Victoria finished writing and said, “Is that all you wish to say, Lady Harriet?”
“Yes.”
Victoria placed the fountain pen in Lady Harriet’s right hand and held the pad up, so that she could sign her name without raising her body in any way.
That done, Victoria signed her own name below, as a witness, and dated the document.
“You will make sure that Chief Inspector Beech receives it?”
“Yes, Lady Harriet.” Victoria took the fountain pen out of her hand and sat down again. “Is there anything further that I can do for you?”
“Could you possibly contact my solicitor and ask him to come and see me, with the utmost urgency? I wish to amend my will. His name is Sir Arnold Chester and his practice is at twenty-seven Lincoln’s Inn Fields. I’m afraid I don’t know the telephone number.”
“I shall go and see him right away, Lady Harriet.”
“You have been most kind, Mrs Ellingham. I wonder, could I ask one more thing of you?”
“Of course.”
“Could you ask my maid, Esme, to fetch the Reverend Mitchell? I should like some spiritual comfort before I die.”
Victoria took her hand again. “Lady Harriet, it is to be hoped that you will not die. The staff here is doing everything possible to help you recover. You must summon your will. Often it is the power of the mind that determines whether illness conquers us or not. Believe me, I know.”
Lady Harriet smiled and she squeezed Victoria’s hand. “I do believe you. But I have reconciled myself to dying—and perhaps it is for the best. I can only hope that God will forgive me my sins and receive me into Heaven.”
Victoria felt like weeping. She is nothing more than a child! And has had such a miserable existence. “Lady Harriet, I do believe that you, of all people, will be received into Heaven with great blessings.” She gently kissed her on her forehead and watched her as she lapsed into a quiet slumber.
On her way out, Victoria sought out Caroline and showed her the signed confession. Caroline shook her head in dismay.
“I don’t believe she did it, you know. I don’t believe she would have been capable.”
Victoria agreed. “But this confession proves that she is protecting someone that she really cares about—and I believe it is another woman. Anyway, I must go—I have several errands to run. I shall see you at our house later?”
Caroline nodded. “My shift finishes in two hours. I’ll see you then. I’ll instruct Matron to telephone me if Lady Harriet … takes a turn for the worse. What’s your number again?”
“Mayfair one hundred,” called Victoria over her shoulder, as she left in a hurry.
It took Victoria the best part of an hour to find Sir Arnold Chester, as he was not in his chambers, nor was he in the Law Courts in the Strand, as she had been told, but an usher at the Courts took her across to a public house opposite the Law Courts, and pointed Sir Arnold out. He appeared to be celebrating with several barristers. He sounded annoyed when she interrupted his conversation but when she explained that Lady Harriet Murcheson was at death’s door, he was immediately apologetic and assured her that he would collect Lady Harriet’s papers and go immediately to the Women’s Hospital.
Victoria then hailed a taxi cab and made her way to the Murcheson house. Beech and Billy were just leaving as she arrived.
“Peter! Thank goodness I’ve caught you. I can kill two birds with one stone.” She produced her notepad with Lady Harriet’s signed confession.
Beech looked grave. “Is there any chance she will recover?” he asked.
Victoria shook her head. “The poor thing is in the grip of a bad infection and I doubt she will last until tonight. And she will say nothing more. That confession is her final word.”
Billy kicked a stone across the pavement in frustration. “She didn’t do it, ma’am,” he said vehemently. “I’m pretty sure I know who did.”
“P.C Rigsby has uncovered some pretty interesting information,” added Beech, “and—” he raised a gentlemen’s hatbox in his right hand “—I have a collection of the husband’s medications here that may shed some light on the proceedings. Rigsby and I are going to the mortuary now to see if the pathologist has finished the forensic examination of the body.”
“Right, well, I have to instruct Lady Harriet’s maid to fetch a vicar and then I think I’ll go home.”
“Good.” It was obvious that Beech wanted to press on. “We’ll all meet at your house and compare notes. Oh, by the way, Victoria,” Beech added, “Arthur Tollman, the last member of the team, may arrive before I get there. Would you mind awfully telling him what’s going on? Tell him I’ll fill him in on his exact job description when I get there.”
“Will do.”
Beech and Billy hurried off and Victoria rang the bell of the Murcheson house. The butler answered and Victoria told him that she had a message for Esme, from Lady Harriet.
“How is my lady?” the butler enquired gravely.
“Very, very ill, I’m afraid. It’s unlikely she will live much longer.”
The butler seemed genuinely distressed. “I am sorry to hear that. The staff will find her loss hard to bear.” Then he became businesslike. “I will fetch Esme, madam, if you would kindly wait in the drawing room,” and he ushered her into the first room off the hallway.
Esme swiftly appeared, curtsied and stood, trembling in front of Victoria.
“I am Mrs Ellingham, Esme,” Victoria to the girl, kindly. “Try not to be distressed, but Her Ladyship is gravely ill in hospital and has asked if you would take Reverend Mitchell to the Women’s Hospital. She needs spiritual comfort.”
Esme at once burst into tears and began wailing. “It’s all my fault, madam! It’s all my fault!”
Victoria sat the girl down beside her on the sofa and tried to calm her. “What is your fault, Esme? Can you tell me?”
Eventually, through her tears, Esme told Victoria about refusing to take turns with Polly, the scullery maid, outside Lady Harriet’s door at night.
“She asked me … Polly did … if I would take turns with her, at night … to sit in a chair outside my lady’s room … and I said no, I was too tired …” There was a fresh burst of weeping from Esme, where she could hardly get the words out and Victoria tried to be patient. Esme’s sobs subsided once again and she resumed, “Polly used to sit in a chair outside Lady Harriet’s room and if His Lordship started prowling, she would say that the mistress was ill and couldn’t be disturbed. I don’t know how she did it. She must have been so tired and he … he was so frightening. I was so scared of him. That was why I wouldn’t take turns with her. But I tried to make up for it by covering for her in the day so she could go and have a nap.” She looked at Victoria with misery on her face. “I was a coward, Madam, and I’m so, so sorry.”
“Where is this Polly?”
Esme shrugged. “Dunno, madam. She was nowhere to be seen yesterday morning, after … it happened. I think she ran away. She probably saw it all and ran off frightened. I dunno.”
Just then Victoria heard the front door open and close. She went to the window and caught a glimpse of the butler hurrying down the street in a heavy overcoat. She returned to Esme.
“Esme, I perfectly understand that you were frightened by Lord Murcheson. From the sound of it, anyone would. It’s all been a horrid business. Have you told anyone else about what Polly was doing?”
Esme shook her head. “No, madam, but I think Mr Dodds knew.”
“Mr Dodds?”
“The butler, madam.” Esme looked at the door and lowered her voice. “I never understood, madam, why Mr Dodds didn’t protect Lady Harriet properly. I mean he was the only man in the house. It shouldn’t have fallen to a young scullery maid to look after my lady.”
“No indeed.” Victoria was still thinking about the butler leaving so suddenly, and she wondered if he had heard some of Esme’s confession through the door.
“Now,” she said briskly, “you must
dry your eyes, and go and fetch the Reverend Mitchell. Your poor mistress may not survive the night and she urgently wants to speak to her parish priest.”
The girl looked in danger of crying again and Victoria became stern. “Esme! If you are truly sorry for not helping your mistress before this tragedy, then you must make every effort to help her now!”
“Yes, madam. I shall.” Esme leapt to her feet, produced a handkerchief, and blew her nose. “I’ll see you out, madam, and then I’ll get my coat and hat and go and get the Reverend.”
“Good girl.” Victoria paused as they made their way to the drawing room door. “Oh, and Esme,” she counseled, “please keep our little conversation to yourself. Please don’t discuss the matter with any of the other staff.”
“No madam. I promise.”
Once out in the street, Victoria realized that it was long past lunchtime; her feet were aching and she desperately needed a cup of tea.
I shall find a café and gather my thoughts before I go home, she thought, as she walked toward Hyde Park Corner, and I know just the place.
Her pace quickened at the thought of tea and pastries at Fortnum and Mason.
I shall show Ma the receipt, she thought, smiling to herself. She’ll be so pleased that I’m eating fattening pastries again!
For a moment her spirits sank, as memories of the past flashed in her mind, but then she shook herself, lifted her head high, and strode on determinedly.
CHAPTER 6
“You must be Mr Tollman!” said Victoria brightly, as she opened the door. “I’m afraid I’m the only one here, at the moment, but Peter told me to fill you in on what’s happening.”
“Peter?” enquired Arthur, as he stepped into the house.
“Oh sorry!” Victoria smiled. “I mean Chief Inspector Beech, of course.”
“Ah,” replied Arthur, “And you are, Miss?”
“Oh, sorry again!” Victoria extended her hand. “Victoria Ellingham, part of your new team. Would you like a cup of tea, Mr Tollman?”
“That would be most welcome, Miss Ellingham,” replied Arthur affably, “then perhaps you would tell me a little bit more about this ‘team’ I’m supposed to be part of ?”
“Yes, of course.” Victoria led the way down to the kitchen. “I’m afraid we don’t have any staff at the moment—not until my mother arrives. She’s due this evening sometime and she’s bringing Cook and Mary with her.”
Arthur looked bemused. “Would you like me to make the tea, Miss?”
“Good Lord, no! I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of tea, Mr Tollman and, by the way, it’s Mrs. I’m Mrs Ellingham. But, in fact, I’d much rather you called me Victoria.”
Arthur sucked air through his teeth. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Mrs Ellingham. I’d prefer to keep it professional.”
Victoria smiled at such old-fashioned propriety, while she lit the stove and filled the kettle.
“So … about the team …”
Arthur Tollman sat patiently, occasionally raising an eyebrow, as Victoria explained Beech’s vision for the dealing of crime cases in the female population. When she had finished, he smiled and shook his head in disbelief.
“Well, Mrs Ellingham, I think I’ve heard it all now. In my whole, very long career as a policeman, I don’t believe I have heard anything like it—and that includes a spell in Special Branch, where all kinds of strange things happen!” He seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
“You don’t dislike the idea, Mr Tollman?” Victoria felt a little anxious.
“No, no, madam. Far from it. As the father of three grown-up unmarried daughters, I know only too well how the fairer sex can run rings around the menfolk! And a policeman is not immune from female trickery, I can assure you. Dear me. So, this team is to be the Chief Inspector, yourself, a lady doctor, me, and The Greek?”
“The Greek?” Victoria was confused.
“Yes, Billy Rigsby—aka The Greek,” and he explained to her about Billy’s past life as a young boxing champion.
“Good Lord! Well, that explains the physique then!” Victoria was greatly amused. “Caroline will love to hear all about Billy the Greek’s boxing prowess!”
“So, I understand that the lady doctor will have her uses but may I ask, without wishing to cause offence, Mrs Ellingham, what equips you for this job?”
“No offence taken, Mr Tollman. My specialty is the law—I studied it for three years at London University—and your Chief Inspector is fond of saying that I have a deductive brain. Tit for tat now, Mr Tollman, tell me why Mr Beech chose you.”
“Well, Mrs Ellingham, I suppose you might say that I have an unusual brain, a bit like yours, except that my specialty is that I never forget anything. I store it up here—” he tapped his temple with his fingers “—like a squirrel storing away nuts and, in almost forty years of policing, that represents a lot of nuts! Also, I’m a bit of a ferret too. I like delving into records and the like, doing research.”
“A squirrel and a ferret! Goodness! You are going to be useful! I don’t suppose you play cribbage as well?”
“As a matter of fact I play exceedingly well. Why do you ask?”
Victoria laughed as she poured the boiling water into the teapot. “My mother is going to find you a delightful companion! Just don’t ever play her for money. She’s a fiend!”
“I shall store that piece of information away for future use, Mrs Ellingham,” Arthur replied with pleasure.
“I have some biscuits too. Would you care for one, Mr Tollman?”
“I never say no to a biscuit with a cup of tea, Mrs Ellingham.”
So they sat on either side of the kitchen table, with their tea and biscuits, while Victoria explained the details, so far, of the Murcheson case.
* * *
Beech and Billy stood silently over the eviscerated body of Lord Murcheson while the pathologist, Bernard Spilsbury, explained his findings.
“The murder victim died after being pierced through the heart with a pair of scissors, obviously, but I doubt he would have been long for this world anyway. His liver and kidneys were shot to pieces by whatever drugs he was taking. His brain had started to deteriorate. The white matter of the brain was degraded and there were other signs of damage—the sort I would expect in the brain of an eighty-year old man who had had several small strokes. There are various lacerations on the body consistent with someone constantly scratching at severe skin irritation and yet there is no sign of any dermatological reason for the itching which obviously plagued him. The lungs showed signs of early pneumonia, which I have seen before in opiate addicts because the drug persistently makes the breathing shallow and therefore allows bacteria to sit in the lungs. The septum of his nose is beginning to decay, which leads me to believe that he was sniffing some drug. Oh, and he also had syphilis.”
“Good God!” Beech was appalled. “He was only twenty-five years old!”
“Yes,” Spilsbury continued, “like most of the other young men fighting in the war. Here,” he said, unceremoniously turning the body on to its side, displaying a puckered scar of about eight inches, running alongside the spine, “is the reason for this young man’s deterioration. There are pieces of metal in there—I cannot tell whether they are bullets or shrapnel—that are dangerously close to the spine. I assume that the field surgeons decided it was too risky to remove them and no one in London had the courage to do so either. He must have been in tremendous pain—hence the drug regime. The presence of a canker on his male member, a sore near his mouth and swollen lymph glands, is what makes me assume that he was in the primary stage of syphilis. Probably contracted it sometime within the last three months.”
“Poor bugger,” said Billy with feeling.
Spilsbury gave a wry smile. “Yes. Well, it’s possible, though I have not found any physical evidence of sodomy. He was a maimed and dying, syphilitic drug addict—that I know for sure.”
“Thank you, Mr Spilsbury,” said Beech, staring at the terrible body
on the slab and feeling the dull ache in his leg start up again.
“I’ll send you my written report during the week, but now, if you’ll excuse me, I must wash up and go home for dinner. I won’t shake your hands—for your sake.”
Beech smiled briefly and nodded. When they got outside, he stood for a moment and took several deep breaths of air.
“How does that bloke go home and eat dinner every night?” wondered Billy, still in a state of shock. “I mean I’ve seen my share of shattered bodies on the battlefield but to look at a body laid out like that and tell us what a pitiful and awful existence he had—well, it beggars belief!”
“It does indeed, Rigsby,” agreed Beech, “it does indeed. Just goes to show that being a member of the British aristocracy means nothing when you come back from France in an ambulance train.”
“So who gave him all the drugs, sir?” Billy sounded angry. “Was it his doctor?”
“I don’t know,” said Beech, looking at the leather hatbox in his hand. “Some of the bottles I’ve got in here appear to be patent medicines one would buy at any chemist shop. We need to go to the house and show the contents of this bag to Doctor Allardyce. She may be able to give us an opinion.”
* * *
Lady Maud had arrived, with so many suitcases, wicker baskets, and boxes that it took two taxi cabs to ferry her and her servants from the station. Arthur Tollman and the two cab drivers unloaded everything into the hallway, and the drivers were paid handsomely.
“What a journey!” Maud announced. “We all need a stiff brandy! Victoria, find the decanter and give Cook and Mary a good glassful!”
“Mother,” Victoria said, shaking her head in disbelief, “why on earth did you bring all this stuff ?”
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