Death with Blue Ribbon (11 page)

‘Who are you?' asked Bridger.

‘Just a very inquisitive individual who is not very impressed with a firm trying to work the American protection racket in England. The island's too small and the penalties too great. Tell me, Bridger, did you get into this of your own accord or are you a victim too?'

‘I don't know what…'

‘Now don't say that again because it simply isn't true. You know exactly what I'm talking about. What you didn't know until now is that you're for it. In a big way. The train robber sentences will be nothing to what your crowd's going to get.'

‘I'm not saying anything.'

‘No? Up to you, of course. You've told me all I really want to know.'

‘I haven't said a word!' For the first time Bridger showed real and immediate alarm. A nebulous thirty years' sentence was nothing, it seemed, to the dangers of having spoken.

‘You'll have to convince your friends of that. They will wonder, inevitably, how I know all I do—about you and about them.'

Bridger looked up with relief when Abdul brought the drinks Carolus had ordered and swallowed his greedily.

‘I'm afraid you're between the devil and the deep blue sea. But the devil can't win this time and the deep blue sea is wide and full of possibilities for the future. The future may be remote in your case, but there is a future.'

Suddenly Bridger looked at Carolus keenly and said, ‘Can I trust you?'

‘Oh no,' said Carolus. ‘If you mean to keep you out of this
thing, not for a moment. When I've got all my facts straight I'm going to make a report. I happen to dislike blackmail almost as much as murder. You can only trust me not to let your friends know where I got the information you're about to give me. On that you can have my word.'

‘What information?' asked Bridger desperately.

‘Bits and pieces here and there. To fill in the gaps.'

‘I don't know much.'

‘I don't suppose you do. Not enough to get you off if you give Queen's Evidence. But enough to save your life, probably. That wouldn't be worth much if your friends thought you had been chatting me up, would it?'

The question was rhetorical. Bridger knew that it did not need an answer.

‘I'm afraid this is your only chance to decide. Things like this can't be left in the air. You can talk to me now. I shan't be available again. The mills will start grinding after this.'

‘If I tell you what you want to know, will you do what you can for me when…'

‘When the whole thing blows up? I make no promise at all. It depends on how much you are involved. There has been at least one murder here.'

‘I haven't had a penny out of it.'

‘You will, Bridger. You will. Unless things develop more quickly than I imagine.'

‘What do you want to know?'

‘First of all, how you got into this.'

Bridger swallowed.

‘I was minding my own business. Doing my job. Then all of a sudden I got a phone call. About three weeks ago. Someone asked me if I'd be free to take over the kitchens of a new
restaurant being opened. I was to be
chef
at nearly twice what I'm earning now. The man telephoning me said I was to meet him at the Red Horse at Netterly on my evening off. So I went and found it was Rivers and Razor Gray.'

Carolus nodded. This was the sort of thing he expected.

‘Nothing more was said about the restaurant,' went on Bridger. ‘They asked me if I would join in a little joke they were playing on Rolland.'

‘A joke?'

‘Yes. That's what they said. When Imogen Marvell came down on her annual visit. All I had to do was put a few drops of something in her food. Fish, it worked best with. It was just a simple emetic, they said.'

‘What were they to pay you for that?'

‘A hundred nicker.'

‘Rather an expensive joke.'

‘That's what I thought.'

‘But you agreed?'

‘Not straight away. They said let's go to another pub. Rivers was laughing. It seemed all right and I got in the car. Before I knew where I was we were going into those Gaitskell Mansions you mentioned. I noticed the name but I didn't know till you told me where they were.'

Once started Bridger seemed glad to get the story off his chest.

‘There seemed to be a lot of them there. Ugly-looking crowd. They introduced me to one man sitting at a desk. I suppose he was the boss.'

‘Montreith?'

‘That's what they called him.'

‘What did he look like?'

‘Pale, pasty-looking. About forty-five. Cold, nasty eyes. Rivers was laughing. “He doesn't know whether he wants to join in our little joke,” he said. Montreith didn't laugh. He just looked at me and said, “Show him our friend in the next room.” They did. There was a fellow lying on the floor stripped off. He'd had the worst beating-up I've ever seen. Eyes closed right up. He was holding his stomach and groaning but only half-conscious, I thought. Terrible sight.'

‘So you agreed?'

‘What else could I do? But I tell you what I did when I got back here. I tried a couple of drops of the stuff on myself. I wasn't going to poison anyone right out. All it did was to make me sick as a dog.'

‘Have another drink?' suggested Carolus.

With the first faint smile he had given since Carolus had begun questioning, Bridger said he thought he would.

‘I soon realised what they were after. Protection money from Rolland. Rivers told me in the end when he'd made sure I was with them. They work it on big restaurants and clubs and places. Several of them go and raise hell one way or another if they're not paid off. But with famous restaurants they work this food poisoning lark. At least they're prepared to. Most of them pay up.'

‘How do you know?'

‘Rivers told me.'

‘Any names?'

‘Yes. He mentioned the Old Cygnet Inn.'

‘Good gracious.'

The Old Cygnet attempted to emulate the Cheddar Cheese, or Simpson's, or Scott's, serving very English food mostly to American visitors to London.

‘And the Tourterelle.'

‘They're certainly enterprising. You mean to say those pay?'

‘What else can they do? Montreith must be making enormous money. He's clever. It's wonderful cover, being a solicitor. All sorts going to his office. He's known for arranging the defence of criminals. The thing's on a big scale. Once I was in with them there was no getting out. I had to do what they said.'

‘What do you know about Mandeville?'

‘I should say he's kept for the kind of job he did here. Probably he's straight, on the outside. Got a correct address and that.'

‘Did you fix his food?'

‘No. There was no need. He did it himself.'

‘But Imogen Marvell?'

‘Yes. In the
scampi
.'

‘It was indirectly the cause of her death.'

‘I wasn't to know that. I gave her an emetic, that's all.'

‘And you've been told to do nothing more?'

‘Not yet, but I shall be, for certain. They'll close this place if Rolland doesn't pay. Then they'll get me a job somewhere else. There's no getting away.'

‘Unless they're broken.'

‘I don't know how you're going to do it. It's a powerful organisation.'

‘I think something can be managed,' said Carolus quietly. ‘But there are one or two more questions I should like to ask you.'

‘Well. I've gone so far. You may as well know the lot,' said Bridger, a suggestion of his customary good humour returning.

‘For instance, about those premises in Gaitskell Mansions.
Could they have been a normal solicitor's offices?'

‘Not when I saw them late at night. Not with that crowd standing about. But in the daytime I suppose they could.'

‘And the other room you went into?'

‘It's a funny thing but as I remember it there was no window. Of course I was chiefly noticing the poor chap on the floor. But that's the impression I got.'

‘Could be,' said Carolus. ‘It probably had a sound-proof door as well.'

Bridger made a sound usually interpreted as ‘Urgh!'

‘You didn't see the interior staircase which is supposed to lead to the flat above?'

‘No. I didn't know about that.'

‘Something else. Do you think anyone else here, on the hotel staff or otherwise, is involved in this?'

Bridger answered quickly. To quickly, Carolus thought.

‘I wouldn't know, would I? I'd be the last person they'd tell. Unless you mean Rolland.'

‘You're quite friendly with Antoine?'

‘Tony? Yes. He's all right.'

‘And Stefan?'

‘Don't see much of him.'

‘What about Molt?'

‘Don't know much about him.'

‘Do you ever play poker with them?'

‘I have done. I'm not keen on cards.'

‘You've no reason to think any of them suspects you of … collaboration?'

‘No. I suppose Stefan might. He's a clever man. Only drink's his trouble.'

‘So I understand.'

‘And you don't think Rolland knows anything about you?'

Bridger considered.

‘I'm pretty sure he doesn't. He must think someone here is in the lark. Otherwise how could Marvell have been given anything to upset her. He's more likely to suspect Tony.'

‘Perhaps,' said Carolus drily.

‘I've got to get to work,' said Bridger.

Carolus's manner changed abruptly.

‘Wait a minute. I haven't asked you the most important questions of all.'

Bridger sat up. There was a new atmosphere in the room. Bridger seemed suddenly watchful.

‘You were on the first-floor landing on the night Imogen Marvell died.' He let that sink in, then added: ‘I saw you myself.'

There was silence then Bridger tried to grin.

‘What about it?'

‘I'm asking you.'

‘I don't see what that's got to do with you. If you know so much you should know where I was going.'

‘I know where you're going to
say
you were going. To Gloria Gee's room.'

‘So what?'

‘Oh nothing. If you
were
going to Gloria's room. Or rather coming away from it when I saw you.'

‘Where do you think I had been?'

‘I'm very anxious to know, Bridger.'

‘Why don't you ask Gloria?'

‘That's a foolish question. You knew Mandeville was in the hotel that night?'

‘Yes. But I didn't know which room.'

‘You could see that from the register.'

‘I wasn't interested. What are you trying to make out? You think I had anything to do with Imogen Marvell's death?'

He had become red and indignant.

‘All I've said so far is that you were indirectly responsible. Did you see Mandeville at Gaitskell Mansions?'

‘No.'

It was almost shouted.

‘What was he here for that night?'

‘I don't know. I've told you all I know. It's no good asking me about Mandeville.'

‘I'm asking you about yourself. You've told me how you came to be in this thing. But you haven't told me everything. I'd like to know a great deal more about your movements on the night Imogen Marvell died.'

Bridger was distressed—and frightened.

‘I went to see Gloria. Then I went to bed.'

‘At what time?'

‘About half past one.'

‘Was anyone about?'

‘There was a light under Stefan's door. That's all.'

‘You saw no one on your way back to your quarters?'

‘No one at all. And that's all I've got to say.'

As though waiting to see whether Carolus would say any more he rose slowly.

‘Listen to me,' said Carolus. ‘I don't know how far you are in this. You certainly helped Montreith to blackmail Rolland. In other words from the gang's point of view you know too much. I oughtn't to give you this advice, but why don't you disappear for a time?'

Bridger looked sulky.

‘I can't. I haven't the money. They haven't paid me yet.'

‘I warn you, I think you're in danger. I shan't tell anyone what you have told me but Montreith may gather from what I do that I know too much. He may guess my information comes from you. That would mean danger—to say the least of it. So I'm warning you.'

‘I can't go away now,' said Bridger, and made for the door.

Carolus went straight from the office to Gloria's bar. She gave him a sly smile.

‘I didn't know you were a detective,' she said.

‘But I'm not.'

‘Well, sort of. I'm glad you're not like James Bond, though. I'm tired of him. I say, have you heard what's happened? Imogen Marvell's solicitor has come. He's with the three of them now. In the Residents' Lounge. I'd love to know what's going on. Wouldn't you?'

They had not to wait long. A red-eyed Miss Trudge hurried in and took a straight-up armchair as though she was in desperate need of support. Carolus offered her a drink and this time there was no coy hesitation.

‘I will!' she said. ‘Thank you. Brandy, please. I think perhaps I need a double.'

‘Is something wrong?'

‘Yes … oh, everything really.' She became somewhat incoherent. ‘It's cruel … after all those years … I can't believe … there must be some mistake … She couldn't have …'

‘You've had bad news?'

‘Imogen's will… the solicitor came down from London … he was very kind about it… It's wicked, really … I've been cut out… after years of…'

She dissolved. The double brandy she had finished was not, Carolus perceived, the first she had drunk that morning.

‘I could never have believed … so deceitful … and her poor sister … Everything to her husband … Everything. Even that little emerald brooch she promised me … How could she?'