Joe looked with interest at the smiling line of chorus girls arm in arm with their six matching, top-hatted escorts. All young, innocent and lovely. The opening line of the musical floated into his mind. Tell me pretty maiden, are there any more at home like you? He remembered the girls’ reply delivered in a teasing Mayfair accent. Phoebe and, next to her, Audrey. Indistinguishable one from the other. Eight years ago. He briefly wondered what Phoebe was doing now.

‘And what are you intending to do in the immediate future, Miss Blount?’

She sighed and bit her lip, her confidence ebbing away at the stark question. ‘I’m leaving this place tomorrow. I’m going back to London. I’ve a sister in Wimbledon. I can stay with her for a bit. Not that she will want to put me up for long. I don’t get on with the fool she married. I’m too old for the stage now, though I’ve kept fit – I can still dance – and I still have my figure. I shall have to look for work in a shop . . . do a bit of waitressing . . . Nippy in a Joe Lyons? How about that? They say the tips aren’t bad. Who knows?’

‘I’d be obliged if you would leave a forwarding address at which we may contact you if necessary.’

Audrey nodded and gave the information to Armitage who noted it down.

‘And now, will you tell us what happened yesterday? Perhaps you could start with the quarrel it is reported that you had with your employer?’

‘I can’t recall what it was all about now,’ she said doubtfully. ‘I mean, what triggered it. What it was about was we couldn’t stand any more of each other’s company. I’d had enough of her bad temper and her vicious tongue. She wanted to get rid of me. “Whining, demanding and dreary,” she said. Told me to pack and clear off. I think she meant it this time. She delivered her ultimatum and swept off up to London in her Chrysler.’

‘And what were your feelings on hearing this?’

‘I was popping with rage. I expect there are witnesses in the house who’ll delight in telling you I stormed about swearing and yelling and breaking things. I’m not denying it. I did. And then when I calmed down a bit I decided I’d get the old Ford out and go to London myself. She gave me use of it when she got the new car . . . I say – do you suppose I’ll still be allowed to . . .? Oh, never mind! I followed her. I knew where she’d gone. While she was booking into a suite at the Ritz, I was being chucked out on the street. Eight years, Commander! Eight years of persecution with nothing to show for it and too late to start my life up again. I decided to kill her.’

Joe stirred uneasily. ‘And did you kill her?’

He was taken aback by a blast of astonishment. ‘Eh? What is all this? Course I didn’t! How can you ask that? Wasn’t it you who told her mother it was a burglar that got her?’

‘We’re keeping an open mind on that at the moment. It’s very likely that she was indeed attacked by an intruder gaining access through a window – but continue, please. Tell us what happened after you got up to London.’

‘It wasn’t difficult to get into the Ritz and track her down.’ She looked slyly at Joe and went on with something like pride in her tone, ‘I can still act a bit, you know! Easy to get past people if you use the right accent. I got her room number and hung about wondering what to do while she was at the party downstairs. And then I saw one of the chambermaids was going about turning down the sheets in the rooms, freshening the flowers and checking things while the guests were living it up down below. They have these little trolleys piled up with towels and linen and they push them about the corridors. I watched when one of them hung up her uniform and parked her trolley and scarpered. It only took me a minute or two to slip on the gear – shapeless overall and fancy cap – and waddle about as though my feet were killing me. Nobody notices the hired help. Everybody looked through me. You can go anywhere!’

She gave a dry laugh. ‘Even her bloody ladyship didn’t recognize me! She came hurrying back to her room . . . it must have been about ten past twelve . . . I was getting a bit fed up by then, temper cooled, feet beginning to ache for real and wondering what on earth I thought I was doing in this farcical get-up when madam comes rocketing along the corridor from the lift, peeling off her gloves. She saw me lurking about near her door and yelled at me. “You there! I hope you’re not expecting to gain admittance to my room at this late hour. What has happened to the schedule? I shall have a word with the manager. Go away! And don’t think of disturbing me.”

‘She paused at the door to her suite and kept looking back at the lift. Waiting. Expecting someone to follow her, I thought. Well, by that time I’d lost all enthusiasm for topping her anyway. Never had thought through how I would do it and seeing her suddenly again like that, on her high horse, well . . . she was a big, strong woman, Commander! You’d have needed to take a crowbar to her to make any impression. And if my attempt was about to be witnessed by some drunken sot she’d managed to lure up from the ballroom . . . well . . . I thought, “Blow this for a game of soldiers!” She went in and shut the door and I grabbed my trolley and meandered off down the corridor, feeling silly. I hung about a bit, just out of curiosity. I wouldn’t have minded casting an eye over her date for the evening!’

‘And while you were lurking along the corridor, did you hear any sound from the Dame’s suite?’

Audrey thought carefully. ‘Not a sound. No one came up. No one went down. Nothing.’ She laughed. ‘I’d love to be able to say I saw So-and-So or What’s-His-Name nipping in but my memory’s a total blank on that one. But give me time to think, will you? There may be details that didn’t register as important at the time that come back to me now I know what you’re looking for. Tell me, Commander – how did she die?’

‘A poker. Not a crowbar but a solid Ritz poker,’ said Joe. ‘About five blows to the skull.’

‘Did she suffer? Oh, daft question! Of course she must have suffered.’ Audrey’s eyes were glazed with tears and she fumbled in her sleeve for a handkerchief.

‘She defended herself bravely. I think she died more in rage than in pain,’ said Joe.

Audrey nodded. ‘Sounds like Bea.’

‘Perhaps a good moment to establish something of the nature of the Dame’s relationships,’ said Joe. ‘I’m sure there must be much you can tell us about whom she was close to and so on.’

Audrey looked from one to the other uncertainly. ‘Look, it’s a bit delicate. Her love life was chaotic as I’m sure you’ve guessed and there are . . . um . . . certain . . . things . . . you really ought to know about her if you’re to get a clear picture of her. But, I say, I don’t really think I could . . .’ She faltered, blushed and then came to a decision. ‘Would you mind very much if I talked to the lady policeman? Miss Westhorpe, did you say? I feel I could talk more easily to a woman. Would you mind, miss?’

‘I think that would be a good idea,’ said Westhorpe helpfully. ‘Sir – there’s a door to the garden and I notice a particularly fine example of a Dutch garden out there. If you and the sergeant would like to take a stroll while I talk to Miss Blount, I think everyone’s sensibilities would be served.’

Amused and intrigued, Joe nodded his acceptance of the scheme. He got to his feet and handed Audrey a card. ‘This is where you may contact me, Miss Blount. At any time. Should you recall something of relevance to the enquiry.’ He nodded to Armitage and they walked together through the french window into the garden.

‘Perhaps Sir Nevil knows what he’s doing,’ said Armitage. ‘I begin to see some real advantages in employing these women. Save our blushes, like you said, sir. Wonder what on earth she’s telling her? Er . . . is there any guarantee that the constable will understand what she’s hearing?’