Miranda Emmerson - Miss Treadway & the Field of Stars

At Marble Arch he headed north-west up Edgware Road. Pages from the newspapers blew past him. Cigarette packets, paper bags, the cord from a bundle of Standards . Sussex Gardens flashed by. Sale Place.

On Praed Street Hayes searched the signs above the shops for Cue Club. He found it at last: a little door beside the Classic Cinema marked 5a. Hayes climbed down the unlit wooden stairs.

The club was quiet but not deserted. A man with a quiff stood behind the bar restocking the shelves. On the little stage at one end of the room a boy in T-shirt and jeans sat surrounded by speakers cleaning the jacks of a handful of wires.

In a dark corner of the room a tall, well-built man sat at a wooden table drinking tea with a woman in a coat. He looked over at Hayes as he entered and nodded his head.

‘Can we help you?’ he asked. The woman in the coat turned and stared at Hayes. She was Anna Treadway.

‘I was looking for Count Suckle.’

‘That’d be me. I’m having tea with the young lady. Can you wait? Martin’ll get you a drink.’ Count Suckle – whose real name was Wilbert – nodded towards the bar.

‘Thank you. But I won’t drink, I’m on duty. Are you licensed to serve me at ten past six?’

Wilbert stood and straightened his suit. He approached Barnaby, his hand outstretched, his wide eyes open and intense. ‘Yes, as it happens, we are.’

Hayes took his hand and shook it. ‘Barnaby Hayes. Detective Sergeant. I hope you don’t mind me asking but did the young lady come here to talk about Iolanthe Green?’

Anna stood and faced Hayes. ‘I didn’t want to tread on any toes; I just thought I’d seek out the opinion of someone who knew Roaring Twenties. Because Lanny had been going there. So we were chatting … about clubs and suchlike. Clientele. I mean, she didn’t just vanish, did she?’

‘Have you spoken to anyone else who might be a part of this investigation?’

‘One or two. Duke Vin. Lester Webb. Pete King at Ronnie Scott’s.’

‘When? When have you seen all these people? You said nothing about this at interview.’

‘I only started talking to people today. There seems to be a lack of urgency in this investigation. What if it is murder? What if she’s been kidnapped? What if she’s lying in a hospital somewhere and can’t remember who she is?’

‘But this is a police investigation and you’re not a member of the police. You could be prejudicing the enquiry. You could be putting yourself in danger. You don’t know … I’m sorry – I am sorry – but you have to stop talking to people about this.’

Wilbert had been watching things bubble over with an increasing sense of enjoyment but now he felt the need to interject. ‘Sergeant Hayes, Miss Treadway’s just worried about her friend. She’s doing no harm. Anna, my dear, can I get you a drink on the house? We have a live set starting in an hour. You can stay, listen. Sergeant Hayes, if you want to talk to me I’m here. Let’s talk.’ Wilbert smiled at them both like an indulgent mother then he called over to the man behind the bar. ‘Martin! Get the lady a drink. On us.’

Anna nodded to Count Suckle and – giving Hayes a wide berth – went to take up one of the seats by the bar. As it was she didn’t really want to drink, nor did she particularly want to stay, for she was having one of her antisocial patches. But she couldn’t leave now. Not when Hayes had suggested that that’s what she should do.

‘What’ll it be?’ the barman asked.

‘Single Scotch, thanks.’ Anna watched Hayes as he talked to Count Suckle. There was a lot of serious nodding going on and Count Suckle was struggling to explain something, his hands conjuring in the air between them both.

The Scotch was a little harsh but it did its job; Anna sank lower in her chair. She was vaguely aware that a second person had joined her at the bar but she refused to take her eyes off Sergeant Hayes.

‘Are you here for the band? Or are you with the band?’ Anna looked up to find that a tall, thin black man in a moddish suit was leaning against the bar looking at her. His neatly cut hair held the suggestion of a quiff and he wore thick, dark-rimmed spectacles.

‘Neither,’ she answered, ‘I was speaking with Count Suckle.’

‘And having a drink.’ The man sat down two seats away from her and the barman, Martin, handed him a tall glass of something.

‘Are you a friend of Wilbert, then?’ the man went on, drinking down half his glass in one great gulp. He saw Anna watching him and laughed: ‘It’s Coke. I haven’t got the legs to drink rum like that.’

Anna smiled, embarrassed, aware now that her judgement had been written on her face. ‘I’m not really a friend of Wilbert – is that Count Suckle’s name? I’m more of a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend. I’m asking around because someone I know went missing.’

‘Oh. I’m sorry. Can I help? Would I have seen him? Or her?’

‘It’s Iolanthe Green. The actress. I was her dresser at the theatre and eleven days ago she walked down Charing Cross Road and …’ Anna gestured a little wildly and slopped Scotch down her skirt.

The tall, thin man drew a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it over: ‘It’s clean.’

Anna wiped herself down and replaced her glass on the bar. She handed the man back his handkerchief. ‘Sorry. I don’t drink very often and I’m not very good at it when I do.’

The man laughed and repocketed the damp hanky. ‘My name’s Aloysius. I’m Count Suckle’s accountant. Pleased to meet you.’

Anna shook his hand and as she did so her eyes slid over to the table in the corner where Count Suckle now sat alone.

‘When did the policeman leave? I didn’t see him go.’

‘I’ve no idea. You know, I read about Miss Green in the newspaper. It’s a strange thing. Why d’you think Wilbert knows where she is?’

‘Lanny – Iolanthe – had been going to Roaring Twenties before she disappeared, but when I went and asked the men there, they just didn’t seem to want to answer my questions. And Leo … my boss told me that Count Suckle used to work there and I thought maybe he could help me.’

‘What did Wilbert say?’

‘He said he hadn’t seen her and yes, there were drugs, but he couldn’t imagine her getting herself into much trouble at the Twenties unless it was maybe with a man.’

‘D’you think she ran away?’

‘In a way, I hope she did. Every other possibility just seems so bleak.’ Anna stared at the band setting up on the stage and figured that it was probably time to leave. She felt out of place here and she certainly wouldn’t know what to do with herself at a proper nightclub when the music started and the crowds arrived. She glanced over at Aloysius, who was watching her with a strange and thoughtful expression on his face. ‘I think it’s time I went home,’ she told him and she stood.

Aloysius put out his hand and touched hers briefly. ‘It was nice to meet you, Miss …’

‘Treadway. Anna. I’m sorry. I really need to go. I barely slept last night.’

‘Take care of yourself, Miss Treadway,’ Aloysius called as she disappeared up the stairs.

Outside, Praed Street was bitterly cold. Buses shunted slowly past in a queue of traffic. Anna stared at the bus stops but she didn’t know the routes, and the crowds of people huddling about the shelters put her off. She started to walk towards the Edgware Road with an idea of finding her way home along the least windy thoroughfares.

She stood at the traffic lights at the top of Edgware Road in a crowd of people waiting for the little man in green to appear. Fingers plucked at her shoulder but she pulled herself further inside her coat and ignored them.