Page 70 of Murder on the Brighton Express
A hard-faced woman with no teeth emerged from the tenement carrying a broom. She shook it at us. “Who’re you and what do you want?”
“Do you know where we can find Jack West?”
“I do not, but if you find ‘im, tell ‘im I want what he owes me for the room.” She shouted a colorful string of names for West, some of which were new to me.
We headed out of the court, and I finally told Harry my theory as we walked to the main road to catch an omnibus. “I think Jack West killed Ruth after she learned he’d been in jail. I think he did it because she learned he and Beecroft were in the same gang. If there’s a tattoo with five dots forming a cross on Beecroft’s forearm, we can prove it.”
“If there is, then Scotland Yard just need witnesses who saw Beecroft and West together on the train from London to Brighton to prove they met.”
Harry was following along without me having to explain that Beecroft must have caught the train to Brighton on which West worked as a conductor. “They may not have spoken on the train or at the station. It may have happened later. The hotel porter said Beecroft was worried someone was watching him. It must have been Jack West, having followed him from Brighton Station. Ruth saw and grew curious, so she investigated and overheard them talking like old acquaintances. Beecroft probably used his Cockney accent. Ruth probably saw West’s tattoo then and there, but only saw Beecroft’s when he went swimming. She knew it meant they were in a gang together, and telephoned Mrs. Scoop from the pharmacy to inform her.”
“Either Beecroft or West realized she was spying on them,” Harry went on. “Beecroft became anxious, since he has far more to lose. He knew his wife, Mrs. Scoop, wouldn’t print anything incriminating about him, but he probably worried Ruth would feed the information to another paper.” Harry lengthened his strides, only to slow them when he realized I couldn’t keep up. “It doesn’t quite explain everything, however. Having this journal in his possession proves West took it from Ruth, probably before pushing her out of the window. He likely strangled her until she lost consciousness beforehand, hence the mark on her neck.”
“But?”
“But why would West kill for Beecroft?”
“Money. Beecroft hired him as some sort of assassin.”
“It’s a risk.”
“Gang members can have a strong code of loyalty. Perhaps West wanted to protect his friend.”
“I agree he wanted to protect someone,” Harry said. “But I’m not convinced it’s Beecroft. It could be Geraldine. Or Mrs. Scoop. Perhaps he knew her well, too. Perhaps she was also in the gang. He might even have been in love with her.”
I shook my head. While I couldn’t imagine Mrs. Scoop loving anyone, that wasn’t the reason I dismissed her as West’s co-conspirator. “I think it’s Beecroft. He doesn’t smoke.”
“Pardon?”
“When I found out Beecroft was in fact Blaine, and married to Mrs. Scoop, I noticed she didn’t smoke around him, even though I could tell she wanted to. There was also no smell of cigarette smoke in their sitting room.”
“Ah. Now I see.” Harry shook his head and huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Jack West smokes. The day we first went to the Laneway Theater, Beecroft ran from the stage to his office when he saw us. When we caught up to him, he made up an excuse about believing us to be debt collectors. He started smoking. Correction. He was holding a cigarette. I don’t recall him actually taking a puff.”
“I don’t think he did either. He wanted us to believe it was his cigarette tin, because it was evidence that Jack West was in that office, waiting for him, and he knew it. He fled when he saw us, told West to hide in his closet because he knew we were on his heels, but West left the tin on the desk, so Beecroft took a cigarette from it to make us believe it was his.”
“West was hiding in there the entire time,” Harry added with a shake of his head.
An omnibus rumbled down the road. Harry took my hand and set off at a run to catch it. Once on board, we took our seats.
I flapped a hand in front of my hot face. “Is this even going in the right direction? I didn’t notice the sign.”
“I did.” Harry smiled. “It goes past the Laneway Theater.”
I smiled, too. “Excellent.”
The staff wouldn’t letus into the theater. It was a little over two hours before the actors were due on stage and they were adamant that we couldn’t enter without a ticket. Neither bribery nor charm worked, and the box office had sold out. There were no seats available for the evening’s production.
Harry tried to convince me it was for the best. “If we go charging in, Beecroft might flee. West certainly would if he was hiding here. We’ll contact Scotland Yard and tell Fanning everything we know. There’s enough evidence to encourage him to reopen the case.”
“You have more faith in Fanning than I do. Besides, it’s late. He has probably gone home for the day. We have to strike tonight. If West is still in the city, he won’t be for long.”
Harry indicated the two men guarding the closed theater doors. “And how do you propose we get inside?”
I sighed. He was right. It was hopeless. We had no choice but to rely on D.S. Fanning.
We found a public silence cabinet at a nearby pharmacy. Harry telephoned Scotland Yard, only to hang up the receiver without speaking to Fanning. “He has left for the day.” He picked up the receiver again and asked the operator to put him through to Ealing. Few homes were equipped with telephones, but Harry’s father, a former detective inspector, had wanted to be contactable at all hours so had one installed. It was very convenient.
I listened as Harry told D.I. Hobart why we wanted to speak to Fanning. After he hung up, he said his father didn’t know where we could find the sergeant. “But some of his former colleagues might,” Harry added. “He’s going to make some inquiries. My mother wants me to join them for dinner, so I’ll go there now and he should have an address for Fanning by the time I arrive.”
