The Crimson Ramblers Read online

  THE CRIMSON RAMBLERS

  Gerald Verner

  © Gerald Verner 1960

  Gerald Verner has asserted his rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 1960 by Wright and Brown.

  This edition published in 2017 by Endeavour Press Ltd.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  1

  The short red-haired man in the rather loud check suit came over with two cups of coffee to where the pretty blonde girl was sitting at a small table in a corner of the crowded buffet at Victoria Station.

  ‘It’s a slander on a self-respecting beverage to call it coffee, Sharon,’ he remarked in a pronounced Scots accent, setting the cups carefully down on the table, ‘but there ye are.’

  ‘Thanks, Andy,’ said the girl, laughing. ‘What time do we get to Westpool?’

  Andy McKay, owner and principal comedian of ‘The Crimson Ramblers’ Concert Party, booked to play a season at the popular and salubrious seaside resort, pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her.

  ‘Five thirty-four,’ he answered. ‘It’s a good train. Ye’ll have time for a rest this evening so that ye can turn up fresh for rehearsal early in the morning.’

  ‘I’ve never played Westpool before,’ said Sharon Roy, sipping her coffee.

  ‘It’s a nice place,’ remarked Andy. ‘The people who go there for their holidays like to spend money on amusement.’

  ‘It’ll be nice being in one place for the whole season,’ she said. ‘I hate touring. Those long Sunday train journeys...’ She broke off and waved across the buffet. ‘There’s Vera and Billy. Vera!’

  A dark girl, good-looking, except for a rather sulky expression, and a round-faced young man, came over to the table.

  ‘Hello, Sharon. Good morning, Andy,’ greeted Vera Lee.

  ‘You sit down, Vera,’ said the young man, dragging up two more chairs. ‘I’ll go and get some coffee.’

  ‘I’d rather have tea,’ said Vera.

  ‘Ye willna notice the difference,’ remarked Andy.

  ‘Where are the others?’ asked the dark girl as she folded a coat over her suitcase and sat down.

  ‘Beryl and Tony are already on the train,’ said Sharon. ‘They promised to keep seats for the rest of us.’

  ‘What about our new baritone?’ inquired Vera.

  ‘I havena seen him yet,’ said Andy.

  Vera frowned. The sulky look deepened round her mouth.

  ‘I hope we don’t get him in our compartment. I don’t like him.’

  ‘Talking about me, dear?’ asked the round-faced young man, coming back with two full cups in time to catch the last part of her sentence.

  ‘No,’ answered Vera. ‘Howard Gilbert.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Billy Dale, dropping into a chair beside her. ‘Queer sort of a chap, isn’t he?’

  ‘He’s a wee bit peculiar,’ agreed Andy, ‘but he’s a good singer and he didna haggle over the terms of his contract.’

  ‘That covers a multitude of sins, doesn’t it, Andy?’ said Sharon, laughing.

  ‘I wouldna say a multitude,’ answered Andy cautiously, ‘but it goes a long way.’

  ‘I think there’s something very shifty about him,’ declared Vera. ‘He can’t look you straight in the face.’

  ‘You’re just not his type, darling,’ said Billy with a grin.

  ‘I should hate to be,’ retorted Vera. ‘He probably strangles his girl friends when he’s tired of them.’

  ‘I must introduce him to some of mine!’ said Billy.

  A girl passed by their table at that moment on the way to the counter. She was a pretty girl, dressed in a neat black suit with a small hat of the same hue perched saucily on her red head. She looked nervous and ill-at-ease and gave them a rather frightened glance as she went by. Billy’s roving eyes followed her across to the counter,

  ‘Quite attractive,’ he murmured.

  ‘Wolf!’ said Vera.

  ‘She looks scared enough to be Red Riding-hood,’ remarked Andy.

  ‘You’d better go and engage her for your next pantomime,’ grinned Billy, twisting round in his chair to get a better look at the girl in black. ‘I wonder what makes her look so scared.’

  ‘Maybe she’s seen what they put in the sandwiches,’ said Andy.

  ‘If they run out of ‘ham’ there’s always you,’ said Billy rudely.

  ‘Ye’re a very good pianist, Billy,’ retorted Andy, but as a comic...’ He left the sentence unfinished but pinched his nose expressively.

  ‘I suppose,’ said Vera, lighting a cigarette, ‘that I’ll have to spend the evening traipsing round Westpool looking for digs.’

  ‘Haven’t you fixed?’ asked Sharon.

  ‘Half the addresses I wrote to didn’t trouble to answer and the rest were full up,’ said Vera.

  ‘You’re going to have a job,’ said Billy cheerfully. ‘They say Westpool’s packed out.’

  Andy rubbed his hands happily.

  ‘Aye, it looks like being a vurry profitable season,’ he remarked.

  ‘I suppose so long as we fill the Dome it doesn’t matter if I have to sleep on the sands,’ said Vera a little sharply.

  ‘If we dinna fill the Dome we’ll all be sleeping on the sands,’ said Andy.

  ‘My landlady may be able to find something, Vera,’ said Sharon. ‘We’ll ask her.’

  ‘We’d better be getting to the train,’ said Andy. ‘Collect your props, boys an’ girls.’

  They got up and made their way out of the buffet and the red-haired girl in black with the frightened eyes watched them until they were out of sight.

  *

  The Westpool train was filling up. Beryl Cameron, standing at the door of one of the compartments, was looking anxiously along the platform. She was on the plump side but it was an attractive plumpness.

  ‘Nobody else here yet, Beryl?’ asked a man’s voice behind her. She turned with a start.

  ‘Tony!’ she exclaimed. ‘How did you get there?’

  ‘Came in farther down the train and walked along the corridor,’ he answered. ‘They’re leaving it rather late, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve had a dreadful job keeping these seats,’ said Beryl, glancing back at the compartment behind her on the seats of which she had arranged a rather meagre distribution of luggage, coats, and other oddments. ‘The train’s getting very full.’

  ‘Let’s hope they’re all going to Westpool,’ said Anthony Wayne. ‘You know, Andy ought to distribute throwaways of the show on the train.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake don’t suggest it, or he will,’ said Beryl in alarm.

  ‘Well, it’s good business.’

  ‘I wish sometimes, Andy would think a little less of business.’

  ‘And more of you, eh?’

  ‘That’s not what I meant at all,’ said Beryl in confusion.

  ‘Oh, yes, it was.’

  ‘Nonsense.’

  He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder.

  ‘Keep on trying,’ he said. ‘One of these days you may be able to compete with the box-office.’

  ‘Here come Sharon, Billy and Vera,’ said Beryl. ‘I can’t see Andy anywhere...’ She peered anxiously up the long platform. ‘Sharon — Sharon! Where’s Andy?’

  ‘He’ll be along in a minute,’ called

  Sha
ron. ‘He’s gone to buy a paper.’

  ‘I must get one too,’ said Tony.

  ‘Get me one, there’s a dear,’ said Beryl. ‘Pick one with the juiciest headlines. I love a bit of scandal on a Sunday.’

  She was still scanning the platform.

  ‘I’ll bring a selection,’ answered Wayne and hurried away.

  Sharon, Billy and Vera entered the compartment.

  ‘Which is my seat?’ asked Sharon, looking round.

  ‘You can have any one you like, except mine,’ answered Beryl. ‘The right-hand corner seat. I’ll be back in a minute.’

  ‘Not while the train is standing in the station,’ said Billy, grinning.

  ‘Get along with you,’ retorted Beryl good-naturedly. ‘I’m going to see if I can find Andy.’

  They began to select their seats, putting suitcases and coats on the rack.

  ‘I’m going to get some chocolates,’ said Vera. ‘I’ve just got time.’

  ‘I adore chocolates,’ said Sharon, ‘but I daren’t eat them. I should put on pounds.’

  ‘Vera puts in pounds instead,’ grinned Billy.

  ‘I don’t have to worry about my figure,’ said Vera as a parting shot from the doorway.

  ‘Better get yourself a saucer of milk, darling!’ called Billy, but she didn’t hear him.

  Andy appeared from the corridor, his arms full of papers.

  ‘Have you seen Beryl, Andy?’ asked Sharon. ‘She went to look for you.’

  Andy nodded.

  ‘Aye,’ he said, ‘I saw her — from behind a pile of luggage.’

  ‘Poor Beryl,’ said Sharon. ‘You’re awfully unkind to her. She adores the ground you walk on.’

  ‘Well,’ remarked Andy, settling himself comfortably. ‘She can have it!’

  The red-haired girl in black passed along the corridor, looking quickly in as she went by. Sharon caught sight of her and turned to Billy.

  ‘There’s your girl friend again, Billy. She must be looking for you.’

  ‘I wish you meant it,’ retorted Billy.

  ‘Anyway, it’s a bit of luck she’s on the train.’ He got up and went out into the corridor. ‘I think I’ll just stroll along and see which compartment she’s in.’

  ‘Vera said you were a wolf,’ called Sharon, but he took no notice.

  ‘He’s only a sheep — in wolfs clothing,’ grunted Andy.

  ‘I believe he only does it to make Vera mad,’ said Sharon, lighting a cigarette.

  ‘Aye, she’s silly. She shouldna show it.’

  Anthony Wayne came back. He was laughing.

  ‘Billy’s at it again,’ he said. ‘I’ve just seen him stalking his prey. Remarkably pretty girl too, if she didn’t look scared to death.’

  ‘I wonder what she’s so frightened about?’ remarked Sharon thoughtfully.

  ‘I’ve never known Billy to have that effect on’em before,’ said Tony.

  ‘It’s not Billy. She was looking like that when we first saw her — in the buffet...’

  ‘Maybe she’ll turn to Billy for comfort,’ said Tony. He looked at his watch. ‘We should be off in just over a minute.’

  ‘Andy,’ cried Sharon anxiously, ‘you must go and find Beryl. She’ll be left behind looking for you.’

  Andy got up with a sigh.

  ‘Aye, I suppose I’d better,’ he said reluctantly. ‘She’s a good pianist!’

  He hurried away.

  *

  The train pulled out of the station dead on time, and Andy had only just succeeded in finding Beryl and getting back to their compartment before the whistle blew. She had been still wandering round, as Sharon had predicted, looking for him. As a consequence they were both rather breathless and Andy not a little cross. By the time they had left the outskirts of London, however, he had recovered his usual good temper. Billy was still absent. He had not come back to the compartment after going off to follow the red-haired girl — a fact which had considerably annoyed Vera Lee and which she was at no pains to conceal. She sat staring out of the window and munching chocolate, steadfastly refusing to join in the general conversation.

  The train sped smoothly on. Through towns and villages, open country and wooded hillside; through long cuttings and sidings full of laden coal trucks; through deserted stations and stations where little groups of people waited, it reeled out the miles steadily behind it on its way to the coast.

  Heralded by a piercing scream from the engine it plunged suddenly into a tunnel and Beryl gave a little cry.

  ‘Oh,’ she said.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Sharon.

  ‘I can’t stand tunnels,’ said Beryl nervously. ‘They always frightened me as a child.’

  For some reason the lights had not come on and it was pitch dark. The queer musty smell of old steam, which is one of the less pleasant attributes of all railway tunnels began to filter from the corridor into the compartment. The roar of the train was deafening and almost drowned the sudden sharp cry that Sharon gave.

  Something had suddenly caught her a violent and painful blow on the side of her face.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ said Andy who was sitting beside her.

  ‘Something hit me,’ she explained. ‘Something hard...’

  ‘It must have fallen from the rack,’ said Anthony Wayne, looking up, and at that moment the lights in the roof came on. Billy Dale came into the compartment from the corridor at almost the same instant.

  ‘Oh,’ said Sharon resentfully. ‘It was you, was it?’

  He stared at her.

  ‘Me what?’ he demanded.

  ‘Playing silly tricks,’ she answered. ‘What did you throw at me?’

  ‘Throw at you,’ he said, looking puzzled. ‘Have you gone nuts? I didn’t throw anything.’

  Tony was searching about on the floor and picked up a small packet.

  ‘This must be what hit you, Sharon,’ he said, holding it up.

  It was about the size of a packet of twenty cigarettes, wrapped in brown paper and sealed.

  ‘Where on earth did that come from?’ demanded Sharon in surprise.

  ‘Somebody must have thrown it from the corridor,’ said Tony.

  Sharon looked at Billy suspiciously.

  ‘Are you sure it wasn’t you?’ she said.

  ‘Cross my heart,’ he answered. ‘I’d only just come out of the toilet.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Wayne, who had been examining the packet with interest. ‘There’s something written on this. Look here?’ He pointed to a pencilled scrawl.

  ‘What does it say — ‘Love from an Admirer’?’ asked Billy.

  Tony read it slowly: ‘Please keep this safely. Will call at Dome Pavilion for it. Do not open’.’

  ‘Aha,’ said Billy dramatically. ‘The mystery of the sealed packet. See next week’s thrilling instalment.’

  ‘Shut up, Billy,’ snapped Vera. She was looking at the packet in Tony’s hand curiously. ‘I wonder what’s in it?’

  ‘Let’s open it and see,’ said Beryl.

  Wayne shook his head.

  ‘We can’t do that,’ he said. ‘It says don’t open.’

  ‘I’ll bet it’s a joke,’ said Andy. ‘One of the holiday-makers playing tricks.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see the point,’ remarked Sharon. ‘Where does the laugh come?’ Tony looked at the small packet and his face was serious.

  ‘Perhaps there isn’t one,’ he said slowly. ‘What do you mean?’ asked Vera.

  ‘Well, supposing the person this thing belongs to wanted to get rid of it — get it out of their possession for a time...’

  ‘Why should they?’ demanded Billy.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Wayne shrugged his shoulders. ‘Because they were afraid of something, perhaps.’

  ‘That girl,’ exclaimed Sharon suddenly. ‘The girl in black...’

  ‘The one Billy was following?’

  ‘Yes. What happened to her, Billy?’

  ‘I missed her somehow. The cor
ridor was packed...’

  ‘It might have been anybody,’ said Tony. ‘It’s useless conjecturing.’

  ‘You’ll know who it was when they come to claim it,’ said Andy.

  Tony nodded.

  ‘It’ll be interesting to see who does come, won’t it?’

  A man, who unseen by any of them, was listening intently outside, in the corridor, moved away.

  Wayne put the little packet away in his breast pocket and by the time they reached Westpool the incident was almost forgotten. None of them had any premonition of the queer and rather horrible series of events which awaited them there and of which that incident had been but the prelude.

  2

  The Dome Pavilion at Westpool is typical of pier pavilions in general. It is sited at the beginning of the pier with an entrance gay with coloured flags and plastered over with posters bearing flamboyant announcements of the opening of ‘Andy McKay’s Crimson Ramblers’.

  The first performance was the Monday matinee and it opened to a packed house, due to a large extent to a sudden downpour of rain, which had driven the holidaymakers off the sands to seek shelter.

  ‘They seem to like us,’ said Sharon to Andy, as she came off breathless from her dance number and met him in the passage, behind the small stage, where the dressing rooms were.

  ‘Aye, it’s a good house,’ said Andy, his small eyes sparkling. ‘If we keep it up it’ll be a good season.’

  Sharon went into her dressing room and Andy made his way up to the stage where a burst of laughter greeted his entrance.

  The passage ran the whole length of the back of the Pavilion to the stage door at one end that opened on to the pier. The dressing rooms were on one side, and on the other — a blank wall — were stored the large wickerwork prop baskets containing the dresses and small properties used by the concert party.

  A door, halfway along the passage, opened as Sharon closed her door, and a man looked out.

  Howard Gilbert, the newcomer to the concert party, was a thickset man with a rather heavy face. He looked quickly up and down the empty passage and there was something furtive in his attitude — as furtive as when he had stood listening outside the compartment on the train when Anthony Wayne had been discussing the packet that had so surprisingly been thrown from the corridor by someone unknown.