Peter Lovesey - Abracadaver

‘Readily available. The room wasn’t locked.’ The Major handed the bottle to Cribb. ‘Scrutinise it carefully, Sergeant. Do you notice the lines that have formed on the inside, showing the various levels of the acid as it was used? Do you see how clear the glass is between the last mark and the small amount remaining? Must be three inches at least. That indicates to me that the last person to take acid from that bottle took a deuced large amount. I think this may be important evidence. Don’t you agree?’

‘It’s a valuable find, Major,’ said Cribb, ‘and I’d like to express my gratitude to you for handing it over to the proper authorities in this way. We’ll get someone at the Yard to test your theories about the encrustment on the inside. You’ve a decent-sized overcoat pocket, there, Thackeray. See if you can get it inside, will you? Did you pick up any other evidence, Major?’

If the Major had, he was not saying so.

‘In that case, let’s plan our troop emplacements,’ continued Cribb, his object achieved. ‘We’ll use this halfpenny for Philbeach House. It seems to me that there are two points at which we should concentrate our forces.’ He tapped the halfpenny and one of the champagne corks. ‘Mrs Body’s establishment, and Mr Plunkett’s. Any comments, Major?’

‘Seems reasonable,’ said the Major, with a sniff.

‘Good. Now it’s sound strategy, I suggest, to dispose our forces according to the platoon strength. Wouldn’t you agree, Major?’

A nod from the Major.

‘So that the platoon with the greater number of personnel concentrates on the point on the map where the enemy are ranged in the greater strength.’ Cribb tapped the halfpenny again.

‘You and the constable go to Philbeach House. I take the Paragon,’ said the Major.

‘Thank you, sir. That’s a handsome offer,’ said Cribb, tucking the swagger-stick under his arm-pit. ‘We’re all in agreement, then. Any questions, gentlemen?’

‘Yes,’ said the Major. ‘What shall I say to Plunkett?’

Cribb locked his hands behind his back and patrolled his side of the table, about-turning each time he reached the corner. It seemed to Thackeray that he was enjoying himself. ‘It’s the devil of an assignment, I know, Major, but I think you’re the only man who can handle it. We need to discover whether there can possibly have been a reason for Plunkett murdering Miss Pinkus. Blackmail seems the likeliest motive, but we need facts. I suppose we can’t rule out passion either. Unrequited love—’

‘But you don’t think Plunkett did it himself?’ said the Major. ‘It’s obvious who murdered Miss Pinkus.’

‘Who’s that?’

‘Mrs Body. Dammit, Sergeant, she had her husband’s bottle of acid to hand. She detested Lola Pinkus; the girl was making life impossible at Philbeach House. Didn’t you talk to Mrs Body? There were dreadful scenes. Open fights on occasions. Lola made trouble whenever she could, insulting the ladies and flirting with the men. She even set out to seduce poor old Virgo out of sheer malice—you know Mrs Body’s sweet on Virgo, don’t you?’

‘No,’ said Cribb. ‘I didn’t think Mrs B. was more partial to one man than any other.’

‘Ah, there’s a type she goes for,’ said the Major affirmatively. ‘She picks out the fellows with an obvious weakness, like an old lioness at the water-hole looking for a lame buffalo.’

Cribb shot a menacing look in Thackeray’s direction, almost daring him to infer anything from the Major’s remark. ‘I suppose you mean that her late husband couldn’t see without his spectacles and Professor Virgo has a stammer.’

‘Exactly,’ said Major Chick. ‘She wasn’t very interested in me when I tried the sentimental approach yesterday afternoon. Had to drink myself into a stupor before she’d even let me sit in her confounded box. It’s the runt of the litter that lady fancies, I can tell you.’

‘You were telling us why you suspect her,’ Cribb reminded him acidly. ‘You think she was jealous of Lola’s friendship with Professor Virgo.’

‘Lola did it out of spite, of course,’ said the Major. ‘She wasn’t a bit interested in Virgo. Young Bellotti was far more attractive to a girl like that, but, you know, she took an impish pleasure in jilting him for the older man. She was tormenting Bellotti and Mrs Body at the same time, you see. Hussy like that doesn’t get much sympathy from me when someone feeds poison to her.’

‘How did Mrs Body manage to administer the poison when she wasn’t even at the Paragon?’ said Cribb.

‘How do you know she wasn’t there, Sergeant? You’ve got her word for it, and that’s all. Everyone else was there, so there was nobody to provide an alibi for her at Philbeach House. I think she saw the others off in the bus and then took a cab to the theatre herself. She knew the order of the acts as well as Plunkett himself, so it was easy to judge the moment to transfer the acid to the tumbler. Poison’s a woman’s way, Sergeant.’

‘I could name you a dozen men who swung for using it, Major,’ said Cribb.

‘Well, that’s my opinion, blast it. Crime of passion. Why, you can’t deny that Virgo’s act was chosen for the murder. That’s significant, in my view. Like taking revenge at the moment of unfaithfulness. These theatrical wallahs are apt to arrange things with an eye to dramatic effect, you know. That’s their weakness.’

For a second, Cribb eyed the Major, standing over his map with the lamplight accentuating his features, like a tableau of Wellington on the eve of Waterloo. He passed no comment.

‘All right, Sergeant. In spite of all my theories, you still want me to question Plunkett,’ said the Major, in a resigned tone.

‘You’re quite a mind-reader, sir. Yes, it’s a plausible case you’ve made out against Mrs Body, and you may be sure Thackeray and I will put some strong questions to the lady. I still want to know about Plunkett and his possible links with Miss Pinkus though. You’ll have to put your questions delicately, of course.’

‘I’ll do the best I can. Shall I say I’m from the Yard? He doesn’t know me, you see.’

‘Better not, sir,’ said Cribb hastily. ‘It’s never advisable to impersonate the police. I think you’ll find him quite talkative if you lead him to believe you’re acting in a legal capacity, trying to establish the beneficiaries of Miss Pinkus’s estate.’

‘Did she have one?’

‘I doubt it, sir, but money talks with Mr Plunkett. He’ll be ready to believe she left a fortune if you hint at it.’

‘You’re a shrewd old devil, Sergeant.’

‘Thank you, Major. It’s time we started though. May we rendezvous here again at two? Thank you. Thackeray, sound the advance, will you?’

CHAPTER

15

THACKERAY WAS DUMBFOUNDED. NOT by the deception Cribb had practised on Major Chick; it was obvious (to a man of Thackeray’s insight) that the elaborate charade in the Major’s rooms was staged solely to get the Major to the Paragon. No surprise at all that when the Major had marched away on his mission and been swallowed by the fog, Cribb suggested a glass of ale at the nearest pub. And really to be expected that Cribb should then announce he had no intention of spending the rest of the morning at Philbeach House. Nor did Thackeray turn a whisker when the sergeant plunged into a two hour analysis of the whole inquiry, event by event, culminating, several glasses later, in a review of the murder suspects. Cribb didn’t usually do such things, but the man was only human and probably wanted to try his theories on an intelligent ear. What finally shattered Thackeray’s composure was the climax of Cribb’s disquisition. As brisk and positive as a turnstile-man, the sergeant took the suspects one by one, examined them and allowed them to pass out of reckoning. One was left. Only one who could have murdered Lola Pinkus.