‘In the later stages of the war I worked in Military Intelligence while I was recovering from a wound. Interrogation. Breaking up spy networks. You learn to be very suspicious of the ones who tell you a story. The genuine undercover men say nothing. They wouldn’t tell you the time from your own watch if you asked nicely in six languages. Armitage could have given Scheherazade a run for her money! He still had something to gain by spinning us another yarn.’
‘But why put his hands up to a crime like this if he didn’t do it? Suicidal, surely?’
‘No. We all know – and most importantly he knows – there’s no way an articulate time-bomb like Armitage is going to be allowed to take centre stage on a very public platform in the witness box at the Old Bailey. His detailed knowledge of the Dame and her doings – and we can guess where he got that from! – and his readiness to share it with the Great British News Readership amounts to his immunity from prosecution. But there’s something more. Two things. We know he’s protecting, for whatever reason, the murderer’s identity but he’s also disguising his own particular crime or crimes.’
‘What? This is a different crime we’re talking about?’ Cottingham was bemused.
‘Yes. He’s an intelligent man, largely self-educated, I’d say, but – educated. He’s also an exceptional fighter. Distinguished record. Had he been born into a higher class of society, Armitage’s talents would have been recognized and valued – he could have been running the British Army in a few years’ time. And he knows that. A proud man. He would go to great lengths to avoid being identified by his commanding officer – and I think he’s always had a grudging respect for me – as no more than a common thief.’
‘A what!’
‘A thief, Ralph. He was up on that roof that night to do exactly what he did – steal a jewel or two. What better cover for his activities? Sent in as uniformed security, if he’s observed observing – well, good man, he’s doing his job, isn’t he? I don’t believe he’s the only nimble gent on the rooftops of London but he’s one of them. I checked his work record. Several spells of duty at grand hotels. Overtime willingly undertaken. Far too bright to queer his pitch by nicking stuff on his own watch but he was able to do his reconnoitring at leisure. Robberies Section were able to provide me with some interesting dates on these. A carefully irregular pattern, but a pattern, of thefts following on Armitage’s overtime stints. A week, a fortnight, sometimes a month later. No one would have spotted the connection.’
‘But he was breaking his routine that night at the Ritz?’
‘A last flourish? Couldn’t resist those emeralds? Any thief knows the best moment to grab the goodies is when a single lady, travelling without her maid, retires to her room, tired, intoxicated even, chucks her jewellery on to the dressing table and heads for the bathroom. Just too tempting! Probably planning to do a runner by then anyway.
‘If all had gone according to plan, he’d have unlocked the window while on patrol and later, when she went to her room, he would have climbed up intending to watch through the window for the moment when she went into the bathroom. He’d have let himself in quietly and, just as quietly, left. By the time she raised the alarm – which might well have been the next morning – it would have been put down to her own carelessness.
‘Armitage would have been on hand to roundly declare that no burglar had gone to her room. He was on patrol outside after all. Inside job? Fake insurance claim perhaps?’
‘Unluckily for our hero, he saw quite a different scene through the window!’
‘Yes, Ralph. And I think young Armitage made the mistake of his life.’ Joe smiled. ‘His mistake was to react like the policeman he was. He intervened.’
‘But, I tell you what, sir! Even I am beginning to think Sir Nevil – and bloody old Armitage too – has a point. Perhaps it’s better the way the all-powerful have decreed it shall be? Closed, sealed, filed away.’
The telephone shrilled again. ‘Leave it to me, sir,’ said Cottingham. ‘I’ll fight a rearguard action if need be.
‘Cottingham here. Ah, yes, sir. ’Fraid not. He’s just popped out to Trumper’s for a haircut. A theft in St John’s Wood Park?’ He listened intently, waggling his eyebrows at Joe. A hand over the mouthpiece, he hissed, ‘I don’t believe this!’ Then he spoke again, picking up a memo pad and a pencil. ‘Just a moment, sir, I’ll take down the details. What was that again? Countess Zanuti-Lendi? Have I got that right? And the butler is thought to have gone missing at the same time as the silver? I’m sure the Commander will be delighted to put his mind to that, sir. He may even have the answer for you within the hour.’
Joe sighed.
‘And Sergeant Armitage has been released from custody? He won’t be so delighted to hear that. On whose authority, may one ask? The Commander will want to know . . . Oh, I see.’ Ralph swallowed. ‘Very well. Of course. Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.
‘Bad news, Joe. He’s been released on the very highest authority.’
‘Home Office?’
‘Sir William Joynson-Hicks himself has taken time off from making his stirring anti-communist speeches in the House to ensure that Armitage is never accorded a starring part in a witness box. Serious stuff! Better back off, I think!
‘This new case they’ve given you is a gentle hint. You might almost say somebody up there has a sense of humour. They’re rapping your knuckles by sending you off to St John’s Wood to feature in a musical comedy extravaganza. Give you a tip, shall I? The butler did it! Polish up your epaulettes, slip on your spurs and go and give this Countess Maritza a twirl around the floor this afternoon.’
Joe rewarded the inspector’s valiant attempt at lightness with a grin. ‘You’re right, Ralph. And now we so nearly know the truth I won’t embarrass you any further. But I’ll tell you what – there are just two things I have to do before I draw a line under this sorry business. I don’t know how long it will take to achieve both aims but I’m going to stick at it. I’m going to identify those members of the Hive we have on record and, if ever I can be certain that those negatives have been destroyed, reassure them as tactfully as possible that the danger has passed. And secondly, I’m going to look this murderer in the eye and say clearly, “I know you did it. I know why you did it. The highest authority in the land may, for understandable reasons, have exonerated you but the Home Secretary is not the Ultimate Authority.” I shall wag a minatory finger.’ He practised this. ‘“You will answer for your sins in a Far Higher Court,” I might add if I’m feeling particularly sententious.’
Maisie looked up from her book and smiled a welcome. ‘Well, look what the cat’s brought in! If you’re here for supper, you’d better tell Mrs Jameson.’
‘I already have. We’ve got Irish stew. I’ve brought you a bag of those Australian apples and a box of chocolates in a lover-ish sort of way.’
‘Liverish, you mean, if it’s of the same gross dimensions as the last one. Had to give half of them away. Help yourself to whisky if you like and tell me what you’ve been up to.’
‘Tiring afternoon, Maisie,’ Joe said, settling down on the sofa with her. ‘I had to arrest a Transylvanian Countess for stealing her own silver and roguishly laying the blame on her innocent butler whom she’d had the forethought to sack a week previously. I advised her to retract the insurance claim she’d made and confess all.’
‘Doesn’t sound all that tiring.’
‘Fending off the Countess’s determined efforts to distract, suborn and seduce the instrument of the law took a bit of effort.’
Maisie gurgled. ‘The risks you run, Joe, navigating the shoals of high society! And only just recovered from the last lot! Did you see yesterday’s paper? No? Hang on – I kept it for you.’