Part 34 (2/2)

'Thanks to the incompetence of the CID,' Munro growled.

'You know I don't believe that.'

Munro took his head off his hand and studied his fingers. 'We tried to pick up that trunk at Biggleswade. It had been collected.'

Denton was surprised. 'When?'

Munro glanced at a notebook. 'Ninth of October.'

Janet said, 'Not too long after I put it back.'

'As apparently Mary Thomason's still with us,' Munro said, 'why didn't she pick up her trunk before?'

'You're sure it was she who picked it up?'

'Not sure of anything. Clerk said a young woman; he thought the drawing ”might have been her” but wasn't sure.' He turned to Denton. 'But I want to hear what you think - why didn't she pick up the trunk as soon as she could after it was sent?'

'Maybe that's exactly what she did. It depends, doesn't it, on where she was and what she was doing between writing me the note in early August and picking up the trunk in October. And once she knew that Himple was dead, she had to disappear, because she was too connected to Himple - her face was in the Lazarus Lazarus; her brother was the man who went to Normandy with Himple. She couldn't go back to work for Geddys, couldn't go back to the Slade, couldn't go back to modelling and flirting with Wenzli. I suppose she was quite right in thinking that the trunk wasn't going anywhere. And there was nothing in it worth a d.a.m.n, anyway.'

'Except the drawing,' Janet Striker said. She was involved in handing a cigarette to Munro, who had been seduced by their smoke. 'If she made the little drawings in the corners - but then she didn't, did she! The bit from the Lazarus Lazarus and the sketch of the baths were about Arthur Crum, not her.' She smiled and took out another cigarette for herself. 'Which might suggest to some that they were the same person.' and the sketch of the baths were about Arthur Crum, not her.' She smiled and took out another cigarette for herself. 'Which might suggest to some that they were the same person.'

The remark hung in the room like the sonority of a bell. Denton knew he had caught his breath; he thought Munro had, too. Janet's smile, faintly wicked, persisted. At last, Munro grunted and said, 'I wondered when somebody would get to that.'

'By G.o.d, Munro, you mean the idea doesn't disgust you? Janet's been pus.h.i.+ng it for days. I thought you'd have a fit.'

'Even at New Scotland Yard, we old fogies are now and then able to tell a hack from a handsaw.' Munro ground out his cigarette. 'I have to think of them as two people, brother and sister, Mary and Arthur. But, yes, I can see a version of the tale where they're the same person.' He pulled himself out of his chair, rose to his full height, like a bear on its hind legs. 'I'm not saying you two are right. Not even saying I'm convinced that your ideas hold together. But I will say, it's always a treat to hear you talk. Makes you understand the power of the storyteller in olden days of yore. Ring for my hat and coat, will you?'

'You still don't believe us?'

'Just the opposite - I do. That's what's got me worried.'

On a balmy, breezy day, Denton and Janet Striker took a cab to Fitzroy Street. She said, 'Are we starting here because it's the likeliest? '

'Or the safest; I don't know.'

They gave their names again to the hara.s.sed Irish maid and were shown into the same cluttered room, where the same plump woman sat in what looked to be the same clothes. She was shocked by the very idea that she might not have told them the entire truth. 'The police have been here!' she said. Her laces fluttered. 'Do you think I would dare to lie to the police?'

'We thought you might have forgotten something.'

'Do you think I am senile? Do you think me incompetent? You are very insulting. Please to ring the bell and tell the maid to show you out.'

Denton bowed, winked at Janet Striker and limped out of the crowded, stuffy room.

When they had been standing in the central hall for more than a minute, the Irish maid appeared from somewhere below. Her sleeves were rolled up again, and sweat had stained her blouse. Pus.h.i.+ng back loose coils of hair, she said, 'I'm mangling. It's hot work.'

Denton held up a s.h.i.+lling. She reached for it and he said, closing his fingers over the coin, 'Do you remember we talked about Mary Thomason?'

'Oh, that again.'

'You remember.'

'Of course I do.'

He held her eyes. Her look was what so-so novelists called 'bold', meaning she didn't flinch. He said, 'When Mary Thomason left, did she give you a way to get in touch with her?'

The bold look wavered. 'Why would she?'

'She might have wanted to know when somebody came asking after her.'

'Well, what if she did?'

'How did you let her know after we were here asking?'

The young woman hesitated, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and settled back on her spine and looked straight at him. 'She left me a card with a stamp to post to her - what of it?'

'You didn't tell us that when we were here before.'

'You didn't ast me.'

'Did you tell the police?'

She snorted. 'The English polis can go suck eggs for all of me.'

He held out the coin. When she took it, he said, 'Which of them came back - Mary Thomason, or her brother?' He had caught her fingers and held them as they held the s.h.i.+lling.

The girl's voice fell almost to a whisper. 'How'd you know somebody come back?'

'Which?'

'Her.'

'She wanted to know who'd been here?'

'Yeah. Just that.'

'You had our names?'

'Your cards, yeah. I give them to her.' She flared up. 'Where's the harm, then? She was a poor lone thing like me; she had somebody meaning to hurt her! She give me a sixpence - be like a sovereign to you! She was a sweet, harmless little thing that wanted to know who was after her!'

'So she left you a stamped card to send to her. What was the address on the card?'

'You think I can read?' She made a contemptuous, snorting sound in the back of her nose. 'I grew up in a house no better than a pigsty that was a dozen miles from the nearest school - you think the old folks sent me there? I was needed to home! Reading's for you fine English people.'

'Did you send her a card or anything after Mrs Striker was here the other day?'

'She left me oney the one card. It was oney the once!'

<script>