Murder at the Ashmolean, page 12
‘Robbery?’ echoed Herb, aghast. ‘I never!’
‘No, you told her a man had paid you to tell her to stop asking questions about Eve Lachelle. So, I’m asking you, who was the man? And don’t tell me you’d never seen him before, because it won’t wash. Anyone who asks you to do that would only do so because they know who you are and what you like to do, which is be rough with women. Now this is going to be very simple: you can either tell me his name, or I’ll charge you with attempted murder and have you put away for quite a few years. And I’ll make sure it’s hard labour. With a flogging thrown in.’
‘Attempted murder?!’ Herb shook his head. ‘No one’ll believe that.’
‘Oh yes, they will,’ said Pitt. ‘With your record of violence. And she could have been killed. You’re a strong man, Herb. So, that’s your choice. A very long and rough time in jail, or you can walk out of here. What’s it to be?’
Herb gulped, then said, ‘His name’s Albert Preston. He works as bar manager at the Quill Club.’
‘How do you know him?’
‘Me and him drink at the same bar: the Horse and Feathers.’
‘Good,’ said Pitt. ‘The next thing I’m going to do is to talk to this Albert Preston and get confirmation, and if I get that, you’ll be free to go.’
‘He won’t admit it!’ burst out Herb.
‘Of course he won’t, but if I feel it was him, the same applies. I’ll let you go.’ He looked at the constable. ‘You can take him back to his cell now, Constable.’
As the two men rose to their feet, Pitt added, ‘A word of advice, Herb. If I were you, I’d give up this life of threatening women; you’re obviously not suited to it.’
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Daniel and Abigail got to their feet as Inspector Pitt appeared from the back of the station.
‘Well?’ asked Daniel.
‘The man who hired him to threaten Miss Fenton was Albert Preston. He’s the bar manager at the Quill Club.’
‘Yes, I’ve met him,’ said Daniel. ‘But something tells me he won’t have acted without authority from his boss, Mr de Witt.’
‘Eve Lachelle is at the heart of this,’ said Abigail.
‘It would seem so,’ agreed Pitt.
‘One name’s come up in our investigations and that’s a man called Piers Stevens,’ said Daniel. ‘He’s a member of the Quill Club and was apparently very friendly with Gavin Everett, but only after the attack on Eve Lachelle took place. Was Piers Stevens one of the men she named?’
Pitt hesitated, then said, ‘That’s difficult for me, because none of the men were charged, so I’m not really allowed to pass on any information about the identities of those involved.’
‘But we’re talking about threats being made to Abigail,’ Daniel pointed out. ‘Herb was just the instrument, as – I suspect – was Albert the bar manager. We need to find out where the threat emanates from.’
Again, Pitt hesitated, then nodded. ‘Yes, he was one of them. But, as I say, when we started investigating, Eve Lachelle withdrew the charges, and then just disappeared. Everyone we spoke to said she’d just upped and gone. So that was the end of it.’
‘But not for Piers Stevens,’ mused Daniel. ‘Because, by all accounts, Gavin Everett latched onto him and started blackmailing him, and it’s a bit of a coincidence that only apparently happened after the alleged attack on Eve Lachelle.’
‘But why him?’ asked Pitt. ‘There were four men she initially named. Stevens was just one of them. What about the other three? There’s been no mention of them.’
‘Who were they?’ asked Abigail.
Pitt shook his head. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I only talked about Stevens because you asked about him. I’d be breaching my duty if I gave you the names of the others as it turned out they had no case to answer.’
‘I bet they did,’ said Abigail. ‘But Eve Lachelle was either frightened off or paid to keep her mouth shut.’
‘I expect you’re right,’ agreed Pitt. ‘But officially there is no case.’
‘I understand,’ said Daniel. ‘But we will be digging, especially after what happened to Abigail. Where to now? The Quill Club?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Pitt.
Inspector Grafton stood in the Broad, his eyes on the gap in the metal railings on the other side of the road which was the entrance to the Quill Club. A discreet gentlemen’s club. The lack of any sign outside the place confirmed that. That kind of discretion meant money, prestige and power, so he couldn’t just go blundering in. How to go about it? Would his warrant card work here? Somehow, he doubted it. It was the same with the elite of society in London: they always knew someone who’d protect them. Until enough pressure was applied by his senior commanders, at which point that protection usually crumbled. But he didn’t have his senior commanders here. He was on his own.
Suddenly he saw three figures heading towards the club: Wilson, the Fenton woman and another man. They went through the gap and down the steps.
Who was the other man? Grafton wondered. He had all the hallmarks of a copper. Plain clothes, so that meant a detective. Then he remembered where he’d seen him before. At Kemp Hall, after that cursed Superintendent Clare had ordered him off the premises, he’d seen that man in the corridor as he left.
So, the police, along with Wilson and Fenton, were interested in the Quill Club, which must mean de Witt. Why? Had they got the same information as he had, the Boer link?
He turned away, weighing up his next move. He needed someone inside the police station, someone who’d keep him informed of what they were up to. Someone who’d be impressed by his Special Branch warrant card, impressed enough to dig out information for him. The promise of a chance to get into Special Branch would work if he could find the right person. Someone ambitious and eager, and with a chip on his shoulder. Someone who resented the other police officers and felt he wasn’t getting the right opportunities. It was just a question of finding them.
Vance de Witt sat at his paper-strewn desk and looked inquisitively at his visitors. Abigail had been ushered to the chair on the other side of the desk, while Daniel and Inspector Pitt stood.
‘We’re here because we’ve arrested a Mr Herbert Fulworth for launching an assault on Miss Fenton here,’ Pitt said. ‘Fulworth claims he was hired to carry out the attack by your bar manager, Albert Preston.’
‘Nonsense!’ snorted de Witt. ‘Why on earth would Albert do such a thing?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ said Pitt. ‘Is Mr Preston available for us to have a word with him?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ said de Witt. ‘He was called away unexpectedly. A family matter, I believe. He didn’t furnish me with the details, just said that he needed to go away for a few days to deal with a personal issue.’
‘Did he say where?’
‘No,’ said de Witt.
‘Mr Fulworth made it clear when he attacked Miss Fenton that he was doing it to prevent her asking questions about Eve Lachelle. I remember that Eve Lachelle used to work for you as a waitress.’
‘And you will also recall that she made unfair allegations against some of our members, Inspector. Which she later withdrew when they were shown to be unfounded.’
‘Indeed, I remember that, Mr de Witt, but I’m puzzled why Albert Preston, your bar manager, would want Miss Fenton to stop asking questions about Miss Lachelle’s current whereabouts.’
‘I am puzzled, too, if that is true. Personally, I feel that to be highly unlikely. There was no need for Albert to be involved in anything to do with Eve Lachelle. I suspect this man Herbert has fed you false information.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Who knows?’ De Witt shrugged. ‘Criminal types often lay the blame on others, often wrongly, in order to protect themselves. When Albert returns, I will make sure he reports to you and you can ask him, but I’m fairly sure you’ll get the same answer.’
‘Where is Eve Lachelle?’ asked Abigail.
De Witt turned his attention to Abigail, then swung back to Pitt. ‘Is this lady in the employ of the Oxford police, Inspector? I’m not sure why she’s here.’
‘As the complainant,’ said Pitt. ‘She was attacked, and – as I said – according to the man who attacked her, on the orders of your bar manager.’
‘An allegation which I believe to be spurious,’ said de Witt. ‘But I fail to see why I should answer questions from her on anything other than the alleged attack.’
‘Oh, there was an attack alright,’ said Pitt. ‘We have witnesses, as well as the attacker who admits to it. But in that case, Mr de Witt, let me ask you the question: where is Eve Lachelle?’
‘Why?’ asked de Witt. ‘I understood that case was closed.’
‘There is another matter we wish to discuss with her,’ said Pitt.
‘What other matter?’
‘Police business,’ said Pitt. ‘I’m sure you know it’s an offence to obstruct the police in the course of their enquiries.’
De Witt smiled. ‘I do indeed, Inspector. Well, I can only repeat what I told you before. Some months ago, Eve Lachelle failed to turn up for work. We made enquiries at her lodgings and were told she’d left that day, taking her few possessions with her. She left no forwarding address, and no one heard from her again. That’s it.’ He gestured at the papers on his desk. ‘And now, if there’s nothing else, I’d be grateful if I can continue. With Albert leaving at such short notice, I have to make arrangements to replace him temporarily, and good bar managers are hard to find.’
Daniel, Abigail and Pitt left the office and made their way through the empty club.
‘Well, that wasn’t much help,’ commented Abigail.
‘De Witt knows the ins and outs of the law backwards,’ grunted Pitt. ‘Trying to catch him out is like trying to grab hold of jelly.’
‘We need to talk to Eve Lachelle’s landlord,’ said Abigail. ‘Find out when she actually left, and what she took with her.’
‘Landlady,’ Pitt corrected her. ‘She lived in rooms at a house in Market Street.’
‘Can we go there?’ asked Abigail. ‘I’m sure she’s the key to all that’s happening.’
‘No problem,’ said Pitt. ‘I met Mrs Rashford before, so I’ll introduce you.’
Daniel stopped as they were about to step out into the daylight. ‘You two go on. I just want to have a private word with Mr de Witt. I’ll catch you up later.’
‘I have a meeting with Superintendent Clare in just over an hour,’ said Pitt.
‘I’ll see you at the Wilton and we can catch up there,’ said Abigail.
‘Can I say: I hope you’re not going to do something stupid with Mr de Witt,’ said Pitt warily.
Daniel smiled. ‘No, Inspector. I promise you. Nothing stupid.’
Abigail and Pitt left the club, and Daniel made his way back to the office. He knocked at the door, then opened it and stepped in.
‘Mr de Witt,’ he said. ‘A private word, if you don’t mind?’
De Witt regarded Daniel with a cynical smile. ‘Mr Wilson,’ he said sourly. ‘Let me, guess, you’ve come here to … what? Threaten me with physical violence if I don’t tell you where Albert has gone to?’
‘Not at all,’ said Daniel. ‘Physical violence is not my forte, although I have been known to use it if pushed. No, I leave that to Miss Fenton. I’m guessing that Albert told you how she dealt with the thug who was hired to threaten her. A kick in the balls. Smashing his head against the pavement.’ He smiled. ‘Actually, that’s quite restrained for her. When she was on an archaeological dig in Egypt, one of the local labourers caught her on her own and tried to take advantage of her. She attacked him with a shovel so savagely that he had to be hospitalised. No, when it comes to physical violence, she’s the one you should be worried about. So, it is worth warning you that if you try anything like that again, next time it will be you she comes looking for, and she’s liable to tear your head off and use it as a doorstop.’
De Witt had remained unsmiling during this. Now he asked, ‘Is that it? You just came back to warn me off from threatening Miss Fenton? I can assure you, I have no such intention.’
‘Good, but that’s not the reason I came back. I returned because I’d like to know how I can contact Piers Stevens.’
‘Who?’ asked de Witt blandly.
‘One of your members. I believe he was very close to Gavin Everett just before Everett’s untimely demise.’
‘All information about our members is confidential,’ said de Witt tersely. ‘Even as far as other members are concerned.’
‘Absolutely.’ Daniel nodded. ‘And very understandable. I could, of course, ask Inspector Pitt to get a search warrant to look at your membership records …’ Daniel held up his hand as de Witt opened his mouth to speak, and finished, ‘But that would be a waste of time, because by the time the warrant arrived, all your records would have disappeared. Possibly lost in an unfortunate fire.’
De Witt smiled. ‘Such accidents have been known to happen.’
‘No, I was thinking of pressure from another quarter to hopefully make you agree to give me that information.’
‘If you’re thinking of blackmail …’ De Witt smiled.
‘No, no,’ said Daniel quickly. ‘I was thinking of Scotland Yard Special Branch. You’ve heard of them?’
Daniel could tell that de Witt had by the way the smile was wiped off his face.
‘What have Special Branch got to do with the Quill Club?’ he asked warily.
‘Actually, not the Quill Club, but you personally,’ said Daniel.
De Witt glared at Daniel.
‘Explain yourself,’ he snapped, and Daniel could feel the anger in the man.
‘There is an inspector from Special Branch who’s recently arrived in Oxford. His name’s Inspector Walter Grafton. Grafton and I worked together when I was at the Yard, although it has to be said that he and I never got on. But he’s tenacious. And right now, I understand he’s looking into you.’
‘Me?’
‘Vance de Witt, manager of the Quill Club.’ Daniel nodded. ‘That’s what my informant told me.’
‘Why?’
Daniel smiled. ‘Well, I could tell you what I heard about why, but I think that might be a bit one-sided. Now I could make my own enquiries to find Piers Stevens’ address, I’m sure that won’t be difficult, but it would save me time if you were able to furnish me with it. In my opinion, I’m not asking you to reveal anything confidential. And, in return, I’ll pass on to you why I heard that Inspector Grafton is asking questions about you.’
De Witt glowered at Daniel, then he opened a drawer in his desk and took a ledger out. He opened it and turned the pages until he found the one he wanted, then took a piece of paper and a pen, and wrote an address on it, which he passed to Daniel.
‘Thank you,’ said Daniel.
‘Your side of the bargain?’ de Witt challenged.
‘Apparently Inspector Grafton believes there may be a Boer connection to Everett’s death. Somehow he got your name and has decided to see if you have any Boer connections.’
‘That’s preposterous!’ snorted de Witt.
‘I agree,’ said Daniel. ‘But Inspector Grafton has his own agenda.’ He got up. ‘I understand he’s here independent of the Oxford police, so you won’t get any information about him from Kemp Hall. But he is here on official Special Branch business, and he’s watching you.’ He headed for the door, then turned and gave de Witt a small polite bow. ‘Thank you for your cooperation, Mr de Witt. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Mrs Rashford was a cheerful, friendly woman, who invited Abigail and Inspector Pitt into her homely kitchen.
‘I remember you from before, Inspector,’ she told them, ‘and I said to myself: there’s a man who won’t let wrongs go unpunished. And here you are again, after all these months, still trying to get justice for that poor girl.’
‘You believe that Eve Lachelle was attacked, Mrs Rashford?’ asked Abigail.
‘Absolutely,’ said Mrs Rashford. ‘I speak as I find, and in my opinion, Eve was an honest girl. I don’t doubt that she lived a life very different from mine, but she never brought it into my house. She was always polite and, like I said, honest. Nothing ever disappeared if she’d been left on her own, which isn’t always the way. You remember, Inspector, I told you that at the time.’
Pitt nodded. ‘You did. The last time I was here was shortly after she reported being attacked.’
‘That’s right,’ said Mrs Rashford. ‘She was in a terrible state. If you remember, it was me who persuaded her to go to the police and report it. In fact, I went with her.’
‘You did,’ said Pitt. ‘But later, she retracted.’
‘She’d been got at. Pressurised. Terrible to think of those men getting away with it.’
‘The trouble was, for us in the police, that once she’d withdrawn her allegations, we couldn’t do anything else other than drop the charges against them.’
‘But you’re here now,’ said Mrs Rashford. ‘So, what’s changed?’
‘Actually, it’s not about her being attacked, but her leaving. As I understand it, one day she just left.’
Mrs Rashford looked unhappy as she said, ‘Worse than that. She went out in the afternoon, and then never came back. The next morning a man turned up with a note from her saying she’d sent him to collect her things and settle up with any rent she owed. I couldn’t understand it. I thought we were friendlier than that, especially after the way I looked out for her after the dreadful attack. This man wouldn’t even tell me where she’d gone.’
‘Did the man give a name?’
‘No. Just said he was a friend of Eve’s.’
‘Can you describe him?’
