Inspector Sharrock was waiting for them with Sarah. ‘So what have you been up to this time?’ he demanded. ‘You told me you’d given up all that detective work.’
‘I had,’ said Frances, ‘but perhaps I made that decision too soon.’
He uttered a groan of despair. ‘Oh no, I knew it was too good to be true. Well I’ve spoken to Payne and he’s agreed to let you off for now. He always thinks the worst of women since his lady love ran off the day before their wedding with a man who passes forged cheques.’
‘That must have been very upsetting for him,’ said Bramley.
‘He’s not a bad sort.’ Sharrock gave a meaningful glance at Frances, who responded with an angry stare. Sharrock’s preferred method of putting a stop to her detective career was finding her a husband, and he was constantly suggesting the names of any single men of his acquaintance however remote their suitability. The main qualification appeared to be that they were not known criminals.
‘Maybe not, but he took his time poking around our apartment looking for hidden weapons,’ growled Sarah.
Sharrock gave her a look as if to say that Sarah needed no weapons, hidden or otherwise. He was thoughtful on the way back to Bayswater, but before he left the cab he said, ‘The lad who calls himself Ratty – you’re quite sure he doesn’t know his real name?’
‘So I believe.’
‘Only – I’ve had an idea. Let me think some more, and I might have an answer. If I’m right, he won’t like it, but he ought to know.’
After they had left the Inspector outside Paddington Green station, the cab continued on its way. ‘I didn’t wish to say this before either of the policemen,’ ventured Mr Bramley, ‘but if there is anything you feel you need to advise me of, please do so now.’
‘Inspector Payne’s suspicions are quite unfounded,’ Frances reassured him. ‘However, I listened to his speculations with some interest as there are some observations which might have some merit. The suggestion that the young man who made enquiries at Munro & Son might have been able to obtain the keys to the lodging house, for example. That would explain how Mr Dobree got inside – his killer unlocked it, and Mr Dobree simply walked in, though why I do not as yet know. I am glad that Mr Salter is no longer suspected of having actually killed his father-in-law, although the Inspector seems unwilling to admit that he is entirely innocent in the affair, and now clutches at the straw that he had an accomplice.’
Mr Bramley seemed relieved at Frances’ calm comments; at least he appeared disinclined to pursue that line of questioning.
‘What Sharrock said about Ratty,’ began Sarah, once Bramley had left them, ‘I hope it don’t mean his ma and pa are in prison, or hanged. There’s some things it’s best not to know.’
‘I think Inspector Sharrock sees Ratty as a boy who has some promise in making his way in life. But maybe there is some blot that will hold him back if it is not rubbed away. It might pain him, but in the end I hope he will be thankful for it. I am sure the Inspector would never mean him harm.’
The between stairs maid had a general instruction that if Tom or Ratty were to arrive in the absence of Frances and Sarah they were to be shown up to the apartment and requested to wait. It was not surprising therefore to find Tom making himself at home, with fresh coals piled on the parlour fire, to which he was offering a muffin on the end of a toasting fork. The butter dish was open on the table, but as far as Frances was concerned he was welcome to make free with it if he brought her interesting news.
‘Arternoon!’ he said cheerily, sniffing the aroma of the crisp delicacy with great appreciation. ‘Got any jam?’
Once Tom’s requirements had been attended to, he produced from his pocket a photographic card illustrating a young woman by the name of Lorna Lee, posed so as to emphasise a fine bust and a tumble of long hair. She was, according to the card, ‘London’s favourite songbird.’
‘That’s ’er,’ he said. ‘Sings at the Portobello Playhouse of Varieties, two shows daily, one at three o’clock and the other at eight. All sorts there; dancers, jugglers, comedians, performin’ dog, band, ’n everythin’, an’ there’s Miss Lee on the poster outside, all prettified, kickin’ up ’er ’eels and showin’ off ’er ankles.’
‘And this is the lady who was given the emerald ring?’
‘Seems she ’as another business between performances. I saw ’er goin’ into the Portobello ’Otel, bonnet ’ad a veil, but she was wearin’ a nice walkin’ dress, dark red, an’ all trimmed out in fur. Then soon arter that a gent goes sneakin’ in, with a muffler round ’is face so ’e won’t be recognised. They was only there an ’our or so, ’cos she ’ad to do the evenin’ turn dint she? Then she comes out, an’ off she goes up the road, an’ I follers ’er and she goes inter the theatre, by the stage door. Takes ’er veil up as she goes in, so I sees ’er face. That’s when I sees the poster an’ I know ’er name. I bought a little posy and sent it up to ’er askin’ for ’er picture an’ she sent me this.’
‘Thank you, that is very useful.’
Sarah stared at the picture, suspicion written all over her face. ‘You want me to go and see the woman? I don’t mind.’ Frances took her meaning. The main danger in such an interview was to her reputation.
‘We will question her together,’ said Frances, preparing to write a note. ‘A respectable teashop would be a suitable location.’
‘Yes, she’ll want something for her trouble. That sort always does.’
Sarah had been far from idle during Frances’ absence in Brighton, and had made a number of discoveries regarding the stolen snuffbox that Vernon Salter had purchased and handed to the police, making copious notes in her bold handwriting regarding material she had gleaned from the newspapers. She had also gone to the auctioneers who had sold the silver collection that was part of the late Mr Riley’s estate, and obtained a spare copy of the catalogue. Once Tom had departed she and Frances studied the new information.
In 1857 there had been a series of burglaries, all of substantial houses in the counties of Sussex, Kent and Essex, which were believed to be the work of the same gang. The men, and there were three of them, were desperadoes of the worst kind, quick to inflict any amount of violence to achieve their ends. All three were armed with guns and coshes. The burglary carried out at Hayworth Hill Manor had been particularly brutal. A servant had been threatened with a gun and then coshed so savagely that when found he had at first been taken for dead. While making their escape, the men had been spotted by a local constable, who on trying to apprehend them was callously shot dead. The police had felt sure they knew the identities of the men, but the villains had gone to ground, and their associates were too afraid or simply unwilling to say where they might be found. In 1858 two of the men were arrested for another offence and identified. They were tried for the murder of the policeman and hanged, but not before asserting that it was their missing associate, David Dunne, who had actually fired the fatal shot.
‘Has Dunne ever been found?’ asked Frances.
‘Not that I know of. He might have changed his name, of course; he could be in prison for some other crime.’
The newspapers had published a list of the stolen valuables, and comparing this with the sales catalogue, there were several items in the collection of the late Mr Riley which could well have been a part of that haul. ‘None of this was stolen from the business of Benjamin Salter by his partner,’ observed Frances. ‘Cullum was said to have taken money and bullion. Of course, that is only according to Mr Salter. Supposing he or his partner had become involved in dealing in stolen goods. The items wouldn’t have been entered in the company books, and Salter wouldn’t have reported them missing when Mr Cullum disappeared. In the meantime, Mr Riley, being a keen collector, might have bought them either from the thieves or any intermediary they used.’
‘Unless Mr Riley was actually Mr Dunne.’
‘Is that possible?’
‘It could be.’ Sarah tapped her notes. ‘He was abou
t the right age. And he didn’t show up till after Dunne’s friends were hanged.’
‘And decided to lead a respectable life?’ Frances was doubtful.
‘Without attracting any suspicion to himself. He knew he’d get a rope round his neck if he did.’
‘So it is still possible that Mr Bernard Salter could have been involved in passing on the stolen items.’
‘Or his son,’ Sarah reminded her. ‘I know you don’t want to suspect him, but you can’t rule him out just because he’s family.’
‘I wish I could, but you’re right. Of course if he had helped his father in some underhand business I would hope that he has put all that behind him now.’
‘And then there’s Mr Cullum. Is he still around? Perhaps the late Mr Riley wasn’t Dunne but Cullum? That would explain how he was seen in London a few years ago.’
‘It would. Well loath as Inspector Payne might be to accept any advice from me, I will write to him and suggest that he might look into Mr Riley’s antecedents. He will no doubt decline to reply.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The tea shop which was chosen by Miss Lorna Lee was not far from the theatre, and while smart and clean was patronised by a louder and more jovial crowd than similar establishments in Bayswater. It specialised in generous amounts of hot tea, and sandwiches and pastries in sufficient quantity to serve as a meal rather than simply an afternoon treat.
Miss Lorna Lee, London’s favourite songbird, was a woman of more mature charms than she might have liked to admit, but able through the dextrous application of paint to convey the impression of blushing youth combined with a hint of worldly experience. She was trim of waist but with a fine bust and hips and this exaggerated effect drew interested glances as she paraded her form into the tea shop, moving like a dancer, so that she could be admired from every point of view.
‘I am quite intrigued by your letter,’ said Miss Lee, arranging herself carefully on her chair to show herself to the best advantage. ‘I have never met a lady detective before and now I am meeting two. It sounds like a very interesting profession. I should mention, however, that there are certain confidences I am unwilling to break.’
‘I understand,’ said Frances. ‘But I do hope that you may be able to help me, as a man is suspected of a terrible crime which he did not commit and his reputation is threatened.’
‘Ah, yes, gentlemen’s reputations. I know all about those.’ Miss Lee studied the menu card. ‘Well, now, what shall we have? I do like a nice fruit tart.’
‘Might I ask if you ever received a gift from a gentleman of a ring set with an emerald? A ring that had to be made smaller to fit your finger? It was purchased from Mr Solomon Finewax.’
Miss Lee was astonished, then suspicious. ‘What do you know about that? Have you got it?’
‘The police found it together with some other property which was taken from the body of a murdered man.’
The songstress uttered a gasp of dramatic proportions. ‘Oh my word!’
A waitress arrived and Frances ordered tea and fruit tart with sandwiches, bread and butter and madeira cake. ‘Perhaps to begin with you might like to tell me about the gentleman who bought the ring for you.’
Miss Lee took a handkerchief from her reticule and made a great performance of dabbing her eyes without actually touching them. ‘Oh the poor man. Well he was a very nice old gent, that’s for sure. At least – you said he had the ring?’
‘It does seem like it, yes.’
‘Well I never.’ The handkerchief disappeared whence it had come. ‘All right, I’ll tell you all about him, but there’s not much to tell. These fancy gents in the high life, they never give their real name to their special friends. It’s all “call me Sammy” or “call me Jimmy”. This gent, he liked me to call him Joe.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘Smart dressed, quite old, but still with a bit of fire in him if you know what I mean. Still with his own hair, side whiskers, no beard.’
Frances produced the drawing of Lancelot Dobree. ‘Is this he?’
‘That isn’t a bad likeness. So he wants to take me to the hotel so we can have a little private dinner. Just the two of us. He’s bought me this ring, but it had to be made smaller and he got it from the jewellers and met me at the hotel. So then we went to our room where we had dinner. That was when it was stolen.’
‘Were you not wearing the ring at dinner?’
‘I tried it on and it fitted nice, but I took it off and laid it aside before we started our dinner.’
A laden tray arrived with all that was necessary for a nourishing repast and Miss Lee began to pile sandwiches and pastries onto her plate.
‘Why did you remove the ring before dinner?’ asked Frances.
Miss Lee smiled, and Frances felt Sarah’s foot nudge her ankle.
‘Oh. I think I understand.’ Frances quickly helped herself to bread and butter to cover her confusion.
‘And Joe he had a nice gold watch which he took off before – you know.’
‘Dinner,’ said Sarah.
‘Exactly,’ beamed Miss Lee, biting hungrily into a fruit tart. She dabbed her lips with a napkin. ‘Well we had a very merry time, so if a thief had crept in through a window and taken our jewellery we might well not have noticed it.’
‘How long were you at dinner?’ asked Sarah.
‘It must have been half an hour. Elderly gentleman can take much longer than the young ones over their dinner, but then they appreciate it more. So then Joe goes to get his watch and says, “Oh here’s a nice thing, my watch and your ring have been stolen!” And of course he didn’t want to report it and get the police involved. But he promised he would buy me another ring as good as the one that was taken.’
‘Did he buy you another?’ asked Frances.
‘No, in fact I never saw him again. That was when I started to wonder. Suppose he was a cheat and only pretended to find the things stolen. So you say he was killed?’
‘He was, yes.’
‘I am sorry, of course, but perhaps he cheated a lady once too often. I don’t suppose the police would let me have my ring back?’
‘Only if you can prove ownership. I think you should go to the police and identify the ring. Mr Finewax should be able to help, as he can testify both to the sale and making the alteration.’
Frances suddenly found she had little appetite for what the tea shop had to offer, not that it was not appetising, but because she saw that this recent revelation gave a quite different picture of Mr Lancelot Dobree from the one accepted by his friends. Not only did he consort with women of a certain character, something that might have been excused in a lonely man, but also there was the accusation of tawdry cheating which was in many ways far worse. She was going to have to tread very carefully indeed.
On her return home, Frances found a letter waiting for her from Vernon Salter. To the best of his recollection, at the time of George Cullum’s disappearance in 1857 he had been between thirty-five and forty years of age. If Cullum was still alive then he would, Frances calculated, now be in his early sixties. Salter didn’t know when or where Cullum had been born. He had never met any member of Cullum’s family but knew that he was married with young children. Cullum had been of average height and proportions, with light brown hair and whiskers and no distinguishing features. He was left handed, both as a silversmith and with a pen. While the general description of Cullum was too vague to be useful, and his appearance could have changed over the years, the one thing Frances knew he could not alter was being left-handed, and determined that in future she would look very carefully for handedness in all the men of the right age she encountered.
Salter wrote that his father had never really liked Cullum but the man was highly skilled in his craft, and supervised the workshop. Although they often described themselves as partners the arrangement had never been legally formalised, although that possibility had been discussed. The lease of the property was in Bernard Salter’s sole n
ame, and Cullum had wanted to buy a share of the business.
Regarding Cullum’s disappearance, Salter had searched his memory for the events that had immediately preceded it. About two months before Cullum had disappeared he had been taken ill, at least that was the import of a letter received from Cullum’s wife. Although there was some inconvenience in unexpectedly losing the work of an experienced man, Bernard Salter had been somewhat relieved. His son was young but he had been learning the trade and was able to take over some of Cullum’s less demanding work. Father and son had had an earnest discussion, since Bernard Salter now wanted to take on his son as a full partner. When Cullum unexpectedly returned, he was secretive about the nature of his illness and said he did not wish to go back to the toil of silversmithing. The Salters weren’t sure that Cullum had been ill at all, and suspected that his absence was actually a cover for some illegal business he had been conducting.
Bernard Salter and Cullum had a meeting. Salter suggested that if Cullum was too ill to work he could retire, and offered to make a severance payment. Cullum took this with very bad grace. He proposed instead that the business could be made more profitable if they dealt in stolen goods, and that that side of the business should be turned over to him. The shop with its legitimate trade would be the perfect front. Salter, angered and insulted by this, refused, and the two men had argued. Two days later Cullum vanished.
Frances made a quick search of her collection of West London street directories, which soon revealed that Cullum’s name had disappeared after the last one that had been printed before he himself was gone.
Next morning Frances visited Somerset House to see the records of the Registrar General, where she had better fortune. A George Cullum had married in the parish of Paddington in 1852. She ordered a copy of the certificate. The birth registers showed three possible children of the marriage; a son, John, born in 1854, a daughter Eliza in 1856 and a son, Harold, in 1858. In 1858 there were two Cullum deaths, Jane and Harold. Frances wondered if this was the abandoned wife and the last-born. Further searches through the books did not reveal either marriages or deaths for John and Eliza Cullum. Frances wasn’t sure if she could trace these individuals, but if she could then they might be able to clarify the fate of their father.
A True and Faithful Brother Page 22
