‘Can’t be the food,’ said Skins. ‘We all ate the same.’

  ‘Drink, then,’ said Ellie. ‘Look – they all have Scotch.’

  Skins scanned the room. ‘It’s the decanter from the study,’ he said, pointing. ‘Mickey must have half-inched it on his way back with the nosh.’

  ‘Well, that confirms it,’ said Ellie. ‘John Bilverton had a glass on his desk. He’d have been out cold if he’d drunk it, so he definitely can’t have shot himself.’

  ‘You’re sure the drug didn’t kill him? You’re sure it won’t kill them?’ said Dunn, looking more than a little anxious.

  ‘I can’t be sure he didn’t die before he was shot, but I’m pretty sure it won’t kill this lot. Everyone’s breathing just fine. Elk’s snoring louder than usual but other than that, I don’t see any problems. They’ll be a bit woolly in the morning, but they’ll get a good night’s sleep.’

  ‘Maybe we should have a snifter ourselves, then,’ said Skins. ‘Might help you forget how uncomfortable these cots are.’

  ‘I think the three of us need to stay clean in case any of these guys get into difficulties, honey. Give me a hand getting them all into safe positions so they don’t choke to death in the night. I’ll show you how.’

  They arranged the slumbering band members as best they could and retired for a much less sound sleep of their own.

  Chapter Six

  Sunday, 28 June 1925

  The Dizzies were very much living up to their name as they began to struggle towards consciousness on Sunday morning. There was some moaning, a little staggering, and more than the normal amount of head-clutching.

  ‘We must have had quite a night,’ said Mickey on his way back from the bathroom. ‘I can’t remember a thing.’

  ‘Not a thing?’ said Ellie.

  ‘We ate dinner. We drank a little Scotch. And then I woke up on my bed fully dressed. No idea how I got there.’

  ‘We know how you got to bed, mate,’ said Skins. ‘We bloody put you there. You aren’t half heavy when you’re out cold.’

  ‘You? What you talking about?’

  ‘We got in about midnight and you were all spark out. I was all for leaving you there but Ellie said you might choke to death so we put you all to bed.’

  ‘Lucky we’ve got an ex-nurse on the strength, then,’ said Mickey. ‘Thanks, Ells.’

  ‘Entirely my pleasure,’ said Ellie.

  Elk was just coming to. He sat up groggily and scratched his face. ‘’Ere, how come I’ve got the three of clubs stuck to my cheek?’

  ‘We found you on the floor,’ said Dunn. ‘We didn’t think to check your face for cards. You wouldn’t, would you?’

  ‘We were all out?’ said Puddle. ‘How odd. I was sitting on Katy’s bed with Vera. I only had a couple of sips of Scotch.’

  ‘Were you all drinking the Scotch Mickey and the boys brought back from the house?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘It’s all there was after the boys had drunk all the beer from the hampers,’ said Katy. ‘I don’t really like whisky, to be honest, but needs must when the Devil’s locked the drinks cabinet. I certainly didn’t drink enough to render me pie-eyed, though. I only had a couple of sips, too.’

  ‘Same here,’ said Vera. ‘Look – there’s my glass on the floor. None of this makes any sense. I’ve always been able to hold my drink.’

  Ellie took a good look round the huge space. Sure enough, there were three mismatched glasses on the floor beside Katy’s bed, all of them containing a decent measure of whisky. There were four more on the card table, also largely undrunk.

  ‘None of you had very much, actually,’ said Ellie. She raised her voice a little so everyone could hear. ‘Don’t panic, Dizzies, but I think you were all drugged—’

  There were murmurs of consternation, but no actual panic.

  ‘My best guess is that it was something like Veronal, and I’d put serious money on it being in the Scotch.’

  Katy’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh my goodness. Who would want to drug us? Are we in danger?’

  ‘Mickey,’ said Ellie, ‘did you by any chance find that rather attractive decanter standing unattended in John Bilverton’s study?’

  ‘Well, now,’ said Mickey. ‘The thing is, you see . . . I nipped in there to have a look. Curiosity and all that. It’s not often you see the scene of a possible murder. And it was a bit of a disappointment, if I’m honest. We’ve played in loads of posh gaffs and I’ve seen a dozen studies just like it. Only this one had a full decanter of Scotch in it. And it wasn’t like the old boy was going to be drinking it. So it came back here with us. I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted it to go to waste.’

  ‘Then the good news is that no one wanted to drug us – they wanted to drug John Bilverton. The bad news is, that means the murderer planned everything very carefully. They wanted him out cold before they shot him.’

  There were more concerned murmurs.

  ‘Is everyone accounted for?’ asked Mickey, looking around.

  Elk pointed to the bed next to his. ‘Actually, Eustace hasn’t stirred yet.’

  ‘He’s dead,’ wailed Katy, without actually looking. ‘He’s overdosed on the Veronal and died. We’ve got to get out of here.’

  Ellie crossed the chapel and put her fingers to Eustace’s neck, checking for a pulse.

  ‘He’s not dead,’ she said, patiently.

  At that moment, Eustace snorted and startled himself awake.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he slurred. ‘What are you doing over here?’

  Ellie quickly explained what had happened and reassured him that he was going to be all right.

  ‘All right for now,’ said Katy. ‘I swear our next date will be in a nunnery.’

  Benny had been listening quietly and decided that a change of subject was in order. ‘Are you three playing flatfoots again?’

  ‘We just can’t help ourselves, mate,’ said Dunn.

  Benny chuckled. ‘No, no, I don’t think you can. But maybe we can help you. Is there anything we can do?’

  Skins and Dunn looked at each other and shrugged.

  ‘Don’t ask me, mate,’ said Dunn.

  ‘Nor me,’ said Skins. ‘What do you reckon, Ells-Bells?’

  ‘There could be something to be said for having us all milling about the house – it might make searching the place a bit less conspicuous. But actually I think we might make better progress if you all hang about down here. Do you mind awfully?’

  ‘Not sure what we’d do up in the house, to be honest,’ said Mickey. ‘And we don’t have to mind our Ps and Qs if we’re down here.’

  ‘A woman’s place is in the recording studio,’ agreed Puddle. ‘Just get me fed and watered and I’ll be fine. What’s the plan for breakfast, does anyone know?’

  ‘No one mentioned breakfast,’ said Katy.

  ‘Maybe we should all just go up to the house,’ said Vera. ‘We could eat in the servants’ hall if they don’t want us in the dining room making the place look untidy.’

  After a brief discussion, it was agreed, and everyone set off together.

  The rain had eased to a gusty drizzle, so the rest of the band made their way round the house to the servants’ entrance while Skins, Ellie and Dunn let themselves into the salon through the French doors.

  The three friends went from the salon to the dining room, but of the family there was no sign.

  ‘Looks like the Bilvertons are having a nice little lie-in,’ said Skins, as they wandered out into the hall. ‘I can’t even hear anyone moving about upstairs.’

  ‘There’s not a lot to get up for,’ said Dunn. ‘They’re obviously not churchgoers or they’d not have deconsecrated the chapel and turned it into a recording studio. And even if they were, they couldn’t get to church because of the floods. What else would they be doing at this time on a Sunday morning? I’ll be honest, I don’t even know why we’re up.’

  ‘Because I spent three years trying to learn how to sleep comfortably on army cots,’ said Ellie, ‘and I never mastered it. I honestly began to wonder if the stone floor would be any better. I’d rather be up and about than lying on that thing.’

  ‘She makes a good point, mate. Nice of them to give us somewhere to kip, but it’s not somewhere you want to linger.’

  ‘Fair dos,’ said Dunn. ‘What do you reckon, then? Another squizz at the study? See if we can find the secret doodah?’

  Ellie frowned quizzically. ‘What secret doodah?’

  ‘It’s like Skins said – there’s always a secret doodah. It’ll be where the killer hid.’

  ‘You’re as bad as each other,’ said Ellie. ‘I’m going to go ahead and hope it’s just because you’re both hungry. Let’s go downstairs with the others before you say anything else dumb.’

  She led the boys to the staircase outside the library that she’d used the day before.

  ‘Weird place to have a staircase,’ said Dunn. ‘It’s nowhere near the dining room. You’d think they’d want direct access.’

  ‘There’s another set of stairs,’ she said. ‘But I wasn’t sure where they came out so I thought we’d use the ones I know.’

  ‘They come out in the dining room, I’d imagine.’

  ‘She’s right, you know, mate,’ said Skins. ‘You’re a grumpy git when you’re hungry.’

  ‘I never said he was grumpy,’ said Ellie. ‘I said you’re both stupid.’

  Dunn scowled. ‘Not half as stupid as an architect who puts the servants’ stairs a mile from the dining room.’

  They traipsed down together and walked into the kitchen.

  The Dizzies had been welcomed by the staff, and the atmosphere in the kitchen was unexpectedly jolly. Mickey, Benny and Eustace were lapping up the attention, most of which came from Lily, the young kitchen maid, who was in danger of being reprimanded by Mrs Radway for paying more attention to the musicians than to her work. Katy, Vera and Puddle were standing in the doorway that led to the larder, chuckling quietly. And Elk was chasing a chicken.

  ‘How’s it going, ladies and gents?’ said Skins.

  Puddle gave a cheery wave. ‘Not so bad,’ she said. ‘Mrs Radway has offered to let us eat in the servants’ hall.’

  ‘Very kind of you, Mrs R,’ said Skins. ‘So . . . ah . . . what’s Elk up to?’

  ‘He’s chasing a chicken,’ said Eustace in a tone that very much suggested it was a stupid question.

  ‘That’s what I thought. Elk, mate? Why . . . ?’

  Elk looked up briefly from the chase. ‘Why what?’

  Skins sighed. ‘Why are you chasing a chicken round the kitchen?’

  ‘Because it keeps getting away.’

  ‘I’m getting nowhere here,’ said Skins. ‘Want to have a try, Barty?’

  ‘Elk,’ said Dunn, ‘why is there a chicken in the kitchen?’

  Elk stopped and stood upright. ‘For the eggs.’

  ‘But that’s a—’

  That set Puddle off again. ‘No, darling, don’t tell him. We’re waiting to see if he works it out for himself.’

  Elk resumed his pursuit.

  ‘I still don’t understand why—’ began Skins.

  Puddle tried to calm herself. ‘We offered to help. There was nothing much to do, but young Lily here had been sent out to get some eggs and Elk volunteered to do it for her. He trotted out and returned a few minutes later with that chicken.’

  ‘It’s where eggs come from,’ said Elk, defensively.

  ‘Wait,’ said Skins. ‘So you thought it was like milking a cow? You bring the chicken in, give her a helpful squeeze and say, “Come on, then, Clucky. We need half a dozen eggs. Off you go”?’

  ‘We get our eggs from the grocer’s,’ said Elk. ‘I don’t know how chickens work.’

  ‘Didn’t you look for eggs in the coop?’

  ‘In the what?’

  ‘The little house where the chickens live.’

  ‘Why would I look in there? This one was walking about outside so I just grabbed her and came back in here.’

  The chicken crowed aggressively.

  The three women in the pantry doorway were laughing properly now. Mrs Radway shook her head, but there was a smile on her face, too.

  ‘Hang on a minute . . .’ said Elk.

  ‘Keep going, son,’ said Dunn. ‘You’ll get it in a sec.’

  ‘That’s a—’

  ‘Yes, mate,’ said Skins. ‘Yes, it is. Even if chickens worked the way you thought they did – which, for future reference, they don’t – this one couldn’t help you. This is what those in the poultry business call a cockerel. It’s a boy chicken.’

  ‘Buggerin’ ’ell,’ said Elk. ‘Well, that was a waste of ten minutes. Give us a hand, would you? If we can round it up, I’ll take you outside and you can show me where the eggs are, given you’re such an expert.’

  Skins approached the cockerel and grabbed him gently but firmly mid-crow.

  ‘Did you not notice the comb on his head?’ he said to Elk. ‘Or these little dangly bits round his chops?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ said Elk. ‘But what am I supposed to know about chickens? I just thought it was part of its, you know, its chickeny decoration and that. I grew up in New Cross. No one had chickens. Now shut up taking the rise and just help me get rid of him.’

  Skins smiled. ‘Lead the way, Elkie boy. We’ll get this lad back to his lady friends and see if they’ve paid the rent. Bring a basket.’

  Elk walked out of the kitchen with Skins and the cockerel close behind.

  ‘So we’re having eggs, then?’ said Ellie, when they were gone.

  ‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ said Mrs Radway. ‘Not after all that palaver. But there’s sausages, bacon, tomatoes, mushrooms. I’ve got a kedgeree on the go an’ all. Is there any sign of the family?’

  ‘Not yet, no. We had a look before we came down here. And don’t give up on the eggs – Ivor’s a very resourceful little fella. Is there anything useful we can do?’

  ‘No, ma’am, thank you. You just make yourselves comfy at the table and let us take care of you.’

  They were about to set off for the servants’ hall when Howard appeared in the doorway.

  ‘What ho, you chaps,’ he said brightly. ‘Morning, Mrs R. And Lily – how the devil are you?’

  The kitchen maid blushed and curtseyed but said nothing.

  ‘I’m all alone upstairs – would any of you Dizzy Heights like to come up and keep a chap company?’

  There was a chorus of mumbles and a fair amount of looking at shoes before Ellie said, ‘I’d love to. Barty? You’ll keep us company, won’t you? And Ivor will join us, I’m sure.’

  ‘Wizard. Are you sure I can’t tempt the rest of you?’

  There was more apologetic mumbling and Howard smilingly took the hint and left them to it.

  Ellie and Dunn followed Howard out the door and on towards the other flight of stairs.

  The stairs ended at a small landing where they found a table and a cabinet. Howard turned the knob on the door in front of them. It opened into the dining room.

  They found Veronica sitting at the table with her feet up on the chair next to her.

  ‘What ho, Ronnie,’ said Howard with a grin.

  Veronica waved in reply. ‘Morning all. Is breakfast on its way?’

  ‘Its delivery is imminent, old thing.’

  They were joined almost at once by Skins, slightly out of breath from his poultry-related adventures.

  As the four new arrivals sat down, Skins looked back at the door they’d just come through. It was perfectly ordinary from the staircase, but from the dining room it just looked like a section of wall and had been papered to match. Only a small, discreet brass doorknob gave it away.

  ‘I love the way they do that in these old places,’ said Skins. ‘Loads of hidden doors and secret passages.’

  ‘I don’t know about “loads”,’ said Howard. ‘That’s one of the only ones I know about.’

  ‘That’s a shame. I thought a house like this would be full of them.’

  ‘They all conceal servants’ staircases, as far as I know. There’s that one there. There’s one just outside that leads up to the first floor, with another pair to match on the opposite side of the house next to the library. Those both have concealed doors on the first-floor landing, and they both carry on up to the servants’ quarters and storerooms on the third floor. There are no doors at the very top.’

  ‘I confess to being a bit disappointed. I was hoping for priest holes and secret passageways.’

  ‘Imagine how disappointed you’d have been if you’d lived here all your life and found nothing,’ said Veronica.

  Howard nodded. ‘Well, quite. I think the place is too modern for priest holes, though. It’s Georgian, I think.’

  ‘It certainly looks like it,’ said Ellie.

  ‘When were priest holes, then?’ asked Skins.

  ‘Elizabethan.’

  ‘You’re going to have to give me more than that.’

  ‘Late 1500s,’ said Ellie with a smile.

  ‘Actually, the chapel’s Elizabethan, come to think about it,’ said Howard.

  Skins was still trying to sort out the dates. ‘And Georgian was . . . ?’

  ‘Early 1700s to early 1800s, give or take,’ said Ellie. ‘I can’t remember the exact dates.’

  Skins looked at Howard and Veronica apologetically. ‘Sorry. We did the Romans, 1066, and why the British Empire is the greatest thing in the history of the world, but we skipped over a lot of bits in between. Well, I did, anyway. And I never quite understood the Empire thing. I could never work out why it’s supposed to be so great to invade someone’s country, treat them like dirt and nick all their stuff. Seems like piracy to me. But what do I know? I’m just a drummer.’

  Howard laughed. ‘Don’t let Gordon hear you talking like that. He’ll denounce you as a Bolshie or a traitor – or both – and then chase you out with a horse whip. You might have an ally in Ronnie here – or “Veronica” as she prefers to be known now’ – Veronica stuck out her tongue, but he carried on undaunted – ‘but dear old Gordy’s got the Union Jack stamped through him like a stick of Blackpool rock. Won’t hear a word about how, as you put it, “invading countries and nicking their stuff” might not have been such a terribly virtuous thing to do. He thinks they’re all savages who need the firm guiding hand of the white man.’