A Wreath for Rivera

“The paper,” Alleyn continued, “is run on eccentric but profitable lines. It explodes bombs. It exposes rackets. It mingles soft-soap and cyanide. In particular it features an extremely efficient and daringly personal attack on the drug racket. It employs experts, it makes accusations, it defies and invites prosecution. Its information is accurate and if it occasionally frustrates its own professed aims by warning criminals before the police are in a position to arrest them, it is far too much inflated with crusader’s zeal and rising sales to worry its head about that.”

“Look here, Alleyn…” Manx began angrily, and simultaneously Lord Pastern shouted: “What the hell do you think you’re getting at!”

“One moment,” Alleyn said. Manx thrust his hands in his pockets and began to move about the room. “Better to hear this out, after all,” he muttered.

“Much better,” Alleyn agreed. “I’ll go on. Everything prospered in the Harmony set-up until you, Lord Pastern, discovered an urge to exploit your talents as a tympanist and allied yourself with Breezy Bellairs and His Boys. Almost immediately there were difficulties. First: your stepdaughter, for whom I think you have a great affection, became attracted by Carlos Rivera, the piano-accordionist in the band. You are an observant man; for a supreme egoist, surprisingly so. At some time of your association with the Boys, I don’t know precisely when, you became aware that Breezy Bellairs was taking drugs and, more important, that Carlos Rivera was supplying them. Through your association with Harmony, you are well up in the methods of drug distribution and you are far too sharp not to realize that the usual pattern was being followed. Bellairs was in a position to act as a minor distributing agent. He was introduced to the drug, acquired a habit for it, was forced to hand it out to clients at the Metronome and as a reward was given as much as Rivera thought was good for him at the usual exorbitant rate.”

Alleyn looked curiously at Lord Pastern, who, at that moment, met his eye and blinked twice.

“It’s an odd situation,” Alleyn said, “isn’t it? Here we have a man of eclectic, violent and short-lived enthusiasms suddenly confronted with a situation where his two reigning passions and his one enduring attachment are brought into violent opposition.”

He turned to Manx, who had stopped still and was looking fixedly at him.

“A situation of great possibilities from your professional point of view, I should imagine,” Alleyn said. “The stepdaughter whom Lord Pastern loves falls for Rivera who is engaged in an infamous trade which Lord Pastern is zealous in fighting. At the same time Rivera’s dupe is the conductor of the band in which Lord Pastern burns to perform. As a final twist in an already tricky situation, Rivera has discovered, perhaps amongst Lord Pastern’s music during a band rehearsal, some rough drafts for G.P.F.’s page, typed on Duke’s Gate letter-paper. He is using them, no doubt, to force on his engagement to Miss de Suze. ‘Either support my suit or — ’ For Rivera, in addition to running a drug racket, is an accomplished blackmailer. How is Lord Pastern to play the drums, break the engagement, preserve his anonymity as G.P.F. and explode the drug racket?”

“You can’t possibly,” Manx said, “have proof of a quarter of this. It’s the most brazen guesswork.”

“A certain amount is guesswork. But we have enough information and hard fact to carry us some way. I think that between you, you are going to fill out the rest.”

Manx laughed shortly. “What a hope!” he said.

“Well,” Alleyn murmured, “let us go on and see. Lord Pastern’s inspiration comes out of a clear sky while he is working on his copy for G.P.F.’s page in Harmony. Among the letters in his basket seeking guidance, philosophy and friendship is one from his stepdaughter.” He stopped short. “I wonder,” he said, “if at some time or other there is also one from his wife? Asking perhaps for advice in her marital problems.”

Manx looked quickly at Lord Pastern and away again.

“It might explain,” Alleyn said thoughtfully, “why Lady Pastern is so vehement in her disapproval of Harmony. If she did write to G.P.F., I imagine the answer was one of the five-shilling Private Chat letters and extremely displeasing to her.”

Lord Pastern gave a short bark of laughter and shot a glance at his cousin.