A True and Faithful Brother

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘And I am most grateful for your quick action which might have saved her life,’ said Vernon.

  Once the maid had departed Frances said, ‘I fear that the interview provoked or hastened the attack, and the visitor left suddenly because he thought he would be blamed. I wonder if this could be connected with the police and their suspicions of you. Perhaps the man was a plain-clothes detective.’

  They had little time to consider the matter before the maid knocked again. ‘If you please, there is an Inspector Payne here asking to see Miss Doughty.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  ‘How does he know you are here?’ asked Salter, when the maid had been sent to show the Inspector up to the apartment.

  ‘I think I can guess,’ said Frances, grimly. ‘The man who came here must have been a plain-clothes policeman sent by Inspector Payne as part of his continued enquiries into your past. I wonder how much he knows or what he has guessed? Well, I intend to give him a piece of my mind.’

  ‘I think I know better than to try and dissuade you. Do you wish me to stay here?’

  ‘You may go and sit with Mother if you wish. I have faced worse than Inspector Payne.’

  Salter favoured her with a look of quiet paternal pride before he left the room.

  Inspector Payne was shown in and looked around him. ‘Good morning, Miss Doughty. I must say this is all very cosy.’

  ‘I suppose you have come to gloat on your handiwork?’ she snapped.

  He had been about to sit down, but paused and stared at her instead. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘A lady is lying dangerously ill because of your actions. I hope you don’t mean to disturb her, because if you try I shall do everything in my power to prevent it.’

  He looked puzzled. ‘I am sorry, but I don’t understand your meaning.’

  ‘I am talking of the man you sent here to question Mrs Martin. He had hardly been here a few minutes before she collapsed, and she has been confined to her bed ever since, hardly able to move or speak. We hope she may live but that is far from certain.’ Frances realised that it was impossible for her to keep the emotion out of her voice, either the anger or the distress.

  ‘Miss Doughty, I can assure you that I have not sent any man here to ask questions, although I can guess who that man was and his purpose.’

  ‘Oh? Then tell me.’

  He drew up a chair and warmed himself by the fire, and she sat and faced him. ‘Did he have a foreign accent and call himself Green?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘Then he was not a policeman but a private detective.’

  ‘In whose employ?’

  ‘That he will not reveal, although one might hazard a guess. But he has been extremely diligent, and uncovered some very interesting information. Realising that what he had found was of importance to a police enquiry he was good enough to pass it on. As we have discussed, although Mr Vernon Salter was provided with an alibi for the night of Lancelot Dobree’s murder and released from custody, he remained under suspicion. After all, a man may have an alibi while employing others to do his work for him. But I always had my doubts about the housekeeper’s sudden change of story, and this has been confirmed. We now know, through the enquiries of the energetic Mr Green, that Mr Salter was not staying in the country cottage that night, in fact he was here, in the company of his mistress.’

  Frances opened her mouth to protest at Rosetta being described in that way, but thought better of it and was silent.

  ‘I have had a word with the housekeeper and she is now prepared to admit that she might have made a mistake when giving evidence before the magistrates, as she was feeling unwell that day. Of course I can understand given the terms of his marriage contract why Mr Salter wanted to keep his location secret. If his connection with Mrs Martin had become known it would have meant penury for them both, and, considering her delicate state of health, even more serious consequences.’ He paused and gave Frances a searching look. ‘But I think you already know all this. Mr Green suspected that Mrs Martin was not the lady’s real name, and that she was not, as her landlady had been informed, Mr Salter’s widowed sister. Mr Salter does have a sister but she is unmarried and does not live in Brighton. She did, however, have her own story to tell, and this led Mr Green to the conclusion that Mrs Martin is in fact Mrs Rosetta Doughty. She is your mother, is she not?’

  It was a challenge but Frances had no intention of being shaken by it. ‘She is. And I should tell you that Mr Salter has assured me that he has not contravened the terms of his marriage contract. He and my mother are merely friends.’

  ‘Whatever they may be now, that was not always the case, was it? And even if he is telling the truth, would his father-in-law have believed it? There was one thing that Mr Green never uncovered, but then he had never met you. I have been wondering for some time why your face was familiar to me; it was as if I had met you before, although I knew I had not. Now it all becomes clear. Mr Vernon Salter is your father.’

  He clearly expected her to protest, but she saw no point in denial. ‘I believe that to be the case, although I have only recently learned of it.’

  ‘You see, when a man is murdered and we don’t have the suspect red-handed, the first question I ask is who had the motive? Mr Salter and Mrs Doughty both had motive to put an end to Mr Dobree’s enquiries. Neither was in London at the time of Dobree’s death and in the case of Mrs Doughty I do not think she had the strength to commit the crime. You, on the other hand, were in London and had motive.’

  For one brief moment Frances thought the Inspector was joking with her, but saw almost immediately that he was deadly serious. ‘That is ridiculous.’

  ‘And yet here you are. I paid a visit to your home to interview you and your lady companion advised me that you had gone away but could not provide me with an address. But you had left the telegram in sight suggesting that you had gone to Brighton, and through the hard work of Mr Green I knew exactly where to come. Miss Smith was unable to give you an alibi for the night of Mr Dobree’s murder and she was sensible enough not to lie to me. That night she and her fancy man were attending an exhibition of pugilism, while you had decided to remain at home. So she and Professor Pounder have excellent alibis, but you do not.’

  ‘I was at home all that evening. I have never met Mr Dobree and certainly had no wish to kill him or anyone else for that matter.’

  ‘You may have to convince a jury of that.’

  ‘If you are trying to frighten me you are not succeeding. And now I must ask you to leave.’

  He rose to his feet. ‘Of course, I will go at once. But you will be coming with me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, I can’t have you running off, can I? So you are to accompany me to the station for further questioning.’

  She hesitated but saw it would be futile to argue. ‘Very well, the sooner this is resolved the better. I would like to send a telegram first, to ask Miss Smith to notify my solicitor to be at the police station to advise me. I do not think you can deny me that right.’

  Payne agreed, and Frances went to say farewell to her mother. Rosetta was awake and smiled weakly as Frances kissed her brow.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ asked Salter when Frances explained that she needed to return to London with the Inspector.

  ‘Just look after Mother, and keep me informed.’

  The train journey promised to be silent, especially as Payne occupied himself with his notebook and a newspaper, but as Frances sat opposite him deep in thought she realised she had the opportunity to explore another avenue.

  ‘I was told recently that Mr James Felter, a business associate of Bernard Salter, claimed to have seen George Cullum in Shepherd’s Bush about five years ago. Did he ever report that to the police?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Then I would be grateful if you could examine your papers on the case and see if he ever did make a report and if it was followed up.’

  He rubbed hi
s hand across his eyes. ‘Why do I always feel that I am the one being questioned?’

  Frances smiled.

  Frances’ solicitor Edward Bramley was waiting at the police station when she and the Inspector arrived. Sarah was there, too, her face darkly furrowed with concern. ‘What’s going on?’ she demanded.

  ‘Really, it’s nothing,’ said Frances soothingly. ‘Thank you for fetching Mr Bramley.’

  Bramley stared at Frances quizzically over his spectacles. She was not his usual kind of client, and he had only been acting for her for a few months following the dreadful circumstances that had befallen her previous solicitor. He was, thought Frances, neither astute to the point of sharp dealing, nor did his work give rise to suspicions of laxity. He did his business with commendable care and attention to detail and that was quite sufficient for her needs. ‘How might I advise you, Miss Doughty?’ he asked, looking about him. ‘Is this concerning a client of yours?’

  ‘Come this way,’ said Payne. ‘Not you, Miss,’ he added to Sarah.

  Frances hoped that he would not insist on Sarah leaving, but she simply grunted and sat down to wait, and Payne seemed content with that.

  They took their seats in the interview room. ‘It is concerning myself,’ Frances explained to Mr Bramley. ‘The Inspector believes that I am capable of murder.’

  ‘Good heavens! I am sure he is mistaken.’

  As to whether or not she was capable of murder Frances could not tell, and she simply said, ‘I assure you I am innocent of any crime.’

  Inspector Payne faced them across the desk and opened a file of papers. ‘Not so long ago, Miss Doughty, you put an announcement in the newspapers to advise that you would no longer be taking on any cases where a crime was involved. Very commendable. But recently you have interested yourself deeply in the murder of Lancelot Dobree. I wondered from the start if your interest was more personal than professional and so it appears.’

  Mr Bramley raised his eyebrows and glanced at Frances but she said nothing.

  ‘So, Miss Doughty, for our records, I would like the answers to some questions. To begin with, is Mr Vernon Salter your natural father?’

  ‘I believe that to be the case.’

  ‘And the lady living in Brighton under the name of Mrs Martin, the lady who Mr Salter visits regularly, her real name is Mrs Rosetta Doughty and she is your mother?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you aware of the terms of the marriage contract between Mr Salter and his wife?’

  ‘I first learned of the existence of that contract at the inquest hearing on Mr Dobree.’

  ‘You father did not tell you of it?’

  ‘My first ever meeting with him was here, after the inquest.’

  ‘But you do agree that he has flouted the terms of the contract?’

  ‘I do not. He has assured me that he and my mother, who has been in poor health for many years, have known each other only as affectionate friends since his marriage. I can see that others might have placed a different interpretation on his behaviour.’

  ‘If their connection had become known the consequences for both your parents would have been very serious?’

  ‘That is possible, had they not been believed.’

  ‘And from what Mr Marsden has told us, Mr Dobree harboured his suspicions, and could well have discovered enough to make your father a beggar and send your mother to an early grave.’

  This was not a question, and Frances said nothing.

  ‘But that fate might have been avoided by the death of Mr Dobree.’

  Still Frances was silent.

  Inspector Payne consulted his papers again. ‘I have been making some enquiries about you with other police stations and they have some interesting stories to tell about your activities in the last two years. It seems that there is hardly anything you will not dare to do; in fact, you are a regular Miss Dauntless. I think that you did know about the threat to your parents, and decided to do something about it, after making sure that neither of them could be under suspicion. You didn’t reckon with the housekeeper at the cottage having visited the premises on the day in question and being able to give the lie to Mr Salter’s alibi, however, you soon squared that, didn’t you? The plan was to lure Mr Dobree to an empty house and murder him. What inducements you offered him we can’t yet know, but maybe you said you could reveal something damaging concerning Mr Salter. Perhaps Mr Salter told you about his father-in-law’s plans to buy a premises and after making enquiries you found one that would suit your purpose, a house that was likely in view of the exorbitant price demanded to remain empty for some time. I know that a young man came to Munro & Son to ask about the property, a young man who has yet to be identified, but I also believe that you have in the past dressed as a man during the course of your enquiries. I spoke to an Inspector at Kilburn who told me he suspected as much. And there is a suit of man’s clothes in your wardrobe far too small for Miss Smith, although it would fit you. Do you know what I think? I think you visited Munro’s disguised as a man, and stole or otherwise obtained the keys to the house. I don’t know how Mr Dobree was able to slip out of the Lodge room for a secret meeting – perhaps you managed that, too, but you met him in the house, killed him, and hid his body in the shed. I wouldn’t usually suspect a young woman of a crime like that, but maybe you are one of those mannish females. Tall, active, a member of the suffragist movement, in possession of a set of wooden clubs that could be dangerous weapons in the right hands.’

  ‘This is pure imagination,’ said Frances.

  ‘Of course you couldn’t have the man missing and the will not proved, that would have made things hard for your father, so next minute along comes the famous detective Miss Doughty and the body is found.’

  ‘I was engaged by Mr Fiske to find Mr Dobree, as you know.’

  ‘Well, even if you had not been, I am sure you would have wormed your way into the case somehow. Then, of course, your boy agents, who claim they are searching for a missing cat, find, behind what appeared to be a solid wall, the hiding place for Mr Dobree’s regalia, together with a lady’s emerald ring. Do you have anything to say about that?’

  ‘Yes. I am sorry to say that Mrs Maxwell’s cat is still missing.’

  ‘Were the police supposed to think that the ring was the property of Mr Dobree? That he had crept out for an assignation with a female friend? Did you or your agents plant it there to add confusion to the mystery? Is it your ring? It certainly fitted you.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with that.’

  ‘And then we have the strange event where the housekeeper changed her story very conveniently for Mr Salter. It must have been very upsetting when you killed Mr Dobree and your own father was suspected. Did you persuade her? Did you pay her off?’

  Frances hoped fervently that the police did not decide to take a look at her bank account and see the large cheque she had received from the Salters.

  ‘Inspector,’ interrupted Mr Bramley. ‘It strikes me that what you have is a great deal of supposition and not one particle of proof. I believe that your purpose today is to try and frighten Miss Doughty into making a confession, without which you would not be able to proceed against her. Miss Doughty is, however, wholly innocent of any wrongdoing, and you are fishing in the dark. I cannot imagine that you intend to make a charge on no evidence whatsoever, and if you have now come to an end of your interview I suggest that Miss Doughty should be allowed to depart.’

  Payne looked displeased. ‘I have yet to ask about the murder of Mr Munro.’

  ‘That was the day after the inquest was it not?’ asked Frances, thankful that she had been asked to go with Sarah and Professor Pounder to meet the Smith family.

  ‘It was.’

  ‘Then you will find that I can account for my movements all that day.’

  ‘In that case, I will need a statement from you naming any witnesses.’

  ‘You shall have it.’

  There was a knock on the door of the inter
view room, and a constable looked in. ‘Sorry to interrupt you sir, but Inspector Sharrock of Paddington Green is here, concerning Miss Doughty.’

  From Payne’s expression this was the very last man he wished to arrive. ‘Very well, I’ll see him in my office.’ He pushed a sheet of paper and a pencil across the desk. ‘A statement about your movements on Saturday.’ He strode out.

  Frances picked up the paper and began to write.

  ‘Inspector Sharrock?’ queried Bramley.

  ‘We have worked on quite a number of cases together.’ It was not an entirely accurate description but it would serve. She and Sharrock had not so much collaborated as tackled the same cases separately with the Inspector issuing furious warnings about the dangers of her meddling in work more appropriate to men. She knew, however, that he had a kind heart underneath an often abrasive exterior and took an almost paternal interest in her welfare. It must have been at Sarah’s request that he had come.

  Bramley looked surprised but did not enquire further. ‘Do you have many witnesses to your movements on the day of Mr Munro’s murder?’

  ‘Yes, several.’ Frances listed the names. ‘I don’t know why Inspector Payne is suggesting that I am involved. The police believe that Mr Munro was killed by a member of a gang who stole his keys and used them to burgle furnished properties. There is no reason to doubt this.’

  Frances had completed and signed her statement when Payne strode back into the room with a face like a squeezed lemon. He picked up the document, glanced at it and threw it down on the desk. ‘Very well, you can go, but make sure of this, I will be watching you very carefully from now on!’

  Frances and Mr Bramley left before he could change his mind. ‘I don’t think that was an empty threat,’ confided Mr Bramley.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE