A voice accompanied his drumming. ‘Mr Dunn!’ it yelled.
Very few people called him Mr Dunn.
‘Mr Dunn! Open up. It’s the police.’
Dunn struggled to consciousness.
The policeman was still hammering on the door.
Dunn got up and went to the window. He opened it and leaned out over the street.
‘What,’ he said groggily. ‘The bleedin’ hell. Do you want?’
The constable stepped back from the door and looked up. ‘Mr Dunn?’ he said. ‘Mr Bartholomew Dunn?’
‘The very same,’ said Dunn. ‘And you are?’
‘Constable Grine, sir. I’ve been asked to take you to Scotland Yard.’
‘What for?’
‘No idea, sir. “Take a vehicle and pick up Bartholomew Dunn of 76 Coburg Road in Wood Green,” they said. And here I am.’
Dunn sighed. ‘Give me a couple of minutes to put some trousers and boots on,’ he said. ‘You can come in and wait – the door’s open.’
He closed the window and looked around for his clothes.
Finally dressed, he made his way downstairs and found Constable Grine sitting in the front parlour reading one of Mrs Cordell’s magazines.
‘Will I be long?’ he said.
‘Long, sir?’
‘This business at the Yard. Will it take long?’
‘I couldn’t say, sir. Depends what you’ve done.’
‘I haven’t done anything.’
‘Then it shouldn’t take long at all.’
‘Am I under arrest?’
‘You’d know if you was under arrest, sir,’ said Grine. ‘I’d have said, “You’re under arrest.” I have a whole spiel to go with it about taking things down and using them against you at your trial. You’d definitely have noticed. But I haven’t said that, so you’re fine.’
Dunn hunted round for a piece of paper and a pencil. ‘I need to leave a note for my landlady,’ he said. ‘She’ll wonder where I’ve gone.’
‘Your landlady, sir?’
‘She must have nipped out for a paper or something. She worries about me.’
‘Right you are, sir.’
They left the house and Grine led the way to a Black Maria parked a short distance up the road.
‘You’re joking,’ said Dunn. ‘A prison wagon?’
‘It’s all that was available, sir.’
‘’Ere,’ said a shrill voice from the front door of number 74. ‘What do you mean by makin’ all that racket this time of the mornin’? Ain’t you got better things to do?’ She caught sight of Dunn. ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘they’ve finally come for you, ’ave they? I knew it wouldn’t be long. No good ever come of havin’ musicians on the street.’ She leaned into the word ‘musicians’ to emphasize her contempt.
‘It was bound to happen sooner or later, Mrs M,’ said Dunn cheerfully. ‘They were always going to catch up with me.’
‘I knew it,’ she said triumphantly. ‘Well, good riddance to ya.’
‘See you later, Mrs M,’ he said. ‘Let Mrs C know where I’ve gone.’
‘Oh, I will,’ she said. ‘Don’t you worry about that. That poor woman deserves a better lodger than you after all she’s been through.’
Grine opened the door at the back of the van and Dunn started to clamber inside.
‘Lovely woman,’ said Grine.
‘It’s a cheerful and friendly neighbourhood, Constable. Cheerful and friendly.’
‘It very much seems that way, sir. Make yourself as comfortable as you can. We’ve got one more stop to make, then we’ll go to the Yard.’
The next stop, though Dunn was initially unable to work out where they were from inside the windowless van, turned out to be in Bloomsbury. He sat alone for about ten minutes in the motionless vehicle with only the ticking of the cooling engine to keep him company before the door opened and Skins clambered in to join him.
Constable Grine slammed the door and a few moments later they were off.
‘Morning, mate,’ said Skins. ‘Nice day for an outing.’
‘Any idea what’s going on?’ asked Dunn as the van rattled along.
‘Not a clue,’ said Skins. ‘I was fast asleep, dreaming sweet dreams, and suddenly there’s Ellie shaking me awake and telling me that the police want to speak to me. I thought of legging it out the window before I remembered I hadn’t done anything.’
‘And your bedroom’s on the second floor.’
‘That, too. So I pulled on some trousers and went down to see what was what.’
‘And what was what? Grimes was in your morning room?’
‘Grine,’ said Skins.
‘Really? Poor bloke.’
‘Really. He was there, though, like you say. Although he was in the drawing room. The housekeeper had made him a cup of rosy and he was sitting there reading a magazine—’
‘Good old Mrs Dalrymple.’
‘Salt of the earth. Wouldn’t be without her. Always happy to supply visiting rozzers with tea, our Mrs Dalrymple.’
‘The boys in blue do like a cup of char. He’s quite a one for the magazines as well, that lad. He was reading one of Mrs C’s when I found him.’
‘It’s important to keep up to date. So anyway, he says, “Would you mind accompanying me to Scotland Yard, please, sir?” And I said—’
‘You said you were only a drummer, but if he hummed a few bars your wife would probably be able to pick it up on the piano.’
‘He wasn’t impressed,’ said Skins. ‘Usually goes down all right, that one. So into the deafening silence that followed one of my best gags, I just said, “Why?”’
‘And he didn’t know.’
‘Apparently not. Just doing his job . . . they don’t tell him nothing . . . All the usual rubbish. So here I am with my best mate in the back of a Black Maria when I should be fast akip in my comfy bed.’
‘Still, like you said, it’s an outing, isn’t it?’ said Dunn. ‘Nice trip down to the river. Do us good.’
‘Not exactly sightseeing, though, is it? Why don’t they put windows in these things?’
‘To shield the alleged miscreants from the vulgar gaze of the populace, me old mate. You can’t have every Tom, Dick, and Harry gawping in at the prisoners. Wouldn’t be right.’
‘You’re much more thoughtful and considerate than people give you credit for,’ said Skins, stifling a yawn. ‘This better be worth missing my kip for. Have we got another gig tonight?’
‘Yup. It’s the dance lesson at Tipsy Harry’s.’
‘Oh, that one. That’s going to be a bore. Can’t they use a gramophone? I don’t mind playing for their posh dances, but a lesson?’
‘Apparently they tried a gramophone but it wasn’t loud enough. They need a band.’
‘And they chose us,’ said Skins.
‘They chose the Finchley Foot-Tappers first, apparently – they didn’t reckon a band of our calibre would be interested. The Foot-Tappers did one or two, I think, but they let them down at the last minute last week. One of the blokes had a word with Mickey and here we are.’