Page 44 of Murder on the Brighton Express
So, she did have a notebook. It hadn’t been found with her other belongings at the Ouse Valley Viaduct.
“Who were they?” I asked.
The doorman shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you.”
Harry held out his hand. The doorman shook it then slipped his hand and the bribe into his pocket. He closed the door he’d been holding open the entire time. “An actor and actress from London. Beecroft was his name, but I don’t recall hers. It sounded foreign. They weren’t staying together, but they were together, if you understand my meaning.” He winked, to make sure that we did.
Not only did we now know for certain that Geraldine and Beecroft had conducted an affair, we also knew that Ruth knew about it. According to Mrs. Scoop, Ruth hadn’t been sent to Brighton to watch them, so she must have simply stumbled upon them while staying in the same hotel.
“Do you think either Beecroft or his lady friend noticed Ruth watching them?” I asked.
The doorman scrubbed his jaw. “Hard to say. Beecroft did seem anxious from the very start of his stay. When he got out of the cab on his arrival, he looked around, as if he was worried he’d been followed from the station. Then for the duration of his stay, he kept asking me if I’d seen anyone lurking nearby who shouldn’t be here.”
“Did he describe the person he thought might be watching him?” I asked.
“No.”
“Wasanyone lurking?”
“Not that I noticed. His anxiety got worse after the first telephone call.”
“First?” Harry prompted.
“Beecroft received two while he was here. The only telephone device is at the front desk, but it’s not for the use of guests to make outgoing calls. It shouldn’t really be for the guests’ use at all, but he’s famous and the front desk clerk told me both callers wanted to speak to Beecroft in person, not leave a message.” The doorman leaned closer to us. “The first call was on the Tuesday, the day after Beecroft arrived. The second was on the Wednesday, the day before he checked out. Both conversations got heated.”
“Did you overhear anything specific?”
“Not from here, but the clerk at the front desk told me the first call was from a man, and it sounded like Beecroft was agreeing to meet him, but reluctantly. He refused at first, but the man on the end must have been insistent, because Beecroft eventually gave in.”
“Do you know where the meeting took place?” Harry asked.
“The clerk didn’t catch that part.”
“And the second call, on the Wednesday?”
“That was from a woman, and the call came from London. Beecroft argued with her, telling her to stop pestering him. He called her a name which I can’t repeat in front of a lady, Miss Fox, but if you want to hear it, sir, I can whisper in your ear.”
Harry declined the offer. “Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything that struck you as odd?”
“There was one thing. Beecroft’s accent changed to a cockney one when he spoke on the telephone.” The doorman looked pleased with himself for discovering that piece of information. “I bet the London gossips would like to speculate about his past if they knew that.”
He was right, but reporters would want more details first. Perhaps Ruth had uncovered those details, even learning the identity of the man and woman on the other end of the telephone line. Perhaps she planned to give her notes to Mrs. Scoop upon her return to London, but Beecroft stole the notebook then killed her.
I asked the doorman if there’d been any guests at the hotel matching the description of the man with the burn mark or the man with the flat nose.
He shook his head. “Do you reckon one of them made the first telephone call to Beecroft?”
Neither Harry nor I commented.
“You should speak to my friend,” the doorman went on. “He works at his father’s pharmacy.” He pointed down the street in the direction of the beach. “Their silence cabinet is the closest one to this hotel, and my friend reckons he’s always listening in to people’s telephone calls.”
“Isn’t the point of a silence cabinet that calls can’t be overheard?” Harry asked.
“My friend is nosy. He found a way. He might remember one of your suspects making a telephone call to the hotel, on account of their faces being distinctive.”
It was a good theory. If I was watching Beecroft and wanted to arrange a meeting with him but do so without showing my face at the hotel, I’d do it over the telephone, and I’d choose the closest one.
Harry and I headed in the direction of the pharmacy. “Do you think the woman who telephoned Beecroft was his wife?” I asked.
