The Corpse of St James's

by Jeanne M. Dams

  I was putting the second load of clothes into the machine when the phone rang.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Martin?’

  ‘Yes?’ The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it.

  ‘Quinn here, Jonathan Quinn.’

  ‘Oh, Jonathan! I hope you’re feeling better. I thought you seemed a bit green around the gills yesterday.’

  ‘I’m fine.’ It was the automatic response, meaning nothing. ‘Is the Chief at home?’

  ‘No, he’s gone out for a bit. Shall I have him call you?’

  ‘No!’ He cleared his throat. ‘No, actually it was you I wanted to talk to. Look, are you going to be there for a little while?’

  ‘All day.’

  ‘Well . . . um . . . could I come round to see you? Or could we meet somewhere?’

  ‘That would be lovely, but where are you? I couldn’t get another train to Victoria for an hour or so.’

  ‘I’m in Sherebury. I . . . this is embarrassing, but I’d like to speak with you alone. Can you suggest a place? I don’t know the town very well.’

  Curiouser and curiouser. I thought for a moment. ‘Well, there’s the tea shop in the Cathedral Close. Alderney’s. It has stairs; can you manage?’

  ‘I will manage.’ He sounded grimly determined.

  ‘All right. In . . . fifteen minutes?’

  ‘Bless you. I’ll be there.’

  Alderney’s was one of our favourite places, but Alan was safely at the other end of the High Street. He wouldn’t be popping in to Alderney’s.

  But whatever could Jonathan want to tell me that he didn’t want Alan to hear?

  FIVE

  ‘I know who she is. Was.’

  Jonathan dropped his bombshell in the middle of the teacups at Alderney’s.

  I stared at him open-mouthed, unable for once to say a word. Watson, at my side as usual, whined softly, sensing that I was upset.

  ‘I know you thought I was in pain. And I suppose I was, but it was the shock more than anything else. Dorothy, I don’t know what to do.’

  I took a deep breath and looked around the room. It wasn’t very crowded at this time of day, between lunch and teatime. We could easily be overheard. ‘Well. Maybe we’d better go out into the Close. I know a couple of nice, private spots.’

  We found one of them, a bench sheltered behind a huge rhododendron. It wasn’t very near Alderney’s, and I worried about Jonathan walking so far, but he limped along, leaning heavily on his cane, his mouth set. ‘I left my chair at the station,’ he said. ‘Too conspicuous. And I try to walk as much as I can.’

  I thought he had overdone it, but I wasn’t his mother. We sat, Watson still protectively at my side. He wasn’t sure he trusted this fellow. ‘All right, then. You’d better begin at the beginning.’

  ‘I told you about my honorary Aunt Letty.’

  ‘Mother of that woman in the palace.’

  ‘Jemima. Yes.’ He paused.

  ‘What about her?’ I asked after a moment.

  ‘Sorry. This is . . . difficult.’ He swallowed, stared into the distance, and then resumed his story. ‘I owe Aunt Letty a lot. My parents were . . . not abusive, just rather distant, especially my father. They packed me off to school after my eleven-plus exams, and after that I saw them only in the holidays. It was Aunt Letty who would come to visit, bring me little treats, listen to my schoolboy woes. It was Aunt Letty who encouraged me when I said I wanted to join the police. My father was dead set against it. He was a snob, you see. He was a shopkeeper, in a small way to start, but eventually with quite a large chain of upscale supermarkets.’

  ‘Quinn’s! There’s one in the new shopping centre on the edge of Sherebury, and I go there whenever I need something special. I never made the connection.’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s where he got the money to send me to public school. But he wanted bigger and better things than “trade” for me. Said he’d educated me to be a gentleman, and he’d be damned if he’d see me turn into a copper. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Yes. And he’d have prevailed if it hadn’t been for Aunt Letty. She worked on my mother, and Mother worked on Father, and the decision was delayed for a year. And then they were both killed in a plane crash. On their way to Mallorca,’ he added with a wry smile. ‘He hated hot weather and had no use for ancient ruins, but he thought it was a fashionable place for a holiday.

  ‘So then I inherited all that money and could do as I liked. And if that sounds callous, remember I scarcely knew either of my parents. They had never troubled to give me any attention, only money and things.’

  ‘No substitute for love,’ I agreed, thinking privately that I needn’t have worried about Jonathan’s finances.

  ‘No. So I set up a trust for Aunt Letty. Her husband had died by that time, and she didn’t have much money. She didn’t want to take it, said she didn’t need charity, but I insisted; told her it wasn’t charity, but love. Then I put in for Hendon, was accepted, and that was the beginning. If it hadn’t been for Aunt Letty, I’d have been forced into Oxbridge.’

  ‘Forced? Surely in this day and age . . .’

  ‘You never knew my father. Remember he held the purse strings. He who pays the piper, et cetera. I’d have been miserable at university, but that was where I was headed until that blessed woman instituted the delaying tactics.’

  ‘OK. I’ve got the picture. You look upon Letty as a surrogate mother. What does that have to do with the body in the park?’

  ‘Everything. She was Letty’s granddaughter. Jemima’s daughter.’

  ‘Good heavens! But what . . . why . . .?’

  ‘I don’t have any answers, Dorothy. I only know I recognized her the moment I saw her. She looks exactly like Jemima at that age.’

  ‘But why on earth didn’t you say something? The police are wasting hours trying to identify her!’

  ‘Don’t you think I know that? But follow it through for just a moment. I tell them she’s Jemima’s daughter Melissa. They go to the palace to question Jemima. There’ll be suspicion. They’ll find out that Melissa was illegitimate. Even in this day and age, that puts a stain on Jemima’s character. She has a responsible job, Dorothy, for the most conservative employer in the kingdom, and she can’t afford to jeopardize it. For the first time in her life, really, she seems to have fallen on her feet. She was in all kinds of trouble when she was younger. Well, Melissa was one of the troubles. Now she’s working for the Lord Chamberlain’s Office and lives in the palace. She’s got a lot to lose!’

  ‘I thought you said you’d forgotten she worked there.’

  ‘She said that. I hadn’t forgotten. I was just hoping to avoid her. We never got on as children, and as adults we’ve not had a lot to do with one another. She can be . . . difficult.’

  ‘And yet you recognized her daughter at once.’

  ‘I told you. She looks – looked – just like Jemima at that age. Even the clothes. Jemima liked to wear that sort of arty get-up. And in any case, Letty phoned me yesterday morning, just before I had to go to the palace. I’d invited her to the ceremony, as my only “parent”, but she called to say she couldn’t come, because Melissa had run away again.’

  ‘Still, it could be a coincidence. Lots of young girls look alike. Until their characters have formed—’

  ‘But that’s the other thing, you see. Those shoes she was wearing, and the make-up and all. That’s just the sort of thing Jemima would have done, tried to make herself look important. Like mother, like daughter.’

  ‘Jonathan, you have to tell Chief Superintendent Carstairs. At once.’

  ‘How can I? I’ve thought about this all night. I would unleash . . . God knows what. The palace nabobs are particular about their employees, and there are other things in Jemima’s background that wouldn’t bear scrutiny. Drugs, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Jonathan, forgive me, but I have to ask this. How sure are you that Jemima’s past is . . . well, past?’


  At that he looked even more miserable, and he’d looked bad enough before. ‘I don’t know, but Letty’s been very hopeful for the past couple of years. She believes Jemima’s walking the straight and narrow, and she’s a pretty savvy woman. Besides, they screen palace employees pretty rigorously. She would have had to pass a drugs test and a background check. But don’t you see? Just a hint of unjustified suspicion, and Jemima could get sacked, and revert back to her old ways. She’s a volatile personality, and a fragile one. Dorothy, I can’t do it!’

  I sighed. I had a strong premonition. ‘And why have you come to me?’

  ‘You’re unofficial. Could you help me? I know you’ve done this kind of thing before. The Chief was forever boasting about you when we were at Bramshill.’

  ‘Really!’ This was an entirely new insight. I’d always thought Alan somewhat disapproved of my sleuthing. Certainly he became upset when I put myself in danger, as I had more than once. The idea that he was proud of me . . . I shook my head to clear out the confusion. ‘But what you’re asking is absurd, Jonathan. For one thing, I have no way on God’s green earth to ask questions at the palace, where you seem to think this is all centred.’

  ‘But you see, that’s just what I don’t think. Melissa ran away – she’s done it before – and came to London and somehow got herself killed. But when Carstairs finds out who it was in the park, he’ll have no choice but to question Jemima. That’s why we need to find the killer before he gets that far.’

  I ran my fingers through my hair, and Watson whined again. Whatever was happening to upset me, he wanted it to stop. ‘Jonathan, listen to what you’re saying! You’re suggesting I go behind my husband’s back, pry into matters that don’t concern me in the least, muck up a police investigation into a nasty murder, and probably end up detained at Her Majesty’s pleasure! You need your head examined, if it hasn’t been already.’

  He looked wretched, pale and in obvious pain. His eyes reminded me of one of Jane’s puppies, wondering why it was being reprimanded.

  ‘Look.’ I ran my hands through my hair again. ‘I do understand why you’re upset. I do, truly. But you’re asking the impossible. If there were no other barriers – and there are dozens – I would never, ever get into something like this without telling Alan.’

  Jonathan sighed. ‘You can tell him, if you have to. I wanted to talk to you first, but I was going to him next. He’s retired. He doesn’t have to follow procedure.’

  ‘He may not have to, but he does. Regular Army all the way.’

  ‘Army?’ Jonathan looked confused.

  ‘Never mind. An old American expression. It just means he’s a straight arrow – sorry, he goes by the rules.’

  ‘Then I’ve no hope.’ He stood, painfully, leaning heavily on his cane. ‘I can do nothing by myself except, perhaps, warn Jemima of the storm that’s coming. Thank you for listening.’

  ‘No!’ I caught his arm as he was about to limp away. ‘No, I can’t let you just leave. Come home with me, have something to eat, or drink, or whatever, and let’s figure out a way to talk this over with Alan. He might have an idea.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I don’t know! I just know he’s come up with solutions to impossible problems before. Maybe he can do it again. And if he doesn’t, you’ll be no worse off than you are now.’

  ‘Will he think he has to tell Mr Carstairs? About the body?’

  ‘We won’t tell him everything. Trust me. I won’t lie to my husband, but over the years I’ve acquired a knack for . . . let’s say, editing the truth a bit.’

  Jonathan actually smiled, and limped slowly across the Close to the gate leading to my street.

  SIX

  Alan had returned home. ‘There you are! Couldn’t think where you’d got to. And Jonathan! What a pleasant surprise.’

  But he looked at me with a quick, questioning frown.

  ‘Jonathan has come to us with an extraordinary story, but I’m not going to let him tell it just now. The silly man has been walking all over Sherebury, and he’s ready to drop. I’m going to tuck him up in the parlour with a nice cup of tea, and then I’m going to check out what you’ve found for our dinner.’

  One of the things that made Alan such a good policeman was his quick perception and sensitivity to atmosphere. One of the things that made me fall in love with him was his understanding nature. He said only, ‘When Dorothy gives an order, Jonathan, there’s nothing to do but obey. Have a nice rest. Snooze, if you like, and we’ll call you when dinner’s ready.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what this is about?’ he asked in an undertone as he put a piece of beef on the cutting board and started to cut it into strips.

  ‘Not yet. After we eat. Stir-fry?’ I asked, looking at the array of vegetables on the counter.

  ‘Quick, easy, healthy. You want to whip up a marinade?’

  We had our pre-prandial drinks in the kitchen while the meat marinated, and then I set the table while Alan finished cooking the meal. In less than an hour all was ready, and I went in to wake Jonathan.

  He woke at a touch. ‘Something smells good.’ He spoke with assumed enthusiasm, but his face was still drawn and worried.

  ‘I hope you’re feeling a little better. Dinner will help. And we’re not going to say a word about you-know-what until after dessert.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ His attempt at a cheeky grin was heart-rending.

  Conversation at the dinner table was a bit strained. I didn’t want to talk about the Investiture, or indeed anything that happened the day before. Other obvious topics were also taboo. I knew Jonathan didn’t want to talk about his heroic rescue of the little girl, or his slow recovery, or his plans for the future, or anything that was on all our minds. Alan saved the day, finally.

  ‘Oh, Dorothy, I meant to tell you. I ran into Bob Finch in the High Street, and he said he wanted to get started on the garden again.’

  ‘Was he sober?’

  Jonathan looked a little startled.

  ‘As a judge. I don’t know if he’s taken the pledge, or his mother finally put the fear of God into him.’

  ‘Bob has a drinking problem, as you will have gathered,’ I told Jonathan, ‘but he’s an excellent gardener when he’s conscious. I hope he’s on the wagon for a while, at least, because he’s right. The garden needs his tender touch.’

  Almost anyone in England can hold forth on gardens, and gardeners, and flowers, for any length of time, so the subject took us safely through our fruit and custard. I made coffee and took it through to the parlour.

  ‘Now,’ I said, mentally girding my loins. ‘Jonathan came to me today with a hypothetical question, or rather a scenario. We’d like your opinion about its . . . um . . . likelihood.’

  ‘I see,’ said Alan, giving me a look I knew all too well. ‘Carry on.’

  ‘Well, suppose – no, Jonathan, let me tell it my way,’ I said, as he started to interrupt. ‘I read a lot of crime fiction. I’m good at this sort of story. Suppose, Alan, that a crime were committed. A murder, let’s say. And suppose further that there were a member of the public who had some information that might help the police. Naturally he – or she – would want to tell them as soon as possible.

  ‘But what if that information might lead the police down an entirely wrong path, and might in fact jeopardize innocent people, people dear to the heart of the member of the public? Would he be justified in keeping the information to himself until he had a chance to look into the matter more closely?’

  Alan had begun to frown. ‘How certain is this hypothetical member of the public that the information would mislead the authorities?’

  Jonathan opened his mouth, but I rushed in before he could speak. ‘Not certain, I should think. But let’s say that the assumption is reasonable.’

  Alan’s frown deepened. ‘When I was still an active member of the force, I can’t tell you how many witnesses hesitated to tell me something lest I “draw the wrong conclusion”. I’m sure you’ve had
the same experiences, Jonathan. My reply to them was always that they must let me be the judge of that.’

  ‘And did they always tell you?’ I asked.

  ‘Usually. Not always.’

  ‘And did you ever draw a wrong conclusion?’

  ‘Sometimes. Not often. We are trained to sift the wheat from the chaff, as you well know. And sometimes their silence led me in the wrong direction.’

  ‘Ah. So you say that the outcome is by no means certain, either way.’

  ‘I also say that withholding information from the police is a serious matter, sometimes liable to prosecution. Your hypothetical person would do much better to get the whole thing off his chest.’

  ‘I see. And suppose that this person decides, instead, to investigate on his own until he can see which quarter the wind’s in?’

  ‘And perhaps seeks the help of friends in his investigation?’ The frown was now pronounced.

  ‘Well, nothing could be more likely, could it?’

  Alan sighed, long and heavily. ‘Dorothy. You’ve been very careful to give me no useful information. I suppose you thought I’d feel obliged to act on it, and you’re quite right. I would.’

  I opened my mouth, and Alan held up one finger.

  ‘A moment. I said I would feel obliged to act. I didn’t say what action I might take. Even when I was actively serving, I used my own judgement about what information to pass along to my superiors, and when. Now. I assume we’re talking about yesterday’s discovery in the park. I would very much appreciate it, Jonathan, if you would tell me what you know about this affair.’

  Alan in his chief constable mode was formidable indeed. Jonathan nodded his head. ‘I see that I must, sir. Although . . . well, you’ll understand when I tell you everything.’