A Donation of Murder Read online

  That’s what you think.

  O’Sullivan laughed. ‘I think you might be right, Mr Kilner.’

  Some of the men exchanged worried glances. ‘It’s been a while since I was in the dock,’ one said.

  ‘Me too,’ said another.

  A woman tutt-tutted. ‘None of that now, you know you’ve all got something to hide.’

  But no one as much as me, Pike thought. His foot began a nervous rhythm as he waited it out.

  Singh returned, stepping around Pike’s chair as if it were a funeral pyre.

  Perhaps it soon would be.

  Without meeting Pike’s eye he said to Giblett, ‘Thank you, sir. I am happy to report that we have found no evidence of Malcolm James in the house.’

  ‘I didn’t think you would,’ said Giblett.

  ‘Please enjoy the rest of your meal. I am sorry for the disturbance.’

  ‘See them out,’ Giblett said to the butler.

  No one spoke until they heard the rumble of the police van starting up outside. Giblett walked to the window and peered down into the street through a chink in the curtain.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ he said. Several of the men, including Pike, mopped their brows with their napkins. ‘I’d better let James out. There’s not too much air in that safe.’

  ‘You left that man alone with the necklace?’ Monsieur Roy said, aghast.

  ‘Forgive me, Monsieur, but I can’t remember saying that the necklace was in the safe.’

  ‘It has to be, otherwise the police would have found it. If you have us here under false pretenses, Monsieur Giblett . . .’

  Giblett stopped the Frenchman with a raised finger, playing the silence like the conductor of an orchestra. He looked around the table, his gaze sliding from one guest to the other. Finally satisfied that he had everyone’s attention he picked up a silver ladle and plunged it into the soup tureen. The necklace emerged, tangled around the ladle, dripping viscous liquid like a creature from the deep.

  ‘And here’s to the one that didn’t get away,’ Giblett said. All the guests, including Pike, burst into a round of applause. Giblett wrapped the necklace in a napkin and slipped it into his pocket. ‘I’d better let James out. I’ll be back soon,’ he said as he left the room.

  *

  Dody opened the door to Sergeant Singh. It was still raining stair-rods and the small park opposite her house was indistinguishable through the watery haze. If not for its headlights, she would not have noticed the police van parked near the kerb. Standing under the porchlight, Singh gave one of his characteristic low bows.

  ‘Did you find that man James, Sergeant?’ Dody hoped that he was at this minute restrained in the back of that van. If not for the rain she would have run out to have a look at him, looked him in the eyes. She had always believed in facing her enemies head on.

  ‘No, Doctor, I’m afraid he was not there. His landlady must have given us false information.’

  Dody took a controlling breath and eased it out. So the beast was still free and stalking the streets. She shivered, hoping Singh would think it was from the cold doorstep. ‘Thank you, Sergeant, I know you did your best.’ She took a step back. ‘But it’s getting late. I’d better let you go—’

  ‘Wait, Doctor, there is something else.’

  ‘Yes?’

  Singh glanced at the motor vehicle, then back at Dody. ‘Would you mind if I came in for a moment?’

  When Dody said not at all, he rushed back through the rain and instructed the men not to wait for him. Dody told him she would ask Fletcher to give him a lift back to the section house when they had finished their business.

  Soon they were sitting in the morning room with Florence, the ladies nursing small brandies. Singh, whose religion did not permit him to drink alcohol, balanced a cup of tea on his knee.

  Florence began. ‘Did you think to have a look for the necklace while you were there? Isn’t that man Giblett the chief suspect?’

  ‘He is,’ Dody replied.

  ‘We found no sign of the necklace,’ Singh said. He put his teacup on the table and pulled at his beard.

  ‘What is it then, Sergeant? Is there something you are not telling us?’ Dody asked.

  ‘Umm, it’s delicate. I’m not sure . . .’

  Dody frowned. Delicate was such an ambiguous word.

  ‘If you keep pulling your beard like that you soon won’t have any left,’ Florence remarked.

  ‘Have you had any recent contact with Chief Inspector Pike, Doctor?’ Singh asked Dody.

  ‘Just the note from yesterday, saying he was going away for a few days. That was why I reported the incident with James to you. I had to tell someone. I couldn’t bear the idea of that man walking the street for a moment longer and being a danger to others.’

  ‘Apparently the chief inspector told Superintendent Shepherd he was ill with the flu,’ said Singh.

  Dody shook her head. ‘He didn’t have flu.’ Then she paused and bit down on her fingernail. She pulled it away as soon as she realised what she was doing, but not before the nervous habit was noticed by Florence.

  ‘He was there, wasn’t he, Sergeant?’ she said, voicing Dody’s fears. ‘Pike was at that dinner party.’

  Singh dropped his head.

  ‘He’s working undercover,’ Dody said, uttering the fearful words that Singh seemed so reluctant to say. ‘He must be trying to find the necklace.’ She twisted her hands. If she had not taken it into her head to search for Margaret, she would have been at home when he called to explain his pending absence — that was the intention of his visit, of that she had no doubt. They had learned the hard way the importance of communicating on such matters. And if she hadn’t reported her attack to Singh, he would not have run the risk of breaking Pike’s cover. And if she had listened to Matthew in the first place and forgotten about Margaret, she would never have been assaulted by that vile man James. If only, if only, if only . . .

  She drove her fist into her palm and got up. ‘Did any of your men recognise him?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Singh said. ‘Shepherd can’t have known about his secret assignment. I would have been told otherwise, and stayed clear of Giblett’s house.’

  ‘Why would Shepherd not have been told about Pike’s assignment?’ Florence asked.

  ‘Because Pike doesn’t trust him,’ Dody said, her voice flat. After taking several paces of the room, she turned and said. ‘If you recognised Mr Pike, Sergeant, any of your men could have recognised him too. Someone could be telling Shepherd at this very minute. Singh, I think you and I have unwittingly placed the chief inspector in grave danger.’

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Giblett helped a trembling James into a chair and handed him a brandy. They still had several more courses to endure before the negotiations for the necklace could begin, and it couldn’t happen too soon, as far as Pike was concerned. Fancy Singh and the men blundering in like that. The sooner he handed over the counterfeit cash in exchange for the necklace and got out, the better. Callan was on standby at the house across the road with a group of armed police, waiting for his signal to move in. This time tomorrow it would all be over.

  Or he’d be dead.

  James’s hand shook as he brought the brandy balloon to his lips. ‘I could have fucking died in that sodding safe,’ he said, a flush of colour staining each pale cheek.

  ‘Well, you didn’t. Maybe I should have let you. You led the police right to my door.’

  ‘I was only looking after your interests, Mr Giblett. That doctor woman was asking questions about Peggy — even went to visit her at her house.’

  So that’s where Dody had been when he’d called around. Had she been hurt? Pike kept his face expressionless and prayed that she was all right. His eyes flicked towards his swordstick, propped against his chair. If everything went widdershins, he vowed, James would be the first to feel its sting.

  ‘So what? She brought Pegs back to life, didn’t she? It’s natural that she
would follow up on her patient.’

  ‘The woman works for the police, Mr Giblett. She’s good friends with that copper Shepherd told us about, that bloke Pike,’ James said.

  Pike stopped himself from shifting in his seat.

  Giblett rubbed his chin. ‘Oh, him. I see what you mean.’

  Everyone at the table had their own reasons to be disconcerted by the police visit and the atmosphere around the table was much more subdued than when the meal had begun.

  ‘Look, fellas,’ Pike said, pushing his half-eaten champagne sorbet aside. ‘I don’t know about you lot, but I’m done in. Let’s get this ball rolling, I need to get to bed.’ He tapped the money belt strapped to his stomach. ‘There’s bangers and mash in here that needs a good home, but first let’s have a look at the goods.’ He rubbed his finger and thumb at Giblett.

  Giblett eyed Margaret at the other end of the table. She nodded and a footman pulled her chair out for her. ‘Ladies,’ she said. ‘It’s time to leave the boys to their games.’ She turned on the electric lights.

  The men stood, blinking in the light as the ladies exited the room. They rearranged themselves down Giblett and Pike’s end of the table. Footmen cleared away the dirty plates, the butler handed around port, and cigars were lit.

  Once everyone’s immediate needs were met, Giblett reached into his pocket and handed Pike the necklace, now cleansed of soup. Pike cupped the pearl in his hand, surprised by the weight — it was at least as heavy as a golf ball. He pulled out a jeweller’s loupe from his pocket and examined the necklace from every angle, from the base of the pearl to the diamond clasp. ‘Exquisite,’ he murmured handing it to Monsieur Roy.

  ‘The piece is fair,’ Roy said after brief scrutiny.

  Giblett opened his palms in disbelief. ‘Fair?’

  ‘The setting is dated, it will require much work to bring it up to modern standards — and the recent repairs are quite evident.’

  ‘That’s just a matter of taste, mate,’ Pike said.

  ‘I will offer you twenty-five thousand pounds, Monsieur Giblett,’ the Frenchman said.

  Giblett laughed. ‘It’s worth almost twice that.’

  ‘For insurance purposes, maybe, but not under these circumstances. None of us in this room are buying it to adorn our mistresses. We all need to sell it on and make a profit.’

  ‘How much have you got in that case, Monsieur?’ Giblett asked.

  ‘That is for me to know,’ said Roy.

  ‘Would anyone else like to examine it?’ Giblett asked, holding the necklace aloft to the gathered men.

  ‘Out of my league,’ one-eyed Jake said.

  ‘I suppose it’s only cash you’d be wanting,’ O’Sullivan said. ‘Because I have some promising stocks in—’

  Giblett held up his hand to silence the eager Irishman.

  ‘Let’s have a look in that case of yours, Monsieur Roy,’ Pike said. ‘I want to know I’m not bidding against a plant.’

  Giblett frowned. ‘That’s not how I work, Charlie.’

  ‘Honour among thieves, eh?’ Pike remarked drily.

  James got up from his chair and took a pace towards Pike.

  ‘Messieurs, Messieurs,’ the Frenchman said, opening his palms. ‘There is no need for this. Voila.’ He clicked open his case to reveal its contents, bundles of crisp new notes pressed together like sardines in a can.

  All eyes turned to Pike. After glancing from one man to the other he undid the buttons of his tailcoat, probed beneath his waistcoat and undid the clasp of the money belt. Showing a confidence he did not feel, he slid the canvas belt from his waist and slapped it onto the dining room table. ‘I bid twenty-seven thousand in old, untraceable notes,’ he said.

  James clicked his fingers. ‘Give us a look.’

  Pike opened one of the belt’s compartments and handed a bundle of notes to James who flicked the cash beneath his nose and inhaled. ‘Smells like the real thing.’

  Giblett smiled.

  ‘Wait,’ said O’Sullivan. ‘I bid thirty.’

  James sneered. ‘You’ve brought no money with you, you Irish tosspot. And we told you we won’t take no stocks.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’ the Irishman said, opening up his heavy overcoat to reveal a multitude of pockets stuffed with banknotes. ‘Consider this humble twenty thousand a non-returnable deposit. I can add the other ten next week.’

  James examined a sample of the Irishman’s money and appeared satisfied.

  Giblett licked his lips.

  Sweat trickled down Pike’s back. ‘You’ve got three choices as far as I see it, Giblett,’ he said. ‘Twenty-five thousand in new notes from the Frenchie, possibly counterfeit or traceable. An offer of twenty and more to come — whether it exists or not, you don’t know — from O’Sullivan. Or my offer of twenty-seven thousand in used notes, genuine and untraceable. I know who I’d pick, mate.’

  Roy jumped to his feet in protest.

  ‘Yankee bastard,’ O’Sullivan spat.

  James and Giblett exchanged satisfied looks.

  At that moment the door to the dining room burst open and Superintendent Shepherd rushed in, soaked rubber mac flapping in all directions.

  Pike felt the blood drain from his face.

  The superintendent shook an accusing finger at him. ‘This is a trick, grab that man!’ he bawled. ‘He’s Scotland Yard. One of the men who searched the house recognised him.’

  Pike had no time to react. Hands pulled him up by the back of his jacket. An iron fist slammed into his solar plexus. He bent double with the pain and fell to the floor retching.

  Chaos ensued. All around the thump and scuffle of panicking footsteps.

  Men rushed downstairs to grab hats, coats and women. ‘Use the back door, they’re watching the front,’ Shepherd called out.

  Roy grabbed his case of money. In his haste he closed the lid on a protruding wad of notes. He attempted to wrench them free but ended up scattering them. From Pike’s position on the floor, it looked to be raining money. Roy gave up and ran from the room without turning back.

  When the dining room had cleared, James yanked Pike from the floor and slammed him down into a chair. He ripped Pike’s bowtie from his collar and used it to tie his hands to the back of the chair.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Shepherd asked, pacing the floor, rivulets of rainwater coursing down his rubber mac.

  ‘You said someone was watching the house,’ James said, his eyes not leaving Pike.

  Shepherd nodded. ‘Special Branch.’

  James opened his palm and knocked Pike’s head sideways with a stinging blow. Through the buzzing Pike heard James say, ‘What do we do now, boss?’

  Giblett massaged his temples. ‘Shut up and let me think.’

  Margaret entered the room. ‘Everyone’s gone,’ she said, giving Pike a cursory glance. He tried to catch her eye to work out if she was friend or foe, but she seemed more interested in the strewn cash. She dropped to her knees and began to pick it up.

  ‘Look out the window, love, and see if there’s any movement from the house opposite,’ Giblett said as Margaret stuffed the last of the notes down her bodice.

  In a matter of seconds she returned. ‘Nothing doing over there. No lights on.’

  ‘What were your instructions?’ Giblett asked Pike.

  Pike spat a gob of blood onto the floor and smoothed his tongue around the inside of his mouth. One of his teeth was loose and it felt as if a swarm of bees was buzzing inside his head.

  James moved forward as if to strike again.

  Margaret held him back with a hand on his arm. ‘Let him talk.’

  There was no point denying the operation now, but even so, Pike didn’t want to make things too easy for them. To buy time he said nothing, and braced himself for another blow.

  James moved behind his chair. Pike could feel a drop of sweat quivering on the tip of his nose. He squinted and put all his focus onto it, waiting for it to fall.

  Relief came from an u
nexpected quarter.

  ‘To get the necklace back, of course,’ Shepherd said, ‘and get you lot locked away. When he’s certain the cat’s in the bag he’s to give some kind of signal to the observer chaps. That’s how it’s done, am I not right, Pike? At night it’s usually a struck match on the doorstep.’

  As if on cue, a match flared inside Pike’s head.

  And then a guillotine of darkness.

  *

  ‘You didn’t have to hit him that hard, James,’ Margaret said as she examined the sticky lump on the back of Pike’s bowed head. Inside she panicked. What if he was dead? How could she ever forgive herself? All she’d wanted to do was help Dody, but now the opposite was happening and everything was going to hell in a handcart. She took a small mirror from her evening bag and put it beneath Pike’s face. The glass fogged up — still breathing, thank God.

  ‘What now?’ she asked John.

  John said nothing, rubbing his forehead. Jesus, Mary and Joseph, now was not the time for one of his headaches.

  ‘Let’s put him in the safe and get out of here,’ James said. ‘It’ll be a while before they start expecting the signal from the front porch, and even longer before they find him, if at all.’

  ‘We’re ruined,’ Giblett said with a sigh of despair.

  ‘No, we’re not.’ Margaret patted his pocket. ‘You still have the necklace.’ She was worried about him, surely he didn’t want to throw in the towel. ‘We’ll use it to set up shop somewhere else.’

  Dazed, John waved a limp hand around the room. ‘But what of all this . . .’

  What was happening to him? Who was this husk of a man, Margaret wondered, looking at her fiancé through new eyes. Had his been a subtle, evolving weakness that James had recognised and that she had missed?

  James patted Giblett’s cheeks. ‘C’mon, Johnny boy, wakey wakey. Let’s get this arsehole in the safe. With any luck they won’t find him until it’s too late.’

  When John failed to move, Shepherd leaped into action. ‘Boxing this one up will give me the greatest of pleasure. Allow me, sir,’ he said, taking hold of Pike under the arms. James took a last look at John, grunted, and picked up Pike’s legs.