen money into foreign currency and nobody would be the wiser.’

‘Absolutely correct. Our friend Killick didn’t take the numbers of the notes, he didn’t have time. I think I shall have to call in Mr George Smythe again, though I’ve always felt he was telling the truth.’

Inspector Dutfield began polishing his glasses with a fresh handkerchief. ‘You’ve never really felt the robbery of the jewel money had anything to do with the murders, my lord, have you?’

‘No, I haven’t. And these revelations don’t make me change my mind. Somebody had obviously stolen the jewels in St Petersburg and found they would be easily traced. So they transferred the deal to London to get the money.’

There was a knock and a cough at the door. It was Rhys, the Powerscourt butler-cum-chauffeur who always coughed before he came into a room.

‘Telegram, my lord,’ he announced. ‘From Cologne Railway Station, my lord. I thought it might be important. For you, my lord.’

Rhys handed it over. Powerscourt read it aloud. ‘Did Alexander Taneyev keep a diary? Regards Natasha. Cologne Station.’

‘Good God!’ said Powerscourt. ‘We’ve never thought of that. Not one of us. Do you know if he kept a diary, Inspector?’

‘Well no, my lord. We’ve concentrated our search on letters rather than diaries.’