A Date with the Executioner

by Edward Marston

  After a long, bruised silence, Hamer mounted his defence. He spoke slowly, as if talking to people of limited intelligence.

  ‘When I left Bow Street yesterday morning,’ he explained, ‘I came straight back here and made arrangements for my trip to St Albans. I set off just after noon. The person whom I visited will tell you the time of my arrival and the length of my stay with him. I’ll happily furnish you with his name and address. Since his family was there at the time, you’ll have five other witnesses who will swear that I’ve been telling you the truth. At what time was Bowerman killed?’

  ‘It was … sometime in the evening,’ said Yeomans, uncomfortably.

  ‘I have a very long reach,’ said Hamer, ‘but even my arm is not able to touch London from St Albans. Where did the murder take place?’

  ‘It was in the garden of a house near Cavendish Square.’

  ‘I have neither friends nor acquaintances in that part of the city and, hence, no reason whatsoever to visit it. How am I supposed to have gained access to the place?’

  ‘A resourceful man like you would have found a way in.’

  ‘We are now in the realms of complete fantasy,’ said Hamer with a sneer. ‘Do what you foolishly assume to be your duty, if you must, but remember this: there is such a thing as wrongful arrest. Consequences will follow.’

  Yeomans hesitated. Increasingly edgy, Hale turned to his friend.

  ‘What are we going to do now, Micah?’ he whispered.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As he set off to find the lady in question, Paul Skillen had no clear idea of what to expect. Laetitia Somerville was patently a striking young woman. If she could arouse the affections of men as diverse as Mark Bowerman and Stephen Hamer, he reasoned, she had to be a person of rare qualities. During their time together at the shooting gallery, Bowerman had rhapsodised about her and, crucially, provided Paul with her address in case he was shot to death in the duel against his rival. Judged by its nondescript exterior, the house in Green Street was unremarkable. When he was invited in by a servant, however, he found himself in a dwelling of overwhelming charm and with a pervading air of prosperity. The place was so bright, well appointed and filled with delicate colours that Paul felt embarrassed at being the bearer of bad news. He would be besmirching a miniature paradise.

  Shown into the library, he was struck by its faint whiff of perfume and by the number of poetry books on the shelves. He was not alone for long. Laetitia appeared magically in the doorway. Paul was momentarily dumbfounded. Since he lived with Hannah Granville, the most talented actress in London, he was accustomed to being alone with a gorgeous woman, but Laetitia’s beauty was of a totally different order than that of his beloved. While Hannah’s arresting good looks could enchant a whole audience for hours on end, Paul was now within feet of an altogether more subdued, almost shy, private beauty. Laetitia was small, slim and graceful with a face of elfin loveliness framed by fair hair that hung in ringlets. She had a demure quality entirely lacking in the actress. She was followed into the room by a maidservant acting as a chaperone.

  After an exchange of greetings, she waved him to a chair and perched on one directly opposite. Her sweet smile was evidence to Paul of her complete ignorance of the duel and the fate of one of those involved. He chose his words with care.

  ‘I come as a friend of Mr Bowerman,’ he began. ‘He held you in the highest regard, Miss Somerville.’

  ‘His devotion to me is very flattering.’

  ‘He was distressed to learn that he had a rival suitor.’

  ‘If you are referring to Captain Hamer,’ she said, softly, ‘then you should know that I would never accept him as a suitor. We were friends in the past but those days are … long gone.’

  ‘Yet he boasted to Mr Bowerman that the two of you were intimates.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘That was unworthy of him and wholly untrue.’

  ‘It caused great upset.’

  ‘I shall apologise to Mr Bowerman on the captain’s behalf.’

  ‘That … won’t be possible, I fear,’ said Paul.

  ‘Why not?’ There was a long pause. Her voice now had a tremor. ‘I repeat my question, Mr Skillen,’ she went on, ‘why will it not be possible?’

  ‘It’s … difficult to explain.’

  ‘Answer my question, please.’

  ‘Miss Somerville—’

  ‘Come, sir. Say what you have to say and don’t prevaricate.’

  Paul took a deep breath before speaking. ‘It’s my painful duty to pass on sad tidings,’ he said. ‘They concern Mr Bowerman.’

  She was on her feet at once. ‘Has something happened to him?’

  ‘I’m afraid that it has.’

  ‘Then please let me hear what it is. Don’t keep me in suspense.’

  Paul got up slowly from the chair. ‘Yesterday morning,’ he said, gently, ‘Mr Bowerman took part in a duel with his rival.’

  ‘Heavens!’ she exclaimed. ‘What madness has seized him? He’d be no match for Captain Hamer.’

  ‘Fortunately, the duel was interrupted by Bow Street Runners.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that! He was rescued from certain death.’

  ‘He met it elsewhere,’ said Paul, moving closer to her. ‘Sometime during yesterday evening, Mr Bowerman was, it appears, in receipt of a letter ostensibly sent from you.’

  ‘But I never wrote any letter to him. I swear it.’

  ‘Someone did, Miss Somerville, and its contents were such that he left the house at once in his haste to reach you. His body was found early this morning in the garden of a house near Cavendish Square. Mr Bowerman, I regret to tell you, had been stabbed to death.’

  ‘No, no,’ she cried, grabbing him by the coat. ‘Tell me it’s not true.’

  ‘I wish that I could.’

  ‘Mr Bowerman and I were about to be …’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘He was murdered? That dear, kind, considerate man was killed?’ Paul nodded. ‘Who could do such a dreadful thing? The very thought is unbearable.’

  Her face had crumpled and her whole body was trembling. After putting a hand to her throat, she swooned. The maidservant cried out in alarm. Paul was quick enough to catch Laetitia before she hit the floor.

  Jack Linnane, the gardener, was a short, stout, round-shouldered man in his fifties with a ragged beard and eyes that were half obscured by bushy eyebrows. He was pulling out weeds when Peter Skillen arrived at the house and let himself in through the unlocked garden gate. Linnane straightened.

  ‘This is private property, sir,’ he warned.

  ‘I’ve not come to trespass. I simply want information.’

  Peter introduced himself and explained that he’d been given details of what had happened by Silas Roe, servant to the murder victim. Linnane brightened at once. He was ready to talk to anyone who was determined to solve the crime. The story he told was virtually the same as the one passed on by Roe but there were some new details as well. He’d been gardener there for years. Most of the houses nearby were owned by families who lived there on a permanent basis. This one, Linnane told him, had been occupied by a series of short-term tenants. Whether or not anyone was in residence, he was paid to keep the garden in good condition. After looking around, Peter praised him for his thoroughness.

  ‘Show me where you found the body,’ he asked.

  ‘I told you, sir,’ said Linnane, pointing a finger, ‘it was over there.’

  ‘Show me exactly where it was.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It may be of help to me.’

  Linnane did as he was told, even sitting down on the spot on the bench where he’d found Bowerman. Shielded from the rest of the garden by trellises covered with trailing plants, the arbour was a natural suntrap. Immediately behind the bench was a low privet hedge. When Peter stood behind the seated gardener, he realised how easy it would have been for the killer to put an arm around the victim’s neck before thrusting a dagger between the wooden uprights. In the struggl
e, Bowerman’s hat would have been knocked off and landed on the ground where the gardener found it.

  ‘This is a nice spot,’ observed Peter.

  ‘Best part of the garden, sir,’ said Linnane. ‘When I’ve finished my work for the day, I always sit here and smoke a pipe.’ He chuckled. ‘It does no harm if I have ten minutes thinking I own the house.’

  ‘Who does own it?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir. I just do what the agent tells me.’

  ‘You have a key to the garden, obviously.’

  ‘It’s all I have. I’ve never been in the house itself. Everything I need is out here. I can draw water from the well. I keep my tools locked in the outhouse.’

  ‘It’s a stout door in a high wall,’ said Peter, looking at the gate. ‘It would be difficult to get in here without a key. I’ll need to speak to the agent to find out how many keyholders there are.’

  ‘Nobody ever touches my key,’ affirmed Linnane. ‘I look after it carefully.’

  ‘And so you should.’ Peter glanced up at the house. ‘Before I let myself into the garden, I went to the front door. It was securely locked and there was no sign of a broken window. Nobody forced their way into the property.’ He turned to the gardener. ‘Has anyone else been here to question you?’

  ‘No, sir, they haven’t.’

  ‘They will. The Runners will certainly call at some point. When they do, will you pass on a message to them, please?’

  ‘Yes, sir, I’ll do so gladly.’

  ‘Tell them that my brother and I are delighted to be working with them again.’

  ‘Is that all, sir?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Peter, smiling, ‘that will be more than enough.’

  After weighing up the possibilities, Yeomans decided that he’d rather face the wrath of the chief magistrate than worry about the threat made by Stephen Hamer. Since he was at least flirting with the possibility that the man might not, after all, be guilty of the murder, he refrained from actually handcuffing him. He simply arrested Hamer and, after delivering a lacerating tirade, the latter agreed to go with them. They rode to Bow Street in the same jolting carriage. Not a word was spoken during the journey. The atmosphere was tense and Hale writhed in discomfort. Accustomed to manhandling dangerous villains, he was virtually paralysed while seated opposite the fuming Stephen Hamer. All three of them went into the chief magistrate’s office. In less than ten minutes, one of them came out alone. Those who remained were given a verbal whipping.

  ‘The pair of you are complete idiots!’ snarled Kirkwood. ‘What on earth possessed you to arrest Captain Hamer?’

  ‘We were only obeying your orders, sir,’ said Yeomans.

  ‘The fellow was obviously innocent of the charge.’

  ‘You were the one who said that he was guilty, sir,’ recalled Hale. ‘You told us it was as plain as the nose on my face.’

  ‘I merely said that there was a faint likelihood that he might be involved. I was assuming – foolishly, as it transpired – that you and Yeomans would exercise discretion. Clearly, that was beyond your meagre capacities.’

  ‘We’re sorry, sir.’

  ‘Didn’t you listen? Didn’t you hear what Hamer said? He has reliable witnesses who place him in St Albans at the time when the victim was murdered.’

  ‘He could still have instigated the crime, sir,’ said Yeomans. ‘It was a point that you made when you sent us off to apprehend him.’

  ‘I was mistaken,’ said Kirkwood, ‘and I knew it the moment he stepped into this office. He was enraged and rightly so. Didn’t you stop to wonder why?’

  ‘Nobody likes to be arrested, sir.’

  ‘We didn’t make a forcible arrest, Micah,’ Hale reminded him.

  ‘He behaved as if we had.’

  ‘That was not the reason for his fury,’ said Kirkwood. ‘What upset him was not so much the fact that he was under suspicion. It was because he’d been robbed of the opportunity to kill Bowerman in a second duel. The real target of his ire was the man who wielded that dagger. Captain Hamer’s rival may have been removed but he was not responsible for his death. That rankles with him.’

  ‘Why didn’t he tell us that?’ asked Hale.

  ‘You shouldn’t have needed telling. It was writ large all over him.’

  ‘All I saw was a very angry man.’

  ‘Now you mention it, sir,’ said Yeomans, hoping to curry favour, ‘there was a strange tone to his protests. He behaved as if something very precious had been stolen from him. It was clever of you to identify it.’

  ‘I prefer action to congratulation,’ said Kirwood with vehemence. ‘I want proof that you have one functioning brain between the two of you. Hamer can be eliminated from the investigation. Find the real killer.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Have you visited the scene of the crime?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Do so immediately.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Question the gardener who found the body.’

  ‘We will, sir.’

  ‘Have you been to Mr Bowerman’s house?’

  ‘Not yet, sir.’

  ‘Seek out Roe, the butler. When he reported the crime, he left only the bare details. Ask if his master had any enemies.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What of the lady at the eye of this little hurricane?’

  ‘Are you referring to Miss Somerville, sir?’

  ‘Who else, man? It was she who unwittingly caused the duel to take place.’

  ‘We ought to speak to her, Micah,’ said Hale. ‘She might not even know that one of her suitors has met a gruesome end.’

  ‘There’s one more thing,’ Kirkwood told them.

  ‘Yes, sir. We need to have handbills printed.’

  ‘I will take on that task, if only to ensure that it’s done properly. You must do something that should already have been done and that’s to examine the corpse. Search for clues. That dagger is one of them. It may be distinctive enough to be recognised. If so, a description of the murder weapon could be included in the handbill. Above all else,’ said the chief magistrate, raising his voice, ‘act with more celerity.’

  ‘We already did that, sir,’ confessed Yeomans, ‘and we are rightly chastised for doing so. We apprehended Captain Hamer too hastily.’

  ‘That’s not why I’m advocating urgency.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘Mr Bowerman was a wealthy man. There’ll be a large reward offered for information leading to the arrest and conviction of his assassin. You both know what happens when money is at stake.’

  ‘Peter and Paul Skillen will come sniffing, sir,’ said Hale.

  ‘We’ll not be deprived of our lawful prize this time,’ vowed Yeomans.

  ‘Then get out there and vindicate your reputations,’ said Kirkwood, opening the door wide. ‘Don’t come back until you have redeemed yourselves by solving this crime promptly and leaving the Skillen brothers trailing impotently in your wake.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ they said in unison before scuttling through the open door.

  Paul Skillen was caught in an awkward situation. As he was lowering Laetitia Somerville gently to the floor, a manservant, alerted by the chaperone’s cry of alarm, burst into the room. What he saw was a stranger bending over his employer as if about to molest her. In his eyes, it was a picture that told its story all too clearly. Without hesitation, the servant grabbed Paul and tried to drag him away. Since he was a strong young man, there was a fierce struggle. Paul’s explanation of what had happened went unheard. All that the servant wanted to do was to defend Laetitia and overpower a man he thought was her assailant. It took Paul a couple of minutes to shake him off then stun him with a blow to the jaw. By that time, Laetitia’s eyelids were starting to flutter.

  ‘What happened?’ she murmured.

  ‘I brought some dire news, I fear,’ said Paul.

  She saw the manservant. ‘What are you doing here, Robin?’

  ‘Misconstru
ing what occurred, he bravely came to your assistance. I’d be grateful if you’d tell him I did not assault you in any way.’

  ‘No, no, of course you didn’t. Stand off,’ she told the man as he moved forward to grapple with Paul once more. ‘Mr Skillen was no threat to me. He kindly brought me tidings he felt I had a right to know. That was why I collapsed. The shock was too much for me.’ She tried to move. ‘Could you help me up, please?’

  Paul and the manservant lifted her carefully to her feet. Robin was anxious.

  ‘Would you like me to call a doctor?’ he asked.

  ‘No, no, there’s no need for that. Thank you, Robin,’ she said, dismissively. ‘You may go now. It’s quite safe to leave me.’

  ‘Call me, if you need me.’

  Staring resentfully at Paul, he rubbed his chin as he backed out of the room.

  ‘I remember it all now,’ said Laetitia, sitting down. ‘You told me that Mr Bowerman had been ready to fight a duel with Captain Hamer but that it was interrupted. Later that evening …’

  Her eyes moistened and she bit her lip. When Paul tried to put a consoling arm around her, she raised her palms and he backed away. He could see the anguish distorting her features. Eventually, she regained her composure.

  ‘What must you think of us?’ she said, apologetically. ‘You come here out of the goodness of your heart and what happens? I collapse at your feet and my servant starts beating you. By any standards, that’s poor hospitality.’

  ‘What happened is understandable, Miss Somerville.’

  ‘I think you deserve an explanation.’

  ‘Are you sure that I’m not intruding?’

  ‘No, no, not at all – do sit down again, please.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, lowering himself onto a chair beside her.

  Laetitia needed a few moments to gather her thoughts. Paul waited patiently until she was ready. Her voice was heavy with grief.

  ‘Mr Bowerman and I had become close friends,’ she said, measuring her words. ‘I’m sure that he has told you what aroused his interest in me. It’s only fair that you should look at the attachment from my side as well. Beauty is both a blessing and a curse, Mr Skillen. It is pleasing to look at in a mirror but it can excite the wrong feelings altogether in others. Suffice it to say that I have had far too many self-proclaimed admirers nursing improper thoughts about me. Such treatment makes one wary and not a little cynical.’