‘I like whatever my wife likes,’ he said. ‘It’s not a good idea to rock the boat on these matters.’

  Mr Briggs chuckled. ‘Yes, I understand you. It’s the same with me and my wife. It’s fair to say she’s the one who wears the trousers in our house.’ He chuckled again, and Philip joined in. Augusta gave a playful gasp, pretending to be mildly offended.

  Mr Briggs rested back in his chair and steepled his fingers. ‘I have one or two sellers with landscapes to sell. What sort of price range are you looking at?’

  ‘I have to confess my ignorance,’ said Augusta. ‘I really don’t know much about the price of art.’

  ‘It would be nosy of me to ask exactly how much money you’ve come into, Mrs Dennis, but as price doesn’t seem to be terribly important to you, I can only guess it’s not an insignificant sum. Can you give me an idea of what you might be looking to pay?’

  ‘About two hundred and fifty pounds,’ said Augusta. The amount was equivalent to what a servant might earn in a year. ‘A little more if it’s something I really like. But I really hoped I might be able to see some art. If I could see some pictures, then I could have a good idea of how much I would like to pay for them.’

  ‘I absolutely understand you, Mrs Dennis. What I propose at this stage is a second meeting, and what we can do then is discuss the actual pieces of artwork which I think may interest you.’

  ‘A second meeting? I had hoped to buy some art today.’

  ‘I realise that, Mrs Dennis. And I’ll readily admit you could walk into any gallery here in London and buy yourself a piece of art immediately. But I offer a unique and personal service. I like to match the artwork to the buyer. I’d like to learn a little more about the pair of you, because my sellers are quite particular about who they sell to.’

  Augusta felt a twinge of discomfort. ‘What sort of thing do you want to know?’

  ‘Let me start by making a note of your address.’

  Augusta told him the address in West Norwood which she and Philip had agreed on.

  ‘West Norwood is a nice place,’ said Mr Briggs. ‘So you came in by train this morning?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Did you come into Victoria or London Bridge?’

  ‘Victoria.’

  ‘Of course. It’s just a little bit nearer, isn’t it? Now tell me, are there any young Dennises?’

  ‘No,’ said Augusta. ‘Why do you need to know that?’

  ‘It helps give me an idea of the sort of people you are. And I should add that expensive works of art and young children don’t mix well. You want to be able to hang a nice piece of art in your home without worrying it will be hit by a ball or covered with sticky fingerprints. How long have you been married?’

  ‘Fifteen years.’

  ‘And I hope you don’t mind me remarking, Mr Dennis,’ said Briggs. ‘But I notice you walk with a stick.’

  ‘Yes. A war injury,’ said Philip.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear it. You must have been relieved to return home in one piece.’

  ‘Yes. Something like that.’

  ‘I didn’t serve in the war. Asthma.’ He patted his chest. ‘I was very disappointed because I was desperate to sign up and do my bit. But there you go. At least I tried. Well, it’s been delightful meeting the pair of you.’

  ‘Our meeting’s over?’ asked Augusta.

  ‘Yes, for the time being. Let’s meet again in three days’ time and I’ll show you some pieces which may interest you. I have to liaise with my sellers first, Mrs Dennis.’

  They thanked Mr Briggs and stepped out onto Curzon Street a short while later.

  ‘How do you think that went?’ Augusta asked Philip as they walked eastwards towards Berkeley Square.

  ‘Not very well,’ he said. ‘There was no art to be seen anywhere, was there? And I’m a little worried Briggs is smarter than we thought.’

  Chapter 21

  ‘I barely knew Lola Parker,’ said Cedric Langley. ‘I don’t know why you think I can help.’

  He placed his hands on his hips as he faced the detective and police sergeant who had called at his studio.

  The detective was young and fair-haired and had told him his name was Joyce. He did most of the talking while the sergeant wrote in a notebook.

  He didn’t like the police here on his doorstep, their presence made him uncomfortable. Even though he found the dark-eyed sergeant quite handsome.

  ‘When did you last see Miss Parker that afternoon?’ asked Detective Sergeant Joyce.

  ‘When I was photographing her and the other models during the show.’

  ‘Can you recall what time that was?’

  ‘No, I’m afraid not. I was too busy concentrating on my work.’

  ‘Did you see anyone acting suspiciously at the show?’

  ‘No. But that doesn’t mean to say there wasn’t. I just wasn’t looking out for suspicious characters. I was busy.’

  ‘Did you speak to Miss Parker that day?’

  ‘I don’t have any recollection of it. I mean, I may have done. I spoke to a lot of the girls before the show. Lola was obviously there. I don’t remember a specific conversation with her, though.’

  ‘Were you aware Miss Kingsley had asked Lola Parker and Sylvia Harper to swap outfits?’

  ‘No, I didn’t know anything about that at the time. I’ve since heard about it and all that occurred in the changing rooms. I didn’t witness any of it. Look, I really don’t know what you want from me, Detective. I’m as shocked as everyone else about this. It’s difficult to believe it’s happened.’

  ‘When did you see Lola before the day of the show?’

  Cedric thought for a moment. What was the point of these silly questions? There was no use getting annoyed about them because that would antagonise the police. They were probably looking for any reason to suspect people. ‘I don’t recall the exact dates,’ he said. ‘It would have been at a photography session here. I photographed the girls in Miss Kingsley’s new collection before the show. That took a few days and Lola attended some of the sessions. I forget the exact dates. But everything went well, everyone was polite.’

  ‘I’ve heard reports Miss Parker was prone to sulkiness.’

  ‘Sometimes she could be.’

  ‘Did that cause a problem for you?’

  ‘Not at all.’ He smiled to show how little it had bothered him. ‘I’m used to dealing with different temperaments. If a model is sulky during a photography session, then I strike up some entertaining conversation. That always works. I don’t actually blame the models for getting a little fed up at times. It can be tedious work. Even the very best models can get tired in a long, arduous photography session. Although it’s very glamorous, changing into all those lovely different outfits and having their hair and makeup done, a few hours of it can be quite demanding. I don’t think Lola would have done the job for many years. She just happened to look the part, and that’s why she was so popular with Miss Kingsley.’

  ‘So her attitude didn’t cause any problems for you?’

  ‘No.’ He smiled again.

  ‘Did you ever exchange cross words with Miss Parker?’

  ‘As in the Times crossword?’ He laughed at his joke and the detective looked puzzled. The handsome sergeant didn’t laugh either. ‘Oh, you meant cross words. No, there was no need for me to get cross with any of the models. And no cross words with Lola, no.’

  The sergeant made more notes and Cedric felt he was doing a good job of persuading them he was telling the truth.

  ‘Can you think of anyone who would have wanted to harm Miss Parker?’

  Cedric gave this some thought. He needed the police to focus their attention elsewhere. It was best if he came up with a suggestion.

  ‘Lola fell out with Sylvia Harper shortly before she was attacked.’

  ‘You think Miss Harper is capable of strangling her colleague?’

  He shrugged. ‘I really don’t like to think so. But I don’t know Miss Harper very well. She’s always struck me as a perfectly pleasant girl. But who knows what comes over some people when they get caught up in a terrible row like that? I’m not saying Miss Harper did it, but sometimes an argument just escalates and escalates and somebody loses their temper. Perhaps they don’t intend to kill someone, but they end up doing it by accident. I really don’t know if that’s what happened to Lola, but it’s my best guess for what it’s worth, Detective.’

  Chapter 22

  Detective Sergeant Joyce telephoned Augusta the following day.

  ‘I thought I’d let you know we’ve let Miss Chatsworth go,’ he said.

  ‘She’s no longer a suspect?’

  ‘I can’t be completely certain about that, but she’s no longer in custody.’

  ‘Good.’ Augusta knew Lady Hereford would be relieved.

  ‘And I’d like to request your help with something,’ continued the detective. ‘I’ve tried speaking to Miss Harper. She’s the young woman Miss Parker had an argument with shortly before her death.’

  ‘Sylvia?’

  ‘Yes. The interview didn’t go very well. I think she was nervous. Would you mind speaking to her? I think she would prefer talking to a lady.’

  ‘Of course, I’d be happy to help.’

  The detective gave Augusta the model’s address and, later that morning, she called at the flat at Montagu Square in Marylebone.

  The flat was in a row of tall Georgian townhouses with smart front doors and wrought-iron railings. Sylvia Harper lived in a flat on the top floor overlooking the tree-filled square.

  Her mood was cautious. ‘I don’t understand,’ she said. ‘Are you working for the police?’ She was a tall, dark-haired young woman with pale ivory skin.

  Augusta repeated her explanation, emphasising she was a friend of Daphne and Lady Hereford.

  ‘So you’re not working for the police?’

  ‘I’m assisting everyone,’ said Augusta. ‘I’m a private detective.’

  ‘And you mentioned you also own a bookshop.’

  ‘Yes.’ Augusta could understand why Sylvia Harper found this confusing.

  ‘This is a lovely flat,’ she said, trying to put the young woman at ease. It was filled with antique furniture and old paintings, not the sort of interior Augusta associated with the young woman standing in front of her.

  ‘It’s my uncle’s flat,’ she replied. ‘He owns the building. In fact, he owns most of this side of the square.’ Her clipped accent suggested a wealthy family and a good education. ‘My cousin lives two doors along.’ She pointed to a green jacquard armchair. ‘I suppose you’d better take a seat, Mrs Peel.’

  Miss Harper sank into another chair, sighed, then pushed her bobbed hair behind her ears. She wore a lavender dress with a pleated skirt and a bow at the waist. She looked miserable. Augusta wondered if it was her usual mood or whether it had been caused by her visit.

  ‘My condolences on the passing of your friend Lola.’

  ‘Thank you. She wasn’t really a friend. But it was still a shock.’

  ‘How well did you know her?’

  ‘Fairly well. But we weren’t friends.’

  A pause followed and Augusta left the silence deliberately unfilled.

  Miss Harper sighed again. ‘I feel like it’s all my fault.’

  ‘Why is it your fault?’

  ‘Because if I’d agreed to swap outfits back again with Lola, then she would have walked out onto the stage with the rest of us and the murderer wouldn’t have got hold of her.’

  ‘But you couldn’t possibly have predicted someone would attack Lola while she was in the changing rooms,’ said Augusta. ‘No one could have predicted that. Least of all Lola. You followed the instructions which Miss Kingsley had given you. You were happy about it, but Lola wasn’t. That doesn’t mean you were obliged to go along with her suggestion. I can understand why you feel somehow responsible, but you really weren’t. And besides, someone clearly wanted to harm Lola. If they hadn’t achieved it at that moment, then perhaps they might have tried another time?’

  Miss Harper shuddered. ‘It’s such a horrible thought.’

  ‘Yes, it is horrible. The police are struggling to understand why anyone would want to harm her.’

  ‘Well, they spoke to me about it, and I felt like they were accusing me.’

  ‘Sometimes it can seem that way. Unfortunately, they’re going to consider everyone who had a disagreement with Lola. But it couldn’t possibly have been you because you were out on the stage while the attack took place.’

  Miss Harper’s shoulders relaxed a little. Augusta couldn’t be certain the young woman had been on the stage with the other girls at the time of Lola’s death. She tried to recall if she had seen Sylvia on the stage at the end, but she had no specific memory of it. And there was no photographic proof either, because Cedric Langley’s camera had broken.

  ‘Yes, I was out on the stage when Lola was attacked. But I don’t think the police believe me.’

  ‘They probably do. They arrested Daphne, not you.’

  ‘I suppose that’s true.’ Miss Harper paused. Then added, ‘I don’t understand why they arrested Daphne. She would never have done it. Who could possibly do a thing like that? I can hardly bear to think of it. They must have just crept up behind Lola and pulled her scarf. She wouldn’t have had a chance! It’s made me want to stop doing this work. I’m too scared something like that could happen to me.’

  ‘It was a rare incident,’ said Augusta. ‘And it’s unlikely to ever happen again. I can understand why you feel worried now, but I think the murderer planned to attack Lola. No one knows why yet.’

  ‘And that’s the horrible thing! If they could just find a reason why someone did this to her, then we could all feel safe again.’

  ‘Can you think of any reasons?’

  ‘No. None.’

  ‘I’ve heard there were quite a few places to hide in the changing rooms,’ said Augusta. ‘Apparently, there were racks of clothes and trunks lying about. Do you think it’s possible someone could have hidden there without being noticed?’

  ‘I don’t know. How would they have got into the changing rooms without being noticed? And I think someone would have spotted them in there before long. Perhaps someone managed to hide in there and get away with it.’

  ‘It must have been someone with knowledge of the fashion show,’ said Augusta. ‘And they would have known it would be possible to hide in the changing rooms.’

  ‘I suppose so. I keep thinking about everything over and over. I’m trying to think whether I saw someone who shouldn’t have been there. But there really wasn’t. And the only other thing I can think of is that one of the girls did it. And I can’t bear that thought! I really don’t believe one of them would do such a thing to Lola.’

  ‘Can you be certain that Lola was the only girl who wasn’t on the stage for the final part of the show?’

  ‘I can’t be completely sure. It seemed like everyone was on the stage. In fact, I hadn’t even noticed Lola wasn’t with us.’

  ‘Did you notice Daphne leave the stage early?’

  ‘No. I was too busy concentrating on my own performance.’

  ‘Was Lola popular?’

  Miss Harper twirled a lock of hair with her finger as she thought. ‘She wasn’t the most popular girl. But she was nice enough. She was different. Miss Kingsley found her on the street. We had a disagreement that afternoon, which everyone knows about. Lola didn’t like it when she didn’t get her own way, but we usually got on alright together. I can’t think of anyone who disliked her or wanted to harm her.’

  ‘What’s Miss Kingsley like to work for?’

  ‘She has high standards and is quite demanding. She scares me a little bit. But she has to be like that.’

  ‘Have you seen her lose her temper?’

  ‘Yes, quite a few times. That’s because she needs everyone to do what she tells them to. She expects everyone to work as hard as she does. She hates lazy people.’

  ‘Do you know how Lola felt about working for her?’

  ‘I don’t think she enjoyed it all the time, she could be quite moody. She liked the clothes, though.’

  ‘What did Miss Kingsley think about Lola’s moods?’

  ‘I don’t know. But, knowing her, she would have been annoyed by them.’

  ‘So she could have lost her temper with Lola that day?’

  ‘Possibly. She might have lost her temper, but she would never have lost control of herself. If you’re wondering if she harmed Lola, Mrs Peel, then you’re completely mistaken. She wouldn’t have done it.’

  ‘So who do you think did?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She gave an exasperated shrug. ‘I don’t think a woman could have done this. I think the culprit has to be a man. And the only man I saw in the changing rooms that afternoon was Cedric Langley.’

  ‘Could he have harmed Lola?’

  ‘No. Never.’

  Augusta got to her feet. ‘Well, thank you for talking to me, Miss Harper. If you think of anything else, would you mind letting me know?’ She pulled a visiting card out of her bag and handed it to her.

  ‘I will.’ She got up to show Augusta to the door.

  ‘There was something else I’ve remembered,’ she said. ‘Maybe it’s nothing.’

  ‘Even the smallest piece of information can be useful.’

  ‘We had to get to Holland Park Rink for midday. Lola was just ahead of me when I arrived. When we reached the gate, there was a young man leaning against the railings. He called out to Lola, but she didn’t respond. It looked like she was deliberately ignoring him. As if he was a nuisance.’

  ‘Have you any idea who he was?’

  ‘No. And I thought nothing more of it. But whether he was annoyed she ignored him and somehow got into the changing rooms…’

  ‘It would be useful to find out who he is. What did he look like?’

  ‘He was quite tall and lanky. About twenty-five. He was wearing a dark suit and a boater hat. There was an expression on his face that I didn’t like.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I can’t really explain it. But he had an unpleasant look to him.’

 

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