‘We don’t know where he was at the time of Lola’s murder,’ said Augusta.

  ‘He could have noticed Lola hadn’t joined the other models on the stage and gone into the changing rooms when she was in there alone,’ said Philip.

  ‘I think he had the opportunity to do it, but I don’t understand what his motive could have been.’

  ‘We need to learn more about that man. And even though Joyce released Daphne from custody, it doesn’t mean she’s innocent. I think she could have had time to leave the stage, get back to the changing rooms and attack Lola. How long does it take to walk from here to the changing rooms? Twenty seconds? Half a minute at the very most I’d say.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Augusta.

  ‘But there’s still Eddie to consider too. Let’s look around a little more and see if there are any other sneaky ways into this place.’

  They left the rink and returned to the corridor which had led them past the changing rooms. They followed a new corridor which led behind the top of the rink. There were several doors, and they tried each one.

  The first door opened into a workshop which had a workbench and shelves of roller skates. There was a storeroom with mops, brooms and buckets. Then there was a windowless office with a desk, a few wooden chairs and a cupboard. Photographs of roller skaters and boxers hung on the wall.

  More doors led to more lavatories. Then they reached a small area with a counter for serving tea and coffee. The chairs were stacked on top of the tables. It looked rather sad and empty.

  Augusta spotted something in the far corner. ‘There’s another door,’ she said.

  ‘So there is,’ said Philip. They stepped over to it and tried the handle but it was locked.

  ‘There’s daylight beneath the door,’ said Augusta. ‘It must lead outside.’

  ‘I wonder if it’s always kept locked. The grumpy caretaker should be able to tell us.’

  ‘I suppose it’s another way Eddie could have found his way in,’ said Augusta. ‘I can imagine there was a demand for tea and biscuits during the fashion show. If this area was busy at the time, then he could have come in through the door and I don’t think many people would have paid him much attention.’

  ‘How would he even know the door was there?’

  ‘Perhaps he decided to try his luck and walk around the building,’ said Augusta.

  ‘So Eddie Miller loitered outside, hoping to speak to Lola,’ said Philip. ‘She ignored him when he greeted her and that probably made him angry. He would have found it difficult to get in through the main door because they were checking tickets. So he walked around the building to find another way in. He found this door unlocked, and he walked through the cafe area without drawing much attention to himself. All he had to do then was follow the corridors until he found the ladies’ changing rooms.’

  ‘Then he waited until everyone was on the stage before he went in there.’

  ‘And he went in there because he noticed Lola was missing from the stage. She wouldn’t have been happy to see him. Perhaps she was rude to him and he didn’t like it?’

  ‘It sounds possible,’ said Augusta. ‘But only if Eddie managed to get into the building that afternoon.’

  ‘Joyce and his men need to speak to everyone who was at the fashion show,’ said Philip. ‘It won’t be an easy task, but they need to find someone who saw Eddie Miller here. If he got into the show through the cafe door, then someone must have seen him walk in here. I’ll have a word with Joyce and see what he thinks about the idea. In the meantime, we need to get ready to see Mr Briggs again tomorrow.’

  ‘He had better have the paintings with him this time,’ said Augusta.

  Chapter 29

  ‘How delightful it is to see you again, Mr and Mrs Dennis,’ said Mr Briggs as he welcomed Augusta and Philip into his plush Curzon Street office.

  Philip was wearing his dull tweed suit and spectacles again and Augusta wore a jacket and skirt which she had bought for a special occasion before the war. The skirt’s waistband was a little tight, but fortunately she wouldn’t have to wear it for long.

  ‘I hope you have some art to show us today, Mr Briggs,’ she said.

  ‘I do indeed!’ He rubbed his plump hands together in expectation. ‘Now, if you’d like to come with me, I have a car waiting for us.’

  ‘A car?’

  ‘Don’t you like motor cars, Mrs Dennis?’

  ‘Yes, but I thought you would have the artworks in your office here.’ Augusta didn’t like the thought of being taken somewhere. She could tell from Philip’s expression that he felt anxious about it too.

  ‘I don’t keep works of art on these premises,’ said Mr Briggs. ‘I have them stored somewhere.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Augusta reassured herself that Detective Inspector Morris and his men were watching the building from a vehicle. Once they noticed Augusta and Philip being driven away, they would be sure to follow.

  ‘Excellent. Let’s go!’

  Mr Briggs put on his hat, and they followed him out of his office. He led them along an unfamiliar corridor, then stepped through a door which led into a small courtyard. The buildings loomed tall over them and a narrow alleyway provided the only access to the street. A black Ford sedan car waited for them.

  Augusta’s stomach tightened. She didn’t trust Briggs. But if she and Philip refused to go with him, he’d be suspicious.

  ‘What a lovely motor car,’ she said with forced cheeriness.

  The driver got out to open the rear doors for them. He had broad shoulders, a thick neck and a pugnacious face.

  Reluctantly, Augusta got into the car. Philip sat beside her and Briggs got into the front passenger seat.

  ‘Right then!’ He rubbed his palms together again. ‘Let’s be on our way.’

  Their route zig-zagged through a maze of narrow streets before joining the wide thoroughfare of Piccadilly. Detective Inspector Morris and his men were watching the building from Curzon Street. Augusta could only hope they had chosen to watch the rear of the building too.

  From Piccadilly Circus, they travelled along Regent Street and then into Trafalgar Square and eastwards into the Strand. Mr Briggs made conversation about the weather and Augusta attempted to cheerfully respond.

  The expression on Philip’s face was grim. She nudged his knee to remind him he was supposed to be in character.

  They passed along Fleet Street and Ludgate Hill, towards the enormous dome of St Paul’s Cathedral. Once they were beyond it, the car took them through the City and past the grand classical Bank of England and Royal Exchange. Augusta willed the car to slow and turn into a side street. But they continued on, turning north into Bishopsgate and towards Liverpool Street station. They were now on the boundary of the City of London and the east end. Commerce and wealth on Augusta’s left, criminality and poverty on her right.

  The car turned right into Brushfield Street, then right again into a little network of streets lined with tall narrow houses, pubs and scruffy shops. They were in a rundown area called Spitalfields. The car bounced on the uneven cobbles and a group of children stared at them as they passed.

  ‘This is where you store your artworks?’ Philip asked. ‘It doesn’t look like the safest street to me.’

  ‘It’s not the nicest area,’ said Briggs. ‘But that has its advantages. Nobody would ever believe that valuable paintings are being stored here under their noses.’ He gave a chuckle.

  The car stopped outside a house with shuttered windows. The driver opened the doors for them and they followed Briggs, who had a key for the shabby door.

  ‘Follow me,’ he said.

  The house smelt damp and musty and didn’t seem lived in. Briggs led them up a flight of narrow wooden stairs. Augusta prayed Detective Inspector Morris’s men had followed them here. As soon as they set eyes on the stolen artworks, they needed to get outside again and raise the alarm.

  Philip made slow progress up the stairs with his walking stick. Eventually he reached the little landing at the top and Briggs led them on to the next flight of stairs. ‘Nearly there,’ he said.

  The stairwell was lit by a narrow window covered with dusty cobwebs. Augusta gave a shiver and willed herself on.

  At the top of the house, Briggs showed them into a room with tall sash windows. The glass was filthy, and some of the panes were cracked and broken. An old loom took up half of the room. The timber structure was fixed to floor and ceiling. The frame was broken and sections of it lay at the foot of the wall. A spinning wheel sat beneath one of the windows.

  ‘This is an old silk weaver’s house, as you’ve probably guessed,’ said Briggs.

  ‘And the artworks?’ asked Augusta.

  ‘In the other room. I’ll fetch them for you now.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Augusta let out a breath which she had been holding onto. Perhaps Briggs would be as good as his word after all.

  He left the room and shut the door behind him. Then there was the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

  ‘Has he locked us in?’ said Philip. He walked over to the door and tried the handle. ‘He has!’ He hammered on the door. ‘Briggs?’

  There was no sound.

  Augusta heard a car starting in the street. She dashed over to the window and rubbed some of the grime away with her sleeve. She was just in time to see the Ford sedan driving away.

  ‘He’s gone,’ she said.

  Chapter 30

  ‘Unbelievable!’ Philip rattled the door and pulled at the handle. ‘He must have discovered who we are. We underestimated him, didn’t we? How could he have worked it out?’

  ‘Perhaps he did some research into us,’ said Augusta. ‘Perhaps he visited the address in West Norwood and realised Mr and Mrs Dennis didn’t live there. I can’t believe he would have gone to such lengths to do that, but he’s selling stolen works of art. So he’s going to do all he can to protect himself.’

  Philip sighed. ‘I think you could be right, Augusta. But why lock us in this place? What’s he going to do with us? We have to get out of here.’ He walked over to the window. ‘And where on earth is Morris and his men?’

  ‘If they managed to follow us here, then they may have followed Briggs when he departed,’ said Augusta. ‘And maybe they’ll come back for us shortly.’

  ‘I think that’s looking on the bright side. Morris probably has no idea we’re here at all. He was in a vehicle on Curzon Street waiting for me to emerge and take off my hat with my left hand. He’s probably still there now, wondering what’s keeping us! Briggs must have known the Curzon Street entrance would be watched. Or if he didn’t know it, he made an educated guess. That’s why we left the building via the courtyard.’ He rubbed at the grimy window. ‘Can we climb out of here?’

  ‘No, we can’t. We’re on the second floor.’

  ‘How many feet is that?’

  ‘At least twenty. And probably more,’ said Augusta. ‘It’s much too risky.’

  Philip turned to her. ‘Well, that all depends on what Briggs has got in store for us, doesn’t it? If he’s going to slowly torture us to death, then I’d much rather break both legs jumping out of a window.’

  ‘Oh, don’t!’ Augusta felt cold inside.

  ‘Hello!’ shouted Philip. ‘There’s someone down there. Do you think he can hear us?’ He pushed and pulled at the sash window. ‘This frame won’t budge. We could smash the windows.’

  ‘And risk injuring the people on the street,’ said Augusta. ‘There were children playing out there earlier.’

  ‘We could do it at night when they’re not around.’

  ‘Smash the windows and do what?’

  ‘Shout out for help. Hopefully, someone will be willing to break the door down.’

  Philip returned to the door and rattled it again. ‘It opens inwards,’ he said. ‘That makes it difficult to break down from this side. If we could somehow kick the frame…’

  ‘Do you want me to try?’ said Augusta, knowing his injured leg would make it difficult for him to do it. She and Philip had successfully broken doors down in the past.

  ‘Yes please, Augusta. See if you can break the frame.’

  Augusta hoisted her skirt up a little, raised her leg and aimed a kick at the door frame. It splintered a little but didn’t break. She tried again and pain shot up her leg. ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Not really.’

  After ten minutes of trying, Augusta was too tired to continue.

  ‘You’ve caused quite a bit of damage,’ said Philip, examining the splintered frame. ‘Maybe you can have another go when you’ve recovered. Now what about these hinges? Perhaps we can loosen them. They look rather old and rusted up, though.’

  Augusta sat down on the floor and rested against the timber loom frame. The waistband of her skirt was too tight. She unfastened the button at the back, but it made little difference.

  ‘I must get into the habit of carrying skeleton keys with me,’ said Philip, peering through the lock on the door. ‘It would help in situations like this. Is there any wire in this room?’ He began searching for some.

  ‘I haven’t seen any,’ said Augusta. ‘And I think Briggs will be back soon. He knows people will be looking for us. He can’t keep us here for long.’

  ‘I wish I could believe you, Augusta. But I think you’re being over hopeful.’

  ‘Maybe Morris knows Briggs uses this place?’ she continued. ‘Perhaps he’ll be here shortly?’

  ‘I like to think so, but I don’t know.’ Philip continued looking around the room. ‘I’m wondering if Morris has been mistaken. Maybe Briggs doesn’t have any paintings at all.’

  ‘He had better do,’ said Augusta. ‘I don’t wish to be locked up here for nothing!’

  ‘I can’t find any wire,’ said Philip. ‘Briggs had better come back soon. As soon as we hear his footsteps on the staircase, we get ready to rush at him as soon as he comes in through the door. He can’t detain us here.’ He walked over to the broken pieces of the loom and picked up a yard-long section of the frame. ‘I can whack him over the head with this.’

  ‘But what if he’s accompanied by someone else?’

  ‘We just rush them. The element of surprise will catch them off guard and we make our escape.’

  ‘And if they have a weapon?’

  ‘We’ll obviously have to be careful. If we can’t physically take them on, then we can at least make as much noise as possible. Someone out on the street is bound to hear.’

  Chapter 31

  ‘I’m sorry I’m late, Miss Kingsley,’ said Cedric Langley as he stepped into her apartment. He wore a mint green jacket with matching trousers and a gold waistcoat.

  ‘You’re not sorry. You’re always late.’

  ‘Not always.’ He placed a hand on his chest, as if offended by her words. He went to sit down in the chair across the fireplace from her.

  ‘No need to sit, Cedric. This won’t take long.’

  ‘Won’t take long?’ He straightened up again and puffed out his chest. ‘But I was going to ask how you are, Miss Kingsley.’

  ‘How do you think I am?’

  ‘I’d say you were shocked and saddened.’

  ‘Correct. So there was no need to ask me, was there?’

  ‘I suppose not.’ He gave a bemused smile. ‘Cigarette?’

  ‘No, thank you.’

  ‘Have the police worked out what happened to Lola yet?’

  ‘Not yet. Have they spoken to you?’

  ‘Yes. And I’ve told them what I know.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Someone must have got into the changing rooms.’

  ‘I think that’s obvious.’

  ‘Did you not see her in there?’

  ‘No, I didn’t!’ She felt her teeth clench. ‘Why does everyone ask me that?’

  ‘I suppose it’s surprising you didn’t notice her.’

  ‘If I had seen her then I would have…’ She checked herself. ‘Well, it’s obvious I would have been angry.’

  He gave her a curious glance, and she didn’t like it.

  ‘I’m very disappointed about the photographs, Cedric.’

  ‘Me too! From now on, I will always have a second camera with me.’

  ‘That doesn’t help us now, does it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And the photographs which you did manage to take were awful.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘The clothes look awful in them.’

  He gave a sniff. ‘It seems the entire afternoon needs to be forgotten about, then.’

  ‘If only we could do that!’ She got to her feet. ‘The entire thing has been a complete disaster.’

  ‘It has.’ Cedric shrank back a little. ‘They’ll catch him before long.’

  ‘They had better do. Who do you think did it, Cedric?’

  ‘Who do I think? Well, I really don’t know. I mean… it could have been one of the other girls, but I really can’t believe any of them would have done such a thing. So someone else must have got in there. But who and why, I really don’t know. And how would they have got in and out of the changing rooms without being seen?’

  ‘Exactly. That’s what puzzles me, too.’ She sank back into her chair again. ‘Detective Sergeant Joyce visited me this afternoon.’

  ‘And what was he asking?’

  ‘He asked me if Lola had known about the stolen money.’

  ‘What stolen money?’

  ‘That’s what I asked him. He was assuming I already knew about it. And I knew nothing of it. But you know all about it, don’t you, Cedric?’

  His lips moved as he thought about his reply. ‘What are you specifically referring to, Miss Kingsley?’

  ‘The charity fashion show we held in May.’

  ‘Oh, that.’

  ‘No one told me some money went missing from the amount we had raised. The children’s charity didn’t receive all of it.’

  ‘Didn’t they?’

  ‘Stop acting like you know nothing about it, Cedric! That Scotland Yard detective told me everything. You took twenty-five pounds, didn’t you?’

 

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