Page 73 of Murder on the Brighton Express
Beecroft was trapped. “What is the meaning of this?” he bellowed.
Before I could answer, Geraldine Lacroix appeared. She was breathing heavily after her exertions on the stage, but smiled, too. Performing made her happy. Her smile disappeared when she saw Beecroft looking so anxious.
Before Harry could send her away, I invited her inside. I had a notion that she might prove useful.
“Is everything all right, Clem?” she asked.
“No, it bloody well isn’t. Go and fetch a couple of toughs to get rid of these two.”
“You’ll want to stay,” I told her. “You’ll want to hear how your lover is an accessory to murder.”
She gasped and clutched her throat. “Clem?”
“I didn’t murder that woman!” Beecroft cried. “She jumped off the train.”
Harry closed the door. “Miss Fox said you’re an accessory.”
Beecroft removed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his sweating forehead. He smeared the stage makeup in the process, getting some of it in his hair. “It’s nothing to do with me.”
“You were involved,” I said. “We can prove it.”
He snorted, but the flicker of fear in his eyes gave him away. “This is absurd. I want a solicitor.”
“You can have one when you talk to the police. They’ll be here soon.”
“You have nothing on me. Nothing!”
I turned to his lover. “Geraldine, I once told you that his name is really Clement Blaine, not Beecroft.”
She lifted a bare shoulder. She still wore the costume of a rather scantily clad temptress that revealed quite a lot of décolletage. “What of it?”
“Clement didn’t change his name and accent to start a new career. He changed his name because of a criminal past.”
Geraldine’s eyes flared, before she shrugged again. “I know he’s not a saint, but he never hurt me. He’s been a thorough gentleman.”
I finally turned to Beecroft, who was now sweating profusely in the warm office. “You know Jack West. You recognized each other on the London to Brighton express.”
“Who?” Geraldine asked.
“The conductor who threw Ruth Price out of her compartment after rendering her unconscious.”
Geraldine paled as a shiver racked her.
Harry removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders.
Beecroft lifted his chin. With his nose in the air, he sniffed. The confident, aloof pose was put on for our benefit, but the sweating betrayed him. “I don’t know anyone by that name. I don’t recall the conductor.”
I ignored his denials. I’d expected them. My explanation was partly for Geraldine’s benefit, anyway. I suspected she had information that would prove useful. It was also partly to stall until the police arrived. If, in fact, Harry’s father had convinced D.S. Fanning to come.
“Jack West followed you to your hotel in Brighton,” I went on. “Ruth Price happened to be staying there, too. That was most unfortunate for you, because she had a nose for a good story. She recognized you upon your arrival, and noticed you anxiously glancing around. She then spotted Jack West and became curious as to why he followed you, and why you were worried about him.”
“This is absurd,” Beecroft muttered. “You have no way of knowing any of that.”
“That’s because you know Jack West destroyed the evidence in her journal. But I’ll get to that in a moment. Ruth discovered you and West knew each other by listening in to your conversation over the telephone and when you met him.”
Beecroft scoffed. “You have nothing on me.”
“After discovering the truth about your past and your connection to a convicted felon, Ruth telephoned Mrs. Scoop in London to tell her she had an incredible story for her to print. But when Mrs. Scoop heard it involved her husband, she wasn’t interested.”
