Chapter Ten
TEN
When Daisy reached home, she found several messages on the hall table notepad.
She glanced through them, half-relieved, half-disappointed that none was from Alec.
Much as she missed him, if he had been going to return home tonight, she would have had to postpone her planned outing with Phillip, or even cancel it.
Sakari had telephoned and wanted her to ring back. She went into the office and dialled the number.
“Daisy, good afternoon. How is your unfortunate nurse?”
“She’s doing well but she still can’t remember anything. It’s madly frustrating.”
“For her, too, I expect.”
“I daresay. And for the police.”
“You have seen them today?”
“Oh yes, bright and early. They showed me a photograph of … him, not too frightfully grisly, and I was able to identify him. I’d better not tell you on the phone. Not someone you’d know, anyway. Did the inspector visit you as well?”
“He sent a sergeant. I had no useful revelations for him. Him? You said ‘him’?”
“Yes, darling. A young man disguised as a woman.”
“How odd! I cannot see the purpose of such a trick.”
“I imagine it was a bet, or a dare.”
“Young men do foolish things. But this does not explain his death. It was not an accident, I assume?”
“Apparently not. Or probably not, I should say. Insofar as I’m in the confidence of the police, which is not far.”
“He must have been killed by the other nanny,” Sakari reasoned. “The one Mrs. Gilpin followed.”
“Presumably. There doesn’t seem to be any hint of anyone else in the vicinity, barring the attendant.”
Sakari laughed. “By all means bar the attendant. Is it known—”
“Caller, your three minutes is up. Do you want another three?”
“Yes, please! Daisy, are you still there?”
“I am. You were asking…?”
“Is it known whether the second nanny is man or woman?”
“Not to me, and I think not to the police.”
“He or she was responsible for your nanny’s misfortune?”
“So it would appear. Thanks for asking that, Sakari. You’ve clarified in my mind why I’m so keen to help catch him.
Or her. It’s not as if I care a hoot about Teddy.
He was an obnoxious youth when I met him, and it doesn’t sound as if he improved much.
Rather the reverse, in fact. But an attack on one of my employees is definitely my business. ”
“Oh, Daisy, is this not rationalisation?”
Sometimes Daisy wished her friend had not attended so many lectures on psychology. “You mean it’s just an excuse for being nosy?”
“I did not put it so.” Amusement suffused Sakari’s voice. “Let us call it curiosity, a trait we have in common. But your kind of curiosity can be dangerous. Remember that the person about whom you are curious has killed one and seriously injured another. Is not the hunt best left to the police?”
“I can help them. I know people who can find out who his friends were.”
“I will not attempt further to dissuade you. If there is anything I can do to assist your investigation, you can count on me.”
“Thank you, darling! As a matter of fact, I was thinking of lunching at the Café Royal, the haunt of the artsy crowd. Would you like to go with me?”
“I should love to. I have met interesting people there, as well as a few poseurs.”
“Let’s go tomorrow. I’ll ring you later to make definite plans.”
They said good-bye and rang off.
Daisy dealt with the rest of the messages, wrote a couple of letters, and dropped in to see the twins on the way to change for tea.
Not that she usually changed for tea, but when a gentleman who had proposed to one several times—however unenthusiastically—came to tea after a long absence, one put one’s best face forward. Especially when about to ask a favour.
Phillip arrived promptly, presented her with a bunch of yellow roses, and assured her she didn’t look a day older.
Nor did he. Tall and blond, he was good-looking in an indeterminate way, with a generally amiable expression.
In his mid-thirties, he still had a youthful loose-limbed suppleness of movement, valuable in a profession that involved a good deal of diving into the innards of motorcars.
By the time they had exchanged news of their respective families, they were on the old informal footing.
Daisy passed the biscuits and refilled his teacup. “Phillip, will you take me to a nightclub?”
He spluttered and tea dripped on his old school tie.
“Dash it, old thing, you ought to give a chap a bit of warning before springing something like that on him!” He dabbed ineffectually at the tie with his handkerchief, then gave up, tucked it away, and smoothed back his already sleek hair. “Why don’t you ask Fletcher?”
“He’s out of town, I told you.”
“Lucky man. Wait till he comes home.”
“I really want to go tonight.”
“You never used to care for nightclubs. What are you up to, Daisy?”
“What a nasty suspicious mind you’ve developed in America!”
“That’s the way they run business over there. No sealing a deal with a handshake. All the i’s have to be dotted and the t’s crossed. I’m glad I’m on the technical side. But that has nothing to do with your sudden passion for nightclubs.”
“I haven’t got a passion for nightclubs! I just thought it would be fun to go to one this evening.”
“Come off it, old girl. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I’ve known you since you were a babe in arms. You’ve got some bee in your bonnet. You haven’t got yourself mixed up in one of Alec’s cases again, have you?”
Considering Phillip knew of only two or three such cases, Daisy considered his assumption unwarranted. Besides, the case was not Alec’s—so far. “No. Will you take me? Or I’ll have to find someone who—”
“Not on your life! I’ll take you. Any particular place you have in mind?”
“I was thinking of the Kit-Cat?”
Phillip approved. “I was a member before I left the country. A respectable place. In fact, more respectable than it used to be. I heard it was raided by the police and reopened as a restaurant with dancing and entertainment.”
“It sounds to me like a nightclub.”
“Pretty much, but one is expected to eat, not just drink champagne. By the way, have you learned to dance yet?”
“No. I still have two left feet.”
“Oh well, I expect they still have good bands and an amusing cabaret. It’s no use going till half after ten, though. That’s when they start rolling out the best stuff. I say, would you like to make a night of it, Daisy? Dinner and a show first, I mean?”
“That sounds like fun, but I’ve got the children to think of.”
“Surely the twins will be—Oh, your stepdaughter.”
“And the visiting cousins. Belinda and Ben are too old to be fobbed off with nursery tea instead of dinner downstairs.” Besides, perhaps she was old-fashioned, but she didn’t think dining tête-à-tête, even with an old friend, would be quite comme il faut.
“Why don’t you join us? We can go on afterwards to a show. ”
“Er, these cousins, would they be the coloured…?”
“Yes. What difference does it make? I’m surprised at you, Phillip.”
“None, none at all,” he said hastily. “Things are a bit different in America, that’s all.”
“It’s not all sweetness and light here,” Daisy admitted.
“I’ll be happy to come to dinner. Is there any show you particularly want to see? Don’t say Ibsen, please, or anything on those lines!”
“I’ve no idea what’s on.”
“How about The Yellow Mask? It’s a musical comedy thriller, still going strong after a couple of months at the Carlton.”
“Suits me.” She checked the teapot and added hot water. “A refill?”
“Yes, please. The one thing I can’t get back home: a decent cup of tea.”
“‘Back home,’ is it?” she teased.
“Home is where Gloria is. We’ll never forget what we owe you and Alec.”
“Nonsense.” Daisy put down this unwonted and unwanted lapse into sentimentality to his five-year sojourn in foreign parts.
She passed the gingersnaps. Mrs. Dobson made superb gingersnaps and their crunchiness might avert a further embarrassing display.
“Will seven o’clock be all right for you for dinner?
I’ve been dining a bit early while the boys are here.
It’ll give us plenty of time afterwards to get to the theatre. ”
“Fine. I have to get the tickets, so I’d better get going.”
“Will you be able to get them at such short notice?”
“Oh yes. I know a fellow at my club who—”
“Your club! Why didn’t I think of that? I wonder … Most men belong to clubs, don’t they?”
“Most gentlemen. And there are clubs for working men, I believe.”
Daisy dismissed the working men with a wave. “How many gentlemen’s clubs are there in London?”
“Good lord, Daisy, I’ve no idea.”
“How on earth can I find out which he belongs to? Lucy might know, though I doubt it, or Angela but she’s not on the phone. Gerald? Might be worth trying.”
“Daisy, for pity’s sake, who are you talking about?”
“Teddy, of course,” she said abstractedly.
“Well, if you can supply a surname, you might as well ask me, for a start. I’m a bit out of touch, but I’ve kept up my club subscriptions.
Not that I ever did more than pop in now and then to two of them, stuffy sort of places my father signed me up for.
The RAC is the one I mostly frequent. Lots of good chaps there, and naturally I pick up the odd tip useful to my papa-in-law, so—”
“Do stop blathering, Phillip, and let me think.” A distant echo came to her in Angela’s voice, saying something about a sporty little Lea-Francis.
She couldn’t attach a name to the car but Angela wasn’t likely to have been talking about anyone other than her brother.
Teddy was—had been—interested in motorcars at least to some degree.
He might well have belonged to the Royal Automobile Club.
“Teddy Devenish. Was he by any chance a fellow member?”
“Devenish? The name’s familiar. Wait, yes, I don’t know him. Ten years my junior, isn’t he? But I’ve heard one or two nasty stories, and there’s been some talk about booting him out.”
“What sort of stories?”
“The sort I wouldn’t sully your ears with.”
“I’m an adult, Phillip, however long you’ve known me.”
“No,” he said obstinately. He was manifestly relieved when the door opened to admit a horde of children.
“Is there any tea left, Aunt Daisy?” asked Charlie, always single-minded. “I’m starving.”
“Charlie,” his brother admonished, “mind your manners. There’s a visitor.”
“Oh!” The hand reaching out for cake was drawn back. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t see you ’cause I’m starving. I was riding an elephant, you see.”
“Hungry work,” Phillip agreed, with more patience than Daisy expected. Of course, he had his own children now.
“This is Mr. Petrie, an old family friend who lives in America now. I expect you’ve met some of his family in Worcestershire.”
“Sort of,” said Ben enigmatically. “How do you do, sir.”
Belinda and Charlie greeted Phillip, Charlie following up with, “Have you got elephants in America?”
“Only in zoos and circuses, not wild.”
“Oh.” Losing interest in America, he turned back to the tea table, with an imploring glance at Daisy.
“Mr. Petrie was just leaving. Ring for more tea, Bel, while I see him out.”
In the hall, Phillip said, “Honestly, Daisy, if half the stories are true, Devenish isn’t at all a desirable acquaintance. Why on earth are you so interested in him?”
“I can’t tell you. Read the late editions. I doubt they’ll have a name yet but you’ll probably be able to guess. Only, for pity’s sake, don’t tell anyone who they’re writing about.”
“I shan’t have time to read the paper if we’re dining at seven,” he grumbled. “I assume he’s gone to meet his maker in some sordid manner.”
“Assume what you like, as long as my name isn’t associated with your assumptions! Sorry to be so vague.”
“Not vague enough. The police are involved, aren’t they? I’ll probably be arrested for aiding and abetting, whatever that is.”
“Phil, you’re not going to abandon me, are you?”
“Of course not, old thing. I promised Gervaise I’d look after you and I will. But I must say, you make it deucedly difficult!”