Ngaio Marsh - Artists in Crime

“How d’you mean?”

“I think I may as well tell you that we know she got a hundred pounds from Mr. Basil Pilgrim.”

“Did he tell you?”

“Yes. Was that the plan you refer to in this letter?”

“Since you’re asking, Mr. Clever, it was. Pilgrim’d had his fun and Sonia didn’t see why he shouldn’t pay for it.”

“But the child was not Pilgrim’s?”

“Oh no, dear, but for all he knew— ”

“Yes, I see. She said she’d go to his father if he didn’t pay up. Was that it?”

“That was the big idea. Or to his girl. Sonia told me this boy Basil is a bit silly. You know — one of the purity song and dance experts. He must be a bit soft, from what she told me. Said his feeongsay thought he was as pure as her. Soft music and tears in the voice. Sonia said it was a big laugh, anyway, because the girl’s not so very very ongenoo either. Anyway, Basil was all worked up and gave Sonia the cheque.”

“What did she do with his cheque?”

“Oh, she cashed it and gave the money to Garcia, dear. What do you know about that? Could you beat it? I told her she was crazy. On Saturday when she was here I said: ‘Well, did it all go big?’ and she said this boy Basil came in on his cue all right, but she’d handed the money to Garcia and asked him if they couldn’t get married straight away. And Garcia started his funny business. He said a hundred quid wasn’t enough to marry with.”

“Hadn’t she got anything out of Malmsley?”

“Listen, Mr. Blake, aren’t you wonderful? How did you get on to the Marmalade stuff?”

Alleyn folded his arms and raised his eyebrows.

“ ‘I have my methods,’ said the great sleuth.”

“Well, of course!” exclaimed Miss O’Dawne, greatly diverted. “Aren’t you a yell!”

“Please tell me,” said Alleyn. “What happened when she offered to sell Malmsley his own book?”

“He wouldn’t give more than five pounds, dear, and Sonia stuck out for twenty. Well, I mean to say, what’s five pounds to a girl in her condition? So she said she’d give him the week-end to think it over. She didn’t mind waiting. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t got—” Miss O’Dawne stopped short, gave Alleyn another of her sharp glances and lit a cigarette.

“Hadn’t got what?” asked Alleyn.

“Look here — you’re asking a lot of questions, aren’t you, dear? Keep forgetting you’re a bobby with all this upstage-and-county manners of yours. What’s wrong with a girl getting her own back like Sonia did?”

“Well, it was blackmail, you know.”

“Was it? Isn’t that a pity, I don’t suppose. Have some more coffee?”

“Thank you, it’s extremely good.”

“That’s right. I say, it’s all very funny us talking away sort of cosy like this, but when I think of Sonia — honest, I am upset, you know. You have to keep on cracking hardy, but just the same it’s a swine, isn’t it? You know what I mean. Help yourself to shoog. No, reely, I am upset.”

“I’m quite sure you are.”

“Look, Roddy. You don’t mind me calling you Roddy, do you?”

“I’m delighted,” said Alleyn.

“Well, look, if what Sonia did was blackmail, I don’t want to let everybody know the dirt about her after she’s gone. Don’t sling off at the dead’s what I’ve always said, because they can’t come in on the cross-talk and score the laughs where they are. See? You’ve got on to the Garcia-Pilgrim-Malmsley tale. All right! That’s your luck or your great big talent. But I’m not in on this scene. See?”

“Yes, I do see. But you don’t want her murderer to get off, do you?”

“Do I look funny?”

“Very well, then. I’m afraid the blackmail is bound to come out in evidence. You can’t stop that, and won’t you help us? Won’t you tell me anything you know that may throw a little light on the tragedy of her death? There is something more, I’m sure. Isn’t there?”

“Do you mean the joke with the picture of Basil’s girl?”

“No,” said Alleyn.

“D’you know about that?”

“Yes.”

‘Well, then!”

“Is there anything else about the Pilgrim stunt? Did she threaten to take any further steps?”

“With Pilgrim?” Miss O’Dawne’s sharp eyes looked thoughtfully at Alleyn. “No. She didn’t. She’d done her stuff with the Hon. Bas. Mine’s a Bass, I don’t suppose.”

“Well then, had Garcia any more tricks up his sleeve?”

Miss O’Dawne twisted her fingers together. “She’s frightened about something,” thought Alleyn.

“If you know anything more about Garcia,” he said, “I do beg of you to tell me what it is?”

“Yeah? And get a permanent shop where Sonia’s gone? It’s no good, dear, I’m not in on this act.”

“I promise you that no harm— ”

“No, dear, there’s nothing doing. I don’t know anything that you haven’t found out.”

“Was Garcia off on a separate line?”

“You go for Garcia,” said Miss O’Dawne. “That’s all I’m going to say. Go for Garcia. Have you arrested him?”

“No. He’s gone on a walking tour.”

“Well, that’s a scream — I bloody well don’t think. Pardon my refinement,” said Miss O’Dawne.

Alleyn cursed himself secretly and heartily for that unlucky word “blackmail.” Miss Bobbie O’Dawne refused, pointblank, to give him any further information that might possibly come under that heading. He seemed to have come up against a tenet. If Sonia had committed blackmail and Sonia was dead, Bobbie O’Dawne wasn’t going to give her away. However, she told him quite willingly how Sonia had spent the week-end, and pretty well proved that Sonia could not possibly have gone down to Tatler’s End House between Friday and Monday. With this Alleyn had to be content. He thanked his hostess and promised to go and see her show.

“That’s right, dear, you come along. It’s a bright show. I don’t have much to do, you know. I hope you don’t think any the worse of me for minding my own business about Sonia?”

“No. But if it comes to — well — if it comes to the arrest of an innocent person and you know you could save them, what would you do then?”

“Garcia’s not innocent, dear, not so’s you’d notice it.”

“It might not be Garcia.”

“Come off it. Listen. Do you know Garcia told the poor kid that if she let on to anybody that the child was his, he’d do for her? Now! She told me that herself. She was dead scared I’d forget and let something out. She made me swear I wouldn’t. She said he’d do for both of us if we talked. Isn’t that good enough?”

“It’s sufficiently startling,” said Alleyn. “Well, I suppose I’d better be off. I do ask you, very seriously, Miss O’Dawne, to think over what I have said. There is more than one kind of loyalty, you know.”

“I wouldn’t have said a thing about the kid if I didn’t know you’d find out. Anyway, that’s the sort of thing that might happen to any girl. But I’m not going to do the dirty and have them calling her criminal names, and it’s no good asking me to. Are you going, dear? Well, so long. See you some more.”

“Suppose I sent a man along from one of the evening papers, would you care to give him an interview?”

“Who, me? Well, I don’t pretend a bit of publicity doesn’t help you in the business,” said Miss O’Dawne honestly. “D’you mean the ‘Sonia Gluck as I knew her’ gag?”

“Something like that.”

“With perhaps my picture along of hers? I’ve got a nice picture of Sonia. You know — wound up in georgette with the light behind her. Very nice. Well, as long as they don’t want the dirt about her, I wouldn’t mind the ad., dear. You know. It sounds hard, but it’s a hard old world.”