‘And you have to understand Greek to read it?’

  ‘No. The Greek is just in the preface. I suppose Sir Arthur wrote his preface with a particular reader in mind.’

  ‘I see. I don’t think I’m his sort of reader.’

  ‘You can still enjoy the poems.’

  ‘Good. I’ll have a look at them when I have a spare moment. Now, have you had any more thoughts about our plan for meeting the crooked art dealer Mr Briggs? We need to arrange to see him.’

  ‘Yes, we do. How about tomorrow?’ said Augusta.

  ‘Tomorrow is perfect.’

  ‘I’ll telephone him and tell him I saw his advertisement.’

  ‘Thank you Augusta. Once you’ve arranged a time with him, I’ll tell Morris at the Yard, and he can be close by for when we discover the painting. We’ll alert him to it as soon as we leave Briggs’s office.’

  ‘And he’ll swoop in?’

  ‘Exactly. Now, we need to sort out our cover story.’

  ‘We could pretend to be a middle-aged couple from the suburbs. I’ll tell Briggs that I’ve come into an inheritance, and I want to buy some art with my money. I’ll make it clear I know nothing about art, so he’ll feel superior and will hopefully enjoy being condescending to me.’

  ‘That’s a good idea. We don’t want to come across as too knowledgeable or clever, he won’t like that. He’ll want to be the one in charge. What shall we call ourselves?’

  ‘Stephen and Louisa Dennis.’

  Philip nodded. ‘Sounds fine. He might ask us where we live.’

  ‘West Norwood. But what if he wants an exact address?’

  ‘We can look up an address in the directory.’

  ‘But if he checks the directory, the name Dennis won’t be associated with the address.’

  ‘We tell him we’ve recently moved house. The directory is only printed once a year, so we’ll tell him it’s out of date if he brings it up.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Augusta. ‘What else shall we tell him about Mr and Mrs Dennis?’

  ‘Mr Dennis is a clerk in an accountancy firm,’ said Philip. ‘That sounds suitably dull, doesn’t it? Hopefully, he won’t take much interest in that. And while Mr Dennis is busy working as a clerk, Mrs Dennis is busy keeping house on a sleepy street in West Norwood.’

  ‘It sounds like a peaceful existence,’ said Augusta.

  ‘Does it sound preferable to the existence you have now?’

  ‘No. I would be horribly bored keeping house.’

  Philip laughed. ‘I know you would.’

  They heard the ring of the telephone beyond the door. A moment later, Fred appeared.

  ‘Lady Hereford is on the telephone, Augusta.’

  She went out into the shop and had barely spoken into the receiver when Lady Hereford began talking. ‘Daphne’s been arrested!’ she said. ‘They think she did it, Augusta. They think she murdered that Lola girl. I refuse to believe it.’

  Augusta didn’t know what to say. She knew there was a possibility Daphne could have harmed Lola, but she could understand why Lady Hereford wouldn’t want to consider it. ‘I can’t pretend my great niece is perfect,’ continued Lady Hereford. ‘Far from it. She’s spoiled and she whines a lot. But she’s not a murderer, Augusta. I know that. Can you please have a word with the police and tell them to release her? Better still, ask Mr Fisher to do it. They’ll listen to him. He’s a former Detective Inspector of the Yard. Ask him to talk some sense into them.’

  ‘But if Daphne’s been arrested, that suggests the police have some evidence,’ said Augusta.

  ‘Perhaps they do. But the evidence must be wrong. They must be mistaken. I need you to help me, Augusta. Isabella has almost completely lost her mind about this. Will you help?’

  It was impossible to say no. ‘Yes, Lady Hereford. I will help,’ said Augusta.

  She returned to her workshop and told Philip.

  ‘Joyce will have a reason for arresting Daphne,’ he said.

  ‘That’s what I told Lady Hereford, although I don’t think she liked hearing it.’

  ‘And it’s not surprising. She’s a family member. But I can’t instruct Joyce to release Miss Chatsworth from custody. I don’t have the authority to do that. Even if I had, it would undermine his work. If Daphne is innocent, then she’ll be out again very soon.’

  ‘I’ll pay her a visit,’ said Augusta. ‘And see what I can find out.’

  Chapter 15

  Kensington police station stood on Kensington High Street, sandwiched between a gothic church and a public house. It was an attractive red brick building with a large archway running through it and twin gable ends. The lane through the arch led to a court where the town hall, a school and the coroner’s court stood.

  Augusta arrived there later that afternoon. She had telephoned Lady Hereford to inform her of her plan and arranged to meet Isabella Chatsworth there. She was waiting for Augusta in the reception area. She wore a long olive-green jacket and matching hat. A fox fur coiled around her neck.

  ‘My poor daughter!’ she said as a moustachioed constable led them along a wood-panelled corridor. ‘How can they bring themselves to lock her up in this place? It’s barbaric. She’ll never recover from it.’

  They met Daphne in a small interview room. The young woman flung herself into her mother’s arms as soon as she saw her.

  Once mother and daughter had calmed down, they sat at the table with Augusta. The moustachioed constable stood sentry by the door. ‘You’re permitted a visit time of fifteen minutes,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll visit my daughter for however long I like,’ retorted Isabella.

  Daphne looked despondent. Her hair was flat and her face pale. She wore a plain cotton dress and a grey woollen jacket.

  ‘I don’t even know why I’m here,’ she said. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Mrs Peel is here to get you out again,’ said Mrs Chatsworth.

  ‘I can’t promise that, I’m afraid,’ said Augusta. ‘I don’t have enough influence with Scotland Yard to persuade them to release you, Daphne.’

  ‘Then what’s the point?’ said Mrs Chatsworth. ‘If you can’t get Daphne out of here, then why are you here?’

  ‘I will do all I can to help,’ said Augusta. ‘And I think it’s important for the police to consider other suspects, too. You can help the situation, Daphne, by suggesting other people the police could speak to.’

  ‘This makes sense now,’ said Mrs Chatsworth. ‘If the police can find someone else to blame for it, then they’ll let Daphne go. Is that right?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Augusta.

  The constable looked on impassively.

  Augusta turned to Daphne. ‘What reason did Detective Sergeant Joyce give for arresting you?’

  ‘I was the person who found Lola. That’s the only reason!’

  ‘Does he have any evidence?’

  ‘I don’t know. And besides, he can’t have. I didn’t do it!’

  ‘I know you’ve been asked this already,’ said Augusta, ‘but can you think of anyone who would have wished to harm Lola?’

  ‘No, I can’t. I didn’t know her well enough. And it couldn’t have been one of the other girls.’

  ‘What about Miss Kingsley?’

  Daphne’s mouth dropped open. ‘Miss Kingsley? You think she could have done it?’

  ‘No, I don’t think she could have,’ said Augusta. ‘But we have to consider everyone who was in or near the changing rooms at the time Lola was murdered. From what I’ve heard of Miss Kingsley, I really don’t think she would have done it. But what do you think? You know her.’

  ‘She would never have done it. Why would she do it?’

  ‘You would know better than me, Daphne,’ said Augusta. ‘And if you’re sure she wasn’t responsible and had no motive, then we don’t need to consider her anymore. What about anyone else who was there?’

  Daphne shook her head. ‘It’s hopeless. Don’t you think I’ve had plenty of time to think about this? There’s nothing else for me to do in this miserable place other than sit here and think about who could have done it.’

  ‘What about Cedric Langley?’ asked Augusta.

  ‘The photographer?’

  ‘Yes. Did he and Lola know each other?’

  Daphne shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I suppose all the girls know him a little bit. But he just takes our photographs. Why would he murder Lola?’

  ‘I just wondered how well you know him. What’s he like?’

  ‘He’s one of the best fashion photographers there is. He worked in Paris for ten years and he and Miss Kingsley are good friends. We often go to his studio for photography sessions. He’s extremely talented at what he does.’

  ‘Did Lola attend any of the photography sessions you did with him?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘And how did she get on with him?’

  ‘Absolutely fine, like the rest of us. It’s quite simple. All we have to do is stand in the different poses he tells us and he takes photographs. That’s all there is to it. I’ve never had any trouble with him and I don’t see why anyone else would. There’s no way he would have murdered Lola. Why would he do something like that?’

  ‘That’s for the police to find out,’ said Augusta. ‘But if you think he could be a possible suspect, then we could tell them.’

  ‘He can’t be a suspect,’ said Daphne. ‘He wouldn’t have done something like that.’

  ‘But how do you know?’ said her mother. ‘The person who did this must have been part of the show. Everyone needs to be investigated.’

  ‘I don’t want to get Mr Langley into trouble for something he hasn’t done,’ said Daphne.

  ‘But that’s what’s happened to you, isn’t it?’ said Mrs Chatsworth. ‘You’ve been arrested for something you haven’t done. There really is no difference, Daphne. I think you should suggest his name to the police just so they’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘But what if he finds out I mentioned his name? He won’t ever want to work with me again!’

  ‘The police will hopefully consider Mr Langley along with everyone else,’ said Augusta. ‘I only asked the question because I wanted to find out if you knew of any disagreement he and Lola may have had.’

  ‘No. I don’t know anything about that. I wish I did and then I could suggest he was behind this. But I don’t think Cedric Langley would have murdered Lola.’

  ‘Did you see him during the show?’

  ‘Yes, he came into the changing rooms shortly before the show began. But I didn’t see him after that. He must have been out with the audience taking photographs.’

  ‘Did you see him anywhere near the changing rooms before you walked out for the final part of the show?’

  ‘No. But then I wasn’t really looking. I was just thinking about what I had to do.’

  ‘Lola refused to go onto the stage after the disagreement with Sylvia,’ said Augusta. ‘What’s Sylvia like?’

  ‘She’s alright,’ said Daphne. ‘I think it was right that they swapped dresses. She made the pink dress look much better than Lola did. And she was right not to swap back again, even though Lola was pestering her about it.’

  ‘Could Sylvia have murdered Lola?’ asked Mrs Chatsworth.

  ‘I don’t see why she would have done,’ said Daphne. ‘And I don’t know when she would have found the chance to do it. She was out on the stage.’

  ‘You saw her on the stage for the final part of the show?’ said Augusta.

  ‘Yes.’ Daphne gave this some thought. ‘At least I think I did. I just assumed we were all out on the stage at the end.’

  ‘Presumably Cedric Langley’s photographs will confirm it,’ said Augusta.

  ‘Of course!’ said Mrs Chatsworth. ‘We’ll soon be able to see who was on that stage and who wasn’t.’

  ‘I wasn’t,’ said Daphne.

  ‘Only at the very end.’

  ‘Yes. But I left the stage early, and that’s why the police suspect me. It was all because of those shoes! I couldn’t wear them for a minute longer. If only I hadn’t had to wear those shoes!’

  Chapter 16

  Augusta left Mrs Chatsworth bickering with the moustachioed constable about spending more time with her daughter. Although Augusta felt sorry for Daphne, she could understand why Detective Sergeant Joyce considered her a suspect.

  To help Lady Hereford, Augusta needed to learn more about the other people involved with the fashion show. She decided to pay a visit to Vivien Kingsley at her fashion house.

  Augusta travelled by tube to Bond Street station, hoping to speak to Miss Kingsley before her shop closed for the day. On New Bond Street, shopkeepers were bringing in signs from the street and folding up their awnings. Augusta hurried her step, desperate to reach the Kingsley boutique in time.

  She found it close to the junction with Brook Street. Mannequins stood in the window wearing the tea gowns which had appalled Lady Hereford so much. Augusta tried the door of the shop, but it was locked.

  A sign on the door displayed the opening hours which stated the boutique would close at six. Augusta was five minutes early.

  Confused, she stepped back to survey the building. She reasoned the Kingsley fashion house occupied much of it for its workshops and offices. It was three storeys high and had attractive sash windows edged with ornately carved stone. Next to the shop was another door. It had no window or number, just a brass knocker. Augusta decided to try her luck and gave the knocker a sharp rap.

  It felt like a long wait before the door was opened by a woman in a cotton dress with a white house coat over the top. Augusta guessed she was a seamstress. ‘Can I help you?’ she said.

  ‘I would like to speak with Miss Kingsley if possible,’ said Augusta. ‘I’m a friend of Miss Chatsworth’s family and I’ve just visited her at Kensington police station.’

  It was enough to persuade the seamstress. ‘I’ll speak to her assistant,’ she said.

  A short while later, a harassed-looking woman appeared at the door. She wore a strawberry-red dress with a wide collar and a long drooping silk bow. Augusta repeated her explanation and added that she was a private detective assisting the Chatsworth family.

  ‘Well, I suppose you’d better come in,’ said the assistant. She looked about thirty and had mousy, waved hair cut into a fashionable bob. Augusta followed her up a flight of wooden stairs and along a corridor.

  ‘I’m Miss Bilston,’ said the assistant over her shoulder as she briskly strode ahead.

  ‘It’s nice to meet you, Miss Bilston.’

  Augusta caught glimpses of the workshops through open doorways. Rows of sewing machines, long rolls of fabric and wooden mannequins wearing half-constructed clothing. The seamstresses were preparing to leave for the day. Some gave Augusta a curious look as she followed Miss Bilston.

  They climbed another flight of stairs and the assistant knocked at a pair of ornate wooden doors.

  ‘What is it?’ The voice from within sounded stern.

  Miss Bilston gave Augusta a nervous glance before stepping inside and closing the door on her.

  Augusta tried to calm her own nerves as she waited. Miss Kingsley seemed to be a formidable woman, and it was possible she would find Augusta’s visit an annoyance.

  Augusta reminded herself how calm she could be with difficult people. She had encountered people far worse than Miss Kingsley during the war. She mustn’t allow herself to be intimidated.

  Eventually Miss Bilston reappeared and Augusta was permitted to step into Miss Kingsley’s heavily scented apartment. It was filled with furniture, ornaments, mirrors, bookcases and lamps. Oriental rugs lay on the floor and more hung on the walls. There was so much to look at that Miss Kingsley wasn’t immediately obvious. Augusta spotted her sitting in an armchair with her shoes lying on the floor close by. Her legs were tucked beneath her and she propped an elbow on the arm of the chair as she held a cigarette in her hand. A stack of bracelets shimmered on her forearm.

  ‘How can I help?’ She had sharp blue eyes and her tone was brisk.

  ‘Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, Miss Kingsley. I’m a good friend of Lady Hereford’s. Her great niece is Daphne Chatsworth.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I run a bookshop in Bloomsbury. But I’m also a private detective.’

  Miss Kingsley raised a finely drawn eyebrow.

  ‘Lady Hereford has asked me to help her great niece,’ continued Augusta. ‘As you probably know, she’s been arrested on suspicion of Lola Parker’s murder. She wants me to help prove Daphne’s innocence.’

  ‘Very honourable of you, Mrs Peel. I don’t see how I can help you, though.’

  ‘Do you believe Daphne is innocent?’

  ‘Of course! I was extremely shocked to hear she’d been arrested. I don’t understand how anyone could suspect her of murdering Lola. It’s simply not possible.’

  ‘The police suspect her because she was the person who found Lola’s body. She left the stage shortly before the end of the show.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’

  ‘The police presumably think Daphne had time to attack Lola before everyone else returned to the changing rooms.’

  ‘Sounds like nonsense to me.’ She inhaled on her cigarette.

  ‘Did you see Daphne leave the stage early?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘So you don’t know how long she was in the changing rooms with Lola?’

  ‘No.’ Miss Kingsley pursed her lips and Augusta sensed she was going to bring the conversation to an end.

  ‘Did you see Lola in the changing rooms before you went out onto the stage for the final part of the show?’

  ‘No. I had no idea she was there.’

  How had the designer not seen her? This puzzled Augusta. ‘So you thought Lola was on the stage with the other girls?’

  ‘Yes.’ Miss Kingsley glanced at the gold watch on her wrist. Time was almost up.

  ‘Photographs,’ said Augusta hurriedly.

  ‘I’m sorry?’ said Miss Kingsley. ‘Photographs?’

  ‘The photographer Cedric Langley was taking photographs of the show.’

 

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