The Good Wife

by Jane A. Adams

  Cynthia had three children. The eldest, Cyril, was almost thirteen and had been away at boarding school for the last two years. His choice; he had informed his mother that he was missing out on fun and games and no longer wanted to be just a day boy. The youngest son, Georgie, was six and currently at prep school. He was already campaigning to board but Cynthia was well aware that her youngest boy was not capable of dealing with the demands as yet. He still occasionally wet the bed and Cynthia would not have him shamed.

  The middle child, eleven-year-old Melissa, was undoubtedly Henry’s favourite. He was not particularly good at talking to the boys about what interested them, sports and cars and aeroplanes. Here, Mickey came into his own and he was a frequent visitor at Cynthia’s house. Melissa reminded Henry intensely of Cynthia as a girl and she had a love of books that they could both share and most recently a curiosity about science that had taken Henry a little by surprise but which he was doing his best to encourage. A little while ago he had brought her a microscope and in her last letter she had informed Henry that she’d been making slides of flies’ wings and spiders’ legs and that ‘Nanny was quite squeamish about the whole thing’.

  He had telephoned ahead and warned Cynthia that he might be joining them for supper and was very happy when Melissa had been allowed to join the adults, at least for a little while. Her father, Albert, had not yet returned from a business meeting and Cynthia said that it was unlikely he’d be back until late because they’d probably all end up at his club and so dinner was a very informal affair, just Henry and his sister and niece. They escaped from murders for a while and discussed the books Melissa had been reading. On a recent visit to Germany her mother had purchased a copy of Emil and the Detectives by Erich Kästner, and she and Mellissa were reading that together. Cynthia was a talented linguist and her daughter had a natural aptitude.

  Melissa was yawning by the time Nanny came to take her to bed. She hugged Henry and kissed him on the cheek before going to say goodnight to her mother. Fondly, Henry watched as she left the room, the tumble of red hair so like his sister’s. Cynthia now wore hers fashionably short, bobbed and shingled and very elegant, and she toned down her freckles with foundation.

  ‘She’s growing up so fast,’ Henry said somewhat regretfully.

  ‘She won’t have to grow up as fast as we did, little brother.’ She poured them both more coffee and then asked, ‘So what are you investigating this time? Is it that poor woman who was killed at the racetrack?’

  ‘It is. Don’t you think the Kästner book is a little … harsh for a girl Melissa’s age?’

  Cynthia laughed. ‘I will admit that it is grittier and grimier than most books for the young – though do you remember some of those terrible, terrible volumes we had on the bookshelves? What was that dreadful thing about the boy being boiled alive?’

  ‘I don’t remember,’ Henry admitted. ‘I’ve a feeling that you hid that sort of thing from me.’

  ‘Well, maybe I did. But Melissa loves to read and loves to question, as you know. Emil is a relatively gentle introduction to a very brutal world. I want my children well prepared. And what better way to learn a language than to read stories in that language?’

  Henry could think of no appropriate response.

  ‘You were telling me about the poor woman killed at the racetrack.’

  ‘I was, but that poor woman is not all she seemed to be.’ Briefly he told his sister what he had discovered and then said, ‘Do you remember anything about the Kirkland divorce case a few years ago? I believe it got rather complicated with both the husband and wife suing for divorce on grounds of adultery. The husband, I believe, didn’t want to have to make a settlement on the wife and so he’d tried to prove that she was the guilty party. But I can’t remember the details.’

  Cynthia raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s not like you to be interested in society gossip. I take it this has to do with the case.’

  ‘Possibly. I’m not sure yet.’

  ‘Well …’ Cynthia inserted a cigarette into a silver and amber holder and offered one to Henry, who shook his head. He would drink his coffee first, but he lit his sister’s and waited while she drew in a great lungful of smoke and then released it slowly. ‘I will stop smoking,’ she said. ‘I began because I thought cigarette holders looked so elegant and it seemed a little foolish to wave the cigarette holder around with nothing in it. So you should be proud of me, Henry, I now restrict my cigarette smoking to the end of the day. Unless I’m having a bad day.’ She smiled at him.

  ‘So, what do I remember of the Kirkland divorce. It must be what, nine years ago? Two very wealthy families, hers old money, his new. Though I believe he is related to the Elliston clan somewhere along the line. A cousin on his mother’s side.’

  ‘Elliston.’ That name had cropped up. Henry put the thought to one side for the moment to listen to Cynthia.

  ‘I think it was a marriage of convenience as much as anything, they were both in their mid-thirties, neither had married before and I think there was pressure from their families just to get on with it. If I remember right, it brought land and business together or something of the sort. You can bet your last shilling that there was money at the back of it. Anyway, it was only a year or two before each of them started to play away. She picked up with all sorts, she was always a good time girl though it has to be said she was getting a little old to be one of the bright young things. He had a long-time mistress, now what was her name, Maynard, I believe, Nancy Maynard. Daughter of some tycoon or other. Needless to say, not welcome in polite society, so I’ve never actually run across the lady.’ She grinned at her brother. ‘And you know how many doors are still closed to me, even though I am a member of nearly polite society. There are still some places you cannot buy your way into, no matter what you do.’

  ‘And would you wish to?’

  ‘Oh Lord no. I have enough of a time trying to be polite to all the ones who do accept me. But anyway, Kirkland continued this affair and tried to ignore his wife’s antics. She meanwhile is off in Monte Carlo and elsewhere, losing as much of the family money as she possibly can. From what I gather both her husband and her father had given her a generous allowance, but she was always in debt. Kirkland paid off her debts just to keep the family name out of it. There were rumours that she’d become involved in something over here. Gambling again, but with very unsavoury types you’ll not find in a regular casino. You know that Kirkland owns racehorses, I suppose? I wondered with you investigating a murder that happened on a racecourse.’

  ‘No, I did not.’ Elliston, Henry remembered. Emory had mentioned him. The man had been with a gaggle of friends at the races but had claimed to be too drunk to give a proper account of his day. Henry had discounted him as unimportant simply because his position meant that he was surrounded by other people and could hardly have wandered off, murdered a woman and returned to his entourage without being noticed. Plus he was an elderly man.

  ‘Did two facts suddenly connect?’ Cynthia asked. She was well used to the way her brother’s mood changed and could recognize when his brain had suddenly worked something out.

  ‘The connection with Lord Elliston. He was at the races that day. But that might be coincidence, of course.’

  ‘Hmm … coincidences. You never did like those very much, did you.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘Well, and this is from memory, you understand, he decided to sue for divorce, and goodness knows there was plenty of evidence of her infidelities. She gets wind of it and decides that she is going to sue him first. Of course, he’s been having this long-term liaison. Everybody knows about his mistress, so that wouldn’t be difficult to prove either.

  ‘Anyway, I think she demanded a big settlement in order to let him divorce her. He said no and so she threatened to drag him through the divorce courts and ensure that the Maynard name as well as the Kirkland name was completely muddied instead of slightly dingy.’

  ‘That didn’t happen,
though, did it?’

  ‘No, can’t have done, I’d have remembered that. I think she got her way in the end though, and she divorced him for adultery, but Nancy Maynard must have been named, musn’t she?’

  Henry thought back to the notes he had read before coming over here. The cases in which Martha Mason, or Mary Betteridge as she had been then, had been named as enquiry agent. Henry had no doubt that she, under an assumed name, had been the woman named in the Kirkland divorce. Somewhere, there would be a photograph of Martha and Kirkland together, probably in a little hotel room, the photograph taken by one of the male detectives that worked for Giles & Conway.

  ‘I don’t remember that she was. I believe they engaged a solicitor who provided a young woman to pose as the co-respondent. I’m pretty sure that woman was Martha Mason.’

  ‘Your dead doctor’s wife? My goodness, that’s convoluted. Do you think this has anything to do with her death? The divorce was years ago and I think he’s remarried at least once since then.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Henry admitted. ‘Interesting though if he should happen to have been at the races on the day she died.’

  He left Cynthia about an hour later and though he did notice the man who paused under a street lamp to light his cigarette, he thought nothing of it.

  Otis went on his way. It was late, but his contact would still be up and he had a good deal to report.

  He nodded briefly at the man walking back the other way. Otis wouldn’t be following Henry home that night but Henry would be followed all the same.

  THIRTEEN

  Henry had not departed first thing the following morning, as originally planned. Instead he had taken himself to the office of the London Times and had requested information they might have regarding the Kirkland divorce. The facts were pretty much as Cynthia had remembered them.

  There had been a photograph in the files, taken on the day that the detective from Giles & Conway had given evidence to the court. The court case was so high profile that a number of photographers had waited outside, hoping to get a decent picture of the injured party and the accused. Mrs Kirkland – soon-to-be ex-Mrs Kirkland – had posed for photographs, looking glamorous and assured. A man standing beside her was referred to as her solicitor and there was an unnamed man, just behind, with his face turned from the camera. He was so obviously trying to move aside, as though wanting to get out of the way of the picture, and Henry would have thought him unconnected, apart from the fact that Mrs Kirkland had a hand resting on his arm. But it was the action captured in the background that really caught Henry’s eye; two men and a woman were getting into a taxi. One was Conway, the private investigator. The second he identified as Kirkland, there being other pictures in the article of the man himself. And the third was Martha. She had turned and was looking back at the little knot of people outside the court, at the very glamorous woman and her entourage. Henry had taken a hand lens and examined the photograph carefully and been surprised by the look of pure hatred on Martha’s face.

  So, he asked himself, was her association with Kirkland more than just a random act of professional deception?

  On impulse he had telephoned the offices of Conway & Giles and asked to speak to Felicity Bennett, remembering belatedly that she was now Felicity Conway. She agreed to meet him and half an hour later they were drinking coffee.

  ‘Mr John Kirkland,’ he said.

  ‘What about him?’

  ‘You helped him obtain a divorce.’

  ‘Technically, we helped his wife to obtain a divorce,’ she corrected him. ‘Mrs Kirkland won her case, he paid up, they got divorced.’

  ‘And yet there was a photograph in the Times showing Mr Kirkland, with your husband and with Martha. All three were getting into a taxi and seemed on the best of terms. Could it be that your company assisted both parties?’

  She frowned and sipped her coffee. Then shook her head. ‘I wouldn’t know anything about that,’ she said.

  Henry reached into his pocket. ‘I was able to obtain a copy of this photograph from the newspaper offices.’ He laid it on the table and pointed to the taxi in the background of the picture. ‘I have a glass if you wish for magnification.’

  She pushed the picture away. ‘I told you, I know nothing about that. Look, Mary … Martha … whatever her name was, she was doing a job. That was all. So what if Mr Conway, if my husband, also helped out with the husband’s needs. They both got what they wanted in the end and anyway, it makes sense they all knew one another, Martha was the one who helped create the evidence.’

  That was true, Henry agreed. ‘Do you know who this man might be?’ He pointed to the discomforted figure, standing to the side and just behind the soon-to-be ex-Mrs Kirkland.

  ‘No, no idea,’ she said after only a very quick glance. ‘Just a passer-by, from the look of him. Accidentally got caught in the picture.’

  ‘Except Mrs Kirkland evidently knows him. She has her hand on his arm.’

  Felicity shrugged. ‘I told you, I don’t know who he is. Look, I’ve got to be going.’ Her carefully cultivated sophistication was slipping, Henry noted. She was genuinely rattled.

  ‘I think you have every idea who this man is.’

  ‘What’s it matter now anyway? It was nine years or so ago, she’s probably picked up with half a dozen men or more since then. So has he for that matter. He’s already gone through another divorce.’

  ‘Did he marry Miss Maynard?’

  She laughed contemptuously. ‘Marry Nancy Maynard. You’ve got to be kidding me. No, he married some heiress or other, some minor aristocrat, not even an English aristocrat. Hungarian? Polish maybe, I don’t remember. It was in the papers and I remember looking at the picture and thinking it wouldn’t last. She was all starry and he … well, he seemed only half there. Some men should never get married.’

  A man at a table further back in the café got up and brushed past, the tables being set quite close. Henry glanced up, feeling that the face was somewhat familiar, but his attention was on Felicity.

  ‘Were there ever times when a young woman became involved with the client? When perhaps that young woman overstepped the boundaries.’

  ‘If you want to ask if Mary overstepped the boundaries, then say so. Yes she did, a couple of times. Truth is, Inspector, if she hadn’t taken herself off to be married she’d have got the push anyway. Girls are hired to do a job. They do the job, it takes half an hour of their time, they get paid. End of story. The man never sees them again and doesn’t even have their proper name. You do not get involved.’

  ‘And did she get involved with this Kirkland?’

  Felicity sighed and gathered her gloves back together. ‘I really do have to go.’

  ‘Then answer my question. Or I will have you arrested for interfering with a police officer in the commission of his duties.’

  She laughed. ‘You what? Is that even a legitimate offence?’

  ‘Would you like to risk finding out?’

  She stared at him for a moment or two and then gave up. ‘All right. Yes, she had a thing with Kirkland. He took a fancy to her and found out who she was. I don’t suppose it was that difficult for a man with his money. A bribe here and there. I think he actually liked her, she was an easy person to like, but I don’t think she wanted to end up as another Nancy Maynard. And then her doctor came along and that was it. She married him and off she went.’ She looked puzzled for a moment and then said, ‘Funny thing though, she was the “other woman” for a friend of his, a few months before. In fact, Kirkland actually requested her because of that. She got involved with him for a while too.’

  ‘So she made a habit of it.’

  ‘No, it wasn’t a habit. But sometimes a man can show you a good time, give you a little extra cash, a gift or two. Of course I wouldn’t do that now, but when I was young and free and single.’

  ‘Sometimes the temptation is too much.’

  ‘Exactly that.’ She sounded triumphant as though so glad that he’
d understood. ‘That time went all wrong though.’

  ‘Wrong? In what way?’

  ‘Well, he’d come in asking about getting help with his divorce settlement, said he didn’t mind being the guilty party, but that he didn’t see what right his wife had to take money that had been in the family for … God, I don’t know, generations. Martha soon found out he didn’t mind spending it on her. He asked to meet some girls, to see which one looked like his type, so that his wife would believe what was being set up – seeing as the girl would disappear afterwards anyway.’

  ‘And, Conway & Giles accommodated that?’

  She shrugged. ‘Not the strangest thing they’ve been asked. And besides, it made a kind of sense. Anyway, he chose Martha and when she was leaving work that day, he was waiting for her across the road. Well, they get into conversation and he asked if he could take her to dinner and she says yes. And they see each other a few more times, and then she finds out that he is violent. That he’s been beating up his wife. The fact that he makes a habit of beating up women.’

  ‘Did he hurt Martha?’

  ‘Um, I don’t think so. To be honest I don’t know all the details, it was all a bit, well, sordid. Mr Giles sorted it all out but agreed that she would do her part for the photographs, but she didn’t think it was right this poor woman would be left with nothing just because none of it was hers in the first place. I mean usually solicitors managed to get some kind of settlement, and I’m not quite sure what happened here, but there was some problem or complication. Martha reckoned the poor woman wouldn’t say boo to a goose by the time the husband had finished with her. So she leaked information to one of the newspapers. She denied it, of course, but I was pretty sure it was her.’

  ‘So she made an enemy. What was his name?’

  ‘I’m not supposed to give names.’

  ‘Mr Giles gave me information yesterday, about the cases in which Martha had been involved. I simply wish to know which one.’