the purloined parure 18 penultimate

 this is the heavy chapter. Be aware.

Chapter 18

 

Alexander meticulously wrote out a will form, something he acknowledged that he should have done the day before. But the Beauchamp boys were going to be in a real rage now. He left a block of shares to Morrell as an apology for losing his temper, which would give him enough income to dress a bit better; and similar for sergeants Harris and Teal.  He left his car and shares in a relatively recently formed German company, Bayerische Motoren Werke, to Campbell, and the rest to Ida. He added a codicil, leaving another block of shares to Barrett and instructions that Ida should pay for a cruise for Mrs. Barrett, and go with her.

He called in two constables to witness his signature, and stowed the document in his desk, and slipped a fifty pound note in an envelope for Mary and her husband, which he put under the tree. She had done her best to alleviate his bad mood with cups of tea and gossip from the typing pool.

He had, after all, smiled fleetingly at the tale of WPC Collins’s little sister having pulled a Christmas jape on her school by emptying Matron’s mattress out of the top floor window to convince everyone it was snowing.  He hoped that Miss Collins would be able to sit down again to eat her Christmas dinner. Matron apparently had no sense of humour and a weapon called a tawse. Although Alexander recalled avoiding helping with the yearly ‘shooting the tick’ when the feathers in a mattress were emptied, de-clumped, any unpleasant ones discarded – those with cocoa stains for example, when a chap fell asleep during a bout of illness with a cup of half finished cocoa in his hands – and new feathers added.  The tick was then sewn up again with waxed thread and the seam waxed to try to prevent feathers working their way out.

He sighed impatiently. He was wool-gathering, a bad habit he also fell into when waiting for the order to go over the top. His mind raced around trying to think of everything except what was to come.

He made himself go to the canteen for lunch and ate without noticing what he ate, and returned to his office. Here he caught up on all the paperwork he should probably have done earlier, wrote a report about the break in, and how he anticipated an event that evening in which the Beauchamp Brothers, Charley and Joseph, would work him over. It was to be hoped that the two sergeants and Campbell would stop them when there was enough evidence but before he was hurt too badly.

He noted that he planned to take home an acoustic device to make recordings onto wax, to hopefully get the voices of the unpleasant young men on record... literally.

The device he collected from the laboratory; sometimes autopsies were recorded thus. It rode home on the front seat of his car, with the safety belt around the box it was in. If the Beauchamp brothers did not kill him, the lab boys certainly would if he damaged it. He drove home carefully.

 

Alexander stopped his car and put on the parking brake to open the doors.

He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye as he got the doors open. Suddenly, his belly was hollow, and his mouth dry. Thank goodness he had told Teal to wait upstairs; if he had been down here, they would have dealt with the chubby sergeant in no time.

Alexander sauntered out of the garage and got back into the car. He revved the engine loudly, hoping that Campbell would hear it. Campbell could be relied on to recognise his master’s car engine.  Then, Alexander drove carefully into the garage. He surreptitiously set up the recording device, and got out of the car to shut the doors. He did not think he would have a chance to get back in the car to start it once the doors were shut; and he was right.

Two shadows came forward.

“Hello, Charley Beauchamp, hello Joseph Beauchamp,” said Alexander. “You don’t need the masks, you know; I know who you are.”

Joseph pulled off his mask.

“Well, it will be more fun this way, anyway,” he said.

Charley sighed.

“We have to kill him, now,” he said.

“I want to kill him,” said Joseph. “He’s a bastard and he dares to despise us. Grab him!”

Alexander fought, of course. It would be suspicious if he did not. But he permitted Charley to creep up behind him, and get a rope around his neck.

Half throttled, Alexander let himself go limp whilst he was still conscious. His wrists were lashed together, and the other end of the rope holding them was thrown over one of the ceiling joists, and secured somewhere. They had pulled him up onto his toes.

Alexander knew that with his feet free, if he could grasp the rope above his tied hands, he could do a lot of damage kicking; but he would let them incriminate themselves first.

Charley had a knife and was slashing off Alexander’s clothing without any care for whether he nicked skin underneath as well.

“Morrell would be scandalised at you spoiling a good Savile Row suit,” said Alexander.

“I’ll spoil a lot more than your suit if you don’t tell me where the parure is,” said Charley. He and Joseph punched and pummelled Alexander’s torso, like a pair of boxers with a punching bag hung between them. Alexander felt a rib break. They worked him over, up and down so that not an inch of his chest was left without bruises, and the odd punch to the belly making him heave. Then Josef hit him in the kidneys, which was a blow to make his bladder release involuntarily. Joseph giggled.

“Now we got him scared, to piss himself,” he said. “Ready to talk about where you hid our parure, copper?”

“I am not going to talk, however much you hit me,” said Alexander.  He yelped as the knife dug in suddenly in his armpit.

“Careful, don’t kill him,” said Joseph. “Why don’t we peel all his skin off, an inch at a time? They used to call copper ‘Peelers’ once upon the time, we’ll see how well he peels.”

“Give me a pen, and we’ll mark it out,” said Charley. “Then he can anticipate where the knife will follow the pen nib.”

Joseph giggled again. It was a high pitched giggle.

“You sound like a girl,” said Alexander.

Joseph hit him in the crotch, and then cried out in disgust as Alexander vomited on him.

“You threw up on me on purpose!” he declared, shrilly. “I’m going to peel your todger like a banana!”

He moved forward with his sharp little knife and Alexander managed enough control, despite the spots still before his eyes, to grab onto the rope running up from his wrists, and delivering a pile-driving kick into Joseph’s face.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” said Charley. “I’m going to cut open your belly and pull out everything inside, like we did to them rats.” He crouched low. “And we’ll burn your body, with the petrol in the car, the place will go up like a torch, and no evidence left.”

Alexander steeled himself.

His kick missed, and the steel cut a hot line on his belly.

 

oOoOo

 

“I don’t care what you say, that was the Lancia’s engine. Any good mechanic knows the sound of an individual engine, even of the same make. I allus knew Mr. Basil’s camel when the flyers were coming back. You can’t fool a good greaser, and I am going down.”

“I hope it won’t spoil the boss’s game,” said Harris.

“Look, ’e never revs like that; wot for would ’e ’ave to?” said Campbell. “It was a bleedin’ message, it was.”

He headed for the stairs with the two sergeants following him.

 

oOoOo

 

Alexander had the sudden thought that Campbell had not heeded his unusual and unnecessary revving, and that nobody would come. His wrists and palms were being cut to ribbons as  he reached to hold the robe, ready to sell his life hard.

And then the door crashed open, and Campbell was leaping on Charley, the sergeants on his tail.

“What kept you?” asked Alexander.

“Arguin’ wiv these two,” said Campbell. “Didn’t see ’ow I could tell one car from anuvver, I arsts you!”

“I revved the engine when I saw I had visitors,” said Alexander. “I knew you would know it.”

“Jus’ as well I did,” said Campbell. “Teal, call an ambulance, ’Arris can’t ’ardly speak the king’s English.”

“Pots an’kettles,” said Harris.

Teal ran off upstairs, and the other two men cut Alexander down, and Campbell investigated the belly wound.

“’Asn’t perfulated the periwassitcalled,” he said, sniffing. “Naow digestive smells at the wound site.”

“That’s a relief,” said Alexander, and passed out.

When he came to, the garage was swarming with bobbies, and an ambulance was waiting.

“Campbell! Recorded it all – front seat,” said Alexander, as he was bundled onto a stretcher and into the back of the ambulance.

 

 

oOoOo

 

Alexander hated the smell of hospitals, it always reminded him of comrades dying, despite the best efforts of the nurses and doctors. They had given him some sort of sedative, and he knew he was rambling as he listed those dead in his unit, like a bizarre litany of loss.

“Are these the men who hurt you so badly, sir?” a young bobby with a notebook was beside him.

“Damn your eyes! Those are the ones the hun got,” said Alexander. “The smell of death, carbolic acid, the smell of death.”

“For goodness sake, constable! He’s not in his right mind, I gave him a sedative,” said someone starchy and bustling, the smell of her starch as tangible as the sound of the crisp rustles of her costume.

“Give ‘em hell, matron,” murmured Alexander, as a prick on his arm took him into blessed oblivion.

 

oOoOo

 

Alexander woke with a start.

His heart was hammering, and he held himself still, eyes shut, assessing where he might be.

The stench of hospital.

But he was not back on the Somme.

No, he had been worked over by those two little shits.

He opened his eyes.

The patient bobby was there.

“I’m not about to kick the bucket, lad, not yet, anyway; no need for a dying deposition,” said Alexander.

The young policeman jumped, and got out his notebook.

“Do you know who attacked  you, sir? Was it a mugging?”

“It was Charley and Joseph Beauchamp, who should be in the custody of Sergeants Harris and Teal.  Unless anyone let them go; what do you mean, was it a mugging?”

“Well, sir, it’s hospital policy to call us in to check over any emergency case who looks as if he or she has suffered physical violence, and you’ve been beaten and cut about, sir.  And I need to know what happened.”

“Son, it was a police sting which went pear shaped,” said Alexander.

“Oh! Are you associated with the police, sir? Can you tell me your name?”

“Didn’t you even go through my clothes?”

“You didn’t have any, sir, seemingly they were cut off you.”

“Oh, that would explain it, they’ll have been bagged for evidence. I’m Inspector Alexander Armitage of Scotland Yard.  It was an operation, and I should not say any more as it’s now under sub judice. Teal or Harris will be here presently for a proper statement.”

“Run along, sonny; I’ll process the inspector,” said Barrett’s voice. “My warrant card.”

“Er, yes, sir, thank you, sir,” said the young constable, moving hastily away. “The doctors said all those wounds were inflicted deliberately, sir, and there’s bruises under the bandages!”

“I saw the photos,” said Barrett. “Hop it.”

The youth retreated.

“Abiit, evasit, erupit,excessit,” said Alexander.

“What does that mean, you public school wonder?” demanded Barrett.

“‘Exit stage left, pursued by a bear,’” said Alexander. “Charley and Joseph took off their masks when I told them I knew who they were. I rendered Joseph unconscious by kicking him from my position of confinement.”  He paused. “I should begin at the beginning,” he said.

“Yes, you should,” said Barrett.

“It was when I stopped to open the garage door...” said Alexander. He gave his report in clipped, precise tones, neither glossing over the abuse to his body nor exaggerating.

“You missed some damage; according to the doctors you sprang three ribs, and Campbell was wrong, the peritoneum was punctured.  Sliced into your appendix, so they took that out whilst they were in there, so at least that’s not something you can ever skive off work with,” said Barrett.

“Thanks, chief,” said Alexander, with heavy irony.

“You’ll be going on that cruise with my missus and Miss Henderson,” said Barrett. “Counting as light duties.”

“I can be back to work in a brace of shakes....”

“The doctors say the end of February, at least,” said Barrett. “You’ve got more stitchery in you than I’ve known in any copper under me, and you’re lucky the doctors ain’t drunk yet, or you might have been sewn up with tinsel.”

“I hope it was nicely embroidered,” said Alexander. “More than one cut?”

“When they cut your clothes off, there were a few nasty ones, which would probably heal on their own, but you know how doctors are,” said Barrett.  “I have your sworn deposition now; can you sign it?”

“I think so,” said Alexander.  His hands and wrists were also swathed in bandages, which had a few gruesome stains.

“You’ll have your own special nurse to feed you, soon,” said Barrett, in an almost affectionate tone. “Campbell stopped by long enough to drop off the phonograph, and informed me he was going after Miss Ida and Gladdie, whom I conjecture is her maid.”

“Yes, Gladys is the lass who helped me with the drugs party,” said Alexander. “Campbell’s a good sort of chap.”

He dozed off again, and awoke being kissed and wept over by Ida.

The kisses were nice, so he endured the tears.

“Alexander Simon Caleb Frederick Armitage! You were reckless!” scolded Ida.

“We weren’t going to get them if not caught in the act,” protested Alexander.

“That’s as maybe, but hasn’t it ever occurred to you that the garage is the vulnerable point?”

“You know what? If I stay there, I’m going to arrange some bolt holes, and what’s more, some silent alarms, which light up little lights if anyone passes various places.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” said Ida. “And maybe listening tubes as well.”

“Splendid idea,” said Alexander.      

Pacifying Ida was a pleasant occupation.