Death Waits for No Lady

by James Andrew

  ‘And what did you say to that?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to make of it. I felt a bit uncomfortable though because there had been other remarks at different times and I wasn’t sure where she was going with them. Ours was a spiritual relationship, not a personal one.’

  So Digby was saying he considered Miss Wright had been making a pass at him, or was about to. That was interesting, Blades thought. He had assumed things would be the other way around.

  ‘So you left?’

  ‘Women can become attached to a minister at difficult times. It’s not a good idea to take advantage of your position. They’re not seeing you as yourself and, being the minister, you can come across as better than you are. It can lead to an unbalanced relationship which wouldn’t be desirable.’

  Blades wondered if Digby had swallowed a manual on correct ministerial behaviour, and noticed he had been looking slightly past him when saying all that, as if he did not want to meet his eyes. Now Digby looked him straight in the face and flashed what Blades took was his most convincing smile, something which Blades didn’t find believable.

  ‘I want to know more about your meeting with Miss Wright. What happened after Janet showed you up?’

  ‘She didn’t. She left me to find my own way upstairs. Miss Wright was seated with a book in her hand when I entered. She offered me a glass of port and we chatted. That was about it. I left after about half an hour.’

  ‘So you arrived about when, and left at what time?’

  ‘I must have arrived about seven and left about half an hour later.’

  ‘Where were you standing?’

  ‘I was in front of the fireplace. I left my glass on the mantlepiece and left.’

  ‘You quarrelled, and you left?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say it was a quarrel. I was wary of the way the relationship could develop, but I did care for Miss Wright professionally. I chatted about this and that, made excuses of other commitments and left.’

  ‘You didn’t argue about anything else?’

  ‘Certainly not.’

  Blades noticed the tenseness round Digby’s mouth. ‘You didn’t see anyone else around?’

  ‘No.’

  Blades was not convinced by much of what Digby had said but thought it would be a mistake to attempt to pressure him yet and that perhaps he ought to leave things there. Digby had admitted to being there, which was useful, but not to a disagreement. There was circumstantial supposition but no proof of anything, though that could turn up. But there was one question he should ask.

  ‘Do you know anything about Miss Wright’s will?’

  Digby gave him a wary look. ‘When I think about it, she had talked of including a donation to the Spiritualist church, but it wouldn’t have been significant, and I don’t even know if she did it. I certainly wouldn’t kill her for that.’

  Blades kept his face neutral. ‘As you say, sir. And you wouldn’t object if I took your fingerprints for elimination purposes?’

  Digby gave him an icy smile, but Peacock soon had Digby’s prints neatly placed on card.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Blades thought it time he and Peacock went back to the drawing room and gave the desk a search. If the quarrel between Digby and Evelyn Wright had been so deep it had led to murder, what might have been the cause?

  Blades pulled out the chair and sat in front of the escritoire, lifted the lid and, at first, simply looked. He noted that papers were neatly piled with no signs of a hurried search. Then he started to go through them. He commented to Peacock on what he found. ‘Paid bills. Ordered by date of submission of bill. Grocer. Butcher. Gas firm. Dressmaker. Hotel?’ Blades paused and leafed through those. ‘Unpaid bills in this pile. The grocer. And then there are these: more bills from dressmakers.’ He paused, leafed through the piles again and extracted bills. He placed both unpaid and paid dressmakers’ bills in one pile before leafing through those. ‘She’s been spending a lot on clothes lately. What could that tell us?’

  ‘She’d started to dress to impress her young man?’

  ‘Digby?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘These are more fashionable than the ones she was wearing that evening, a shorter length of dress for one thing.’

  ‘Perhaps she hadn’t got around to wearing them yet?’

  Blades was doubtful. ‘Her young man is Digby, he’s come over for a visit, and she hasn’t summoned up the nerve to put her new glad rags on? It might make sense at a stretch, though. As Miss Wright was used to being ultra-respectable, it could have been difficult to change her dress habits at her age. It’s one thing to have the dresses, it’s another to wear them. What Janet told us does suggest Evelyn was repressed. All the same, does it really sound like a woman to you? When my wife gets new clothes, she likes to show them off.’

  Peacock half-smiled as he replied, ‘That is what Miss Wright seems to have been like.’

  ‘There was something contradictory about her,’ Blades said. ‘She had a reputation of being a recluse after the death of her father – in Birtleby – but she travels to a fashionable hotel in Leeds and who knows what she did there? Even the body held contradictory elements if you compared the traditional length of the dress to the short cut of the hair.’

  ‘Her hair was odd,’ Peacock said.

  Blades frowned. He leafed through more papers.

  ‘Birth certificate for herself, death certificate for her father. Bank statements.’

  He leafed through the statements.

  ‘She did have a healthy balance. Her dressmakers’ bills hardly dented it. And here’s what went out to the grocer, the butcher, the coal company, the gas company, and her hotel.’ Blades paused, then leafed through the statements again. ‘She’d become fond of staying in that hotel. The Princess Grand in Leeds. She stayed there for weeks at a time and more than once. What were the trips to Leeds about? Did she go with Digby?’

  ‘That might have been when she wore her new finery?’

  ‘I thought she must have worn it somewhere. And Digby joined her there?’

  ‘That would contradict his statement.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it? We’ll follow that up.’ Blades put the bills to one side then lifted up an August document.

  ‘Her will, sealed with wax but the seal broken. Whoever searched the desk read it.’

  ‘After her death? What was he checking on?’

  Blades unfolded the will and read it. ‘She’s left the house to her brother, and twenty thousand pounds. That’s motivation for him. And five hundred pounds to the Spiritual Church, which Digby Russell might have access to. People have been murdered for less, though he might have been disappointed if he’s our killer. So, we have him at the scene and we have motivation. And five hundred pounds left to Janet. Which could even give her reason to murder her mistress. Now there’s a suspect I hadn’t considered. I wonder if she knew she’d been left anything?’

  ‘When was the will dated?’ Peacock asked.

  ‘A month ago. So it’s not been changed long, though possibly Miss Wright did tell one of her beneficiaries the terms of it. And whoever did search the desk, read it and put it back.’

  ‘Thought that’s OK and murdered her for it?’

  ‘Or read it after killing her.’

  ‘Callous bastard whichever it was. Is there anything else interesting in the desk?’

  Blades probed a bit. ‘No,’ he said. ‘But we can follow up all of this.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  There was no point to having the usual grocery order sent without Miss Wright in the house, so Janet went to the grocer’s shop to change it. She walked into the centre of Birtleby and over to a good-sized store with a striped awning and a sign above it that took up about a quarter of the frontage: “Cavendish –Grocers to the Nobility”. That boast had always impressed Janet as she knew it had some truth in it, not that the nobility made up the bulk of Mr Cavendish’s customers, but only the better off did shop here with most people frequenting the weekl
y outdoor market in the Lawnmarket.

  Outside it were displayed crates and barrels filled with fruit and vegetables, the multitude of berries lending an appealing brightness and colour. Once inside, customers were faced with counters on either side, one glass-fronted and displaying meats, the other with brightly labelled tins stacked on top of each other in precarious glory and, at the counter-front, glass-fronted drawers with spices, flour, oats, and various other loose items. Straight ahead was another counter, this one with large scales and an enormous cheddar cheese with a cheese slice beside it, and in front of it lay open barrels with barley and rice and various other offerings. Behind every counter were rows of shelves filled with tins and packets. Behind the centre counter stood a thin, stooped man in brown overalls with what hair he had left swept across his pate in a futile attempt to hide the bareness. This was Mr Cavendish who, at the sight of Janet, flashed his obsequious smile at her. The Wright household order was held in high regard, which is why an anxious look swept across his face when he heard her opening remark.

  ‘Not the regular order?’ he replied.

  Janet paused as she had no idea how to say what followed.

  ‘We won’t be catering for Miss Wright anymore.’

  ‘We won’t?’

  Janet was embarrassed at the length of her next pause but how could she find the words to say this? Then she decided the simplest way was best. ‘Miss Wright was found dead today,’ she said.

  Cavendish’s face showed his shock and there was sincerity in his reply. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Miss Wright? How dreadful.’

  ‘It was Mary that found her,’ Janet went on, ‘and her just a girl and not long in the household. It was dreadful for her. She’d just gone in to do the fire and I heard her shriek and I thought – I don’t know what – maybe someone had come into the house. She wasn’t being attacked by someone, was she? Though I don’t even know if I had thought it out as well as that. I’d never heard Mary scream like that. She goes about her work so quietly you wouldn’t know she was there. I didn’t even know she had such a bellow in her. So I rushed in to see what was what and there she was, lying there.’

  ‘Mary?’

  Janet bit back an irritated response though she supposed, when she thought about it, that what she had said might have been muddled. She replied, ‘Miss Wright.’ Then she paused again to gather her thoughts. ‘Covered in blood with a poker lying beside her.’

  ‘No. You can’t mean that!’

  ‘I suppose that was what they hit her with.’

  ‘They? Were there a few of them?’

  Janet did not try to hide the irritation this time. ‘How would I know? They were long gone before Mary found Miss Wright. I don’t know what I’m going to tell her mother.’

  ‘God. Poor Miss Wright.’

  ‘She was a proper lady and there she was, lying on a floor with her favourite georgette dress covered in blood. I don’t know. The whole world seems turned upside down or come to a stop or something, and what do I do next? Change the grocery order I suppose, though just that seems – I don’t know.’

  ‘It’s practical. You have to do the practical things. That’s how you get through these events. There’s no point in brooding, not that I’ve dealt with a murder but, you know, when my mother died–’

  ‘I know.’

  Janet found herself staring at thin air again and lost for words. Then she said, ‘They’ll have told her brother by now I expect. And we’ll all be looking for other positions I suppose.’

  ‘Her brother won’t keep you on?’

  ‘Who knows? I don’t. Maybe not. Though it’s a grand enough house. He might keep it on. Even if he does, it’ll all be different. I suppose we carry on as usual till we find out. But the grocery bill won’t be the same, and Miss Wright won’t be paying for it.’

  ‘We’ll present the bill to the estate. Don’t worry about that. Who did you say was the solicitor handling it?’

  ‘The family one, as far as I know, Menzies and Carroll. They’ll sort it out.’

  ‘Have the police been?’

  ‘They’ve been all over the place, searching and taking photographs and fingerprints from everybody too, though what any of it has told them so far, I don’t know.’

  ‘They haven’t any suspects?’

  ‘They haven’t told us anything, just asked a lot of questions. I think we’re all suspects, as if any of us would do such a thing. Where will we get a roof over our heads next?’

  ‘You’ll find a place. Everyone respects you, Janet.’

  ‘We’ll see. Anyway, here’s the changed order,’ Janet said, handing it over. ‘I’m sorry it’s such a short list. It’s just the servants that need to be fed, though I expect we’ll have to cater for her brother as well if he decides to come to stay.’

  After Janet left, Cavendish passed her news on to his next customer, who in turn told the drama to the next person she met, as did she. Thus the news buzzed around Birtleby.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Katy was preparing vegetables in the kitchen when Janet returned. Katy had made sure she was obviously busy for the return of the cook she worked under. Janet’s temper would be uncertain at the moment and Katy knew from experience anything she was doing would be fair game for Janet to pick at. And here Janet was, stomping in and putting her bag down with a thud as she took off her coat and hat and hung them on coat hooks. She walked to the kitchen table and studied Katy’s carrots.

  ‘We need half of those,’ she said.

  ‘Sorry,’ Katy said. ‘I did the usual. I thought it was what you wanted.’

  ‘Who do we have to cater for now?’ Janet asked. ‘And we’d better not eat too much if we want to be kept on.’

  Katy bit back her reply, though she wondered why there were no new instructions from Janet if she wanted something different.

  ‘There’s such a thing as common sense,’ Janet continued. ‘Go and fetch Mary.’

  Katy did and Mary duly trooped back with her. They seated themselves at the table opposite where Janet now sat, obviously marshalling her thoughts, not that Mary gave her time to do much of that with her mind so full of questions.

  ‘Do you know if the police have any idea who did it?’ she asked Janet.

  ‘They’ve told me as much as they’ve told you,’ Janet said, ‘which is what you would expect – nothing.’

  ‘Was it Digby?’ Mary asked.

  ‘It must have been,’ Katy said. ‘Who else could it have been?’

  ‘Do you think he’ll be back to do any of us in?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Janet said.

  ‘Why would he do Miss Wright in?’ The genuineness of Mary’s anxiety was obvious as she sat there wringing her hands.

  ‘For God’s sake, girl,’ Janet said, then appeared to force a more patient look on her face. ‘You’re perfectly safe. Stop worrying. I doubt Digby Russell has even noticed you.’

  ‘A friend of mine went to one of his séances,’ Katy said. ‘She says he’s cracked. He puts on this funny voice and acts as if he’s a soldier returned from the dead while he gives out messages that are supposed to be from the other side, but he just looks loony, and if he believes that he must be.’

  ‘You don’t believe?’ Mary said. ‘I do. My uncle died at Ypres. That Digby’s passed on more than one message from him to my mum. And he mentions things that only my uncle would have known about. It is my uncle.’

  ‘Digby’s cracked,’ Katy said. ‘You can tell that when he comes around here. Look at that nervous tic of his. Some of the soldiers who came back aren’t anything like the men they were before. Nancy in the fishmongers told me about her husband. Screaming in the night. About God knows what, and he won’t stop. And he never used to lay a hand on her. Now she’s got to watch out for his fist whenever he’s in a foul mood, which is half the time. And he can’t control it, lashes out then realises what he’s done afterwards. I could believe that of Digby.’

  Mary and Janet
watched her with serious expressions.

  ‘If it’s Digby, they’ll catch him,’ Janet said. ‘They know about him being round here with Miss Wright all the time. They’ll question him.’

  ‘Is that front door locked?’ Mary asked. ‘He could come marching straight in here.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Janet said. ‘Every door needs to be kept locked all the time now. Katy, go and make sure of them.’

  Katy disappeared to check the front and back doors, and the servants’ entrance. When she came back, she had a satisfied smile on her face. ‘There you are, Mary. All safe. Digby won’t be back to batter you to death and spread your blood and guts all over the floor today.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Mary said.

  ‘Nor will the postman or the grocer’s boy or the milkman. But maybe I will.’ Then she laughed.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ Mary said. ‘You didn’t find the body. I got ever such a shock when I saw Miss Wright lying there. I was just doing the cleaning. You don’t expect to find a dead body, and not Miss Wright’s. I don’t know what my mother’ll say when she finds out.’

  ‘To business in hand,’ Janet cut in. ‘We’re still employed – by Miss Wright’s estate – until told otherwise, and we continue with normal tasks. The difference is we don’t need to make meals for Miss Wright, but there’s still the house to be looked after and, if we want to be kept on by her brother, we need to make sure it’s as clean and neat as a new pin. That front step should have been done better this morning, Mary. And Katy, try to look a bit smarter. Straighten up that cap.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ Katy replied, though she resented the tone in Janet’s voice. Then a thought occurred to her. ‘If it wasn’t Digby, who could it have been? Do you think someone could have come in from outside?’

  ‘They must have done,’ Mary said. ‘It wasn’t any of us.’

  Katy saw Janet’s thoughtful look and supposed her face looked much the same. Then Janet stood up in a brisk movement. ‘I’m going downstairs to the office to check the housekeeping books. They need to be up to date. You two get cracking on with the rest of your day’s work.’ Janet strode out without a backward glance, leaving Mary and Katy looking at each other and pulling faces at her behind her back.