CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Maggie’s Odd Evening

1

After Alice had ordered a Dubonnet for Maggie, she said to her: ‘I’m opening a branch boutique in Hemton and I’m looking for somebody to manage it. Dr Salt has suggested Jill Frinton. Is it your brother – at the university – who’s her boy friend?’

‘Yes – Alan,’ Maggie replied rather shyly. But she no longer felt jealous of this large plump woman. ‘They seem to be crazy about each other. And I know Alan, who’s very serious, will want to marry her. And I was dreading it because he hasn’t much money—’

‘And you just couldn’t see her trying to make do on it, could you, dear? Well, if she was right for my job, I’d pay her at least as much as he gets. With commission – probably more. You know her – what do you think of the idea?’

‘Well, I’m sure she’s very clever about clothes and accessories and all that. She’s that type. And I can see her being charming and tough at the same time – if you know what I mean, Mrs Marton?’

‘Alice, dear. And I know exactly what you mean. Between nine-thirty and five-thirty I’m very charming and tough as hell – you just have to be. Anyhow, I’ll have a talk with her – tomorrow morning, I hope. And if I do take her on, she’ll owe it to our friend and poppet, Salt. And he says she doesn’t like him.’

‘She would if he wanted her to, Alice.’ Maggie spoke with more conviction than she intended to convey.

Alice gave her a flashing look. ‘But you can’t have known him very long, my dear.’

‘Only a few days. But it seems a long time because a lot of things happened – all part of this horrible murder business—’

‘He didn’t want to tell me, so you needn’t, Maggie. I’ve known Salt ever since he came here, though I saw a lot more of her than I did of him. He was always working so hard. I lost my husband – a car smash – just before he lost his wife. We’re fond of each other, but only as friends. Couldn’t be anything else. But he’s a lovely man – very clever and yet kind and sweet – and very brave—’

‘I know he is,’ cried Maggie. Then she checked her enthusiasm. ‘But isn’t he very obstinate and self-opinionated as well?’

‘Of course, he is, my dear. And why not? He’s a real man – just as my Bill was. Maddening and marvellous. And getting dam’ scarce, let me tell you. I don’t really know young men now, though I like the look of some of ’em, as if they didn’t give a damn. But – say, between thirty-five and fifty-five – real men, like my Bill and Salt, seem to me harder and harder to find. Too many of ’em seem to be frightened of something – of us women or not pleasing the chairman of the board or not having enough money – you know—’

‘Yes, I do know.’ Maggie was emphatic.

Alice gave her a look. ‘A-ha!’

‘Yes – a-ha!’ Maggie finished her drink. Then she hesitated. ‘What was she like?’

‘In appearance, not unlike you – but a size or two larger all round – and, of course, much older. She was one of those rare women – and I’m not one but I admire them – who are serious but not solemn, boring. She could be very lively, quite gay, but she wasn’t frivolous. She was a serious person, just as Salt, for all his talk and antics, is a serious person.’

‘Yes, I know what you mean, Alice. She must have been wonderful. What are you laughing at?’

‘I don’t know. Yes, I do. But here he comes. And I must fly. I’ve a dinner date.’ She got up to greet him. ‘I’m sorry to be running away, Salt darling, but I’m late already. When are you actually going?’

‘Monday morning, probably. We must meet some time on Sunday, Alice.’

‘Will you still be staying here?’

‘Don’t be silly, woman. I leave this gorgeous dump in the morning. I’ll ring you.’

‘You’d better, Salt.’ She gave him a hasty comradely kiss. ‘And thanks for the drink. And the tip about the girl. And the nice talk with nice Maggie, who’s pretending not to adore you. ’Bye.’

‘I heard all that,’ said Maggie, because Alice had moved a few steps away from the table. ‘I like her, but I’m not pretending not to adore you, because I don’t adore you, Salt.’

‘Of course you don’t, Maggie. But Alice says anything that comes into her head. Not that she’s a fool – far from it. And she had a rough time but came through – bands playing, colours flying.’

‘Has she a lover?’

‘Probably, but if so, I don’t know who he is. I’m very fond of Alice, but I haven’t seen much of her lately. I’ve had to work all hours, and she not only runs the shop but has to keep dashing off to London and Paris, buying her expensive nonsense. Perhaps it’s a Frenchman – one of those with deep voices who stick out their lower lips.’

‘I’ll bet he has a lovely time. Why are you doing this for Jill – when she was yelling at you only last night?’

‘It’s part of a tidying-up process. I’m not conscious of wanting to move people around like chessmen, as Jill – and you too, perhaps – seem to believe. But if she gets the job – and I believe she will – then you won’t be worrying away thinking she’s going to ruin Alan. So I might leave everybody feeling happier,’ he concluded lightly, not looking at her.

‘But that doesn’t mean you aren’t really a bit of an old busybody.’ She spoke lightly, too.

Now he looked at her. ‘I’m not, Maggie. It’s a wrong view of me. It just happens we’ve become friends at an odd time. You might as well imagine that I’m always sitting in a dusty room among piles of books and records. By the way, all those I wanted to sell have gone now. I was swindled, of course, but both chaps paid me in notes so that I feel as if I’m bulging with money. Let’s spend some of it on dinner. Aren’t you hungry? I am.’

‘I think I am, too. But I’m not dressed for that dining room. I peeped in when I was looking for you – I rang up Buzzy and he told me where you were – and I wouldn’t feel happy in there. We’d better go down to Ye Oldie Englishie Grillie Room. Unless, of course, we go out and eat somewhere else.’

‘No, Maggie, I’m against that,’ he said rather slowly and apologetically.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with this place—’

‘This place? Me? Didn’t you hear Alice and me laughing when you first came in here? Well, I’d been telling her what had happened. I’ll tell you later. But I must stay on now.’ Both his look and his tone changed. ‘I wanted to say something about that, Maggie. My own behaviour may soon seem rather peculiar. I may want you to do one or two odd things—’

‘Nothing you learnt from the Chinese, I hope, Salt—’

‘I’m serious, girl. Silly as I look and probably sound – and idiotic as this place is – I’m trying to do a bit of work here tonight.’

‘Work? On what?’ Then she brought her voice down. ‘Not the Noreen Wilks thing?’

‘I’m afraid so, Maggie.’ He leant towards her, dropping his tone almost to a whisper. ‘And if you don’t mind, we’ll begin with a little odd behaviour now. While I’m paying for the drinks, you go out—’

‘To the ladies’ loo first, if you’ve no objection—’

‘Perfect from every point of view. Then go down to the Grill – and if I’m already there, then join me of course – but if I’m not, simply ask for a table for two and wait for me. And get one out of the way, in a corner, if you can.’

She stared at him for a moment. Even now she was never quite sure if he was really in earnest. ‘Now look – if you mean this – hadn’t you better explain what the idea is? Have you some reason for our not being seen together?’

‘Partly that. Partly, too, that there are some things I ought to do by myself. Now Maggie, please, off you go.’ But he gave her a smile.

As she walked out slowly, she heard a scream of laughter coming from some girl in the corner on the left; nearly all the tables were occupied now, and people seemed to be two-deep at the long, curved bar; the two red-coated waiters were hurrying with loaded trays; and seeping through the mosaic of noise like warm flooding syrup came the sound of the hotel’s canned music. And it was hard to believe that she was here because Salt was here, because Salt was still thinking about a girl’s body left in a cavity in a wall. No doubt he could join everything together, making one world out of it all, but she couldn’t. It was all split up, and it split her up, making her feel bewildered and terribly inadequate. If she was so close to Salt that she saw everything through him, would that do the joining-up trick for her? But what would she be giving him then, what would she have to offer?

The Ladies didn’t help. The woman looking after it was all right, quite friendly, but the place itself suggested it was waiting for girls more important and better-dressed than Maggie Culworth of Hemton. Even when she had re-done her face, putting in some rather reckless eye-shadow work too, it still made her feel a rather shabby little thing. So when she reached the Grill Room she was relieved to discover, after some staring around, that Salt was already there.

2

They had eaten avocados with a French dressing, saddle of mutton, cheese (for him) and fruit salad (for her), had drunk a bottle of a beautifully soft claret whose name she never bothered to learn, and were now talking idly over their coffee. Between the mutton and his cheese, Salt had asked her to excuse him and had then been absent for about five minutes. Throughout the meal nothing had been said about Noreen Wilks, young Donnington and old Donnington, Colonel Ringwood and Superintendent Hurst. And it seemed to her that just talking about other people and things was like escaping from a dark house into clear sunlight. Moreover, having been persuaded to drink some Cointreau with her coffee, she was feeling rather dreamy. She tried to imagine herself in the Dordogne.

‘I’ve never been there, but Alan has and he showed me a lot of photographs.’

‘Been where?’ But Salt wasn’t really attending. He was busy with a cigar that was trying to unravel itself.

‘Oh – sorry! The Dordogne. That’s where you said you were going, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, yes – of course.’ He was now out of his cigar muddle. ‘I’ll only be there a week or ten days. Then I drive to Barcelona, and then to Zurich. There’s a man in Barcelona and another man in Zurich who are specializing in certain kidney diseases. Too late for me to do that – and, anyhow, I like people, not microscopes – but I want to see what they’re doing. And I have a few notes that might interest them.’

‘I must say, that’s not my idea of a holiday. The Dordogne – yes. Marvellous! And Barcelona’s rather exciting. I’ve been there. But then the kidneys take over.’

‘Given the right time and place, I could keep you enthralled by my story of the kidney – its disasters and triumphs, its hopes and fears. But not here, not now.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Just after ten. So – we go to work. You ready?’

‘I suppose so,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But I won’t pretend I’m in the right mood for it, especially if there’s anything difficult to do.’

‘No, no – all as easy as pie—’

‘Pie can be terribly difficult—’

‘Not this one. I want you to go to the eighth floor. If there are any chambermaids or waiters around – and I think it’s unlikely – just waste time until they’ve gone. Look at your nose, powder it – that sort of thing.’

‘You needn’t tell me. I’ve done hours of it. Every girl has. So what do I do if the corridor’s clear?’

‘You ring, knock or bang on the door of 806. If it’s not opened at once, don’t give up. Try at least once again. If and when it is opened, then tell an urgent but rather confused story that will keep it open. You believe – let’s say – that a small parcel intended for you in 906 may have been delivered to 806. You’re awfully sorry to disturb him but would he mind making sure the parcel isn’t there – you know?’

‘He might want me to make sure with him. And a lot of things could happen after that, especially if he’s a young man and has had a few drinks.’

‘If he asks you in, then he won’t have anybody in there with him, and the whole exercise is washed out. Just mutter some excuse and buzz off.’

‘You mean I’m really trying to discover if this man has got a girl in there? While I’m telling my story and the door’s open, I’m listening for any possible screams, giggles, scraps of girlish song or impatient cries from the bedroom – um?’

‘That’s very sharp of you, Maggie—’

‘No, it isn’t. The female mind works like lightning along those lines, Salt. Then what do I do?’

‘You don’t come down again. You go up to the tenth floor – stairs or lift – make sure nobody’s watching you and then let yourself into my little suite – 1012. And here’s the key.’ He handed it over. ‘Close the door, but don’t let it lock itself. That’s so that I can pretend to be unlocking it when I arrive. If somebody sees me, so much the better.’

‘Is this part of the Room 806 plot or something different?’

‘Quite different.’ He grinned. ‘But they both belong to a grander plot.’

‘Salt dear, do you really know what you’re doing? Or is it the mixture of whisky, claret and brandy that’s at work?’

‘That’s helping, no doubt. But I had all this in mind before the mixture began to work.’ The grin vanished. ‘I may be guessing a bit wildly, but I’m not just fooling around, Maggie. For one thing, I can’t afford the time.’

‘A pity in a way,’ she sighed. ‘Now I come to think of it, I’m more in the mood for fooling around. But, after all, it was your dinner that created the mood. And thank you, Dr Salt – it was lovely. And now I’ll go – a mousey type creeping around like a mouse.’ She got up.

‘No, Maggie,’ he told her quite sharply as he got up too. ‘There’s one thing wrong there.’

‘Oh dear – what?’

‘You’re not a mousey type.’

Her pleasure at hearing this lasted until the lift, which she had to herself, brought her to the eighth floor. No chambermaids or waiters or guests could be seen along the corridor that led her to 806. Outside the door she hesitated, rehearsing what she had to say, feeling silly. She pressed the button and heard the buzzer inside. Nothing happened. Resisting an impulse to leave it at that and hurry away, she pressed again, longer this time. ‘Oh – for God’s sake!’ she heard a man saying. ‘Now what is it?’ Then he opened the door.

He was a big, youngish man who was pulling a dressing gown round him, and his hair was rumpled, his colour high, his eyes rather bleary.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she began.

‘Wrong room,’ he told her.

‘Well, that’s the point. I’m in 906, you see, and I think that a parcel I’m expecting may have been delivered here by mistake.’

‘No parcel here.’

‘Are you sure?’ He was already closing the door.

‘Of course I am. ’Night.’

And that was that. She decided against using a lift again, found the stairs and walked as fast as she could, in what she was certain must have looked a very suspicious manner, up to the tenth floor. But nobody was about. It was rather like wandering about an hotel in a dream. But then, on her way to 1012, she heard voices behind her. Two people must have just arrived by the lift. She stopped, took out her compact and looked at her reflected nose, to allow them to pass her. It was a nonsensical move really; any girl in her right mind would either have fixed her nose downstairs or would wait now until she reached her room; but of course it worked and the couple ignored her. They had, in fact, disappeared by the time she moved on again slowly. She had a moment’s panic when the door of 1012 didn’t seem to respond to the key Salt had given her, but then a reverse turn took her in. In her relief she slammed the door behind her. After switching on some lights, she remembered what Salt had said about the door and she made haste to unfasten it so that he could push it open. By this time, after all that dinner and drink and anxiety, she felt hot and rather sickish inside, so she went to the bathroom and drank some cold water that wasn’t cold and didn’t taste like water. Then she returned to the idiotic little sitting room, kicked off her shoes and curled up on the sofa, and not only waited for Salt but thought about him.

3

‘We’ll have to talk very quietly, if you don’t mind,’ said Salt, speaking very quietly himself.

‘I don’t mind. But I can’t help wondering why. I mean – this is a sitting room – or it’s trying to be—’

‘I’m not thinking about that. Something quite different. By the way, there’s some whisky in my bag.’

‘No, thanks, not for me. What I need, after all that mysterious creeping around, is something for my tummy.’

‘Well, I’ve got something for your tummy too,’ he told her. And of course he had, being a doctor, and came back with something fizzy in a glass. She thanked him all the more warmly because he had attended to her before asking what had happened at 806.

‘I feel I ought to have managed it better,’ she said. ‘But he was so determined to get rid of me. He was also rather tight, rather rude and quite ready to be still ruder. He wasn’t prepared to be interested at all in female callers.’

‘Which suggests there was a girl in his room – um?’

‘That’s what I felt. Also, just as he opened the door I thought I heard a girl laugh. I never heard anything afterwards. I may have imagined the girl’s laugh. I’m afraid this doesn’t add up to very much. I certainly can’t prove he had a girl in there. Sorry, Salt.’

‘Not to worry. I may try something else shortly. In the meantime, we’ll just have to sit and wait and keep our voices down.’

‘I don’t know what we’re supposed to be doing,’ she said. ‘But if you want to suggest you’re here by yourself, then why don’t we turn on the television or the radio? My voice wouldn’t be heard above it. Right?’

‘Right. Let’s try this radio.’ He fiddled with the set until there came out of it, booming and boring away, the voice of a man who was talking about railway trains. After a minute or two of this, he tried again and found some music. ‘It’s the Mozart clarinet quintet,’ he announced with some satisfaction. ‘Let’s stay with it – unless you have a very strong objection, Maggie. You’re not a music-hater, are you?’

‘You ought to know I’m not. I like it, even though I don’t know much about it.’

‘Listen to this, then. It’s a masterwork – a credit to the human race.’

It was five minutes later when the human race began discrediting itself. The door, which Salt had left unlatched, was flung open, and a young woman, wearing a dressing gown and apparently not much else, came charging in, looking as if she were about to embrace Dr Salt with her dressing gown flung wide open. With only a few seconds’ interval, she was followed by a tall thin man who was holding a flashlight camera.

‘Go ahead, Coleman,’ said Dr Salt cheerfully. ‘Maggie, this is Herbert X. Coleman.’

‘Another sodding balls-up,’ cried the young woman bitterly as she stepped away from Dr Salt and wrapped the dressing gown around her. ‘This is the last time, Bert.’

‘Perhaps you’d like me to take my clothes off,’ Maggie suggested sweetly.

‘If you did, dearie, then something ’ud go wrong with his bloody flashlight. My God – I’ll never learn.’

‘All right, all right,’ said Coleman. ‘So it didn’t work out. Not that I did anything wrong, but he was too smart for me, that’s all. It can happen.’

‘It’s always happening,’ the young woman said contemptuously. ‘But not with me any more.’ She looked at Maggie. ‘Sorry to have intruded, dearie. Nothing personal. Just business.’

‘Come on, Enid, and stop yapping. I must have telegraphed the punch somehow—’

‘You did, Coleman,’ said Dr Salt sharply. ‘And we’ll leave it at that. But try anything else and I’ll make you wish you’d never left Birmingham. Now clear off – and don’t frighten anybody in the corridor.’

As the door closed behind them, Maggie switched off the radio. ‘I know it’s lovely music, but you can listen to it some other time. He was trying to frame you, wasn’t he? I’ve seen it on the movies—’

‘So has Herbert X. Coleman,’ said Dr Salt, grinning. ‘He’s the Birmingham model of a Hollywood private eye.’ No longer troubling to keep his voice down, he explained how Coleman had called on him early in the afternoon. ‘I guessed then he’d been brought here to run me into any kind of trouble. Then I spotted him down below, first, waiting for somebody, and then, later, talking to the girl. And that’s why I didn’t want us to be seen together and why I asked you to come up here first. They didn’t know you were here, of course. Which reminds me.’ He went to the telephone.

‘Now, then, where are we?’ He pulled a kind of miniature directory out of the base of the telephone. ‘This is all so modern and convenient they turn you into a switchboard operator to speak to anybody. This is it, I suppose? “To call another room, first dial 17.”’

As soon as he had finished dialling and had waited a moment, the receiver produced some sort of screech that even Maggie could hear. ‘What did you say?’ he asked the screecher. He listened and then, without speaking again, put down the receiver and gave Maggie a triumphant nod.

‘That’s all,’ he told her. ‘I can run you home now, Maggie. And thank you for being so patient and good.’

‘Do you mean you’ve finished now?’

‘For tonight, anyhow. I don’t want you to go, but I think you ought just in case our friend Coleman thinks of something that might involve you. Ready?’

As they went down in the lift, she asked him if he had definitely decided to return to his flat in the morning.

‘Certainly. I’ve a lot of little things to do. But I may accept Buzzy’s invitation to spend the evening at his club. Would you like to come and lend me a hand as soon as you’re through at the shop? Saturday’s a busy day, I imagine. I can’t fetch you because I’ll no longer have my car. I’m selling it tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Alan can run me down on his way to Jill.’ As they left the lift, she said, ‘What about dinner tomorrow night?’

‘A very good question, Maggie. We’ll eat at home, eh? No Saturday night table-grabbing. We’ll be up late, so we might risk chump chops and then Welsh rarebit. All right?’

‘Lovely. Do you want me to bring anything?’

‘No, my dear. I’ll pop out fairly early in the morning. Now, just hang on and I’ll find the car.’

As usual they said nothing while he was driving. However, when they stopped outside the house Maggie couldn’t leave him without saying something. ‘I’ve been wondering and wondering all the way here. And I can’t decide if I’m just stupid or you’re being fantastic. You’ve spent tonight playing these games with Herbert X. Thing – Coleman – and those people in 806, and you’re talking about selling your car tomorrow, buying chops and stuff, going to Buzzy’s club – and yet at the same time you’re defying the police and everybody and talking as if you’ll prove young Donnington didn’t kill Noreen Wilks.’

‘I am, yes. Quite right, Maggie.’

‘But if you mean it – then when – and how?’

‘Better not stay here. Excuse me.’ He leant across and opened the door for her.

‘Oh – you’re just being maddening now, Salt—’

‘I’m not trying to be. When? I’d say tomorrow night or Sunday night. How? Well, I think I know now who killed Noreen Wilks – and why. But let’s leave it. See you early tomorrow evening, Maggie. Goodnight, my dear.’