Bachelors Anonymous (6 page)

‘Quiz?’

‘Yes,
quiz. Though my father would have a fit if he knew I was conducting my
investigations so—’

‘Informally?’

‘Yes,
he’s rather a man for taking several hours over things of this sort. So is
Erridge for that matter, also Trubshaw. I prefer the simpler method—Who are
you? What’s your name? Can you prove it? You can? Then right ho, we know where
we are.’

‘It
does you credit.’

‘Saves
time.’

‘You
aren’t going to ask any questions?’

‘None.’

‘Well,
I am. What did you mean by “it”?’

‘I
don’t quite follow you.’

‘I said
Miss Carberry was like an aunt to me, and you said “Ah, that accounts for it.”’

‘I was
alluding to the terms of Miss Carberry’s will. The bulk of her fortune goes to
the Anti-Tobacco League.’

‘I can
understand that.’

‘But
you are one of the minor beneficiaries.’

‘So I
do learn something to my advantage?’

‘You do
indeed, but there are strings attached to it. Tell me, Miss Fitch, are you a
smoker?’

‘I
don’t smoke much.’

‘It was
Miss Carberry’s aim to stop you smoking at all, and she has left you this
legacy on condition that you don’t do it for two years. By which time, she says
in her will, “she will have cured herself completely of the vile habit.” I
wouldn’t knock off smoking myself for all the rice in China,’ said Jerry,
finally abandoning the conversational methods of Erridge, Trubshaw and his
father, ‘but you may think differently. Twenty-five thousand pounds is a lot
of money.’

The
room flickered about Sally. A shelf of legal volumes which Jerry had bought to
impress visitors rocked as if in an earthquake, and Jerry himself had
apparently been wafted back to the 1920s, for he seemed to have broken into the
dance, popular in those days, known as the shimmy.

‘Twenty-five
thousand pounds!’

‘A
trifle to Miss Carberry. She probably couldn’t think lower than that.’

Sally
was still shaken. In a less pretty girl what she was doing would have been
described as puffing.

‘I wish
you wouldn’t say these things so suddenly. Couldn’t you have led up to it by
degrees or blown your horn or something?’

‘I’m
sorry. I thought you would prefer to get the gist without any of the whereases
and hereinbefores you’d have got from Alexander Erridge or B. J. Trubshaw. They
would have kept you in agonies of
suspense for half an
hour. My way, you get the drift immediately.’

‘I’m
not sure I really do. I can’t believe it. Twenty-five thousand pounds!’

‘And a
very posh apartment at Fountain Court, Park Lane. Which, by the way, you will
share with a Miss Daphne Dolby, a young lady from the Eagle Eye detective
agency.’

Sally
stiffened. The light died out of her eyes.

‘Oh,
no!’ she cried.

‘I told
you there were strings attached to the legacy.’

‘I
don’t want to share any apartments with any Dolbys.’

‘Things
being as they are, I’m afraid you’ve got to. I told you the bulk of Miss
Carberry’s fortune goes to the Anti-Tobacco League. So, if you break the clause
about smoking, does your twenty-five thousand, and the Anti-Tobacco League
have got their eyes fixed on it. They want to protect their interests, and how
can this be done except by having somebody constantly at your side, spying out
all your ways as the fellow said, watching to see that you don’t sneak a quiet
cigarette when you think nobody’s looking? It’s in the will. I imagine Erridge
or Trubshaw, whichever of them it was who drew it up, pointed out to Miss
Carberry that such an arrangement was only fair.’

‘I
don’t call it fair.’

‘The
Anti-Tobacco League do.’

‘A
detective!’

‘But
not the sort of detective you’re thinking of. You’re picturing a hawk-faced
female with piercing eyes and a sniffy disposition, who will make you feel it’s
only a matter of seconds before she slips the handcuffs on you and hauls you
off to the jug. She’s not like that at all. She’s charming, and you’ll like
her. In a couple of days you’ll be calling her Daffy.’

‘All the
same … You say it’s in the will?’

‘Plumb spang
in the will.’

‘Then I
suppose I’ve no option.’

Chapter Six

Outside the offices of
Nichols, Erridge and Trubshaw, now Nichols, Erridge, Trubshaw
and
Nichols,
Sally paused for a moment in thought. In preparation for the interview she had
put on her best dress, but though becoming it hardly seemed eye-knocking-out
enough for the splendours of Barribault’s Hotel, where standards were high. She
looked at her watch. The morning was still young, and there would be plenty of
time to go to the best place in London and buy something really glamorous. Her
host had made a considerable impression on her, and she wanted to be a credit
to him. Her identity established, Nichols, Erridge, Trubshaw and Nichols had advanced
her a generous sum, so no obstacle stood in the way of her scattering purses of
gold. She hailed a taxi.

When
she came out of the best place in London with her purchase in her arms, the
morning had aged a good deal, but not so much as to preclude a quick visit to
Fountain Court. She was naturally curious to see her new home, and she had been
given the key. She hailed another taxi.

Number
3A Fountain Court took her breath away. Jerry Nichols had described it as posh,
and posh it most certainly was. In addition to her money Miss Carberry had had
excellent taste. Everything was just right—the furniture, the curtains, the
cushions, the rugs, the books, the pictures. To one accustomed to 18 Laburnam
Road the effect was overwhelming, and she dropped into one of the luxurious
chairs and tried to realise that all this magnificence was hers.

It was
only after some time that a less agreeable thought intruded on her reverie, the
recollection that with the magnificence went the constant company of an unknown
Miss Daphne Dolby. She wondered with some trepidation what sort of a woman this
Daphne Dolby would turn out to be, and was enabled almost immediately to
discover at least what she looked like, for Miss Dolby entered through the door
presumably leading to the sleeping quarters.

In
spite of what Jerry had said, Sally had not been able to rid her mind of the
picture of a female detective as something formidable and sinister, and seeing
this one she was relieved. The newcomer might reveal herself later as the snake
in this Garden of Eden, but she looked all right, very attractive, in fact. She
was quite young, with a round pleasant face and brown eyes that had none of the
piercing quality which one associates with members of her profession. Hers was
quite an ordinary appearance, though a physiognomist would have seen in her
mouth and chin evidence of determination and a strong will. They were not the
mouth and chin of a weakling.

‘Miss
Fitch, I take it,’ she said, ‘and if you are going to say “Miss Dolby, I
presume”, you will be quite correct. Revisiting the old home?’

‘Doing
what?’

‘Isn’t
this where you worked for Miss Carberry?’

‘Oh,
no, she bought it after I left her.’

‘And
kept it on although she’d gone to South America. What a thing it is to have
money. How do you like it?’

‘It’s
wonderful.’

‘That’s
how it strikes me. I think we shall be pretty comfortable here. I hope my
company won’t spoil it for you. I know I’m a pest and a nuisance, but then
those in my line of work so often are. I’ll be as unobtrusive as I can.’

Sally,
who liked nearly everybody, was now quite fond of her visitor. She replied with
warmth.

‘You
aren’t a pest and a nuisance at all. I shall enjoy having you here.’

‘I
believe you mean that.’

‘Of
course I do. Are you going to crawl about on the floor picking up small objects
and putting them carefully away in an envelope?’

‘I will
if you want me to. Anything to oblige.’

‘And
you can tell me all about your cases.’

‘They
aren’t very exciting.’

‘No
Maharajah’s rubies and secret treaties?’

‘It’s
quite a dull job really. Mostly leg-work. If your legs hold out, you’re all
right. And I don’t do any of that now. I own the business.’

‘How
did you rise to such heights?’

‘I had
influence. My father was a Superintendent at Scotland Yard. When he had to
retire, he founded this agency and worked it up into something big. I got him
to take me on as an operative, which is how I come to know all about leg-work.
I was promoted to a partnership. Father went off to the Channel Islands to grow
tomatoes, and I became the boss. Just a story of local girl with lots of pull
making good.’

‘I
wouldn’t have thought the boss would have stooped to such a lowly job as
watching over me. Sounds more like an assignment for one of the leg-workers.’

‘That
was Jerry Nichols’s suggestion. He told me you would dislike having a female
operative on the back of your neck. He was quite right. My female operatives
are nice girls, but they have no conversation, while I, as you may have
noticed, have plenty, which will make it fine for you in the long evenings.’

‘I’m
looking forward to it. Is this sort of arrangement usual?’

‘I
couldn’t tell you. I’ve never come across it before. But you can see the idea.
The Anti-Tobacco League want that twenty-five thousand if they can get it, and
they haven’t a chance of contesting the will, so they pin their hope on that
smoking clause. Greedy pigs, not to be contented with what they’ve got, but
there it is. Anyway, I wish you good luck.’

‘Thank
you. I’m glad you’re on my side.’

Daphne
Dolby became suddenly austere. The words seemed to have given offence.

‘I’m
not on anybody’s side.’

‘Oh,
sorry.’

‘My
sympathies are all with you,’ Miss Dolby proceeded, softening. ‘I wish you
life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, and I shall give three hearty
cheers if you come through, but I’m like the referee in a football game. He
can’t take sides. He may want the boys in the pink shirts to clobber the lads
in the green with purple stripes, but he doesn’t allow that to affect his
decisions. Same with me. I take my job religiously.’

‘I see
what you mean. Integrity.’

‘Exactly.
I may be rooting for you, but if I catch you smoking, don’t think I won’t
denounce you. Duty first.’

‘I
understand. Thanks for the warning.’

‘Not at
all. What’s that you’ve got there?’

‘My new
dress. I’m lunching at Barribault’s.’

‘Stepping
high already? Quite right. Enjoy yourself while you’ve got it. I shall have a
sandwich and coffee at the office. Unless the fellow I’m engaged to takes me
out to lunch. I don’t think he will. He never has the price. Too fond of
backing losers, like his late father. Can I drop you at Barribault’s? It’s on
my way.’

‘No,
thanks. I’m going back to my hostel.’

‘Then
I’ll leave you. By the way, don’t yield to temptation and have a cigarette
while my eye isn’t on you. I shall be asking you to breathe on me at unexpected
intervals.’

‘Breathe
on you?’

‘Routine
precaution, just to make sure.’

‘You’re
certainly thorough.’

‘I
pride myself on it,’ said Miss Dolby.

2

Daphne Dolby’s first port
of call before going on to her office was number 5 Murphy’s Mews, which is
situated in the seedier part of Chelsea and inhabited by some of the most
dubious characters in London. A few may have hearts of gold, but the best that
can be said for most of them is that they are not at the moment actually wanted
by the police, though it is always a matter for speculation as to when the
police may not feel a yearning for their society. One of these was Daphne’s
betrothed, Sir Jaklyn Warner. He had been living there for some weeks and would
continue to live there as long as the rent-collector was prepared to accept
charm of manner and glibness of speech as a substitute for cash.

Arriving
at the battered front door of number 5, Daphne did not knock on it. Jaklyn, who
always felt uneasy when people knocked on his door, had asked her not to.
Placing two fingers of each hand on an upturned tongue, she emitted a shrill
whistle, and Jaklyn appeared in his shirt sleeves with a glass in his hand.

‘Oh,
hullo, Daph,’ he said. ‘Thank God you’ve come.’

With
those who had known them both it was a constant source of debate as to whether
Jaklyn was or was not a more slippery character than his late father. Some said
Yes, some said No, but it was agreed that it was a close thing, and the opinion
of those who had suffered at their hands that the crookedness of each was such
as to enable him to hide at will behind a spiral staircase was universally
held. The only difference between the two was that the sixth Baronet had been
bluff and hearty and had furthered his ends by slapping people on the back,
while the seventh achieved his by looking wistful and pathetic.