Murder in Belgravia

by Lynn Brittney

  “I liked it here,” she said simply to the woman, who looked sympathetic.

  “You’re a good worker, Polly. Look.” She pointed to the blackboard. “Matron gave you two ticks.”

  Polly smiled and turned to Victoria. “Can I see Lady Harriet now?”

  Victoria took her hand and held it firmly. “Very soon, Polly. I promise.”

  When they reached the porter’s lodge, Victoria and Polly stood apart, while Tollman went into the lodge to have a quiet word about transport. As luck would have it, there was a freshly scrubbed ambulance about to travel all the way to the centre of London to pick up two children with tuberculosis. Tollman, Polly, and Victoria clambered in the back and the ambulance set off. Soon, the rhythm of the ambulance movement made Polly’s eyes close and Victoria gently suggested that the girl lay down on the trolley and get some sleep.

  “She looks exhausted,” Victoria whispered to Tollman as the girl soon succumbed to a deep sleep.

  “Well, she’s been on the run for six days,” he whispered back, “not knowing what had happened to Lady Harriet and all. Her nerves must be worn to shreds. The sooner we can get this case wrapped up, the sooner that girl can sleep soundly without worrying what’s going to happen when she wakes up.”

  * * *

  Beech had dealt with a mountain of paperwork by the time he was summoned to the Chief Commissioner’s room. Sir Edward looked up as he entered and smiled briefly.

  “How is the Murcheson case going, Beech? Any developments yet?”

  “Rather a lot, sir. We’re hoping to wrap it up very soon.”

  “Are you, by God!” Sir Edward motioned Beech to take a seat. “Fill me in.”

  Beech went through the detail of their investigations so far, and Sir Edward made various noises of astonishment along the way.

  “So this seemingly cut-and-dried case of a titled lady stabbing her husband in self-defense has now developed into two murder hunts, gangland involvement, two brothels, and a distasteful prostitution ring! Does that about sum it up?”

  Beech gave a wry smile. “Pretty much, sir.”

  “So, how is your team shaping up?”

  “Pretty damn good, sir, if I might say so. Better than I’d ever hoped. Tollman and Rigsby are first-class policemen and the ladies … well, I have to say I’ve been astonished at how much they have contributed to our work so far.”

  “Mm. Sounds like it. Just thought I’d let you know that the word is that a regional police force have been given permission to sign up their first woman police officer this summer. She’s to be given full powers of arrest too.”

  “Well, that’s good news, isn’t it? What police force?”

  “Lincolnshire. However, please don’t mention this to your ladies and get their hopes up. The Home Secretary refuses to countenance women police officers in the Metropolitan area—says the work is too dangerous in London—and, besides, even if he changed his mind, it will be a very long time indeed before a woman would be allowed to be a detective.”

  “Pity,” Beech felt deflated.

  “But,” Sir Edward added, with a suspicion of a twinkle in his eye, “if your team were to produce solid evidence of a body of work, say, over a two-year period, that might be enough to convince senior members of the police force and the Home Secretary to change their minds—don’t you think?”

  Beech realized that he had just been given the go-ahead to carry on with his team for a considerable length of time and he beamed. “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “Good man. As long as you keep your head down and no one gets wind of our arrangement, you should be able to produce some good ammunition in the future to argue the case for women in the force.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good luck with your arrests tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  As Beech got up to leave, Sir Edward added, “By the way, Beech, don’t be surprised if a D-notice gets slapped on the Murcheson affair, once it’s cleared up. The Government takes a dim view of news that may affect the nation’s morale during wartime and the stabbing of a drug-addled Lord of the Realm, crazed with pain because of his war wounds, would probably fall into that category. It will most definitely be D-listed if the Lord is connected to brothels—male or female, London gangsters and a quack doctor who has the Attorney General’s wife as a patient! I’m sorry but it all sounds like very sensitive material to me.”

  “I understand, sir. So what shall I do with my final report?”

  Sir Edward looked at him steadily before answering. “You will give it to me. I shall lock it away to be resurrected at a suitable time.”

  “What about any arrests we may make, sir? How will they be treated?”

  “Closed court, probably. Did you know that Lord Murcheson was in Military Intelligence?”

  Beech was surprised. “No, sir, I didn’t.”

  “Bloody useless at it, apparently. Do you know how he received his ‘war wounds,’ for want of a better term?”

  “No, sir, I do not.”

  “He was shot in the back by a Frenchman while escaping from a farmhouse where he had been caught in flagrante with the man’s wife.”

  “Good God!”

  “Mm. Quite. Hardly the stuff that VCs are made of. Nevertheless, however terrible he was as a soldier, he was a Lord and he was in Military Intelligence. That is enough to warrant a closed court in the Government’s eyes. So, I’m afraid there will be no public glory for you in any arrests, Beech.”

  Beech felt stung that Sir Edward would think that public approbation was his desired goal. “That is fine and dandy, sir, since I have no desire for publicity whatsoever.” He spoke as calmly as he could, given that he felt annoyed.

  Sir Edward smiled. “I believe you, Beech. Don’t take it to heart, man. I wouldn’t have agreed to go along with this scheme of yours if I didn’t believe that you would be happy working constantly in the shadows. The policemen who look for personal glory are always the ones who make mistakes or become corrupted by their ambition. Good luck tomorrow.”

  * * *

  All had gone well for Elsie and Sissy when they visited their friend Tolly in Lambeth. Being such a kind man, he had wept when they told him of George’s ordeal, smiled at the fact that the lad liked to work with wood, and wept again—this time for joy—at the thought of having a companion in his last years.

  He ate his teacakes with pleasure and fretted about the state of his little house and workshop.

  “I’ve lived alone for too long! Everywhere is a mess.”

  Elsie reassured him that before they brought George round, she and Sissy would clean his whole house from top to bottom.

  “I’m a demon with a bucket and mop, Tolly!” Sissy said, laughing.

  “Why are you doing this for me?” Tolly asked in wonderment.

  “We’re doing it for the two of you … and our Billy … he’s been worrying about this lad ever since he took him to hospital. He won’t stop fretting until this George has a decent place to stay.”

  Elsie felt she had to insert a note of warning. “Now, don’t get your hopes up too much, Tolly. We still have to talk to George. He may not agree. But if he’s as gentle and nice as Billy says, then I’m sure he will.”

  “He’s not a bad young man, Tolly, despite his past. Billy says he’s been very badly treated by his father and this … this animal …”

  “I don’t care about his past,” whispered Tolly. “We’ve all done things we’re ashamed of. Perhaps I can teach him to have hope for his future.”

  “That’s what we thought,” answered Sissy, brushing away an annoying tear that had suddenly and willfully threatened to roll down her cheek.

  “Now,” said Elsie briskly, as if to ward off this sudden affliction of crying that was affecting everyone. “We’re going to see George today and have a chat with him. Then we’ll come round tomorrow and start cleaning. Mind you, we’ll have to bring Timmy. We can’t leave him alone all day.”

  “Ah, Timm
y! How is the little rascal?” Tolly asked.

  “More of a little rascal!” announced Sissy and they all laughed.

  Elsie gave Tolly a kiss on the cheek and started packing up her bag. “Now don’t you fret overnight. Even if the young man is reluctant, we’ll win him round. You know how persuasive me and Sissy can be!”

  Tolly nodded happily and shuffled slowly to the door to wave them off.

  Sissy looked at her sister and wiped her eyes again. “Elsie,” she said, “You and I are going to have to be put through the wringer tonight, we’re going to be that wet from crying!”

  “I didn’t cry!” protested Elsie.

  “You ain’t seen George yet,” was Sissy’s grim rejoinder.

  * * *

  Polly and Esme clung to each other, silently, on the steps of Lady Maud’s house. Esme had been hovering on the basement steps all morning, waiting for Victoria and Tollman’s return and, as soon as she saw them step out of the ambulance with Polly, she flung herself at the girl with gibbering apologies for having “let her down” and “not helped her look after Lady Harriet.”

  Polly said nothing; she just enveloped Esme in her arms and put her head on her shoulder. It seemed to Victoria that the two girls clung to each other for ages. Two young friends reunited. Finally they separated and Polly said, “What is this place?”

  “It’s where I live,” said Victoria. “There is no one at Lady Harriet’s house now. So you are going to stay here for a little while. Shall we go in?”

  Polly nodded and immediately went to follow Esme down the basement stairs but Victoria stopped her.

  “No, Polly. The front door. Esme, you can come too.”

  The two girls held hands as they walked up the stairs into the house. Tollman thanked the ambulance driver and gave him some money. “For a drink when you’re off-duty,” he said and then he followed everyone up the stairs.

  Victoria took Polly into the study and sat her down.

  “Now, Polly, Esme is going to go downstairs and get you something to eat and drink.” She turned to the maid. “Esme, could you please get Polly some sandwiches and some tea, and some of those little cakes Mrs Beddowes makes for me?” Esme nodded and disappeared.

  “Once you have eaten, Polly,” Victoria continued gently, “Mr Tollman here, and, perhaps, another very nice man called Mr Beech, are going to ask you some questions about the night of Lord Murcheson’s murder.” A look of fear came into Polly’s eyes and Victoria took her hand. “It’s alright, my dear. I shall be here all the time. No one will hurt you. Everyone here just wants to understand what happened.”

  Polly looked straight at Victoria and said, “I killed him, you know. It was nothing to do with Lady Harriet. He was trying to kill her and I had to stop him …” then she started crying.

  “Calm down, Polly. Wait until you have eaten and Mr Beech gets here. No more confessions now.”

  Polly nodded and once Esme appeared with a tray of food and drink, the girl realized how hungry she was and began to take tentative bites of a sandwich. Victoria allowed Esme to stay, under her supervision but she made it very clear that they were not to discuss anything to do with the murder or that night or subsequent events. She didn’t want Esme to frighten Polly any more than necessary.

  Fortunately, Beech arrived within five minutes and Billy, a few minutes after that. When Polly saw Billy’s uniform she began to cry, and poor Billy was sent out of the room, Esme too, and they both went down to the kitchen to have a chat to Mrs Beddowes.

  “Now,” said Beech gently. “I’m Mr Beech, this is Mr Tollman and this is Mrs Ellingham. We’re very pleased to meet you.”

  “Pleased to meet you, sir,” Polly mumbled.

  “Polly, I need to ask you questions, Mr Tollman is going to write some notes and Mrs Ellingham … well … she’s just here to look after you. Alright?”

  Polly nodded.

  “Good.” Beech sat down opposite the girl and tried to look relaxed. “So what can you tell me about the terrible night when Lord Murcheson got stabbed?”

  Polly’s face suddenly became stubborn. “I did it, sir. I killed His Lordship because he was trying to kill Her Ladyship. It wasn’t anything to do with Lady Harriet!”

  Beech, Tollman, and Victoria all exchanged looks.

  “Well, now. We’re not sure about that, Polly. You see it takes an awful lot of strength to plunge a pair of scissors into a man—especially one as deranged as Lord Murcheson must have been—and you are such a small girl.”

  “I’m strong!” Polly objected. “You ask the Matron at the Grove Hospital! I can scrub floors all day long! I’m good and strong!”

  “There is also the problem that Lady Harriet has signed a sworn statement confessing to the murder herself …”

  “No!” Polly almost screamed in distress. “She didn’t do it! She couldn’t have done it! She was in a dead faint when I ran out to get Mr Dodds …” She suddenly realized that she was deviating from her story and stopped. “I did it. I told you. Lady Harriet is—” she couldn’t bring herself to say that her beloved employer was lying “—confused. She fainted. Maybe she thought she’d done it. But she didn’t. I did.”

  Beech leant forward. “We know that Lady Harriet didn’t kill her husband. We have a doctor who will swear that Lady Harriet’s injuries were so severe that she could not have raised herself from the floor to stab her husband.”

  “She couldn’t?” Polly was confused. “Then why did she sign a confession?”

  “We think she did so to protect you.” Victoria said, “because she thought that you had killed her husband.”

  “I … I don’t know what to say.” Polly looked distraught. “I thought she had done it, while I was downstairs. And she …”

  “… thought you had done it while she was unconscious. You have both been trying to protect each other.” Beech was satisfied that they had made a breakthrough with the girl and would now learn the truth. “Alright, Polly. No more of this nonsense now. Tell us everything that happened that night and you will be helping us and Lady Harriet find out who the real killer was.”

  Polly looked helplessly at Beech and then she nodded and began.

  “I was sitting on a chair outside Lady Harriet’s room, as usual. I usually went up there about nine o’clock when everyone else went to bed. Everything was fine but then I must have fallen asleep … I was that tired, I couldn’t help myself. Next thing I know, I woke up with a start, ’cos His Lordship had come roaring up the stairs, like a madman he was, shouting, ‘It’s not mine! I know it’s not mine!’ I stood up to bar his way but he just knocked me over and went straight into Lady Harriet’s room. She was asleep in bed and he … he just dragged her out of the bed … like she was a rag doll.” Polly paused, obviously distressed.

  “Have a sip of tea, Polly,” Victoria helpfully suggested.

  “I’m OK, thank you, Ma’am. It’s just horrible remembering it all. I’ll be alright.” She resumed her narrative. “Lady Harriet was screaming and I couldn’t understand why no one was coming to help her … I mean he was yelling, and she was screaming and I was yelling at him to stop. I grabbed hold of him but he just threw me to one side again. Lady Harriet was on the floor and he kicked her, she fell backward and he … he … just stamped on her, really hard. She gave a terrible scream and then fainted. I ran, ran as hard as I could downstairs to the kitchen to get help. I banged on Mr Dodds’ door for ages, screaming for him to come and help and then he appeared behind me. He must have been on the ground floor all the time and I couldn’t understand why he hadn’t come up after His Lordship when it all started. I couldn’t understand that,” she repeated.

  Beech sensed the girl had temporarily become distracted, so he urged her on. “What happened then? Once Mr Dodds had appeared?

  “He told me to calm down and I got frantic. I screamed at him that Lord Murcheson had killed Lady Harriet. Hadn’t he heard the screams? I asked. He told me to stay there and he would go upstairs and sort it ou
t. He said on no account was I to leave the basement until he said so. I said yes and started crying and he left. Then he came back, about five or so minutes later, looking really shaken, and he said that Lady Harriet had stabbed His Lordship. Then he took me upstairs to help Lady Harriet. I couldn’t understand why no one else in the house had come to help us. There had been such a racket …”

  “Polly,” Beech explained, “no one else came to your aid because Dodds had drugged them. They didn’t know they were being drugged. One of our constables found out, to his cost.”

  Polly looked shocked and then angry. “How could anyone be so evil? Why did he do it?”

  “We don’t know that, as yet. Possibly so that no one would notice him coming and going. It appears he had other … business interests to deal with. Now, Polly, when you were downstairs … when Dodds asked you to stay there … did you hear anything?”

  Polly thought hard for a moment. “I was crying quite hard and, in any case, you don’t hear anything in the basement. The door is padded and when it’s shut, you can’t hear anything. But you can hear people walking about above you and you know when the front door is closed. I did hear someone running from the stairs to the door and I heard the door close. I thought it was Mr Dodds. I dunno. I don’t know what I thought, I was so scared.”

  “Polly, what happened … what did you see when Mr Dodds took you back upstairs?”

  “Well, when he came and got me, he said, ‘you and me are going to be in trouble now,’ and he dragged me upstairs. When I saw His Lordship with the scissors in his chest, I thought Lady Harriet had done it. She was moaning a bit and not quite awake but I thought perhaps she’d done it and then fainted again. Dodds told me we should get Lady Harriet dressed and downstairs before the police came. So we did. It took us a while, because she was a dead weight … although there was nothing of her, really. I could see that she was beginning to bleed … down there …” Polly looked embarrassed “… and I said to Mr Dodds that we should call a doctor. He said he would, as soon as we got her downstairs. We managed to lift her up and she sort of came round a bit but I could see she was in pain and we struggled down the stairs with her …”