Murder at the Bayswater Bicycle Club

by Linda Stratmann

  After Jepson departed Sharrock shook his head. ‘Barraclough said the same, more or less. We can check with the other surgeons in the area but it’ll take time.’

  ‘Do we know who had access to the lodge between the time the coffee was made and Sir Hugo drinking it?’ asked Frances.

  ‘I have asked Mrs Pirrie about it, but what with the race meeting there were any number of club members in and out asking about the arrangements, and then there were visitors from other clubs. I’ve been able to rule out Jepson, and Ross-Fielder, but that’s all so far. All right, I must get on with the interviews.’ He gave Mr Grove a hard stare. ‘You’re next.’

  Frances was eager to leave the pavilion as she had determined to engage Tom and Ratty to look for any signs of the velocipede. She met Sarah and Professor Pounder outside, together with Cedric. It was a matter of moments before Tom and Ratty joined them, and all shared the information they had gleaned.

  Frances supplied the description of the missing velocipede and suggested they have a good search for it once they were allowed to leave the field. ‘’Spector says we ain’t to go till ’e tells us,’ said Ratty. ‘I fink ’e wants us ’ere for our special work.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘We’re too important.’

  ‘Ratty’s goin’ to be a p’liceman when ’e’s old enough,’ said Tom.

  ‘I never said that!’ argued Ratty.

  ‘Din’t need to,’ said Tom, grinning.

  ‘So this velocipede you’re all looking for,’ said Sarah. ‘You reckon it’s been taken away and either sold or broken up?’

  ‘That seems the most likely explanation,’ said Frances.

  ‘I mean it’s not the one that’s been left behind the scoreboard?’

  Everyone stared at her, then Tom and Ratty leaped up and made to run across the field.

  ‘Tom, Ratty, not yet!’ Frances exclaimed. ‘Sarah, when did you notice it?’

  ‘Just after they took Hopper away. I had a look around to see if he’d thrown away any evidence before they arrested him, but all I saw was this velocipede leaning against the back of the scoreboard. I knew his men used them so I guessed it was one of theirs.’

  ‘You didn’t notice if it had any letters scratched on the handlebars?

  ‘No, I didn’t think to look, but it was very dirty.’

  Frances thought quickly. ‘If it is the one we are looking for we shouldn’t go and get it, we need to wait and watch and see who comes to collect it. Tom, Ratty, I want you to keep a lookout but take care not to be seen.’

  Sarah and Pounder agreed to also be on hand if needed, and strolled away.

  ‘I am a defeated man,’ said Cedric. ‘I acknowledge that there is now no possibility of my taking you home until you actually consent to go.’

  ‘None at all,’ said Frances. ‘At present I am waiting for the arrival of the warder from Wormwood Scrubs, in the hope that he will be able to solve a mystery.’

  ‘And this is?’

  ‘The identity of the man who visited Mr Coote in prison. The Reverend Ross-Fielder has emphatically denied it was he, and I believe him – it would be a very foolish lie otherwise. He suggests that someone forged his papers and impersonated him, but I can think of a simpler solution. His papers weren’t forged, they were borrowed and returned.’

  Cedric glanced at the little family group on the veranda, two of whom were wearing clerical collars. ‘Oh, I see,’ he said. ‘But why?’

  ‘That is the question I would like to ask.’

  Cedric smiled. ‘Frances, my dear,’ he began, turning towards her, ‘about your Mr Grove …’

  ‘He is not my Mr Grove.’

  ‘Well, he certainly thinks he is. I have seen the way he looks at you. And I have seen the way you try not to look at him.’

  ‘I really cannot talk about that,’ said Frances dismissively. ‘In any case, he has his own work to do. I may never see him again.’

  Cedric recognised the finality in her voice and nodded. They sat in silence for some moments.

  ‘These sunny evenings remind me so much of Italy,’ he said at last. ‘When I came to London to deal with my brother’s estate I only expected to stay for a short time, and now here I am more than two years later. It has been a deuced complicated business, but I have just been told that it will be completed before Christmas.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’

  ‘I am torn two ways. I have so many good friends in Bayswater, now, but my family has indicated that they expect me to return to Italy, and I fear that I will be obliged to obey them. They seem to think I have a head for business.’

  ‘Will Joseph accompany you?’

  ‘Of course; he is my gentleman, after all.’ Cedric suddenly seized her hand. ‘You know, if I was another kind of man I would marry you in an instant and take you with me.’

  ‘But you are not,’ she said gently.

  ‘You can still come to Italy,’ he pleaded. ‘We could live together like brother and sister.’

  ‘Oh Cedric, that is so very charming of you to ask me, but I think my place is here. I promise you I will visit whenever I can.’

  ‘But I want to look after you – protect you. I can see that Sarah and Pounder are making a fine match, and you may find yourself alone before long. And that Grove – I am sorry to say it, but he is a dangerous fellow.’ Cedric paused, and his eyes slowly opened wide in realisation. ‘Oh, my word! That’s what you like about him!’

  Frances was just wondering how to reply when the policeman who had been sent to Wormwood Scrubs returned by bicycle, followed closely by a pony trap bringing the warder. The constable conducted the warder to the pavilion, and a few moments later Mr Grove emerged. ‘I’m going to find out what the warder says,’ said Frances. ‘Cedric, I want you to talk to Mr Grove and try to be friends with him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t care to be his enemy,’ said Cedric, but he remained seated while Frances hurried up the steps of the veranda and made herself busy brushing non-existent crumbs from the tables.

  A minute or so later, Inspector Sharrock stepped outside together with the warder. ‘Just look around,’ he said. ‘Careful, like. I don’t want any fuss. But tell me, do you see the gentleman who visited the convict Coote, calling himself Reverend Ross-Fielder?’

  The warder glanced about him, and his eyes settled on the family group of the Ross-Fielders. ‘Yes, I do,’ he said. ’Sitting at that table.’

  ‘The older clerical gentleman?’

  ‘No, he was a young man, only …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Well, he’s not dressed the same today, he’s wearing his bicycling uniform.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Sharrock. ‘Well, thank you very much. I don’t suppose you overheard what they said to each other?’

  ‘I didn’t, but I could guess some of it.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Well, Coote always claimed that he had rich relatives who would help him make an appeal against his conviction. When I saw the two of them together I could see that there was a family resemblance. So I expect that was what they talked about.’

  ‘And he just visited the once?’

  ‘No, it was twice.’

  ‘And I believe he handed over a gift?’

  ‘Yes, the second time he came. A prayer book.’

  There was nothing more to learn, but the new revelation set Frances thinking quickly. If Coote was related to the Ross-Fielders that would explain why he had felt entitled to demand money from the Reverend, and made him his target. The connection could well have been what he had been about to announce at his trial. Once he was convicted Coote must have threatened to expose the relationship and tried to blackmail the Reverend for funds to help him escape. If the unhappy clergyman had confessed to his sons that there was a family connection, it could well have prompted Henry Ross-Fielder’s visit to the prisoner. Coote had made his demands at the first visit and they had been met at the second.

  Frances thought further. It was a good theory, but did it explai
n everything? Would it really have been so scandalous if Ross-Fielder and Coote were related? Cousins perhaps? A connection of that order might have been surprising if revealed, but she doubted that it would have seriously harmed the reverend gentleman’s reputation. It might even have earned him some pity.

  Also, she asked herself, why had Coote not approached the Reverend before? He had been in financial difficulties since being dismissed by Hopper, but that was almost a year prior to the street assault. Why had he not asked for help then? Frances recalled something. At Coote’s trial it had been said in mitigation that he had been distressed since the recent death of his mother. Had he perhaps been ignorant of the family connection up until then and only learned of it either because she had revealed it as she lay dying, or had left a note to be opened after her death? Mrs Coote had been said to be a widow. At any rate there was no Mr Coote. Frances found herself wondering what Coote’s birth certificate might reveal about his parentage. A Miss Coote as the mother rather than Mrs? An unnamed father?

  Inspector Sharrock had bid goodbye to the warder and was about to interview Henry Ross-Fielder when Frances intercepted him. ‘Inspector?’

  ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘Please, this is very important.’

  He curbed his irritation. ‘All right, in as few words as possible.’

  ‘I know that Mr Coote never worked for the Reverend Ross-Fielder, but I suggest that when you conduct your interviews you ask if Coote’s mother ever worked for him.’

  Sharrock looked appalled. ‘Are you insinuating what I think you are insinuating?’

  ‘I am afraid so, yes. The prison warder suggested just now that Coote was related to the Ross-Fielders. I doubt that they despised him as a family connection simply because he was poor and without employment. In fact, I can think of only one reason why he was able to blackmail them into helping him escape from prison.’

  ‘They’re a respectable family!’ Sharrock protested.

  ‘With a secret. One they will go to considerable lengths to hide.’

  He paused. ‘All right. I’ll ask the question. I only hope you’re wrong.’ With that, Sharrock called Henry Ross-Fielder in for interview and with a pained look at Frances, ushered him into the pavilion.

  Frances returned to her table where Cedric and Mr Grove were seated together in tentative conversation. They both looked at her as she sat down. ‘I anticipate,’ she said, ‘that Mr Ross-Fielder is about to find himself in some trouble.’

  ‘But he’s a decent fellow,’ protested Cedric.

  ‘In a difficult situation, which forced him to make an unfortunate choice. It was he and not his father who visited Coote in prison, and he who supplied the money to bribe a guard to help him escape.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I suspect that they are related, and Coote was threatening to expose a scandal that would damage the family reputation.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ exclaimed Cedric.

  ‘We will know very soon. Your friend is being interviewed now, and knowing the Inspector’s methods I doubt that he will be able to dissemble for long. It does, of course, explain who damaged the bicycle.’

  ‘A scurrilous act. Do tell,’ said Grove.

  Frances smiled as both men waited for her words with interest. ‘Sometimes,’ she said, ‘it is necessary when solving a mystery to look at it from a different direction. We didn’t know the identity of the perpetrator, and neither did we know the reason for the damage. What we did know, however, was the result of the damage. The result was that Henry Ross-Fielder, the vice-captain of the Bayswater Bicycle Club, did not take his bicycle out on the club ride on the day that Coote escaped from prison, and remained at the coach house all afternoon, checking over the machine in case there was some damage that was not immediately obvious. He had not necessarily needed to take that precaution, but he did so. The choice was his. This meant that by an apparent coincidence, he had not been anywhere near the prison at the time the escape took place. The conclusion is irresistible. The only explanation for that slight, easily and cheaply repaired damage is that Ross-Fielder carried it out himself, in order to be far from the scene of the prison break, which he had known was about to happen.’

  There was a brief silence.

  ‘He might have simply made an excuse and not appeared for the club ride,’ said Mr Grove.

  ‘He might,’ said Frances, ‘but perhaps his original intention was to brave it out, and behave as if he knew nothing of the plans, but then he might have had second thoughts. He knew that the club ride took him in the vicinity of the prison and if he rode past he risked one of the searchers noticing the resemblance, maybe thinking that he was Coote in disguise, and stopping him for questioning.’

  Cedric nodded. ‘Oh, how I wish you were wrong this time!’

  Frances had deliberately not voiced the full extent of her suspicions in case she was mistaken, although she felt sure both gentlemen were well able to reach their own conclusions. Another and still worse thought had come to mind. To what lengths was Ross-Fielder prepared to go to protect the name of his family? There was only his word that Vance was already dead when found. Had Vance somehow learned the Reverend’s secret and been silenced? No one could be beyond suspicion.

  ‘And now, while we are waiting to see how the Inspector fares,’ she continued, ‘I would like to ask a question about bicycles.’

  Cedric perked up. ‘Of course. The finest invention of man!’

  ‘Thus far. But I want to know this – supposing you could make just one improvement. Something that would make a bicycle more attractive for military use, what would it be? Gentlemen, I rely upon your ingenuity. We know that Sir Hugo has been working on improvements. We know that he arranged a meeting with General Farrow who is interested in the military capabilities of bicycles. We also know that he planned to visit the patent office. I really doubt that his work with the additional wheels was going to be of value. I have asked Jack Linnett about it and although I am sure he knows something, he remains silent out of loyalty to Sir Hugo.’

  The next few minutes were spent in earnest discussion about the possibility of reducing the weight of the bicycle, making one that could be taken apart and put back together with ease, or devising one that could carry a weapon. ‘Perhaps we ought to speak to Jack again?’ said Cedric. ‘His loyalty is highly commendable to a man he regarded better than family, but it does not help us.’

  ‘Would it be an important improvement if a bicycle was more stable on rough terrain?’ Frances asked.

  ‘Very much so,’ said Grove. ‘But a bicycle needs a strong tyre, and a strong tyre is necessarily a hard one, which makes for a hard ride. That is something yet to be solved.’

  Frances gave a little gasp. ‘Perhaps,’ she said in a moment of inspiration, ‘Sir Hugo solved it?’

  Inspector Sharrock emerged from the pavilion and had a word with a constable, who asked the remaining members of the Ross-Fielder family to go inside. Before returning, Sharrock gave Frances a stern look then came down the steps to speak to her. ‘If you were my daughter, young lady, I would want to send you away and wash your mind of bad thoughts. I’m sure you were never brought up like that.’

  ‘Did you ask the question?’ she asked.

  ‘I did. The man went white as a sheet.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Before the Inspector could return to the pavilion, there was a rapid flash of movement on the other side of the field, and Frances saw Tom and Ratty break into a run. The object of their pursuit was the messenger boy in the green cap, who was now riding a velocipede. Alarmed by the sudden interest in his new prize he increased his pedalling. The machine was too large and heavy for him, and he was clearly not an experienced rider, but he had youth and energy and determination to assist him. Professor Pounder made chase in an extraordinary burst of pace for such a large man. The constable guarding the gate to the cricket ground left his post to try to intercept the rider but in so doing created a route of escape, and
the boy put his head down and aimed for it. Pounder was nimble on his feet. He made the boy veer off course, but then the velocipede turned around and once again made for the roadway. Pounder, with his experience of the boxing ring, knew how to swerve with the best of them, how to feint and move and surprise his opponent, and his speed of attack was astonishing. At last he made a rapid dart and caught up with his quarry. Next moment he had lifted the struggling boy from the machine and tucked him under his arm. He then walked calmly back to the pavilion with his prize, wheeling the velocipede with his other hand. The boy yelled and struggled, but was helpless in Pounder’s firm control, which both held him immobile and prevented him from injuring either himself or anyone around him.

  ‘Oh, what an athlete!’ exclaimed Cedric, who had jumped to his feet to enjoy the spectacle. ‘What a man! I must say Miss Smith is a very fortunate lady.’

  Sharrock gave him a hard look but said nothing and waited for Pounder to reach him.

  Frances examined the captured velocipede, and there was no doubt in her mind that it was the one that had belonged to the missing messenger, Edward Cowdray. The letters EDW were scratched on the handlebars and dried weeds still stuck to the wheel rims. ‘This is the machine that once belonged to Mr Hopper’s messenger,’ she confirmed. ‘The one we were looking for earlier.’

  ‘Is it now?’ said Sharrock. ‘Alright, Mr Pounder, bring the lad in, I’ll get the sergeant to ask him some questions while I deal with that other business. I’m making you an assistant constable for the afternoon,’ he added. ‘Watch him or he’ll be off again! Put him in the kitchen.’

  Pounder obligingly handed the velocipede to a constable and carried the boy indoors.

  ‘He is just a child,’ said Frances to Sharrock. ‘I really doubt that he has done anything wrong, but he may well have important information, and be too frightened to tell a policeman. He will certainly be less afraid if a woman is with him.’