Murder at the British Museum

by Jim Eldridge

  ‘After we’ve got the information about possible disgruntled former employees. I’m thinking he’ll be more relaxed then.’

  ‘What did you think of the superintendent’s reaction to last night? The failure to collect the money? Do you think it was a hoax?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Daniel. ‘It’s possible, but then we see what happened during the night here, the attack with the red paint. Could that be connected? Making sure we were busy occupied watching a bench at Regent’s Park while they carried out this attack?’

  Once Daniel had explained what they were looking for, Ashford left his office and returned a few moments later bearing a large ledger.

  ‘This is the payments record for the current year,’ he said. ‘It shows the employment record of everyone at the museum on a weekly basis: the hours they worked that week, rate of pay, and if they left for any reason.’ He placed the ledger down on his desk. ‘How far do you want to go back?’ asked Ashford.

  ‘We’ll start from now and work back over the last three months,’ said Daniel. ‘We know that some people can harbour resentment for many years before it erupts into action, but for the moment I suggest we limit ourselves to a number of names that can be handled relatively easily.’

  ‘Fortunately, staff turnover at the British Museum is mainly through people retiring. People tend to stay. It’s actually rare that anyone is dismissed, mainly because we’re quite careful about the type of person we take on.’ He turned over the pages, leafing backwards, and said, ‘In fact, within the last three months we’ve had to dismiss just two people. And in the two months before that, there were no dismissals, although some older staff retired.’

  Daniel followed his finger down to the name Horace Bell, which had ‘D’ against it dated the month before, and thereafter no record of his being at work.

  ‘I assume “D” stands for dismissed?’ asked Daniel.

  Ashford nodded.

  ‘The reason?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘Sadly, it was drink,’ said Ashford. ‘Horace gave no indication of being a heavy drinker when we first engaged him, but shortly after that his problem became apparent.’

  ‘Turning up late for work smelling of drink?’ suggested Daniel.

  ‘And sometimes not turning up at all. Or, even worse for us, turning up drunk, which meant we had to send him home rather than have him breathing fumes over the visitors and falling over.’

  ‘How did he take his dismissal?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘He cried,’ said Ashford. ‘It was very unpleasant, for him and for me. I could tell that he was deeply remorseful. He begged to be given a second chance, but I had to tell him that we’d already given him many second chances, and third ones.’

  ‘He was drunk on his last day, I assume?’ said Daniel.

  ‘Sadly, yes. Which was what prompted his dismissal. It was not an action I wanted to take, but the secure and efficient running of the museum has priority over everything else.’

  Daniel wrote down Horace Bell’s address, then asked, ‘The other person dismissed?’

  Ashford scowled and leafed further back. ‘Exactly two months ago,’ he said. ‘For once, my judgement of character eluded me. Or, perhaps, I was preoccupied with other matters. This was a young man called Algernon Pope. He was very personable, charming, and he had impeccable references. As I discovered when I checked on them, there was a good reason his references were so good: they were false. He had conjured them up himself. Unfortunately, it took some time for the answers to my letters checking his references to be answered, and by that time Mr Pope had been with us for almost three weeks.’

  ‘So, you dismissed him because of the forged references?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘No, because we discovered that he was stealing items from the museum. Just small items, and most of them from the storerooms rather than the displays, otherwise we’d have picked up the situation sooner.’

  ‘You challenged him about the stolen articles?’

  ‘Of course, and he denied it flatly. He also denied forging the references, insisting it must have been a mistake by the people who’d checked the references. In fact, when I – along with another steward as witness – searched his bag in his presence and found small items taken from the storeroom, he denied initially it was his bag. Then, when it was pointed out that his name was inside it, he insisted that someone else must have put the items in his bag to “frame him”, as he said.’

  ‘Caught red-handed. Did you inform the police and have him charged?’

  ‘No,’ said Ashford. ‘I discussed the matter with Sir Jasper, and we both felt that a trial would not reflect well on the museum’s public image. People would feel uneasy if it got out that one of the stewards was a thief.’

  ‘Understandably.’ Daniel nodded. ‘What about this one? John Kelly. His wages seem to have stopped for a couple of weeks, and then there are no entries to show he’s been at work since, but he’s being paid, although not as much as before.’

  He pointed to the entry in the register for Abigail to see. Beside Kelly’s name some of the regular entries were just blanks, then the initials SB appeared; and after a few days money appeared in the wages paid column, but smaller sums than had been entered before.

  ‘Ah,’ said Ashford awkwardly. ‘Yes. That’s an unfortunate situation.’

  ‘Unfortunate?’

  ‘Mr Kelly has been at the museum for some years, a very reliable person. But about a month ago he didn’t turn up for work, and there was no word from him, which was unusual. In the past, if he’d had a problem, he always sent a message explaining. So, after two days, I sent a messenger to his home to see if everything was alright with him. The messenger found his wife very distressed. It seems that he’d been arrested by Special Branch.’

  ‘Special Branch?’ queried Abigail, puzzled.

  ‘I’ll explain about them later,’ Daniel told her.

  ‘You are familiar with them, Mr Wilson?’ asked Ashford.

  ‘As a former detective at Scotland Yard, yes.’ Daniel nodded. ‘I assume they hadn’t said why they’d arrested him. In my experience, Special Branch don’t give out information.’

  ‘No, you’re right,’ said Ashford. ‘I passed this on to Sir Jasper, and it was he who took the matter up. At first, he got nowhere, Special Branch initially refusing to even admit their actual existence. So Sir Jasper got in touch with the Home Secretary. They are old friends. They were at school together.’

  ‘That was very fortunate for Mr Kelly,’ said Daniel.

  ‘Yes, it was. They still refused to divulge what was going on, but Mr Kelly was released. Unfortunately, he was in need of hospital care, which Sir Jasper arranged.’

  Abigail shot a look at Daniel, and saw the angry expression which darkened his face, but he said nothing.

  ‘It turns out his arrest was a case of mistaken identity,’ said Ashford. ‘Because Mr Kelly has been a faithful servant of the museum for many years, Sir Jasper said that we could keep his job open for him until he was fit enough to return, and in the meantime, we would pay him a token wage. ‘

  ‘That’s very generous,’ said Daniel. ‘I can’t think of many organisations that would do that.’

  ‘The museum cares for everyone who works here. Sir Jasper sees it as one large family.’

  ‘Yes, although we believe that Professor Pickering rather betrayed that idea,’ said Daniel.

  Ashford shot him a sharp, wary look.

  ‘We heard about the row between you and the professor on Saturday. We applaud you for standing up for your staff the way you did. From other accounts we’ve heard, he was an objectionable man.’

  ‘Yes, he was,’ said Ashford quietly. He looked at them, his expression grim. ‘But I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘We never suggested you did,’ said Daniel.

  Ashford’s mouth tightened and he looked annoyed. ‘Yes, you did, in an oblique way. And I understand why you should think it. But I’d already decided to challenge his threat to
have me dismissed. If it was even a real threat, that is. Part of me felt it was just bluster, a braggart and bully feeling the need to try and reassert his authority.’

  ‘Did you mention the incident to Sir Jasper?’

  Ashford shook his head. ‘No. I had intended to when we returned to work on Monday. Neither Sir Jasper nor I were at the museum on the Sunday. But then, the killing made it irrelevant.’ He looked firmly and directly at Daniel and Abigail. ‘I suppose you want to know where I was when Professor Pickering was stabbed.’

  ‘It would help to eliminate you from the enquiries,’ said Daniel.

  Ashford gave a rueful chuckle. ‘Such a bland phrase, don’t you think. I was in my office. I went straight there when I arrived on the Monday morning. Unfortunately, no one came in, except one of the ushers to report that Professor Pickering had arrived. I told him to take charge of the professor and that I would be down to join them in due course.’

  ‘You chose to avoid seeing the professor face-to-face after what had happened?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘Possibly,’ admitted Ashford. ‘In fact, I was busy compiling a report on the incident which I intended to give to Sir Jasper. It was my defence should Pickering decide to lodge a complaint against me with the board of trustees.’

  ‘Do you have that document?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘No,’ said Ashford. ‘I destroyed it. After Pickering was killed it no longer seemed of any value.’

  ‘And when did you leave your office?’ asked Daniel.

  ‘When one of the stewards came to me and told me of what had happened. I went with him to the gentlemen’s convenience and saw Pickering dead.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Ashford,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m sorry to put you through this, but you understand, we had to ask.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ashford. ‘I would have thought the less of you if you hadn’t. By the way, tomorrow we will be having a visit from Mansfield Whetstone, the senior partner of Whetstone and Watts, the publishers of Professor Pickering’s book. I assume he’s coming to check on how many copies of the book have been sold and to see if more should be delivered.’

  ‘Isn’t it unusual for a senior partner to involve himself at that level?’ asked Abigail. ‘I would have thought that a sales representative of the firm would have sufficed.’

  ‘Yes, but these are not what could be termed “usual circumstances”,’ said Ashford. ‘The murder of an author can greatly increase sales. I mention this to you in case you’d like to talk to Mr Whetstone. I’m sure he can tell you much more about the professor than I.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Ashford.’ Daniel nodded. ‘Yes, we will most certainly make a point of seeking out Mr Whetstone. Has he indicated what time he will be here?’

  ‘He says about ten o’clock.’

  ‘Then we’ll let you do your business with him first and talk to him afterwards.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  After Ashford had gone and they were alone, Abigail said quietly, ‘He’s still a suspect, isn’t he?’

  Daniel nodded. ‘He has no alibi. He could have very easily slipped down to the convenience, killed Pickering, then returned to his office and waited for the steward to come and summon him.’

  ‘Surely his clothing would have been splashed with blood,’ said Abigail.

  ‘A long raincoat and a change of shoes would have dealt with that,’ said Daniel. ‘Mr Ashford is a very efficient planner, and he’d have had all Sunday to prepare.’

  ‘So, what do we do to find out if he is the guilty person?’

  ‘We talk to the other members of staff who were around the area at the time Pickering was killed, see if they happened to spot Mr Ashford outside of his office at any time before the body was discovered. At the same time, we’ll make time to talk to the people whose names popped up: Horace Bell, Algernon Pope and John Kelly.’

  ‘John Kelly,’ said Abigail. ‘You said you’d tell me about Special Branch. Who are they? Part of the police, I assume.’

  ‘But separate,’ said Daniel. ‘Special Branch was set up as a separate branch of the Metropolitan police just over ten years ago. Its full title is the Special Irish Branch because it was set up to combat the Irish Republican Brotherhood, and that’s still its primary function.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve read about the Irish Republican Brotherhood,’ said Abigail. ‘They’ve carried out assassinations and explosions to further the cause of home rule for Ireland.’

  ‘The Special Branch way is to pay informers to keep up with what’s going on. So, this suggests that some informer told them that this John Kelly was involved with the Brotherhood in some way.’

  ‘And they just arrested him, with no word to anyone?’

  ‘Special Branch have powers far in excess of those of the ordinary police force. Because their role is to keep the nation safe from terrorist attacks, they’ve been given carte blanche as to how they do that. They’re a law unto themselves.’

  ‘Who should we talk to first of the three?’

  ‘My instinct tells me John Kelly.’

  ‘But surely he’s the least likely to launch an attack on the museum. By all accounts, it was Sir Jasper who got him released from custody, and they’re paying him while he recovers.’

  ‘Yes, but I’m curious to find out what was behind Special Branch being involved, and where the Irish Brotherhood fits in.’

  ‘Mistaken identity, Ashford said.’

  ‘I’d still like to find out for myself,’ said Daniel. ‘I also think we need to bring John Feather into this. And not just about Kelly, but also talking to Whetstone tomorrow when he comes to the museum.’ He gave an unhappy groan. ‘This being barred from Scotland Yard is so annoying, it makes seeing John so difficult. I can send him notes asking him to meet us, but who’s to say he’s there to get them?’

  ‘I’m not barred,’ said Abigail.

  Daniel gave a sour laugh. ‘I get the impression Superintendent Armstrong views you as even less welcome there as me.’

  ‘That may be, but he can’t stop me entering the building and sending a message to Inspector Feather asking if he will come and meet me in reception. And then he and I will join you somewhere nearby outside.’

  Daniel nodded. ‘I think that’s the only way round the problem. But first, we’ll go and talk to John Kelly and get his version of events.’

  John Kelly lived in a tiny cramped house on the fringes of Seven Dials, on the edge of Covent Garden. Seven Dials itself was notorious as one of London’s worst rookeries, a warren of alleyways and rat-runs with houses on opposite sides of these alleys so close together that their fronts almost touched. It was said that a criminal on the run could enter Seven Dials at Covent Garden and make his escape in Leicester Square without once setting foot on the ground, using windows to go from house to house and then over roofs.

  The reason for Kelly’s house feeling so cramped was his large family: nine children with ages ranging from twenty to a baby in a cot. Mrs Kelly cleared the children out of the living room so that Daniel and Abigail could talk to him without infant shrieks and interruptions.

  John Kelly was a short, round man in his fifties. At this moment his face still bore the bruises from his incarceration in the cells of Special Branch, and his left arm was encased in plaster below the elbow. Abigail’s face tightened in distaste when she saw what had happened to Kelly, but decided to leave the talking to Daniel. This was his area of expertise.

  ‘Mr Kelly, my name is Daniel Wilson, and this is Miss Abigail Fenton. We’ve been hired by Sir Jasper Stone to look into the recent tragic event at the British Museum, the death of Professor Lance Pickering.’

  Kelly nodded, his look suspicious. ‘I know who you are, Mr Wilson,’ he said warily. ‘I saw your name in the papers over the Ripper case. You were Inspector Abberline’s sergeant.’

  ‘I was, but I’ve left the police force. I’m now working as a private enquiry agent.’ Carefully, he added, ‘And, to let you know, from my experience when I was at Scotland Y
ard, I have no time and even less respect for the actions of Special Branch, the people who did this to you.’

  ‘You say that, but you were a part of Scotland Yard.’

  ‘I was at Scotland Yard in Fred Abberline’s team, but I was never party to anything that Special Branch did, nor some of the other dubious activities. And nor was Fred Abberline.’

  ‘Was that why you both left and set up private?’ asked Kelly.

  ‘Let’s just say, it was time for me to move on,’ said Daniel. He smiled. ‘And, if it’s any help, I’m currently banned from even going into Scotland Yard.’

  ‘You must be doing something right,’ grunted Kelly.

  ‘We’d like to ask you what happened to you with Special Branch.’

  Kelly scowled and gestured at his plaster-encased arm. ‘You can see what happened.’

  ‘Yes, but why did they pick you up?’

  ‘They said they’d been given good information that a John Kelly of my address was part of an attack the Brotherhood was planning on the British Museum.’

  ‘Why the British Museum?’

  ‘They said the Brotherhood saw it as a figurehead of the Empire, so it was a good target.’

  ‘I assume you told them you knew nothing about this.’

  ‘Of course I did! Over and over again! The museum’s been good to me. I’ve loved working there all these years, and with Sir Jasper Stone and Mr Ashford there are no finer people to work for. In fact, if it wasn’t for Sir Jasper, I doubt if I’d have made it out alive.’

  ‘When did they find out for sure they were wrong?’

  ‘It seemed they went back to their informer to ask him about me, and he told them they’d got the wrong John Kelly.’

  ‘But they’d got the right address,’ said Daniel. ‘Is there another John Kelly who lives here?’

  ‘No,’ said Kelly quickly. Too quickly, registered Daniel.

  ‘But there was,’ said Daniel quietly. ‘I’m guessing you have a son, also called John.’

  ‘He’s nothing to do with this!’ burst out Kelly.