Under Attack Read online

  ‘Like most clubs,’ said Marmion, ‘I daresay that it has an exclusively male membership?’

  ‘That’s true, but we have a Ladies’ Night every three months when wives and women friends are invited. Those are invariably well attended. My dear wife is always there.’

  ‘What about Mrs Donohoe?’

  ‘She, too, is a regular visitor.’

  ‘It sounds like an expensive place, Mr Ulverton.’

  ‘If you want the best, Inspector, you have to pay for it. The annual fee might seem high, but we’ve had no complaints. Our members are very happy. They abide by our one strict rule, which is that they’re forbidden to talk business. Club Apollo is for relaxation. But enough of that,’ said Ulverton, face crumpling. ‘I came here to talk about Gilbert, not about the club. Who could have killed him? Do you have any ideas? The newspaper article only gave scant details. What else can you tell me?’

  Measuring his words, Chatfield gave him an edited account of the murder and of the investigation set up in its wake. Ulverton was anxious to hear more so Marmion eventually took over from the superintendent.

  ‘Are you aware that Mr Donohoe sometimes left the Devonian for a night or two even though he still had a room at the hotel?’

  ‘Yes, he used to stay at the club. We offer limited accommodation for country members. As my partner, of course, Gilbert had the use of the main suite.’

  ‘If it’s not a rude question, sir,’ said Marmion, ‘what did he do all day?’

  ‘In essence, he hid away from the world. He read voraciously, he ate heartily and he listened to his favourite music. That was heaven to him.’

  ‘Did he ever introduce Mr Sprake to the club?’

  ‘No,’ replied Ulverton with a shake of his head. ‘He deliberately kept him away. Sprake was not uncultured, by all accounts, but he was not our type. We have to be very selective.’

  A completely new side to Donohoe had now been revealed to them. While he knew about the man’s love of music, Marmion never expected that he’d take it to such lengths and invest so much money in the venture. Norris Sprake had told him that Donohoe was so committed to the business world that it took over his whole life. It could only mean he was unaware of the existence of the Club Apollo.

  ‘I’m so annoyed with myself,’ said Ulverton, slapping his thigh. ‘Instead of making contact with Gilbert, I was caught up in endless meetings about the festival.’

  ‘What festival is that?’ asked Chatfield.

  ‘Can’t you guess, Superintendent? I live in Rochester.’

  ‘Then it must be something to do with Charles Dickens.’

  ‘You’re quite right. I’m not just the patron of the Dickens Festival, I take an active part in it. We have all kinds of events but the real joy is to dress up as your favourite Dickensian character.’ Patting his stomach, he smiled. ‘I’m sure you can guess the character I choose.’

  ‘Well, it certainly won’t be Scrooge,’ said Marmion. ‘He could never afford the membership fees for the Club Apollo.’

  ‘I’d plump for Mr Pickwick,’ said Chatfield.

  Ulverton nodded. ‘Nature intended me for the role.’ His ire flared up again. ‘But who cares about a festival at a time like this? It’s a complete irrelevance. I should have been here with Gilbert. That way, I might even have saved his life.’

  Ellen Marmion did all she could to keep herself busy. When she’d finished the chores, she did the shopping, dropped everything off at the house then joined the circle of women who were making gloves, scarves and other items to be sent to soldiers at the front. Since it was now summer, it seemed unlikely that there’d be any demand but the gifts could always be kept in readiness for winter. Paul had told her how viciously cold it could get in the trenches and how any source of warmth was seized on. It was good to be back with her women friends again, some of whom had sons in the army. Understanding her situation, they were uniformly kind to Ellen and didn’t ask her about Paul, knowing full well that, when she had new information, she’d be quick to pass it around the group.

  On the way home from the sewing circle, she usually started worrying about her son all over again but this time it was her daughter who occupied her mind. Alice was close to despair. That was clear from the letter she’d been compelled to write. Unaware that she and Keedy had arranged to meet later, Ellen feared that a chasm would open between them. If it continued to grow, it would, in time, be impossible to bridge. When the couple had first fallen in love, Ellen’s delight had been counterbalanced by her husband’s disapproval. Now that Marmion was reconciled to having Keedy as a son-in-law, it was his wife who was beginning to have doubts. It was now two years since Alice and Keedy had got together. To be so close that long and still not talk seriously about marriage was worrying. She blamed Keedy.

  Much as she loved her daughter, Ellen was ready to acknowledge her failings. Alice had a temper. It paled beside the fury shown by her brother but it needed to be kept in check. If Alice lost her control and hurled some of the accusations in her letter at Keedy, there was no telling what would happen. For a few seconds, Ellen thought about the consequences of their splitting up. It would leave her with an inconsolable daughter and her husband would spend every day with a rueful partner. Everybody would lose. It was a frightening thought. All that Ellen could hope was that, when they did next meet, Alice and Keedy would be so pleased to see each other again that their differences would fade away.

  Realistically, however, she thought it unlikely.

  Marmion was excited by the new line of enquiry that had unexpectedly opened up. Since it revealed an important element in the private life of Gilbert Donohoe, he was keen to visit Club Apollo. He therefore collected Keedy and introduced him to the ebullient Jonathan Ulverton. All three of them then set off in a police car. On the journey to Belgravia, the detectives hardly said a word because Ulverton delivered a lively commentary on the club that he and his former partner had founded. When he heard what the annual membership fee was, Keedy gaped. He couldn’t believe that anyone had that amount of money to spend on occasional visits to a gentlemen’s club. During a rare pause in the recitation, he managed to get in a question.

  ‘Adrian Donohoe was a member, I suppose?’

  ‘Your supposition is quite wrong, Sergeant,’ said Ulverton, seriously. ‘Gilbert would never have allowed it. His son had no interest in any of the arts.’

  ‘What qualification does anyone need to become a member?’

  ‘He has to be the right sort of person.’

  ‘And who decides that?’

  ‘It’s left to the committee.’

  When they reached their destination, they got out of the car and found themselves staring at a large Regency building that had once acted as a foreign embassy. Ulverton led the way in and introduced them to the club steward, Saul Rockwell, a stocky man in his forties with an impassive face and a searching gaze. Nobody, it was clear, would get past Rockwell unless he was a legitimate member. The club was cavernous with room opening out after room. As soon as they entered the lounge, they heard the strains of a string quartet playing in the adjacent restaurant.

  ‘Haydn,’ said Ulverton, recognising it. ‘He wrote dozens of string quartets. This one is called “The Lark”. And before you tell me that we shouldn’t be playing Austrian music when we’re at war with Austria-Hungary, I have to point out that music transcends national boundaries.’

  ‘Does the quartet always play at this time of day?’

  ‘Our members like to hear music while they’re enjoying luncheon. The quartet is here three days a week and most evenings. The music is sublime, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s not what I’d like to hear while I’m eating,’ admitted Marmion.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Keedy. ‘It’s distracting.’

  Ulverton beamed. ‘We find it utterly inspiring.’

  There were only half a dozen members in the lounge. Two were engaged in some sort of discussion while the others read newspapers or, in one cas
e, followed the score of ‘The Lark’. All of them were middle-aged and oozing prosperity in a way that offended Keedy. Designed for maximum comfort and with an essentially masculine air to it, the lounge had the thickest carpet either of the detectives had ever seen. Their shoes sank into it.

  ‘I’ll show you around,’ said Ulverton, proudly. ‘There’s much to see.’

  ‘Then I’ll be happy to come with you, sir,’ said Marmion. ‘The sergeant can have a few words with your steward. We’ll be interested in any comments he has to make about Mr Donohoe.’

  Taking his cue, Keedy went back to the entrance hall. Thankfully, he discovered, he was out of reach of Haydn there. Rockwell got up from his desk with routine cordiality.

  ‘Can I help you, Sergeant?’ he asked.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Keedy, palms raised. ‘I’m not applying for membership. I can tell you now that I’m not the right sort of person.’

  Every day was different in the Women’s Police Service. When they walked their beat, Alice Marmion and Iris Goodliffe never had a quiet and uneventful time. Problems always turned up at some point and they were often complete novelties. They’d been asked to retrieve pet cats from trees before now but they’d never had to coax a dog down from a high branch before. How the animal got up there in the first place was a mystery. It was now frozen with fear and clinging on desperately. Its owner, a tiny woman on the verge of hysteria, was terrified that her beloved West Highland terrier would fall to its death unless rescued. She pleaded with the policewomen to help.

  Iris was too heavy and frightened of heights to attempt the feat so it fell to Alice to bring the animal to safety. It was a perilous enterprise. The branch on which the terrier stood would never bear a woman’s weight. Somehow she had to entice the dog down to a lower branch that was within easier reach. Gritting her teeth, Alice began to ascend the tree. A small crowd quickly gathered. While some people encouraged her, Alice was at the same time berated by the owner for making the tree shake in a way that endangered her pet. She was tempted to drop to the ground again and tell the woman to get the animal down herself. Having got so far up the tree, however, she felt that she had to go on.

  The dog had enough intelligence to realise that Alice was trying to help. It began to yelp piteously. She tried to beckon it towards her but to no avail. Climbing a little higher, she held out one hand.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ll take you down to the ground.’

  ‘Be careful!’ yelled the owner. ‘You’ll make Sidney fall!’

  ‘Stop interfering,’ ordered Iris. ‘You’re putting my colleague off.’

  ‘He’s my dog.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have let him climb up that tree.’

  ‘Be quiet down there!’ shouted Alice.

  Inching closer all the time, she kept using the dog’s name in order to win its trust. It seemed to work. Sidney actually wagged his tail at one point and dared to move a little way along the branch towards Alice.

  ‘Keep going,’ said Alice, stretching an arm to its fullest extent. ‘Come on, Sidney. You can do it. I can’t help you until I can reach you.’

  Eyes rolling in terror and tongue hanging out, the dog made a brave effort to claw its way along the branch. Not far below him was Alice, one arm securely around the trunk of the tree, the other ready to grab hold of him. Iris was no mere onlooker. Foreseeing the possibility of a mishap, she undid her jacket and peeled it off. Then she got a man in the crowd to hold it open with her so that it could break the dog’s fall. They were just in time. As the animal got within a foot of Alice’s hand, it suddenly lost its balance, let out another yelp and fell through the air. The panic-stricken owner screamed and the crowd stood back. Iris and the man moved swiftly to get directly beneath Sidney and caught him in the jacket.

  There was a round of applause from the crowd but the owner didn’t join in. She simply snatched up the dog, thrust him under her arm and stalked off. Iris looked after her with disgust.

  ‘That’s all the thanks you get!’ she protested.

  Alice called plaintively from above. ‘How do I get down?’

  Saul Rockwell was a mine of information about the operation of Club Apollo. Having been employed there since it first opened, he knew all the members by name and could list each individual’s musical preferences. Keedy was glad that they’d finally found the sanctuary to which Donohoe retired when the mood took him.

  ‘We expected him days ago,’ said Rockwell, ‘but he never came.’

  ‘Now you know why.’

  ‘He was such a pleasant man and he went out of his way to make friends. He and Mr Ulverton were brothers under the skin. They created the perfect atmosphere here.’

  ‘So we were told.’

  ‘It’ll never be quite the same without Mr Donohoe.’

  ‘Who first employed you?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘And where were you before you came here?’

  ‘I worked at a club in Pall Mall. Mr Donohoe was a member there as well.’

  ‘Did he lure you away?’

  ‘He took a chance on me, Sergeant, and I made sure I never let him down. Club Apollo is my life now. The hours are long and irregular but I don’t mind that. Luckily, I have a very understanding wife.’

  ‘I’m hoping to have one of those in due course,’ said Keedy, ‘though I fancy she’d draw the line at me sneaking off here to listen to a string quartet instead of painting the kitchen or repapering the living room.’

  ‘Mr Donohoe had no problem coming here whenever he wished. In fact, his wife encouraged him to do so. Mrs Donohoe attended most of our Ladies’ Nights.’

  ‘That’s because she loved music – posh music, that is. We never had the chance to appreciate that, as kids. It was beyond us. The only kind of music we like is the kind you can dance to.’

  ‘Then this is not the place for you, Sergeant.’

  Rockwell was well spoken, well mannered and clearly good at his job, yet Keedy sensed there was a rough-and-ready element to the man, now carefully subdued.

  ‘Were you ever in the army?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ replied Rockwell, ‘I served in the navy.’

  ‘Why did you give it up?’

  ‘I met the woman I wanted to marry. The one thing she wouldn’t accept was the idea of having a husband sailing the seven seas while she was stuck at home. We came to an agreement.’

  Keedy nodded. ‘Yes, I suppose we’ll have to do that sooner or later.’

  ‘The captain on my last ship was a member of the club in Pall Mall. He got me a job there. Within a couple of years I was the steward. I have Captain Giltrap to thank for that.’

  ‘Did you repay the favour by getting him accepted here?’

  ‘I’m in no position to do that, Sergeant, and there was no need in any case. This club had no attraction for him.’

  ‘What about the other members?’

  ‘They’re all professional men from different walks of life. We have doctors, lawyers, barristers, civil servants, bankers, businessmen and so on.’

  ‘I didn’t see any younger members in the lounge.’

  ‘You need money and leisure time to make the most of Club Apollo.’

  ‘Are people ever turned away?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Rockwell, seriously. ‘It happens all the time. We set high standards here. Some people have been extremely angry when they’re rejected by the committee. They’ve even threatened legal action.’

  Keedy perked up. ‘Was Mr Donohoe a member of that committee?’

  ‘He was the chairman.’

  Marmion, meanwhile, was being given a tour of the building. Since his guide talked effusively throughout, the inspector had little opportunity to ask questions. He didn’t mind. The Club Apollo was a reflection of the personalities of its founders. It was a glimpse into a new and unappealing world for Marmion. He kept thinking that, while the country’s younger generation was being mown down ruthlessly in the war, members of the elite cl
ub were indulging themselves with rich food, plentiful drink and exquisite music. It seemed wrong to him. The whole country was suffering from the ill effects of the war yet a privileged group of men contrived to remain untouched and unbothered by it. That struck Marmion as grotesque selfishness. At the end of their tour, Ulverton looked at him shrewdly.

  ‘I’m sorry you disapprove of us so much, Inspector.’

  ‘My opinion is irrelevant, sir. I’m just grateful to you for revealing things about Mr Donohoe that we’d never have suspected.’

  ‘Businessmen are not all hard, uncaring, money-grubbing capitalists. Some have a softer side and Gilbert was one of them.’

  ‘I didn’t see any evidence of a softer side in his son.’

  ‘Adrian was a disappointment to him,’ said Ulverton, ‘but that’s all in the past now. Our main task is to find the man who killed his father in such a brutal fashion. It was unforgivable. I’ll get in touch with Clara immediately.’

  ‘What did Mrs Donohoe make of this place?’

  ‘I think she was rather jealous of her husband.’

  ‘There are no clubs of this kind for women.’

  ‘There certainly aren’t,’ said Ulverton with a half-smile. ‘Well, you know Gilbert’s secret now, Inspector. He needed a place of escape and this was it. He made so many friends here.’

  ‘What about enemies?’

  ‘He had none at the Club Apollo and neither, I hope, do I. We both have a benevolent streak, you see. We like other people to be happy. That’s why we tried to create all the right preconditions here.’

  He was clearly fishing for compliments but Marmion had none to give.

  ‘What happens now?’ he asked.

  ‘We carry on as before. It’s what Gilbert would have wanted us to do.’

  ‘You misunderstood my question, sir. Since your partner is dead, will his stake in the club revert to his family? Will Adrian Donohoe replace his father?’