by Helen Goltz
‘I was hoping we could keep him in here a little longer,’ his partner, Harry, grumbled as he paced around Thomas’s office.
‘That makes both of us,’ Thomas agreed. ‘You should have seen the bruising around Matilda’s neck.’
‘You saw that?’ Harry asked, surprised, his eyebrows raised.
‘Yes, no, accidentally. Harriet was applying a salve when Daniel and I burst in to see if she was all right.’
‘Did you tell her about the amazing coincidence with Teddy being her rescuer and your nephew?’
Thomas shook his head. ‘I didn’t stay. As soon as I saw the bruises I pursued Tufton. But Daniel dropped by this morning to invite Teddy to Sunday lunch as well, so Matilda could offer her gratitude again.’
‘Good on him,’ Harry said and smiled.
Thomas did not want to talk about Matilda; he was coming to the point of no return – it was too painful to be around her and not have a promised future with her, and too painful to be without her. He was pleased when a constable knocked on the door, putting an end to the conversation and the inevitable lecture from Harry about there being no time like the present.
‘Sirs, there’s someone to see you at the desk. They want to report a murder and they’ve asked for you!’
‘I’ll see to it,’ Harry said, and wandered off.
Thomas sighed, but not about the murder – he was thinking about his nephew, Teddy, who was a few years younger than Matilda but still a worthy candidate for her hand. Handsome, strong, hardworking – although he imagined Mr Hayward held the hope of Matilda securing a more fortunate marriage. But maybe not, he was eccentric and took little interest in class order and the rules of society. If Mrs Hayward – Matilda’s mother – had been alive, the suitor scrutiny most likely would have been different. Thomas had stayed as near as he could to Matilda so when the time was right for her to want marriage, he would be on hand, willing, affectionate, with good prospects and a home to offer. He didn’t mind that he was a few years shy of his thirtieth year, the time not romancing had allowed him to sow his wild oats, focus on his career and get his life in order. Besides, she was annoying, and a few years of maturity might take away that competitive edge she still sported with him. But what if she should fall in love – what if Teddy was now her hero and her feelings were for him?
He needed to see Matilda for no other reason than he didn’t sleep all night thinking of her with her hair loose around her shoulders and her neck bare. How beautiful and vulnerable she looked at that moment; he wanted to hold her; to love her and to provide for her comfort. To have that honour.
Thomas thought of her movements and realised she would be at the Women’s Journal office this morning and, to his annoyance, Daniel advised that Matilda intended to go to the Freak Show in the early afternoon for her interview with Mrs Wilks. He decided to go to the offices and see her there. He just needed to find a reason to do so. Perhaps he could officially offer a friendly warning to Mrs Lawson to ensure her lady writers always travelled in pairs at the moment while a killer was on the loose – that might just do the trick. He could go on the way to the recent murder case if in the same direction.
A loud rap on the door snapped him to attention as his partner, Harry Dart strode in, interrupting his train of thought.
‘We’ve got to go, it’s Carl Tufton,’ he announced.
Thomas waved away the concern. ‘Whatever he’s done now, it can wait. There’s somewhere I want to go before we follow him up.’
‘No—’ Harry started again, but Thomas rose and cut him off.
‘Let’s go and collect the warrant. I want to search that Freak Show top to bottom. We need to find that cane or the weapon with a globe hard enough to bash a skull in.’
Harry blocked the door. ‘The murder… it’s Carl Tufton, he’s dead.’
Chapter 23
It wasn’t unheard of for men to enter the premises of the Women’s Journal, but it was a rare sighting. Even more so when the man leading the way was tall, handsome, and confident. A titter ran through the floor, but the women kept working, after all, it was a professional organisation. As Thomas reminded Harry, Tufton was already dead, so another fifteen minutes getting to the scene would make little difference and it would give the younger police officers a chance to get statements. Harry saw right through him.
‘May I help you gentlemen?’ a mature lady of good size girth and small spectacles enquired.
‘Thank you, yes.’ Harry stepped in while Thomas scanned the heads on the floor for Matilda. She wasn’t hard to miss – her back was to him, her golden hair tied in a neat bun and the back of her neck visible.
‘Detectives Ashdown and Dart for Mrs Lawson if she could spare us five minutes, please,’ Harry asked, but it wasn’t a request. He wasn’t averse to turning on the charm when needed and the mature man with the salt-and-pepper hair, well-maintained figure and pale blue eyes held a definite appeal to a mature woman.
Before the receptionist could announce the gentlemen, Mrs Lawson appeared at the door of her office and beckoned them in.
Thomas strode down the centre of the room towards her office, the heads of the younger girls turning towards him like sunflowers. Except for Matilda. Finally, she looked up at the last minute just as he was about to enter, and her eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed. He realised she might think he was going to tell of her incident, of which he had no intention of doing.
‘Mrs Lawson, I’m Detective Thomas Ashdown, and this is my partner, Detective Harry Dart. Could we have a moment with you and the two ladies assigned to the Freak Show profile stories?’
‘Of course,’ Mrs Lawson said, indicating they should step further into her office. She moved around them and called for Matilda and Alice. Mrs Lawson did introductions where necessary, and the men noted Alice’s beauty accordingly and privately.
Thomas’s gaze travelled to Matilda’s throat, which was well hidden by the fabric of her high-necked blouse. He turned to Mrs Lawson.
‘Mrs Lawson, as you know the proprietor of the Freak Show Exhibition was murdered recently, and this morning, we found the husband of one of the exhibitors dead.’
Matilda gasped at hearing the news.
Harry stepped in. ‘Mr Carl Tufton, husband of the giantess.’
‘Anna’s husband! How? Why?’ Matilda asked.
‘He has been found dead on the grounds of the Exhibition in much the same area as where Mr Burnham was killed,’ Thomas answered.
‘Does Mrs Tufton know as yet?’ Mrs Lawson asked.
‘Yes, and Miss Hayward, you may wish to contact your brother to meet with her?’ Thomas suggested.
‘Did she… is she a suspect, Thomas, um, Detective Ashwood?’ Matilda asked.
‘Everyone is, miss,’ Harry answered.
Matilda nodded her understanding.
‘But the reason for our visit, Mrs Lawson, en route to the crime scene, is just to warn you of the dangers first hand and to suggest that the interviews, if they are to continue, be chaperoned,’ Thomas said, understanding the need for diplomacy and ensuring he was not telling the ladies what to do which might well lead to the opposite action being taken. ‘Until we know the motive and find the killer, we don’t know who might be a threat.’
Mrs Lawson nodded. ‘Of course, I couldn’t agree more.’
Harry added, ‘Also, if you were intending on going there, the Exhibition is closed to the public today.’
‘But we’re not the paying public,’ Alice said, speaking for the first time. ‘Whether Mrs Wilks feels like speaking with us might be a different matter.’
‘Agreed,’ Mrs Lawson said. ‘Thank you both, detectives. We will discuss this now and decide on our next course of action. I assume you don’t need to speak with either of the ladies concerning the recent crime given their last interview on the premises was several days ago?’
‘Mrs Lawson, I was on site with my brother visiting Mrs Tufton yesterday,�
�� Matilda added.
‘A quick word then,’ Thomas said, seeing his chance. Matilda nodded. He thanked Mrs Lawson, suggested that Harry meet him outside in five minutes, and indicated the door to Matilda, following her out.
‘What do you make of it all, Detective Dart?’ he heard Mrs Lawson asked, ever the inquisitive journalist. Thomas didn’t need to warn Harry that she was part of the media and he needed to be discreet; Harry had been around a lot longer and knew the ropes.
Thomas followed Matilda to the exit, noticing the glances from the ladies as they walked through. He pushed the door open for her and followed outside.
Once outside, she turned to him. ‘Thomas, what has happened?’ she asked, alarmed, forgetting all about last night’s indiscretion. Thomas hadn’t – the image was hard to get from his mind.
He swallowed. ‘I won’t know until I get to the scene and speak with the coroner, but I believe Tufton was struck in a similar manner to Mr Burnham. Keep that to yourself.’
Matilda nodded. ‘Do you think Anna might be involved?’
‘I haven’t written off the idea. But I don’t want to talk about the case for a moment.’
‘Oh? You are not going to give me a lecture, are you?’ she said, cocking her head on the side as if expecting a war of words.
‘No, I wanted to check on you,’ Thomas said.
Matilda softened and straightened up. ‘Really? Oh well, that’s a relief because I’m sure you want to lecture me though.’
Thomas couldn’t help smiling. ‘Yes, I’d love to give you a dressing down, speaking of which…’ he did not take his gaze from hers. ‘I am sorry last night for trespassing on you in your state of undress and distress.’
She shook her head, blushing slightly. ‘I am grateful that you and Daniel were so concerned.’ She touched her neck. ‘I am sore but fine and still here to talk about it.’
‘Thank God. When I think of what more might have happened…’
Matilda swallowed and Thomas noticed it pained her. She admitted, ‘It frightened me.’
He softened, wanting to pull her close to him.
She looked down at her hands as she said, ‘it was as if everyone I loved flashed before me.’ She blushed at what she had just suggested to him.
‘Was I amongst the gallery of those you love?’ he bravely asked.
She looked up at him. ‘Well, of course you were, Thomas. You are my family,’ she said.
He reached for her hand. ‘Matilda, may I—’
‘Righto then, let’s get back to the Freak Show and—’ Harry stopped. ‘–oh, sorry.’
Matilda pulled her hand away.
Thomas cleared his throat and moved away.
‘Sunday then, with your nephew, Teddy? A wonderful coincidence.’ Matilda smiled.
‘Sunday,’ Thomas said, offering Matilda a stiff bow, and frustrated, again, he turned to follow Harry.
Chapter 24
The two detectives strode towards the Freak Show Exhibition flagged by half a dozen police men in uniform that Thomas had secured to undertake a search of the Freak Show tents and caravans. As they walked, Detectives Thomas Ashcroft and Harry Dart went over what they knew to be true. They stopped as the coroner hurried towards them.
‘Can’t stay,’ he said, ‘but the manner of killing was similar. The victim had the same blow inflicted to the throat and had most likely died from choking, but there were no other wounds this time. No beating.’
‘So, is it likely that the killers were the same?’ Thomas asked.
‘Most likely from the blow to the throat. I’ll be in my office this afternoon,’ he called, giving a wave and taking off at a fast pace to get the omnibus that had just arrived.
Thomas and Harry continued their walk towards the exhibition.
‘Perhaps the killer had to use a different technique to strike down their victim – Mr Burnham and Mr Tufton are quite different in size and strength after all,’ Thomas thought out loud. ‘Or perhaps there was more anger felt towards one than the other, or the killer was interrupted…’
‘Someone on the premises or with access to the premises likely committed the crime, but where is the weapon that was used the first time?’ Harry said.
‘Where indeed. Although I don’t think it would be too hard to access the area, the question is why would you? These deaths are very specific and related to the people in the inner circle of the Exhibition,’ Thomas said, rubbing a hand over his face which he did often when stumped.
‘I agree,’ Harry said. ‘Who might have dealings with Mr Burnham and Mr Tufton? There are only two clear suspects.’
Thomas nodded. ‘Mr Wilks, who wants to run the place according to nearly everyone we’ve spoken with, and the giantess who wants to leave. Unless there’s something we haven’t unearthed.’
As they neared the large tent, the two detectives stopped, turned, and waited until the half dozen police officers following them caught up.
Harry gave them a quick briefing of what they were looking for on the grounds of the Freak Show, the sensitivities, and the need to treat the artists with care and respect.
‘There but for the Grace of God go I, or you for that matter,’ he told his young charges. ‘So remember they’ve not had an easy life.’ Harry’s heart was an empathetic one, even after years on the job. ‘Detective Ashdown and I will be doing interviews, so track us down if you find anything.’
‘And don’t go near the current crime scene,’ Thomas added.
The detectives headed for the tent, the police officers behind them looking like a small invasion.
Mr Wilks, the manager, stood waiting for them, his arms crossed. Harry greeted him and handed him the notice for entry while Thomas moved to the covered corpse.
Surprisingly, Mr Wilks stood aside and extended his hand in a welcome gesture.
Harry nodded his thanks and waved the officers in. He asked Mr Wilks to wait nearby and joined Thomas at the corpse. The two men studied the area and then pulled back the sheet to study Tufton. He looked angry and bullish in death, as he did in life. After a brief while, the men stood back, and Thomas gave the nod for his body to be removed.
‘I’ll go have a chat with Mrs Wilks and leave Mr Wilks to you,’ Harry said and headed off to the tent entrance.
Thomas re-joined Mr Wilks. ‘A quick chat, if you don’t mind?’
Wilks agreed, and they remained where they were. No one was around to overhear them – the exhibition was closed, and the only crowds were well back watching the police goings-on.
‘Did you see or speak with Mr Tufton last night?’ Thomas asked.
Wilks shook his head. ‘No. The only reason he would have to be here is to visit his wife. He had no business or appointment with me, so I don’t know why he was here,’ he said, waving a hand in the direction of where Tufton’s body lay.
‘Where were you last night?’
‘Here, as always, with the wife. We turned in around 10pm. I heard a noise and got up to have a look out. I can’t tell you what time that was, but probably a few hours later. I didn’t go any further than looking out my caravan door, then when I didn’t see anything, I went back to bed.’
‘What sort of noise?’ Thomas asked.
‘Just someone moving around… footsteps on the gravel. Some of the artists take exercise at night when they can do so in private without being seen. Everyone here is an adult, there’s no curfew, people can come and go, visit each other, leave and come back.’
Thomas looked surprised.
‘Granted, it’s only the crew that comes and goes. The artists don’t leave the grounds,’ Wilks said.
Thomas looked away for a moment as he thought. Mr Wilks stood by in silence.
‘Did Mr Tufton know any of your crew or have any dealings with them that you are aware of?’ Thomas said, turning his attention back to the Freak Show manager.
‘I’ve signed off on everyone hired here, and I know them well
. I’ve never seen Tufton talk to them or have any reason to do so,’ Wilks said.
Thomas knew that wasn’t quite true; he was confident that Wilks did not hire his nephew, rather, the chef did that himself, and Wilks would barely know his nephew from the few days he had worked in the kitchen. Thomas saw Amos arriving and heading to see Mrs Tufton. And that’s exactly where he was intending to go next. He thanked Mr Wilks and followed the route that Amos had just taken to the giantess’s caravan. He wanted to get there before Amos prepared her responses. He knocked and entered, and they both looked less than pleased to see him. Mrs Tufton at least had the good sense not to act as the bereaved widow.
‘Detective Ashdown, I’ve been expecting you,’ Mrs Tufton said.
‘It appears everyone has,’ he said with a small smile. ‘My condolences on the passing of your husband.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, surprised. ‘It wasn’t always bad.’
‘Of course not,’ Amos said, and shook hands with Thomas.
The two men declined her offer of tea and Amos sat. Thomas declined the offer to sit. He could not help being a little repulsed by the enormity of the giantess and her unattractive countenance. It was only her soft voice that reminded him she was a woman.
‘I understand you were seeking a divorce?’ Thomas asked, cutting to the chase.
‘Yes, and I imagine you think Carl’s death might be fortuitous for me,’ she said.
Amos went to stop Mrs Tufton from speaking, but she shook her head.
‘We had a small life insurance policy each that I will benefit from, but it is no more or less than I would have received from the settlement that Mr Hayward had recently negotiated,’ she said with a nod towards Amos.
‘That’s correct,’ Amos informed Thomas.
‘I will also inherit property – a small farm in the area in which I grew up. It is no longer a working farm so in its current state it will not fetch a substantial sum, but I may choose to live there and revive it. I don’t know yet,’ she said. ‘Regardless, I had my freedom secured before Carl’s death.’
