Murder at the Bayswater Bicycle Club

by Linda Stratmann

  ’Do you think Hopper is the man behind it all? Or is he just a part of it?’ Frances asked.

  ‘I think he only provides the bullies and the messengers, for a fee, of course. Why should one engage a team of men and boys when there is already one to hand – and managed by an employer who disdains the law? Hopper knows his own business well, but he would be out of his depth with anything more subtle. I think if we can find Sir Hugo’s notebooks we will find our man.’

  ‘Can Peters be persuaded to talk?’

  ‘I’ve tried, and believe me I have many ways of doing that, but I don’t think he will. He is more afraid of his masters than he is of a spell in prison, and pain seems to mean very little to him.’

  ‘So that means that Peters has an alibi for the murder of Miss Hicks.’

  ‘He does.’

  ‘And our other suspect, Mr Coote, is no longer available. Inspector Sharrock revealed to me that he died within a very short while of escaping, so he cannot have killed Miss Hicks and neither can he have damaged Mr Ross-Fielder’s bicycle.’

  ‘Do you think that is important?’ Grove asked.

  ‘I’m not sure, but it is one of those things – many things – that I can’t explain. There is something altogether strange about Coote’s escape, and I think the Reverend Ross-Fielder knows more than he is saying. Tom and Ratty are looking into that for me. Regarding Miss Hicks, I think she may have had a – shall we call it a dalliance with one of the men in the Bayswater or another bicycling club, who she met when he took his machine to be repaired by her father. She must have found herself in a difficult situation and demanded a meeting with the man, asking him for money, or possibly even marriage. There are men who are willing to meet their obligations and there are men who are prepared to commit murder to avoid them. Sometimes it is impossible for a woman to tell the difference until it is too late. The professionals’ race was an ideal distraction – all eyes were on the riders, and the noise would have drowned any cries for help, if there had been any. There are at least seven men who we know could not have committed the crime: Cedric, who was by my side, the riders, and the marshal.’

  ‘And they include Iliffe and Babbit, who you have informed me appear to have business of their own.’

  ‘Yes. A betting fraud, we think. I suppose there is no further news of Sir Hugo?’

  ‘None. I was intending to go and see Jepson but then the police secured the field.’

  ‘Could you not have evaded them?’

  ‘I could, and that was a hard choice to make, but I decided to remain.’

  ‘I do hope Sir Hugo has recovered. He may very well hold the key to everything. And once we can reveal that he was drugged we can find out from Mrs Pirrie and Mr Waterfield the butler just who might have had access to the coffee.’ She paused. ‘I am sorry if I have done more than I was supposed to do, but so much has happened that I really couldn’t help it. I have tried to be as discreet as possible.’

  ‘You have been thoroughly disobedient and I shall have to say so in my report,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘It’s my wretched curiosity, it always leads me astray.’ She sighed. ‘So, are you able to tell me more of what today’s mission was really about?’

  ‘I can tell you as much as I know. There are a number of foreign agents who operate in London and the immediate area, and there is one in particular who frequents the bicycle clubs and moves around faster than we can follow him. He has been here before and we received information that he would be here today, possibly for the exchange of information, but I believe that the stir over the escaped convict and the police presence made him cautious. I didn’t see him, and I rather think he didn’t come at all, or if he did he took one look at all the police about and changed his mind.’

  ‘Do you know who he was supposed to be meeting?’

  ‘I’m afraid not. But if we find him we will root out one small part of the system and he might be persuaded to talk and lead us to his masters.’

  Ratty came down the steps of the pavilion. ‘All I c’n say is, the rev is very upset. ’E says that ’e never went to see Coote in prison and someone else went wiv false papers pretendin’ to be ’im. An’ his missus and sons are very upset too, sayin’ it’s a terrible thing ter do ter a man’s reputation.’

  ‘Now that is interesting,’ said Frances. ‘I am obliged to assume that Reverend Ross-Fielder is telling the truth. In any case since he is a clergyman he is bound to be believed, whatever he says.’ She thought back to the time she had visited Newgate to speak to a prisoner, and the fact that it had been necessary to seek written permission. It was probable that a similar rule applied in Wormwood Scrubs. ‘I can see that many men might be able to impersonate a clergyman with the correct costume and manner, but surely they would have more difficulty in obtaining documents to prove who they are?’

  She was lost in thought for a while, and Mr Grove allowed this to continue without interruption. The field was quiet and all around them was the soft whisper of conversations and the ripple of flags in the breeze.

  ‘I don’t know the answer,’ said Frances at last, ‘although I suspect what it might be, and I think I know how to get it. And if I am right, then I can also guess who damaged Mr Ross-Fielder’s bicycle.’ She gave a smile of triumph.

  Mr Grove nodded, and very slowly slid his hand across the table until his fingertips were almost touching hers. ‘Miss Doughty —’ he began.

  There was a sudden loud roar from the entrance of the cricket ground. They both leaped up and saw that a small carriage had just arrived, from which two men had descended. One of them was surgeon Jepson, and the other, his wild grey locks billowing in the breeze, was Sir Hugo Daffin.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  As they watched, Daffin, waving his arms like windmills, began to run across the field towards the pavilion, making the lurching and unsteady progress of a dazed but highly determined man. Jepson gave pursuit and attempted to take him by the arm but Daffin shook him off angrily and plunged forward, his monocle dangling from its cord and his eyes glassy and staring.

  ‘What in the name of all that is infernal is happening here?’ bellowed Daffin. ‘Jack! Where’s Jack? Toop! Goring! Ross-Fielder! I want to talk to all of you! Why are the police here? Why does everyone look as if they have been to a funeral?’ He staggered suddenly and would have fallen but two constables and Mr Jepson rushed to support him.

  Sergeant Hambling and two more constables ran up. A crowd began to gather, but the onlookers were gently but firmly persuaded to stand back. ‘I am so sorry,’ exclaimed Jepson. ‘But you know Sir Hugo; I told him to rest and he wouldn’t have it. Insisted he came back here at once. I accompanied him for his own safety.’

  Mrs Pirrie hurried across the field to her employer, uttering little wails of pleasure. ‘Oh, Sir Hugo! I’m so glad you’re here! Where have you been? We’ve all been so worried!’

  Sir Hugo seemed not to hear her, he simply held his head in his hands and groaned.

  ‘I’m sorry to say, Mrs Pirrie,’ explained Jepson, ‘that he doesn’t know very much about the last few hours. But he might feel better for a nice cup of tea. Would you oblige?’

  ‘Oh, of course, I’ll go and make one right away!’ Mrs Pirrie turned and trotted back to the pavilion.

  Hambling and the constables now had full charge of Sir Hugo and guided him along. ‘Where are you taking him?’ asked Jepson.

  ‘To see Inspector Sharrock. You’d better come, too.’

  ‘But what has happened here?’

  ‘The Inspector will explain everything, sir.’

  As Frances watched the dazed Sir Hugo and his worried attendant being led across the field, Cedric appeared by her side.

  ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that Dr Jepson won’t mention us to the Inspector?’ she said.

  ‘Far too much. I suggest we wait here to be called.’

  ‘He will be annoyed with me,’ said Frances. ‘But he so often is. Where is Jack?’

&
nbsp; ‘He’s still in a bad way. Jepson junior is looking after him.’

  ‘I will join you later,’ said Mr Grove, and hurried away.

  ‘I wish I knew what that fellow was up to,’ said Cedric.

  ‘It is my belief that in time you will come to trust each other.’

  ‘Perhaps, but the question is, can I trust him with you?’

  They sat down and waited outside the pavilion for several minutes, then Constable Mayberry emerged and looked about him.

  ‘I think,’ said Cedric, rising to his feet, ‘it might be myself and Miss Doughty you are looking for.’

  ‘Yes it is,’ said Mayberry. ‘Inspector wants to speak to you.’ He paused, awkwardly. ‘He – er – he isn’t very happy.’

  ‘He is such a hard man to please,’ commiserated Cedric. ‘Don’t worry, constable, we’ll come quietly.’

  Sharrock was alone in the tearoom when they arrived, sitting at a table with a large pot of tea and one of the bigger cups in front of him. He looked up with a surly expression. ‘No trouble, Mayberry?’

  ‘None at all, sir.’

  ‘What a pity. I was hoping they’d make a run for it and be brought here under arrest.’

  Frances and Cedric sat down and Mayberry took up a position by the door.

  Inspector Sharrock fixed the new arrivals with an intense look from under bushy eyebrows. Frances was obliged to remind herself that she had taken tea with the Inspector and his family, and that his wife was a very pleasant woman who regarded him with great affection. The sight of his youngest child sitting on his lap smearing butter in his hair was not one she would readily forget. ‘Now then, Miss Doughty, Mr Garton, I’d like you both to tell me what in the blazes is going on?’

  ‘How is Sir Hugo?’ asked Frances.

  ‘Being looked after by Mr Jepson. He’ll recover, but it was a close thing. Gent that age, you can’t be too careful.’

  ‘If it hadn’t been for Miss Doughty we might not have found him and summoned a doctor in time,’ said Cedric.

  Sharrock leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. ‘And where exactly did you find him? Because he seems to recall very little. One moment he’s heating up some coffee for his breakfast and the next he’s in Jepson’s surgery.’

  ‘We found him at home, lying on his bed,’ said Frances. ‘I saw at once that he was very ill and called Mr Jepson. I should explain that it was my experience of looking for missing persons that led me to feel concerned for him, which was why I decided to visit the lodge to see if there were any clues as to his whereabouts.’

  ‘Well that’s all very commendable, and you may very well have saved his life,’ Sharrock suddenly leaned forward, and thumped his fists on the table, ‘but then for the rest of the afternoon you deliberately failed to inform anyone of where he was, despite the fact that friends of his were beginning to worry. Why was that? Please take very great care with your reply.’

  ‘Ah – well —’ began Cedric and paused. ‘That’s a bit awkward, really.’

  ‘If the man was ill, his friends and his housekeeper should have been told. If a crime had been committed the police should have been told. Miss Doughty, I want your answer. I am very curious to hear your reasons for this extraordinary behaviour. And while you’re about it, I want you to explain how you entered a house which Mrs Pirrie assures me was locked up tight, and why I shouldn’t arrest you both for that offence right now.’

  Frances was considering her reply when there was a knock on the door. Sharrock scowled and muttered something under his breath. ‘Come in!’ he barked.

  One of the Acton constables peered around the door. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you Inspector, but there’s a gentleman here with an important message from the Home Office.’

  ‘The Home Office?’ exclaimed Sharrock, astounded. ‘What has the infernal Home Office got to do with it? Oh all right, show me the message.’

  The constable hesitated. ‘He says he wants to speak with you personally sir. Shall I show him in?’

  Sharrock gave Frances a very hard look. ‘Why are things always more complicated when you’re involved?’ He sighed and turned to the constable again. ‘Very well. Put these two in the kitchen and see they’re well-guarded.’

  The constable did his best to remain impassive. ‘He said he wants to see you together with this lady and gentleman, sir.’

  ‘Oh does he now? Well in that case show him in and make sure he has a roast dinner, a bottle of champagne and a slice of birthday cake while you’re at it!’

  The Acton constable ducked out quickly.

  ‘Do you know this man?’ demanded Sharrock.

  ‘I believe we may have met,’ said Frances.

  Moments later the Acton constable returned and ushered in Mr Grove.

  ‘And I wasn’t joking about the cake,’ bellowed Sharrock after the constable. ‘There’s enough uneaten cake round here to sink a battleship, and with the way things are going today I don’t think I’m getting any supper.’

  ‘Good afternoon, Inspector,’ said Grove coolly, handing over a letter. He then sat down. Sharrock had hardly given him a glance, then he did a double-take and fixed him with a piercing stare.

  ‘Wait a minute! I know you! Aren’t you—?’

  ‘It’s all explained in the letter,’ said Grove, who was clearly the only person in the room perfectly at his ease. Frances wondered where he had hidden the letter for this eventuality. It certainly wasn’t something he would have kept in his pocket. If it had been found when he was captured he would probably have been killed at once.

  Sharrock took his time reading the letter. The constable reappeared with a plate of cakes, which Sharrock began to devour as he read. When he had finished the letter and two of the cakes, he narrowed his eyes and stared at Grove very sharply. Finally he threw the paper down on the table and wiped crumbs from his mouth. ‘And when exactly were you planning to tell the police about this?’

  ‘To be frank with you, Inspector,’ said Grove, ‘we weren’t planning to tell the police at all. It was intended to be a very quiet affair, mainly observation, so as not to frighten our unknown quarry into bolting. Unfortunately, the escape of Mr Coote from Wormwood Scrubs, the attack on Sir Hugo Daffin, the murder of Miss Hicks, and the uncovering of a betting fraud made things rather more complicated than we had anticipated. Any orders that were issued regarding the mission do not therefore continue to apply. We have been obliged to use our initiative.’

  ‘Betting fraud?’ Sharrock stared at Frances. ‘Is that why you’re here? I knew you were up to something! Well I’ll need a full report on that before the end of the day.’ He thought hard. ‘Jepson said there was another man involved in finding Sir Hugo. Was that you, Mr —’ he stared at the letter ‘Grove?’

  ‘It was. I accept full responsibility for all the decisions made and all actions taken.’

  ‘So – and perhaps I can get an answer to this question at last – why didn’t you tell Sir Hugo’s friends where he was?’

  ‘Because we were unsure of who his friends actually were. We had to remove him from immediate danger, and obtain urgent medical assistance. If his enemies had heard where he was, they might have made another attempt on him.’

  ‘But the police should have been told,’ exclaimed Sharrock, prodding the desk hard with his finger as if he would have liked to prod Mr Grove into compliance.

  ‘I’m sorry. Orders from above. But I do have one suggestion to make.’ Grove drew a bunch of keys from his pocket and handed them to the Inspector. ‘The keys to Springfield Lodge. I took them from a man called Peters, who must have stolen them from Sir Hugo. You will find Mr Peters tied to Sir Hugo’s bedstead, with a note pinned to him explaining why the police might like to interview him. He won’t be able to escape even if he can untie himself, because he has a dislocated knee. He attempted to assault me when I confronted him about his illegal activities. There being no constable present, I took it upon myself to place him under arrest. He was unwise enough
to resist.’

  There was a short pause while the Inspector absorbed what he had been told. No one in the room was in any doubt as to the nature of the man confronting him. ‘Right,’ said Sharrock at last. ‘Mayberry?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Mayberry, who had gone a little pale under his pimples.

  ‘Take these keys to Sergeant Hambling and let him know where to find Peters.’

  ‘Yes sir!’ Mayberry took the keys and hurried away.

  ‘So,’ said Sharrock, ‘this Peters …’

  ‘A roughneck and a messenger. Works for Archie Hopper. Hopper runs a betting book but we think he also carries messages of another kind. Neither of them is the main man we are looking for, and we don’t yet know who that is. I did question Peters but he refused to talk.’

  Sharrock grunted. ‘Perhaps you should have dislocated his other knee.’

  ‘I was tempted.’

  ‘Do you think,’ asked Frances, carefully, ‘that the men who work for Hopper are so dependable that they would be entrusted with anything of a confidential nature? I would have thought judging by Mr Peters that they are not that kind of man. After all, Coote used to work for him. And didn’t Hopper have a messenger who simply ran off with the money he was entrusted with?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Sharrock. ‘The Hammersmith police have had their eye on Mr Hopper and his crew for quite some time. I had a good briefing on them today. It’s all very well picking them up for small matters and fining them, but Hopper always manages to wriggle out of any charges. They need to be shut down altogether. But this betting fraud – is Hopper involved? What evidence have you got?’