Lestrade Solves a Case

Written by William Shepard, Published on 1/5/2009

The Brighton police were baffled. And, I must admit, it was a troublesome case. Fortunately, I was taking my August fortnight holiday in Brighton and happened to be on the scene. I presented my official card to Inspector Malmson of the Brighton Constabulary.

“Chief Inspector Lestrade, Scotland Yard,” he read. “This is indeed an honor, sir. What luck, having you here! Would you please assist us with the investigation? A titled guest has had her necklace stolen!” I looked at him sharply. He adjusted his request: “I mean, Chief Inspector, would you please take over the investigation? We stand ready of course to assist you in any way.”

He, of course, breathed a sigh of relief when I agreed. I must say that the previous week here at the Palace Hotel had been rather boring. I am not a sea bather by inclination, and the sun rather gives me burns and rashes rather than pleasure. Frankly, I missed the caseload back in London where I was occasionally matching wits with that consulting detective fellow, Sherlock Holmes. Well, here in Brighton, I wouldn’t have that competition looking over my shoulder.

“When was the necklace taken, and whom have you interviewed?”

“Countess Mannerley told the hotel management of this less than an hour ago.”

The hotel manager, Nathan Larksley, nodded, “Yes, Chief Inspector. She said that she had put the triple strand pearl necklace on, and last saw it by the light of the gas lamps in the Palm Court’s grand mirror as she entered the ballroom, half an hour earlier. When next she looked, the necklace was gone! Before she could tell us anything more, the poor lady fainted, right in front of the mirror, where we were speaking. It caused a dreadful commotion. I did, however, think to close the ballroom before calling the Brighton Constabulary. Nobody has left.”

“You did well indeed, Mr. Larksley. We will now take statements, so that your guests will be inconvenienced as little as possible. Inspector Malmson, I assume the room has been closed, and that you will now search the premises for the necklace.”

“Very good, Chief Inspector.” Malmson was glad to have an order to obey, and Larksley was clearly relieved that I had not yet ordered the guests to be searched. I then briefly addressed the 50 or so people who were now seated at tables in the Palm Court. Their statements were taken and signed. It was a closed seasonal party, which meant that only those actually staying at the hotel were invited. That reduced the numbers of horses and carriages that would usually crowd the entrance to the hotel. I told everyone that they were not at liberty to leave the hotel without my express permission. Everyone cooperated with a minimum of fuss, which delighted Mr. Larksley.

I read all of the statements, most of which checked out, giving credible alibis to the partners of those giving the statements. Then I decided to talk with four persons personally, without witnesses. Mr. Larksley ushered Countess Mannerley in.

“Sit down, Countess,” I began, “I gather it isn’t still ‘Lightfinger Sue!’”

She looked at me with a wild expression. Denials were useless.

“How did you know? Well you would, wouldn’t you! Don’t give me away, Chief Inspector. For 10 years I’ve been straight, and the title, from my late husband, who passed away last year, is quite genuine. Best man I ever knew. He gave me a second chance, and that pearl necklace too. If only I’d had that clasp fixed! By the way, they were the real thing -- and I haven’t insured them! I’d always left that sort of thing up to my husband. But it turns out that he didn’t have a practical turn of mind.” She started sobbing all over again.

“Sue -- I mean Countess -- you can help me with one detail. Did you recognize anyone from the old days here tonight? Someone who, like yourself, had a past best hidden?”

She shook her head, “Yes, it’s Archie Hopkins, who is using his full given name, Archibald. He was a fence in London, just this side of the law. I think you’ll find, Chief Inspector, that there’s a great deal of information that Scotland Yard got from Archie over the years. He was shady, but never quite illegal.”

I nodded in agreement. I had heard of Archie Hopkins, now that she mentioned him. “Anyone else?”

She considered the matter carefully. “No,” she answered.

“What exactly did you do after you entered the Palm Court?”

“Well, after entering, I had a glass of champagne with Loralie Courtney, that nice young lady from the Midlands. Then Archie came up and said hello, with rather a pursed look. I took it that meant that I wasn’t to let on that we knew each other from the old days, which was fine with me, I can tell you! We had a dance together for old times sake. Then the music stopped, and he introduced his friend Robert to me. I didn’t quite catch the surname, he was that good looking.”

I looked through the statements. There were three Roberts. “Sir Robert Causewell?” I asked.

“No. He was playing whist at the card table.”

“Robert Coverley?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell, I’m afraid.”

“Robert Bannington?”

“Yes, that’s it. Fine man. I enjoyed meeting him, even though he spent most of our dance looking over my shoulder at another lady.”

“Then what happened?”

“It was time to powder my nose, so I took my leave of Bannington, then noticed in the grand mirror that my pearls were missing. I fainted, and came to not long ago.”

I thanked her for her cooperation, and sent for Robert Bannington. He entered the room, closing the door behind him.

“‘Quicksilver Bob,’ isn’t it?”

He turned white. “That’s in the past. I haven’t lifted anything in years.”

“Tell me what happened tonight.”

“Well, Archibald Hopkins introduced me to the Countess. The music was playing, so we had a dance. She’s quite charming, really, but I wanted to meet another lady, so I doubt that I was very diverting. Though, the Countess is a divine dancer. Her turns were exquisitely done. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that she had been in the ballet. So many of the ladies one meets do have that background, you know, ballet or opera.”

I nodded, prying for more details with my questioning stare.

“I wish the others on the floor had been as graceful. That fat elderly Indian Army colonel and his equally fat wife were so graceless that as the music tempo picked up, they actually ran into the Countess, turning her around for a moment -- it was all I could do to keep her from falling. But she laughed about it afterwards. She told me that she hadn’t had such a diversion since she had lost her poor husband.”

“Had you noticed her pearls?” I asked.

“Of course, Chief Inspector. I thought, with that loose clasp, that they might fall and scatter all over the floor!”

I thanked him, and sent for Archibald Hopkins.

“You are well known to us at Scotland Yard, Mr. Hopkins -- and not unfavorably,” I said.

“I’ve always tried to be helpful,” he said gruffly.

“Tell me about your meeting tonight with Countess Mannerley.”

“It wasn’t a meeting. This was a social occasion. We just had a brief dance. That was it.”

“A brief dance, you say? Why brief? She was certainly one of the most attractive ladies in the Palm Court.”

“It’s my gout -- my foot hurts like blazes whenever I exercise. Why, the physicians have even ordered me to cut back on port wine -- so that my big toe doesn’t get further inflamed.”

I then called for Loralie Courtney. “Of course I saw her pearls, Chief Inspector,” she said, “Every woman in the room did. Countess Mannerley and I were talking about them over a glass of champagne, and when old Archibald Hopkins came over, we were still talking about them.”

I sat for a moment, a glass of port wine in hand, considering what I had seen and heard. Inspector Malmson dashed over, very excited. “We’ve found the pearls, sir. They were dropped into one of the palm tree pots decorating the room, to be picked up later, no doubt. Until we looked closely, they were well hidden by the lush lower fronds or branches of the tree itself.”

I could not suppress a smile. I gave instructions to Inspector Malmson for an arrest to be made. Handled with discretion, the guests might think this had all been holiday entertainment, provided for their amusement. That would please Mr. Larksley. And this time Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t be there to take credit for my case!