Princes Gate (19 page)

The girl rose from her stool and moved along the bar. She placed her arm around Merlin’s shoulder and leaned her chest against his arm. “There’s plenty of time, dear, but the place is getting busy and you might miss your chance. That would be a pity as I think you’re rather nice. Tall, dark and handsome, just as I like them. How about you getting us a nice bottle of wine and we can go over and sit at one of those cosy tables.”

Before entering the club he had naively envisaged a strategy of flitting from girl to girl, speaking to as many people as he could as if he were at a drinks party. Clearly that wasn’t going to be possible and he decided he might as well sit down for now with one girl and see what he could get out of her.

The drinks menu was brought and he ordered the cheapest wine he could find. The barman nodded and indicated that he would bring the bottle and glasses over to the table. He followed the girl to a secluded corner booth. As they sat down the band struck up a jolly rendition of ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’.

“My name’s Eve, dear. What’s yours?”

Merlin told her as he tried to make himself comfortable in the rather cramped seat.

Eve giggled sweetly. “And where are you from, Frankie boy?”

“Brighton. Just up in London on business.”

“Oh, I love Brighton. Ever been to the races there? Someone took me last year.” Eve sounded like she’d taken an elocution lesson or two, though with limited success.

“I’ve been to the races, of course. There are quicker ways of losing money, though not many. This place probably ranks up there.”

“Like a bit of a flutter then do you, dear?” Eve reached out and squeezed his leg just as the barman arrived. “Come on darling, pour the drinks. I’ve got a dreadful thirst.”

Merlin poured out the wine. He clinked glasses with Eve and drank. He winced. Eve swallowed half the glass. “It’s better if you drink this stuff in big gulps. Of course, you can always buy a better bottle when this one’s finished.” Eve finished off the glass. “How about a dance, darling?”

While his father’s vocal talent had not been passed down to him, Merlin had inherited a sense of rhythm and was no bad dancer. He had cut a fine figure as a young man on the dance floors of East London and had once won a prize for his pasa doble. He realised immediately, however, that Eve’s style of dancing required little reciprocal skill in her partner. Whatever the pace or beat of the song, Eve’s steps consisted of a relentless grinding of her upper and lower body into his. Eve had large blue eyes, a button nose, a small round mouth and hair cut short but with an abundance of wavy curls. Her features would be better displayed in about a third of the make-up she was wearing but the overall effect was nevertheless very pleasing. She was a little over five feet tall and had a good figure.

Bridges soon made his own appearance on the dance floor. He appeared to be enjoying himself and Merlin hoped that he wouldn’t have to explain any disastrous consequences of this adventure to Iris.

He managed to drag Eve off the dance floor after four songs. As soon as they sat down, she placed her hand on his stomach and began to move it slowly downwards. “We don’t have to hang around here all night if you like. I can come back to your hotel whenever you want.”

“Won’t your bosses here be unhappy if you leave?”

Eve tossed her hair back and took another big swig of wine. He realised she was getting tipsy.

“You’ll have to make a little donation to the house, that’s all. Shouldn’t be a problem to a rich, handsome bloke like you, should it?” Her hand now moved up and down Merlin’s inside leg.

“And who is the house, exactly?”

She rested her head on his neck and whispered. “See that fella over there in the far corner? That big fat bloke, sitting on his own?”

He peered through the cigarette smoke swirling in blue trails above the dance floor and found a very large, bald head. He guessed that the substantial head was attached to a substantial body. “What’s his name?”

“Morrie. Morrie the Lorry we call him. He can be smooth as silk with the customers but he’s a bastard to us. A fat bastard and a mean one too. Anyway. If you want me to come with you now, you just have to drop Morrie a few quid.”

“Maybe after a couple more drinks. I like to get to know a girl a bit.”

Eve finished her glass. A girl in a spangly leotard stopped at the table.

“Cigarettes, madam?”

Eve looked sweetly at Merlin. “Would you, Frank?”

He forked out some more cash with a sigh. The barman wandered over to ask whether the gentleman would care to buy another bottle of wine and he nodded unhappily. He very much hoped that he was going to get some information out of Eve.

The barman deposited the second bottle on the table. Eve removed her hand from his groin and poured out two glasses. “Down the hatch, darling.”

“Cheers.”

She took a big gulp from her glass and then leant over to place her lips on his. He kissed back for a few seconds and then pulled away.

“Don’t you like me, Frankie?” Eve asked in a little girl voice.

“I like you very much, sweetheart, but we can get down to this properly at my hotel, can’t we?”

She rested her head on his neck again. “Alright, dear. As you like.”

There was a pause in the music and they could hear loud laughter nearby. Merlin thought he heard a familiar voice. Eve leaned her head out of the booth, returning with a grimace.

“What?”

“That Yank prick is in again.”

When Merlin carefully poked his head out he saw Arthur Norton sitting down at a booth in the far corner of the room, accompanied by the plump man he had seen earlier at the bar, another man and some girls. The party was boisterous and noisy.

He drew his head back sharply. He didn’t think Norton had seen him.

“Friend of yours, Eve?”

Eve turned her mouth down and grunted with disgust. “Not bloody likely. He’s a…” She struggled hard for the right word before settling with evident dissatisfaction on “swine.”

“In what way?”

“And swine isn’t the half of it but lets just say he’s rude and rough and leave it at that.”

“Come in here on his own, does he?”

“Sometimes. Or with his mates. That chubby one with him is here a lot. Don’t know his name. Other fancy blokes sometimes. Anyway now, where were we?” She snuggled up to him again.

“You know, you can earn a little money from me without going back to the hotel.”

She pulled away and shook her curls petulantly. “I knew you didn’t want to take me out of here. It’s not nice leading a girl on, you know.” She removed a small mirror from her handbag and scrutinised herself carefully before adjusting a few hairs.

“Look dear, let’s not argue. There’s a couple of quid in it if you can tell me something. We can still talk about the hotel but first of all…” Merlin put an envelope on the table and opened it. “I was wondering whether you could tell me if you recognise this girl.”

Eve primly pursed her lips and returned the mirror to her bag. “You a copper or something?”

“Never mind. If you can tell me whether or not you’ve seen this girl in here there’s money in it for you.”

Eve chewed on her lower lip, then pulled the photograph from Merlin’s hand.

“It’s the fair-haired girl in the middle.”

She peered at the photograph. “I can’t see anything in this light. Pull that candle over.”

Merlin did as he was told.

Eve frowned with concentration. “Yeh. I’ve seen her in here.”

“Work here, did she?”

“Give me another quid and I’ll tell you.”

“Another ten bob, Eve. Fifty bob in total but that’s it.”

“I’ve seen her in here with that Yank and his mates.”

“Often?”

She shook her head. “Not often but I remember her because I was in the party once. That fat bloke was there too and some others. Pretty little thing really. Didn’t seem very happy.”

Merlin was distracted a little by raised voices nearby but continued. “Is it common for men to bring women here?”

Eve lit a cigarette. “No. But it happens sometimes.” She blew a smoke ring which floated briefly above them before disintegrating into the gloom.

“Why would a man do that?”

“Who knows, darling? Showing off or maybe a man likes to humiliate a girl. Who knows?”

“And did…”

The raised voices now became a loud commotion. The source was a booth on the other side of the dance floor. Merlin saw a man standing up with one of the girls haranguing him and hitting him with her hands. There was a lull in the music and he could hear her words quite clearly.

“You bastard. I’m not gonna answer any more of your questions. Get away from me!”

The man stepped back into the light and, with a jolt, Merlin recognised his sergeant.

Two burly waiters hurried over to the table followed by the owner. After a few more screeched words from the woman, Bridges was grabbed, punched and manhandled through the red curtain and pushed out of the door. He could hear the fading sound of his protests as he was taken up the stairs.

He had no option. He kissed Eve on the cheeks and put three notes in her hand. He left some money on the table and rose. “Thanks, sweetheart. You’ve been very helpful.”

Eve tugged at Merlin’s jacket. “Don’t go, darling. I don’t care if you are a copper. Stay a bit longer.”

He pulled away with some difficulty and blew her a kiss, which she returned with a wistful smile.

Merlin wasn’t sure if he’d left the right money, but no one stopped him as he raced through the door.

Out in the street he saw Bridges being held by one man from behind while the other pummelled him. Bridges managed to raise a leg and knee the man facing him but this only served to provoke a heavier onslaught. Merlin threw himself into the fray and pulled the attacker away, allowing Bridges to lean forward and pull the other waiter over his shoulder. Merlin threw a punch and connected cleanly with his man’s jaw, putting him on the ground next to his partner. The waiters looked briefly at each other before rising groggily to their feet and limping towards the club.

“Alright, Sam?”

“Just a little winded.”

Merlin sucked his knuckles. “Ouch! Haven’t done that in quite a while. It really stings!”

CHAPTER 7

Saturday February 3rd

The sergeant arrived in Merlin’s office just after nine, his right eye surrounded by a dark blue and black circle.

“That’s come up nicely, hasn’t it?”

Bridges smiled ruefully. “The missus wasn’t too happy. She’d have been round to The Blue Angel last night if she’d had her way.”

Bridges had explained in the taxi after the fight what had happened. He had not been getting very far with his questioning of Dolores, who claimed to be from Argentina. When he recognised Norton, he started asking about him and his companions and she became edgy. The blow-up had occurred however when he had realised that Dolores’ wandering hands had extracted a tenner from his trouser pocket.

“Think Norton recognised us, sir?”

“I doubt it in that murk.”

Bridges carefully felt his bruise.

“I told you last night, Sam, how my girl was quite helpful about Joan, Norton and the club. One thing she didn’t know was the name of Norton’s chubby friend. I suppose your girl didn’t – ?”

“I asked but she clammed up on me.”

Merlin leaned forward and rummaged through the papers on his desk. Eventually he found what he was looking for and read out an address in Earl’s Court. “Come on then. Time to pay Mr Owen a visit. This should be enlightening.”

Merlin looked at the boarded-up doors of The Tate Gallery and the sandbags piled outside. “They’ve taken all the pictures into the country.”

“Sir?”

“I hear that the collections at The Tate, The National and so on have been taken out of London and put somewhere safe for the duration. Wales or somewhere, according to a friend of mine in Special Branch.”

“Oh.” Art appreciation was not one of Bridges’ strong points.

“I met my wife in The Tate Gallery, Sergeant.”

“Yes, sir.”

“She slipped on some stairs and I helped her up.”

Bridges knew the story well. As usual, he felt that reticence was the appropriate response when his boss mentioned his wife.

“It was a lovely summer’s day and she was wearing a pink dress.”

As they passed The Royal Hospital and Battersea Park on the other side of the river, Merlin remembered a happy picnic in the Park with Alice, Jack and Jack’s girlfriend of the moment – what was her name – Rachel or Rebecca? A Jewish girl whose parents had escaped Hitler’s Germany. What had happened to her, he wondered. Jack’s turnover rate was high. She had been one of the better ones and she and Alice had got on like a house on fire. Happy days.

Merlin was jolted out of his reverie by a sudden recall of his resolution and a loud blast on the car horn. A couple of scruffy lads were crossing over to the river side of the road, carrying a sandbag between them. Bridges wound down his window. “Oi. Do you want to get killed? And where are you going with that?”

The boys grinned back and shouted something which Bridges couldn’t quite make out but knew was rude. They turned and ran down a walkway towards the houseboats tethered to the Chelsea Embankment.

“Up to no good, I’m sure. Shall I chase them?”

“No, Sergeant. Bigger fish to fry today.”

They arrived at a tall Edwardian block of mansion flats just off the Earls Court Road and, the lift being out of order, climbed wearily up three steep flights of stairs. Bridges knocked four times at Number 32 before a woman’s voice rasped from behind the door. “Who’s there?”

“It’s the police. We’d like to talk to Mr Owen.”

A disgruntled male voice took over. “Whaddya want? I’m trying to get some sleep. Come back later, can’t you?”

“Is that Mr Owen?”

“Yes it is, and I can’t see you now. Come back after lunch.”

“That’s not possible, sir. We have some questions to ask you about a Mr Johnny Morgan. Your nephew, I believe.”

There was a period of silence before the man spoke again. “Is the boy in trouble?”

“I’d rather do this in person, if you don’t mind.”