“So that’s what you meant when you said Violet was perceptive.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I think she could tell, you know? That I needed something to do.”
“Well, take it as a compliment. I’ve never known Violet to willingly hang around anyone, so it’s more than just that. I’m at least ninety percent sure that if I called her tonight and told her I was thinking of committing suicide she’d just tell me there were hotlines for that and hang up.”
I laughed. “She does give off a bit of a vibe that you never really know what’s coming, doesn’t she?”
Jake and I kept chatting. I found out he lived in a small flat in Mayfair, alone. He was the only child of two doctors, and had been chosen from birth to follow in his parents’ footsteps. Luckily for everybody involved, Jake loved medicine, and he had never resented them for pushing him in that direction.
I told him about life in San Francisco, and he told me about growing up in London. Before I knew it, the sky outside began to darken, and we realized we’d been sitting there talking for hours.
“I should probably go back home,” I said finally.
“Yeah, me too.”
Neither one of us really made a move to go, though. Eventually, however, we made our way back outside. Shoot. What do I do now? This wasn’t a date, we’d just talked. But it still felt fairly intimate.
“So, uh, see you around, I guess,” I finally said. Jake grinned.
“I swear, sometimes you act like you’re in year eight trying to figure out how to talk to boys,” he told me. “What’s your phone number? I’d like to take you out to dinner one night.”
I tried to hide the fact that my insides were essentially jumping around with glee. I grabbed my phone out of my purse so eagerly that I immediately dropped it on the ground and swore as I picked it up.
“Sorry,” I said, realizing that wasn’t exactly ladylike. Jake just laughed.
I got his number off him and sent him a text. This was happening! Doctor Gorgeous wanted my phone number! Ahh!
“Cool. I’ll walk you home, then head down to the tube station from there,” he told me. I tried not to skip along like a five-year-old the whole way, I was so excited. In fact, I was way too excited for a thirty-year-old woman to be going on a first date. But with a man like Jake? Yes, please! I was half tempted to invite him straight into my apartment, but then I thought that might be a bit too forward. I didn’t want him to think I was that easy. And I wasn’t. Unless the guy looked like him.
We walked more or less in silence, with me silently wishing he’d take my arm in his or something, and we could stroll through the quaint streets of London like an old-timey couple. My daydream was over almost as soon as it began and we found ourselves at my front door.
“All right, I’ll see you around,” Jake said with a wink, and he turned around and left. I liked to imagine it was because he didn’t trust himself so close to my bedroom.
Heading back inside, my heart giddy with excitement, the last thing on my mind was the forgotten groceries. “I have a potential boyfriend!” I announced to Biscuit, picking him up by the armpits and swinging him around the room. Biscuit was not nearly as enthusiastic about this as I was, and he gave me a dirty look when I put him back down.
I was so happy I gave him a little treat as an apology. I hadn’t been this happy in a long time. Maybe things were finally turning around for me.
Chapter 17
After an uneventful Sunday, in which I simply spent the day lying around watching TV and playing with Biscuit—after the crazy week with Violet I figured I’d earned it—I woke up Monday morning to a text from Violet.
Be ready to go in fifteen minutes.
I supposed I shouldn’t have been that upset. After all, she didn’t send me the text until just after nine in the morning, when normal people were already awake. But I’d had a long day of doing nothing, and so I’d slept in. I was so going to need longer than fifteen minutes. I rushed to get ready, and just managed to finish putting my hair up into a ponytail as Violet knocked at my door. I grabbed my purse and rushed out, giving Biscuit a quick pat and a promise to be back later on my way out.
“How was your date with Doctor Edmonds?” she asked me as we walked down to the main street and hailed a cab.
“How could you possibly know about that?” I asked. “Besides, it wasn’t a date.”
“Maybe not, but you were gone for four hours.”
“Do you just spend the whole day sitting at your window and spying on the street like an old gossip with nothing better to do?”
Violet smiled. “No. In fact, I did not know how long you had gone out for. I saw the two of you leave together, but then I went and worked on the case for which Doctor Edmonds had brought me the files. I simply threw out a number, and I knew if I had been wrong, you would have corrected me.”
I groaned. It was way too early in the morning to deal with Violet. Luckily, she quickly moved on to the events of the day.
“The idea that you told me this weekend, it was not a bad one. I think we found a way to make it work.”
“So everything is all set?” I asked.
“Yes. I have a friend at the bank who owes me a favor. We have worked with him, and with Leonard Browning.” On the way there, Violet explained to me the rest of the plan.
“Browning is supposed to deposit another one thousand pounds into the bank account today. What will happen is he will leave the office for a while, go to the bank, go back to the office, and send an email to the person saying that the transaction was unable to be completed, and that they have to contact the bank to sort it out. My person at the bank will ensure that anyone calling about that specific account will be put through to him. He will tell the blackmailer that there was an issue with the tax information supplied with the account, and that they have to put a hold on the account until the proper documents are brought in and put on file.”
“How will we know who the blackmailer is?” I asked. “After all, there have to be hundreds of people that work at those offices.”
Violet took her phone out and handed it to me. She’d opened Safari to the Meet Our Team section of the Enderby Insurance website. I scrolled through the corporate headshots of dozens of people, nodding slowly.
“I memorized these yesterday. Do not worry. When someone comes in, we will know.”
“What about the police? Have you called them?”
“And immediately scare away our killer? No, I have not called the police.”
“But they can come in plain clothes,” I offered, and Violet laughed.
“A policeman in plain clothes is similar to two children standing on each other’s shoulders wearing a long coat in an attempt to view an adult only movie. They may at a glance look legitimate, but it very quickly becomes obvious who they really are. Do not worry. It will be fine.”
Violet seemed so sure of herself that I let the matter drop. After all, I reminded myself, this was not the first time she had done something like this. Catching criminals on her own was what Violet did. She’d probably gone through something like this hundreds of times.
The cab dropped us off in front of the London Haymarket branch of Virgin Money.
“This is the main London branch,” Violet explained. “My contact works here. He will tell whoever the blackmailer is to come here.”
From the outside, the bank looked pretty small and unassuming. As soon as we stepped inside, however, it was like a completely different world. For one thing, everything was so colorful! To the left, a large red barrier led downstairs to a lounge area. Straight ahead were the banking facilities, complete with booths where transactions could be completed with iPads, as well as bank employees willing to help customers. Violet led me slightly to the right, where bright red, deep purple and sky blue couches, chairs and booths lined the walls, huge ball-shaped lights overhead brightening up the space. The walls were red on one side, purple on the other. The whole thing gave a bit of an impression of being a giant
playground more than a bank.
We sat down in one of the little booths on the side. Violet faced the door directly; I sat next to her so with a glance to my left I could see anyone who was coming as well. In front of us, a giant TV screen advertised the products and services available at Virgin Money.
Violet’s phone buzzed to indicate a text, and she read it and nodded.
“The blackmailer has called the bank. She will be arriving shortly. That is right, I have been told that the person on the phone was a woman. That narrows our search considerably.”
It took everything in my power not to just wrench my head to the side and stare at the entrance to the bank. After all, we had to be subtle about this. The last thing I wanted to do was to spook away our murderer. I scrolled through the list of people who worked at Enderby Insurance on my own phone, and found that every single time anyone with the slightest resemblance to anyone on the list entered the bank, my heart skipped a beat. I kept having to remind myself that there were millions of people in London, and only one person from this list was supposed to be in this bank this morning. I had to be patient. After all, it might take the person a little while to collect the information they needed to bring in, as well. We could be here for hours, I told myself.
But, as it turned out, it wasn’t nearly that long. Just a little more than forty minutes after Violet got the text, a short haired brunette walked in that not only looked like one of the headshots on the website, but looked familiar to me. I’d met her! It was Jennifer Ashton.
I couldn’t help myself. I sat there and stared with my mouth dropped open. Her? Really?
Violet put on an overly cheerful smile and waved as Jennifer looked around. She looked hurried, frantic and nervous. Like she didn’t want to be here. She saw Violet, and for a moment I could have sworn her face fell completely. But, she quickly plastered on a smile and efficiently came over to see us.
“Miss Despuis, Ms. Coburn,” she said, nodding to each of us. “What an unlikely coincidence. I do hope you’re doing well, but if you’ll excuse me, I have a very important appointment here at the bank.”
“Ah, but Ms. Ashton, you are in exactly the right place. After all, your appointment is here, with the two of us,” Violet said, motioning for Jennifer Ashton to sit down at the seat across from us. Jennifer looked at us both askance, untrusting.
“No, I have a real appointment, with Mr. Fredericks,” she replied, but Violet shook her head.
“That was my doing, I apologize. But you see, there was no other way to know who truly owned the bank account to which Leonard Browning was supposed to send the money. I received word from my contact in the police department last night. You were intelligent to register a company in Ireland, where shell company providers ask for little to no identification. So alas, you left me no choice but to set this trap.”
Jennifer Ashton’s face went paler and paler the more Violet spoke.
“Please, Miss Ashton, sit. You do not look well,” Violet implored once more. “These seats are far more comfortable than those at the police station, and I must humbly say that I am a much better listener than the brutes at the Metropolitan Police.”
This time, Jennifer sat down across from us. It was a good thing, too. I was fairly confident that if she’d tried to stay upright she’d have simply fallen over.
Her face was pale, but she remained as stoic as ever. Her lips were pressed firmly together. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she finally said.
“I’m not quite certain if you are playing stupid, or if you simply are stupid,” Violet said in response. Wow. I had to keep that scorcher in my pocket for a later date. “But you know who I am, yes?”
Jennifer Ashton nodded. Apparently she no longer trusted herself to actually speak. Violet leaned forward and continued. “So you know that I have stopped hundreds of criminals. I am wondering what makes you possibly think you would be more intelligent than them?”
It took almost a full minute before Jennifer replied. “I… I don’t,” she finally stammered. “I simply have… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Ah!” Violet said. “But you insult my intelligence. And I must tell you, up until now, I had been quite impressed with yours. It takes a certain finesse to murder someone entirely unrelated to your eventual target.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Jennifer Ashton’s face had gone even paler.
“Fine,” she admitted. “I was blackmailing Leonard Browning. But that’s all. I didn’t kill Elizabeth Dalton. I barely even knew her.”
“You do not need to know someone to go into business with them. Especially when that business is an unsavoury type. You say you did not know Elizabeth Dalton. Let me tell you a little bit about her.” Violet leaned back in the chair and closed her eyes. How could she possibly be so relaxed, knowing there was a murderer sitting right in front of us? She quickly began talking. “Elizabeth Dalton was the motherly type. She had no children of her own, so she took to caring for the young girls in the office. She was not a rich woman, by any means. In fact, she had debts. And Elizabeth Dalton, I must say, was not a happy woman. She was approaching her retirement years. She had no children. No husband. No money. And no happiness. I imagine she walked through London and saw the beautiful women with their expensive bags, their nice shoes, and she wanted that to be her. But she had no way to do it.”
Violet’s eyes opened suddenly. Jennifer Ashton was fixated on Violet, as though if she stared hard enough Violet might spontaneously combust. I had to admit, Violet had a riveting way of speaking, and I was fairly fixed on the story as well, even though I knew all the same facts.
“Until the scandal with Edgar Enderby,” Violet said so quietly it was almost a whisper.
“How do you know about that? No one outside the firm was supposed to know about that,” Jennifer Ashton said. Violet only smiled in reply before continuing her narrative.
“Elizabeth Dalton got a good lesson in how the world worked: if you had information on someone, you could use it to your advantage. Edgar Enderby had been kicked out of the firm completely. Him! The son of the president, over the lowly secretary! Unbelievable. Elizabeth Dalton had never truly expected her plan with the video to work. She simply wanted to show an example for the girls in the office, that when there is a bully, you stand up to them, like a good motherly figure would. But her plan did work! And slowly, a plan began to form in Elizabeth Dalton’s head. A plan to allow her to be like the other women she saw. Like the powerful women, the ones with money. Being the motherly type, Elizabeth was privy to much of the gossip that occurred between the young girls. For instance, it was rumoured that Chelsea Flannigan was having an affair with none other than Elizabeth’s boss, Leonard Browning. And for someone in Elizabeth’s position, it would not have been the least bit difficult to find proof of the affair, knowing that it was happening. So she found it. But Elizabeth Dalton was not a sophisticated woman. No, she was not like the confident, strong businesswomen she aspired to be. So her methods were crude. She asked for a simple two hundred pounds per fortnight. A fortune to her, a drop in the bucket to Browning. But to her credit, she did not flaunt her new money. She continued to take her old raggedy purses to work, and wear her comfortable shoes. In all of the photos of her in the newsletter she wears what she always wore, there is not a designer bag in sight. She did not want Browning to realize it was her who was blackmailing him. In a way, she was cleverer than she acted.”
Violet leaned forward toward Jennifer and smiled. Her eyes were twinkling. She was enjoying this. “But you! No, you were exactly what Elizabeth Dalton wanted to be. You knew that Leonard Browning could afford far more than two hundred pounds a fortnight. You discovered that she was blackmailing him. But rather than expose her, you joined her.”
Jennifer Ashton made a sound in her throat that sounded a little bit like a cat coughing up a hairball. “Yes, soon Mr. Browning found he was having to pay one thousand pounds per fortnight. But I have a f
eeling it wasn’t about the money for you, was it?”
Jennifer looked like she wanted to puke. Violet waited patiently for the reply. When Jennifer finally answered, it was with an anger and a vitriol I didn’t know she could muster.
“That’s right. I wanted that tosser to quit. He only got that job because of the old boys’ club. I had been at the company longer. I was better at my job. But because of my genitals, I was passed over. I ran into Elizabeth Dalton in the wine shop by our work one weekend when I had some extra work to do. She was all decked out, carrying a Prada handbag. I almost couldn’t believe it was her! I had no idea where she’d gotten the money from, but I quickly pieced together the puzzle. I went to see her, and I explained to her that we could do better. And we did! We were doing well. I could tell the pressure was getting to him. I had planned to make it more difficult, to demand fifteen hundred a fortnight. He was going to have to leave before we bankrupted him.”
“And that was where you fell into difficulties.” Jennifer Ashton nodded. It was like now, once she started talking, she couldn’t stop.
“Yes. Elizabeth didn’t want to go overboard. She just wanted a little bit of money to play with. She told me this was going too far. That she couldn’t go further. She was happy to continue blackmailing Browning, but only at the current rate.”
“Eh bien, that was when you realized that if you wanted Browning out of the office for good, you were going to have to be even cleverer.”
“What? No, as I said, I didn’t murder Elizabeth Dalton.”
“Ah, but you did,” Violet said. Violet’s eyes bored into Jennifer Ashton once more. “You knew that Elizabeth Dalton ate lunch at that soup stall every day. You put the poison into the soup, expecting that many people would die. You thought the police would see a serial killer, not a targeted murder.”
Jennifer Ashton’s lips parted as her face took on an expression of horror. “And you see, you were correct. The police looked for a serial killer. But you forgot about one thing. Moi! You did not expect me to take the case. You did not expect me to immediately discover that the murders were not the work of a random lunatic. But you were not stupid. You did not kill Browning with poison in case it was discovered that it was not random. Because then, you would be a suspect. You attempted to frame Leonard Browning as your backup plan. After all, you could not simply murder him. You had much too strong a motive. The spurned underling, the career woman looking to make a name for herself. No, you could not attract so much attention to yourself.”
Poison in Paddington (A Cozy Mystery) (Cassie Coburn Mysteries Book 1) Page 12
