‘There’s nothing you can remember? Nothing at all?’ Vanbrugh said. ‘A word, a name, anything?’
She shook her head stubbornly. ‘Nothing.’
‘No visitors, even?’
‘If you mean birds, I don’t run that sort of place.’
Vanbrugh sighed. ‘What you’re saying is that during the time he lived here, Jack Pope didn’t have any kind of contact with anyone. Not even a letter.’
‘That’s right.’ She nodded vigorously and Vanbrugh turned towards the door. ‘Of course he did get a postcard one day. Last week I think it was.’
Vanbrugh’s tiredness vanished at once. ‘A postcard? Where from?’
‘For Christ’s sake, Mr. Vanbrugh, how would I know?’
‘Was it from a seaside place?’ Dwyer suggested.
She shook her head. ‘No, nowhere like that. I remember being a bit surprised.’ Her face brightened. ‘Winder-mere-that was it. Lake Windermere.’
Dwyer looked blankly at Vanbrugh. ‘She must be joking, sir. Who in creation would Pope know in the Lake District?’
Vanbrugh turned to the landlady. ‘You’ve been very helpful. Perhaps more than you realize.’
She shrugged. ‘I know which side my bread’s buttered on, Mr. Vanbrugh. If you do see that sod, you tell him I want my rent.’
The child started to cry and as she moved towards it with a curse, Vanbrugh and Dwyer left hurriedly. As they
went down the steps towards the car, the driver leaned out of the window. ‘H.Q. on the radio, sir. They’ve got a message for you. Top priority.’
Vanbrugh nodded to Dwyer. ‘You take it. Let’s hope it’s something good.’
Dwyer leaned in the window and Vanbrugh lit another cigarette, a slight frown knitting his brow. The Lake District. Now thatwas a turn-up for the book. Hardly the sort of place one would expect to hear about from a man like Pope or the sort of people he associated with.
Dwyer turned, excitement on his face. ‘That was Scott, sir. He’s traced Soames to an address in Hendon. He told the landlady he was going away for a week on business. That was last Saturday. She hasn’t seen him since.’
‘Let’s get moving,’ Vanbrugh said. ‘This is beginning to get interesting.’
They moved into a calmer, more ordered, world of respectable semi-detached houses with neat hedges and, in spite of the season, well-kept gardens. There was little doubt that whatever else Soames and Pope had in common, it certainly wasn’t a similar standard of living.
They found Scott waiting in his car outside a small detached house at one end of a quiet cul-de-sac. He was a tall, quiet young man with a clipped moustache that gave him rather a military air.
‘Anything doing?’ Vanbrugh demanded.
Scott shook his head. ‘He moved out last Saturday. Told her he’d be away for a week on business. She hasn’t heard of him since.’
Vanbrugh nodded. ‘You stay here. We’ll go in. What’s her name?’
‘Mrs. Jones, sir. A widow lady and very upset about this, I might add.’
She had opened the door as soon as they had ascended the steps, a sure sign that she had been watching from behind the curtains. She was a rather fussy, pouchy-faced woman, with pale blue eyes and wearing a green dress.
‘Mrs. Jones? I’m Chief Superintendent Vanbrugh and
this is Detective Sergeant Dwyer. I’d like to ask you a few questions about a man called Soames. I believe he’s been staying here.’
‘Really, Superintendent, I told the young man who called here earlier everything I know.’
‘There may have been a point or two he missed,’ Vanbrugh said patiently. ‘Perhaps we could see Mr. Soames’ room?’
She led the way upstairs, talking incessantly. ‘What my other guests are going to think of all this I really don’t know and Mr. Soames seemed a most respectable gentleman. A solicitor, he told me. Somewhere in the City.”
‘How long has he been staying here?’
‘Since early May of this year. Just six months.’
She opened the door at the end of a lengthy passage and led the way in. The room was neat and comfortable. There was a modern washbasin in one corner, two fitted wardrobes and a neat single bed. At the other end, beyond a room divider crammed with books, was a fireplace, a desk, a couple of easy chairs and a french window leading on to a small balcony which overlooked the garden.