‘Don’t look so surprised! I used to help Mrs Charlton in her corner shop at the end of my street when I was a boy.’

  ‘That was…’

  ‘Some time ago? I know what you’re suggesting, Augusta. But I won’t hear it. I’m more than capable of looking after your shop. Now run along.’

  ‘You’ll need to look after Sparky too.’

  ‘I’ll manage. Off you go.’

  Chapter 38

  Augusta made the twenty-minute walk to the Bourne Estate in nearby Holborn.

  ‘Oh, hello again, Mrs Peel,’ said Mabel Roberts. She looked tired from her day of work. ‘Have the police made any progress, do you know?’

  ‘A little,’ said Augusta.

  ‘That’s something, I suppose. It would be good if they could catch him, though. He might do it to someone else.’

  ‘Hopefully not. But I suppose there’s a risk until they’re caught.’ Augusta made herself comfortable on the little sofa in the sitting room. ‘This is a delicate question to ask, Miss Roberts, but it’s something I’ve been wondering. Do you know if Lola was blackmailing anyone?’

  Mabel gasped. ‘Blackmail? No, she would never have done such a thing.’

  ‘You mentioned Lola had money to spend and I’m wondering where she could have got it from. I’ve heard Miss Kingsley only pays her models five pounds a week.’

  ‘Is that all? Then Lola must have got the money from the secret boyfriend. Maybe he was rich.’

  ‘You mentioned Lola came from an ordinary background,’ said Augusta, ‘unlike the other models who work for Miss Kingsley. Perhaps Lola felt she needed money so she could afford a similar lifestyle to them?’

  ‘Yes, she probably thought that.’

  ‘And blackmail is a way of making money.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have done that!’ Mabel scowled, and it was the first time Augusta had seen her annoyed. She decided not to mention blackmail again. ‘It would be useful to find out the secret boyfriend’s identity,’ she said. ‘Do you mind if I have a look in Lola’s bedroom? I know the police have searched it, but there may be a clue which they didn’t spot.’

  ‘Yes, alright then.’ Mabel took Augusta to Lola’s room, which was next to the sitting room. ‘It’s just as she left it,’ she said, her voice cracking a little. ‘Well, almost as she left it. The police didn’t put everything back properly. So I did that so it’s just how she would have wanted it.’

  ‘I promise not to disturb anything,’ said Augusta.

  ‘I’ll make some tea.’ Mabel went off to the little kitchenette. Augusta sensed she was still annoyed with her for suggesting Lola could have blackmailed someone.

  A stale perfume smell lingered in the small bedroom. A rose pink eiderdown covered the bed, and the dressing table was crowded with pots of makeup, bottles of perfume and trinkets. Necklaces were draped over the rectangular mirror which stood on the dressing table. Most of them looked cheap, but a few caught Augusta’s eye. One had a small enamel jewelled egg as a pendant.

  Augusta pictured Lola sitting on the little cushioned stool at her dressing table, applying her makeup and brushing her hair, trying to look her best. It was desperately sad she would never return to this room.

  On the bedside table stood a fringed lamp, pots of face cream, a handheld mirror, a silk sleep mask and a jewellery box. Augusta lifted the lid of the jewellery box and found it filled with earrings, rings and bracelets. There were one or two expensive items such as a ring which had an emerald encircled by diamonds. A gift from the secret boyfriend? Or bought with money Lola had acquired from blackmail?

  In the chest of drawers, everything was overfilled and disorganised. Stockings had been crammed in with chemises, corsets and a variety of other undergarments. Thick winter clothing had been forced into the drawers at the bottom which couldn’t close properly.

  The wardrobe was filled with dresses, blouses, skirts, and trousers. The floor of the wardrobe was covered with shoes and handbags. More shoes were stacked along the skirting board. Some had acquired a thin layer of dust.

  Where had Lola kept her personal papers? Had she kept a diary? It was possible the police had taken them away, but Detective Sergeant Joyce hadn’t mentioned them.

  Lola had been secretive. But how secretive? Augusta searched the drawers again but found no diary or letters.

  She stood back and surveyed the room. If she had been Lola, where would she have hidden things she didn’t want people to find?

  Augusta had a thought. She stepped over to the bed, lifted one side of the eiderdown, then lifted the mattress. On top of the bed frame slats lay a large, battered envelope.

  Augusta smiled. Why hadn’t the police looked here?

  She picked up the envelope, then lowered the mattress. Sitting on the bed, she pulled out the papers from the envelope. There were a few letters from a friend called Joanne in Manchester and another letter from an aunt in Norfolk. The letters were chatty and informal but didn’t shed any light on anything new.

  There was a pocket-sized diary alongside the letters. Augusta opened it. A week was displayed across two pages so there wasn’t much space to write. Every page until the date of Lola’s death was filled with small, cramped writing. Augusta didn’t have time to read it all now, but she knew Joyce would be interested to see it. She turned to the back of the book where there was a list of addresses. Turning to L for Langley, she found the Cornwall Mansions address in Kensington which Cedric Langley had scarpered from that morning. Was this more evidence Lola had blackmailed him? Why else would she have made a note of his address?

  Augusta checked the envelope and saw some papers she had missed. They were neatly folded.

  Opening them out, she saw they were bank statements. She flipped through them, looking for large sums of money. And sure enough, she found them. Over the past three months, Lola had deposited three payments of one hundred pounds into her account.

  If the payments weren’t income from blackmail, then what else could they be?

  Chapter 39

  Back at the shop, Fred was closing up for the day.

  ‘What happened to Philip?’ Augusta asked.

  ‘He was called out.’

  ‘To where?’

  ‘He wrote down the address.’ Fred went over to the counter and picked up a piece of paper he’d been keeping safe by Sparky’s cage. He handed it to Augusta.

  ‘“Cornwall Mansions”,’ she read out.

  ‘You know it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s Cedric Langley’s address. We were there first thing this morning. It looks like I’d better get back there again.’

  Augusta travelled by taxi and arrived in Kensington twenty minutes later. A constable guarded the door to Mr Langley’s building.

  ‘Mr Fisher asked me to come here,’ she said. ‘Is Detective Sergeant Joyce here as well?’

  The constable nodded. ‘You’ll find them on the third floor, madam.’

  Augusta climbed the stairs and found Philip outside a flat on the third floor. The white door to the flat stood ajar and Augusta could hear voices from within.

  ‘Cedric Langley is dead,’ said Philip.

  ‘Dead? We saw him only this morning.’

  ‘It’s difficult to believe, isn’t it? Joyce found him. He came back here this afternoon with a constable to see if Langley was at home after that race around town this morning. When there was no answer, he assumed Langley had taken off somewhere. They broke the door in to have a look round and found him.’

  ‘How horrible. Any sign of Langley’s companion?’

  ‘The racing driver? No. The doctor thinks Langley died shortly before Joyce got here. It looks like he was strangled.’

  ‘Like Lola Parker.’

  ‘Very similar.’

  ‘How awful,’ said Augusta. ‘Someone must have seen something.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Philip. ‘There are a lot of flats in these buildings with people coming and going regularly. Joyce has certainly got his work cut out now.’

  Detective Sergeant Joyce stepped out of the flat and wiped his brow. ‘What a day,’ he said.

  ‘How’s your leg?’ asked Augusta.

  ‘It’s alright. Thank you for asking, Mrs Peel. I went to the doctor to get it patched up, then went home to change my trousers. Mrs Joyce isn’t very happy about the hole in them. After that, I came here to find out if Cedric Langley had returned. I didn’t expect to find him dead. We’ve got men looking for Langley’s companion who drove off with him this morning. He’s an obvious suspect. And we’ve got men calling at all the flats. Hopefully, someone saw the culprit entering or leaving the building.’

  ‘If Langley was strangled, then it’s likely it was the same person who attacked Lola Parker,’ said Augusta.

  ‘I think so,’ said Joyce. ‘The method is uncannily similar. Langley was strangled with one of his scarves. We think the attacker took it from one of the pegs in his entrance hall.’

  ‘But he must have known his attacker,’ said Philip, ‘because he let them in.’

  ‘I think that’s likely,’ said Joyce. ‘Either that, or the attacker forced their way in as soon as he opened the door to them. But I think it’s likely he knew them. The person who attacked him and Miss Parker must be someone who was involved with the fashion show.’

  Augusta pulled the envelope from Lola’s room out of her bag. ‘I’m not sure this is of any use now,’ she said. ‘But I found this beneath Lola Parker’s mattress. There’s a diary with Langley’s address written in it. And bank statements showing she received three large sums of money.’

  ‘How large?’ asked Joyce.

  ‘One hundred pounds each time. It supports the theory she was blackmailing Langley, but now we can’t know for sure. If only we had happened upon this blackmail theory sooner,’ said Augusta. ‘We could have asked Langley about it.’

  ‘We tried,’ said Joyce, accepting the envelope from her. ‘But he ran off.’

  ‘And he may not have been honest with us, anyway,’ said Philip. ‘Well done on finding the envelope, Augusta. If only the police had found it when they first searched Lola Parker’s room.’

  ‘Indeed,’ said Joyce, wiping his brow again. ‘Thank you for your help, Mrs Peel. I’ll have a look through the papers in this envelope, but it may be of no use, as you say. The assailant is keeping one step ahead of us.’

  Chapter 40

  ‘What a mystery,’ said Fred when Augusta told him about Cedric Langley’s murder the following morning. ‘It’s a shame Detective Sergeant Joyce didn’t arrive at Cedric Langley’s flat sooner. He could have caught the murderer in the act!’

  ‘He could have.’ Augusta sighed. ‘I feel like a few opportunities have been missed now. Miss Parker’s room wasn’t searched properly, and Cedric Langley got away from us yesterday.’

  The bell above the shop door rang and Harriet stepped in.

  ‘Fred!’ She dashed over to the counter. ‘I heard what happened! Are you hurt?’

  Augusta retreated to her workshop to give Fred and Harriet some privacy. However, she was keen to hear how Harriet knew Eddie Miller. She continued cleaning the cover of The Mayor of Casterbridge and allowed some time to pass.

  Harriet had already left when she stepped back into the shop ten minutes later.

  ‘Poor Harriet,’ said Fred. ‘She blames herself. I told her she mustn’t. She apologised for Eddie Miller’s behaviour.’

  ‘That’s very thoughtful of her,’ said Augusta. ‘But she needn’t apologise on his behalf. He should be the one coming here and apologising.’

  ‘I can’t imagine him doing that,’ said Fred.

  ‘Did Harriet explain how she knows him?’

  ‘They live on the same street in Clerkenwell. She’s known him for a few years. Whenever he sees her, he waves and says hello. Sometimes he tries to have a conversation with her, but she doesn’t like him very much. She says she thought he was alright to begin with, but then he asked her if she would like to go to the cinema with him. She didn’t want to, and he’s become a bit of a nuisance since then.’

  ‘How annoying. He’s the sort of man who can’t take no for an answer.’

  ‘She says he acts like he has some claim to her,’ said Fred. ‘And she says she has to avoid him.’

  ‘How did Eddie Miller even know Harriet was chatting to you in this shop?’

  ‘She says he sometimes follows her. Perhaps he looked through the window and saw us talking.’

  ‘He clearly has a habit of pestering young women,’ said Augusta. ‘He doesn’t like it when they turn him down. It makes me wonder what he’s capable of.’

  Fred’s face fell. ‘You don’t think he could harm Harriet, do you?’

  ‘Hopefully not,’ said Augusta, not wishing to worry him. ‘He was outside Holland Park Rink on the day of the fashion show. We’ve got no evidence yet he got into the building and into the changing rooms to harm Lola.’

  Fred rubbed his brow. ‘But there’s a possibility, isn’t there? I feel like I should warn Harriet. But I can’t, can I? It would completely terrify her.’

  ‘Yes, it would, Fred. It sounds like she’s doing quite a good job of looking after herself by distancing herself from him. She clearly tries to avoid him wherever possible. We don’t want to scare her so much that she feels afraid. Although Eddie Miller is a suspect in Lola Parker’s murder, I really don’t see why he would have murdered Cedric Langley. Philip said he would ask someone to keep an eye on Eddie. Hopefully, he won’t bother you or Harriet again.’

  The shop door opened again and Lady Hereford was pushed inside in her bath chair. ‘Oh, Augusta!’ she called out. Her nurse wheeled her up to the counter. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. It’s Daphne.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘The police are speaking to her again.’

  ‘So she’s been arrested?’

  ‘No. They want to interview her.’

  ‘Again?’

  ‘Yes. Isn’t it dreadful? It’s to do with the photographer, I forget his name.’

  ‘Cedric Langley.’

  ‘Yes. Him. Apparently, Daphne was with him yesterday.’

  Augusta felt her jaw drop. ‘Daphne was with him?’

  ‘Yes. She was seen going into his flat yesterday, and now the police think she had something to do with it. Isabella’s desperately worried, as you can imagine, Augusta. I’m wondering if you can do the same as you did before and make sure you’re with Daphne when she’s interviewed by Scotland Yard. I do worry about her. I worry she says silly things sometimes which she’ll later regret.’

  ‘Of course I’ll be happy to accompany her to the interview,’ said Augusta. ‘If Detective Sergeant Joyce doesn’t mind.’

  ‘I can’t believe she’s a suspect again!’

  ‘She might not be. The detective will want to interview everybody who saw Cedric Langley yesterday. Daphne may have some helpful information.’

  ‘I don’t understand what she was doing there.’

  Augusta couldn’t understand either. She did her best to calm Lady Hereford. ‘She will be able to explain everything, I’m sure.’

  ‘How I wish Daphne would do something sensible with her life! There’s something strange about the fashion world. Miss Kingsley seems very odd to me. And everybody involved with it seems so vain. It’s a world which brings out the worst in people. And then you end up with this. Murder. Daphne needs to find herself a decent husband and settle down. Rubbing shoulders with all these strange fashion people causes nothing but trouble. And someone could be framing her for these two murders.’

  ‘How would they manage that?’

  ‘I don’t know. But someone clever could have put her up to it. Perhaps the murderer suggested to her that she visit Cedric Langley and then the murderer crept in afterwards and murdered him. They would have known full well that Daphne would have been seen entering and leaving the building. I really hope she doesn’t get arrested again. She wouldn’t cope well with that at all. She hated it last time.’

  ‘Hopefully she won’t,’ said Augusta. ‘I’ll telephone Detective Sergeant Joyce and find out when he’s planning to speak to her. I’ll do what I can to be there.’

  ‘Thank you, Augusta.’ Lady Hereford reached out and clasped her hand. ‘I’m very grateful to you.’

  Chapter 41

  Daphne’s eyes were rimmed with red. Her face looked freshly powdered, and she wore a lilac dress with billowing sleeves and a pleated skirt. A pendant around her neck caught Augusta’s eye. It was a small enamel jewelled egg, similar to the one she had seen in Lola’s room.

  ‘I don’t understand why I’m here,’ said Daphne, dabbing her eyes. They sat with Detective Sergeant Joyce in the small interview room at Kensington police station.

  ‘What time did you visit Cedric Langley?’ the detective asked. He clearly didn’t want to waste time explaining to Daphne why she was being interviewed.

  ‘It was just after lunchtime,’ she said. ‘I wanted to see some photographs he took of me.’

  ‘What time was “just after lunchtime”?’

  ‘About two o’clock. But I can’t be absolutely certain about that. It was roughly that time.’

  ‘So you were in his flat at two o’clock yesterday?’

  ‘Around that time. Yes.’

  ‘Was there anyone else in the flat?’

  ‘No, it was just me and Cedric.’

  ‘And how was he?’

  ‘He was fine. He was expecting me because I’d already told him I would like to see the photographs.’

  ‘Why weren’t the photographs in his studio?’

  ‘I don’t know. He told me they were at his flat.’

  ‘Did anything appear to be bothering him when you saw him?’

  ‘No. But I wouldn’t know for sure. I didn’t know him that well.’

  ‘And how long were you at his flat for?’

  ‘Not long. About twenty minutes. I’d arranged to meet my mother for a shopping trip.’

 

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