Peter Lovesey - Abracadaver

There were stifled gasps all round.

‘The lady in question is Miss Blake, the daughter of Mr Sam Plunkett, known, I believe, to all of you as the manager of the Paragon music hall. Miss Blake visited this house yesterday afternoon and has not been seen since.’

There was a short interruption while Miss Tring, who had fainted in Bella’s arms, was deposited in an arm-chair.

‘Depend upon it, we shall spare no efforts in finding her,’ continued Cribb, ‘and I hope you will appreciate the necessity of what I have to tell you now—that I propose searching this house room by room. While my assistants are conducting the search I must insist that the rest of you remain here or in the rehearsal room next door. And with your further co-operation I should like to ask any lady or gentlemen who saw Miss Blake at any time yesterday or this morning to come forward and give me a full account of the circumstances. That is all I have to say for the present. Rest assured that my colleagues will show the utmost respect for your property. I hope we shall not inconvenience you very long.’

The impression Cribb’s statement had made was clear from the din of excited—even hysterical—conversation that began before he stood down. Several ladies converged on him, not to give information about Miss Blake, but to seek it. He extricated himself at the first opportunity, sought out the Undertakers and asked them to stand guard at each door. Then he took Albert’s arm and guided him outside and into the small waiting-room across the hall.

‘I was watching you as I made my announcement in there,’ Cribb said, when they were seated on either side of the table. ‘You took the news of Miss Blake’s disappearance most manfully.’

‘That was because I knew of it already,’ Albert said. ‘Mr Plunkett was here before breakfast this morning, asking if we’d seen her. Mama and I were the only ones about at that time; I rise early for fitness, you see, and Mama was attending to the housekeeping arrangements. We didn’t say anything to the other guests because they aren’t aware that Ellen is Mr Plunkett’s daughter. She is known here simply as Miss Blake. If they knew who she was, some of ’em might take it amiss, you see, Mr Plunkett holding the position he does.’

‘You mean they could be jealous of you walking out with the manager’s daughter?’

‘Well, yes, except that walking out is the one thing nobody can do here.’

‘Ah yes. Rules of the house.’ Cribb took a turn round the small room and came to rest with his elbows on the chair where Ellen Blake had sat the previous afternoon. ‘Well, they all know her identity now, thanks to my announcement. Unavoidable. There won’t be bad feeling, will there?’

‘Finding Ellen is more important to me than a pack of tongue-waggers.’

‘Glad you think so, lad. Well let’s concentrate on that. D’you think she’s here somewhere?’

Albert shook his head. ‘I showed her out myself yesterday at ten past four. She turned right at the gates as she usually does to walk to the cab-shelter in Kensington High Street. Ellen wouldn’t have come back, Sergeant. I’m sure of that.’

‘How long did she spend here?’

‘Three-quarters of an hour, I should think. Mama was there as chaperon.’

‘Can you recall your conversation with Miss Blake?’

Albert toyed reflectively with the ends of his moustache. ‘We talked of my injury and I informed her that I was almost fully recovered. I told her of my training and my efforts to achieve a state of fitness in time for next Tuesday. That’s an occasion I don’t intend to miss, Sergeant. The honour, you understand.’

‘You weren’t at the Paragon last Tuesday then.’

‘Why do you say that? No, I wasn’t, Sergeant. Mama went with Beaconsfield, but I remained here, taking hot baths to reduce the stiffness in my injured leg. Of course I heard the tragic news of Miss Lola’s death when they all returned.’

‘I see. You were telling me about Miss Blake, though. She was happy to see you fit again, I dare say?’

‘Less happy than I expected,’ said Albert, with a trace of chagrin. ‘I’ve always cut a shine with the ladies, you know, having a well-developed torso, but I’m damned if I understand ’em. Last time Ellen came she was beside herself with concern for my injury. Advised me to take hot baths and brought some embrocation for me. Yesterday when I told her I was fully recovered and lifting, she refused to believe it. Told me I ought to get a doctor’s opinion. I suppose she doesn’t want me to come to grief a second time, but I told her there’s no trace of pain in the leg.’

‘Did you part on good terms?’

‘Oh yes. You can ask Mama. We arranged that Ellen should come again next Friday. That’s why I’m sure she didn’t return.’ He shuffled in his chair. ‘How shall I put it? There’s never been anything clandestine in my friendship with Ellen, Sergeant. She’s a most high-minded young woman. Not at all the sort who’d linger in the road outside and then creep back in through a window, if that’s what you suspect. It’s unthinkable that she should spend a night away from home. I can understand the state her father’s in. She won’t even stay for dressing-room parties for fear of upsetting him by being home late. It’s a very good thing this has become a police matter, I assure you.’

‘She didn’t mention any other appointment when she was with you?’

‘I understood she was going straight home, Sergeant. Of course if she did take it into her head to visit some aunt or cousin in the suburbs, the fog may have delayed her return. It was already coming down at ten o’clock last night.’

‘I think she’d have started for home before then,’ said Cribb. ‘If there’s nothing else of any significance I’ll be obliged if you’ll return to the others, then. I’ll see your mother if you’ll kindly invite her to step over.’

But it was not to be. The next person to enter, in a small flurry of black lace and tossing curls, was Mrs Body. The vapours had clearly intensified to a point where thunder was imminent. ‘Mr Cribb! I propose to register the strongest possible protest at the manner in which I have been treated. Not content with hammering upon my door for a full five minutes, you sink to the shabbiest of stratagems to evict me, a poor wilting woman, from my bed. A bouquet, the voice assured me, a dozen red roses, freshly purchased from the florist outside Paradise Street Police Station, at the express instructions of a detective sergeant who wished to remain anonymous. But when I unbolted my door and opened it, I was brushed aside by that bearded barbarian who accompanies you. There was not a rose to be seen. And when I taxed him with ungentlemanly conduct do you know what he told me?’

‘I’ve no idea, Ma’am.’

‘He was sorry but it was his job to winkle me out. Well, Mr Cribb, winkled out I may have been, but I am not the defenceless widow you take me for. The Home Secretary shall hear of this!’

‘It was unforgivable, Ma’am,’ said Cribb. ‘You mean that he didn’t deliver those roses? That constable shall answer for this.’ On an impulse he thrust his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a rather tired yellow bloom. ‘In the meantime, if I may be so bold . . .’

Mrs Body melted. ‘Mr Cribb, I hadn’t realised. I was disposed to think after yesterday . . . Oh, you gallant man!’

It is likely that the sergeant would have found himself embosomed in black lace if Albert’s mother had not chosen that instant to enter.

‘What do you want?’ demanded Mrs Body.

‘I had an appointment with the sergeant. You seem to have made a spectacular recovery, my dear. Shall I withdraw?’

‘No, no,’ Cribb hastened to say. ‘Mrs Body was merely inquiring about the search. Now that her rooms have been seen she must get back to bed. Can’t take a chance with the vapours.’