by Bettie Jane
“Lovely to see you as well, Inspector. If you decide to ring me in the future, I’m taking residence with Opal Goodall for the time being. Feel free to contact me there. As to the purpose of my visit—” she was getting right down to business, “—there’s been some developments that I wanted to make you aware of.”
“Wonderful. Please sit down.”
She began by recapping what happened after she’d left the station last night.
“We’ve located Frankie. He’s admitted to stealing the ring from the body, but he did not kill her. Oscar and Cecil returned and have explained their disappearance to my satisfaction. Oscar, having recently made peace with fathering Eliza’s baby and then learning that she’d been brutally killed, was quite distraught at the rumor that Jimmie Hutchins was the father of Eliza’s baby. You see, he lost his child twice in a very short time. He went on a drinking binge and our dear friend Cecil tracked him down at one of his parents’ homes in the countryside and brought him home very early this morning. He’ll be available for you and your assistant to question today at the Goodall residence, as will Frankie and Cecil. I’ve asked them to wait there for you until you come to take their statement.”
“I see. So you’ve decided that neither of your friends are guilty of murder. That is quite convenient for you, Miss Barlow.” His words were a bit harsh, but he smiled and winked, seeming to take her word for it, which was a shock of its own. She let it go by, though, because she had more important information to get to.
“Call me Julia. Before I go on, and I think I’ve got a crucial bit of the picture now that I didn’t have before, have you had any luck tracking down medical records for Philip Withers, specifically regarding his ability to father children?”
“In fact, I received a post this morning. His doctor said there was no medical condition from which Philip suffered, nor accident incurred, that would have deprived him of his ability to produce children. I fear the rumor you heard about that was not accurate.”
“That’s what I was hoping you would say, Inspector.”
“Really? Do tell.”
“Do you have Mattie’s letter available to look at? I have another sample of writing I’d like to compare it to.”
He unlocked and opened his desk drawer and pulled out the very thick file on the Withers’ murders. He sifted through several documents before placing one on the table for Julia to see.
She opened her bag as well and pulled out the letter from Sidney and placed it next to the one Mattie had received. To the casual eye, the handwriting was an identical match.
Inspector Gibbs’ eyebrows knit together in surprise and he picked up the letter Julia brought.
“Sidney Guinness? Well, isn’t this just the break that we needed. He seems quite taken with you, doesn’t he?”
“Unfortunately, yes. My parents insisted I marry him and I refused, which is why I find myself residing with the Goodalls for now. It’s the same handwriting, wouldn’t you agree? I’m not going mad?”
“It’s the same. I’ll have my team do a handwriting analysis immediately to confirm, but I’d bet my job it’s a match. May I keep this?”
“Please do. I should like to never see it, or his handwriting, again. There is one thing that is bothering me in all this. I’m certain he’s behind the letter to Mattie, the bribing of Frankie—he was in a position to know intimate details of the demise of the Sutton family fortune which you’ll see evidence for here in this file I borrowed from Philip Withers’ office yesterday.”
His eyes widened at her confession, but she kept going so he did not have time to speak.
“He joined us on the hunt and he was with us in Hyde Park, but none of can recall having seen him anytime around the time Eliza was murdered. He certainly had the opportunity. What’s left for me to establish is his motive and I just can’t say for sure, although I have my suspicions. Perhaps he was trying to cripple his competitor, Philip Withers, by leaving him bereft from his wife’s murder? I’m not certain, because it was common knowledge that Philip and his wife did not share a deep love. They simply tolerated each other. Killing Eliza in such a carefully planned fashion doesn’t seem that it would be worth the trouble if his only motive was to hurt Philip. I’m also not certain why he went to the trouble of framing Jimmie specifically. They’ve always been cordial to each other, no difficulties in their relationship at all.”
She paused, considering what to say next and Inspector Gibbs filled the silence.
“We’ll discuss your borrowing of files from a crime scene later, but I’d like to point out something that you may not be able to see because you are too close. It’s obvious to me from the brief time I’ve interacted with you and Jimmie that you are quite fond of each other. It’s also quite obvious to me that Sidney is quite taken with you—understandably so—and it appears from the tone of his letter to you that his request for your hand in marriage is more of a demand. I imagine Sidney Guinness is used to getting his way. I’m not yet sure why Sidney killed Eliza, but I’m fairly confident in the reason he framed Jimmie Hutchins for the murder. So that he could have you all to himself.”
Julia gasped at the simplicity of it. “He tried to turn all of us against each other, manipulating us into suspecting our dearest friends of the worst possible crime…to alienate me from them. Simply fascinating, Inspector, and you’re right of course. I was too close to this situation to see it without someone first pointing it out. We still don’t have a reason for Sidney to want Eliza dead. I’m not an Inspector, obviously, but generally that’s a pretty important bit of information to have, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Motive is important.”
“If he killed Philip, he may have Eliza’s journals. Do you have the ability to search his home in an official capacity or should I find a way to sneak in and look for them?”
His face paled. “Julia, I admire and respect you. You’ve essentially done my job for me and I thank you for your persistence, but we are talking about the man who brutally strangled two people in the last three days. I’ll not send you into his house to sneak around looking for evidence. I should never forgive myself if something were to happen to you.”
Julia blushed.
“That is,” he stuttered, “what I mean to say is that I wouldn’t be worth my salt as an Inspector if I let a civilian knowingly walk in to harm’s way.”
“Oh, is that all? I thought perhaps you had interest in me beyond the case, Inspector Gibbs.”
It was his turn to blush, and Julia thought it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
“When this case is well behind us, Miss Barlow, I would be very interested in having dinner with you. When this case is over, otherwise it would be entirely inappropriate, you understand, not because I lack interest?”
“I understand,” Julia said, barely able to contain a smile. “I have a thought. I’ll send word to him that I have considered his proposal and should like to discuss it in person at my parents’ home. I’ll make sure they will be home and I’ll hide you in the next room so you can listen in, waiting for his confession.”
He nodded. “As long as I am there, I can agree to that option. However, I’d like to get possession of the journals first, if he does in fact have them. They may give us more understanding of his motives and make getting a confession from him easier. If the official handwriting analysis comes back how I think it will, that would give me enough to obtain an authorization to search his premises.”
After much deliberating, Inspector Gibbs agreed to call Sidney Guinness in for an interview under the guise of looking for any information that could help the police discover the identity of Philip’s murderer. He would have to comply or look guilty, and the Inspector was willing to apply whatever pressure necessary to ensure Sidney came to the station.
“If,” Julia asked, “someone were to want to drop by the Guinness residence at a time when Sidney would definitely not be there, when might that be?”
Inspec
tor Gibbs grimaced in resignation at her thinly veiled efforts. “It’s possible he might be otherwise occupied at precisely one in the afternoon. That would give him, hypothetically, time to complete our interview and still arrive at your house, were that to be something on his calendar.”
“How convenient.” She winked at him, unable to hide the blush that crept into her cheeks. “If I were to hypothetically find some journals that a mutual acquaintance had lost, when would be a convenient time to show them to you?”
“I don’t want to risk you running into him. If you find the journals, take them back to your house and I’ll be to you by 3:00. That will give us time to review them together before Sidney arrives at your home for you to accept his proposal. You are quite devious, Miss Barlow. Remind me not to cross you.”
“Call me Julia, Inspector, or you’ll live to rue the day you didn’t take my advice.”
She winked at him again, wondering if she’d taken complete leave of her senses.
Monday Late Morning
November 14, 1921
Barlow Residence
Mayfair, London
Julia made her way to her parent’s home to prepare them for her appointment with Sidney Guinness later that afternoon. As she walked up the steps, she let her thoughts wander for a moment back to her conversation with Inspector Gibbs. She marveled at her renewed sense of purpose after her meeting with him. Despite the particularly gruesome nature of Eliza’s murder and the emotional topsy-turvy her friends had experienced these last days, she’d enjoyed her time interacting with Inspector Gibbs. In the midst of completely awful circumstances, she’d felt lighter, freer in his presence. He treated her as an equal, not as chattel to be bartered. He listened to her thoughts and opinions intently and with respect. He was serious and professional, yet kind and gentle. She wasn’t the type to let herself become giddy over a man, but she could envision herself becoming quite fond of him. She idly wondered what his first name was and stopped herself as soon as she realized she was imagining her name as Julia Gibbs.
All right, Julia. That’s quite enough. Keep your wits about you. As kind as he is, he’s still a man. Tread warily.
She climbed the steps to her front door, her stomach turning over as she considered the next few hours. Julia was never good at pretending and suffered no fools. This afternoon was going to require an award-winning performance and she suddenly doubted her ability to pull it off. Her parents would never approve of her intentions with the Inspector since he hadn’t come from money, but she was clearer than ever—especially given what she knew about Sidney, that money meant absolutely nothing in the procurement of one’s happiness. She couldn’t wait to tell her parents how she truly felt about marrying, once and for all. For the first time, it wasn’t to try and convince them to see it her way or to rebel against their rigidity, but because she understood who she was and what she wanted. She wondered how they would react to her big reveal of the character of the man they’d insisted she marry. She could almost imagine that they would feel terrible and beg for her forgiveness. It was just that, though. Imagination. They would never admit they’d made an error.
That was a thought to process later, though. First, a little bit of play-acting.
“Mother, Father,” she called out as she entered the foyer.
“I’ll get them for you,” Frederick said. “I believe they are in the sunroom.”
“Thank you. Will you tell them I’ll meet them in the parlor? I need to tend to something upstairs for just a moment.”
“Of course, Miss Barlow. It’s lovely to see you. This big house isn’t the same without you. I hope we’ll be seeing more of you.”
“That’s kind of you, Frederick.” She leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell them, but I might miss you the most.” She impulsively gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and watched him blush furiously. He’d always been such a kind man, like a grandfather to her, except more fun.
Julia raced up the stairs, giggling like a school girl. She was about to solve a case, establish her freedom from her parents, and someday soon have dinner with the Inspector.
“Wendy? Wendy?” Julia called as she raced through the halls on the second floor, gleefully breaking another of her silly rules.
Wendy stepped out from a room and wiped her hands on her starched apron. “Miss Barlow. How lovely to see you.”
“Wendy, you simply must call me Julia from now on. Come to my room. I want to talk to you about something. You must promise to keep it a secret.”
“Certainly, Miss—er, Julia.” They both giggled, and Julia took her hand and towed her toward the bedroom. “Come, sit with me.”
“Oh, Mi—Julia. I couldn’t. Your mother wouldn’t approve. Not at all.”
“I’ll worry about my mother. Besides, I’ll not tell her if you don’t.” Julia patted the bed. “Come up here with me, Wendy.”
Wendy sat tentatively on the edge of Julia’s bed, her hands in her lap.
When Julia realized it was as comfortable as Wendy would be able to get, she got on with her announcement.
“You must not tell anyone this until later—I’ll alert you when it’s all clear, but I wanted you to be the first to know. I’m officially moving out. For now, I’ll be living with Opal and Oscar Goodall until I find a place of my own. I want to thank you for all that you’ve done for me. I consider you a friend, Wendy. You may find employ through my parents, but after today, I’m your friend only. Do you understand?”
“That’s so kind of you, but what would you want with someone like me as a friend?”
Julia reached across and took both of Wendy’s hands in hers. “Do you mean someone who has kinder to me than my own family for as long as I can remember? You are lovely just as you are, Wendy. I need you to know that. Money doesn’t make someone rich.”
Wendy’s eyes threatened to spill over with tears and she didn’t speak, but smiled.
“There’s one more thing, Wendy. I can’t tell you why, but I’m giving you the day off and I need you to leave the house.” Julia reached into her bag and pulled out some money, then handed it to Wendy.
“I don’t understand, Julia. Today is not my day off.”
“I know. Don’t worry. I’m not telling my parents I’m moving out until later. For now, it’s perfectly within my power to send you on errands for me. I’ll let Mother know as soon as I go down. Take the money and go to a film. Are you still seeing that young man?”
Wendy nodded, blushing. “Yes, ma’am.”
“You take him to dinner, and I don’t want you to come back until 9pm. Can you do that for me? If I could tell you why, I would, but I can’t. I will later though. I promise.”
“Yes. Thank you. You are too kind. Did you really mean what you said about us being friends?”
Julia stood up and Wendy followed suit. “Of course. Sometime soon, you and I are going to spend a day together. We’ll go shopping and have lunch out. I’m genuinely looking forward to it. Now go enjoy your day. Right away.”
She curtsied, clearly having trouble processing Julia’s new definition of their relationship, and walked out of the room.
Julia took a deep breath, feeling better that Wendy wouldn’t be in the house when Sidney was. She didn’t foresee any issues because Inspector Gibbs would be there, but she wouldn’t take any more chances than she had to. Satisfied that she’d kept Wendy safe, she put on her best compliant face and walked downstairs to meet her parents for the performance of her lifetime.
Julia sat across from her parents in the parlor, chatting about her intentions to accept their “offer” and consider Sidney’s proposal. It galled her to let them think she was cowed, but it was a necessary part of her plan to lure Sidney, unsuspecting, into the hands of the talented, and quite handsome, Inspector Gibbs.
“I’ve decided to accept your offer and return home. I’d like to also consider Sidney’s proposal for marriage and plan on doing so this afternoon. I’d like for you both to be here whe
n I speak with him. I’ve sent word to him that I’d like him to arrive at four in the afternoon.”
“Oh, that is wonderful news, Julia.” Her mother beamed at her and Julia nearly lost her cool but kept her smile plastered on her face. “I’ll have Cook prepare a more elaborate high tea than usual to celebrate. We’ll have a toast after.”
Julia’s father looked smug. His expression said he’d won the upper hand in their ever-present conflict. Wisely, and fortunately for everyone involved, he didn’t speak.
“I have some things to take care of this morning,” Julia told them, “but will return at three.”
“Did you see the invitation from the Ladies Club that we sent to you?” Her father spoke for the first time as Julia got to her feet.
“I did, thank you. I am not familiar with them, but it sounds interesting.”
She made a note to herself to explore further. An exclusive ladies club, located in Piccadilly Circus—the prime location for men’s only clubs for decades, if not centuries—seemed like a rather daring choice. Perhaps, if the business with Sidney was finished in time and her article written, she would attend their gala next Saturday evening.
Chapter 12
Monday Afternoon
November 14, 1921
Guinness Residence
Mayfair, London
Julia and Jimmie arrived at Sidney Guinness’ home at one o’clock. Jimmie distracted the butler and after falling all over herself in feigned embarrassment, Julia asked to use the facilities. Instead, she searched Sidney’s study for the missing journals from Philip Withers office. Arrogant as ever, he’d placed the leather-bound journals in a prominent place on his bookshelf.
I could never marry a man so full of himself, even if he wasn’t a double murderer.
She pulled them off the shelf and placed them in her bag, then returned to the foyer and joined Jimmie, who was still chatting with the butler about the rain that was just beginning to fall.
“Why, thank you so much for allowing me access to your facilities. I’m sure I feel much better. If Mr. Guinness returns, please let him know I stopped by and that I’m eager to see him this afternoon.”
