A True and Faithful Brother

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘In your own words,’ said Mr Bramley, ‘can you describe the incident?’

  Frances did her best and he made careful notes.

  ‘And you are quite certain beyond any shadow of a doubt that he had a weapon in his hand?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘A hammer, you say?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you describe it?’

  ‘Just a plain hammer, I believe. There was enough light to see the shine of the metal.’

  ‘And once you struck him and he collapsed you didn’t see what happened to it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you hear it strike the ground?’

  ‘No I didn’t.’

  ‘Miss Smith? Did you hear it?’

  Sarah shook her head. ‘I wish I had. Just the bang as the club hit his head.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Frances ventured, ‘he didn’t drop it on the ground, but it fell against his body, or went into the hedge.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Bramley, ‘but Inspector Payne was on the scene hardly a minute or so later and found nothing.’

  ‘Then it must have flown off into some mud or rubbish,’ said Sarah. ‘It’ll turn up.’

  ‘I sincerely hope so,’ said Bramley.

  Frances’ next visitors were Tom and Ratty. How Tom had persuaded Ratty to voluntarily enter a police station she couldn’t be sure, as he only did so under extreme circumstances. Perhaps, she thought miserably, this was an extreme circumstance. They brought a bag of apples, but then proceeded to eat most of them themselves. She had been trying to think how the hammer had gone missing, and asked the boys to make a thorough search of the area outside her house and on either side, once the police had left.

  ‘We got other news for you,’ said Tom. ‘Found out the man ’oo ’as bin meetin’ wiv Mr Green. Saw ’im goin’ in and knew ’im at once. Can’t mistake them whiskers.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes, it were your friend Mr Miggs, what writes poems about flowers and that, creepin’ in an’ lookin’ about ’opin’ not ter be seen.’

  Ratty chuckled at the thought.

  Frances helped herself to the last apple before it disappeared. ‘I had imagined that it was Mr Dobree who had initially engaged Mr Green and then, after the murder, some agent of his continued the work on his behalf, but I understand it now. It looks like Mr Dobree didn’t after all employ a man to work for him and really did decide to investigate entirely on his own. As for Mr Miggs, he was very annoyed when Mr Salter was freed of suspicion and must have hired Mr Green to find out something to his detriment. In doing so he discovered that Mr Salter had a perfect and genuine alibi for his father-in-law’s murder, but assumed that he was visiting a mistress. What a nasty vindictive man.’ She bit into the apple hard.

  ‘There’s more,’ said Tom. ‘We follered Mr Miggs when ’e come out, ’an ’e ’ad a very nice meetin’ wiv Mrs Cholmondeleyson, the rich lady what doesn’t want wimmin ter ’ave the vote.’

  ‘I fink Mrs Chummyson likes ’is poems,’ said Ratty. ‘I read one once.’ He shrugged. ‘It was all right.’

  ‘I fink she likes Mr Miggs,’ added Tom with a significant wink. ‘She brought ’er carriage round to ’is place, and the two of ’em gets in an’ off they go very cosy together. They was out fer two ’ours. As far as we c’d find out they were jus’ ridin’ about, ’n dint stop off anywhere. But ’oo knows what went on?’ He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

  ‘I dread to think,’ said Frances, who, despite her lack of experience in these matters, could well understand the attraction that might arise between a rich elderly lady and a young but poor gentleman. If nothing else, Mrs Cholmondeleyson would enjoy bathing in the glow of her literary connection but more worryingly, she was easily able to provide funds to allow Mr Miggs to pursue his obsessions. ‘Well, you must keep watch on them both. Have you had any luck identifying the man who cuts ladies dresses?’

  ‘Not yet, we come on the scene once, soon arterwards, but ’e’d run off. Fast on ’is feet, that one.’

  ‘And have you found Mrs Maxwell’s cat?’

  Tom hesitated. ‘Well, yes and no.’

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘That is, we found most of it.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘Jus’ the fur,’ said Ratty. ‘It’s very nice fur. Does she want it back?’

  ‘’Cos we know someone who stuffs animals,’ said Tom.

  ‘Or it would make a nice collar,’ added Ratty.

  ‘Tell Sarah to speak to her,’ said Frances, sadly.

  A constable peered into her cell. ‘You two can go now,’ he said, firmly but not unkindly. Tom and Ratty needed no further bidding, and as soon as the door was opened they jumped up and hurried away. ‘And you Miss, I’m to take you to be questioned.’

  ‘By Inspector Sharrock?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Oh no Miss, you’ll be meeting the big man, Superintendent Barnes.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Frances, wondering how her situation could possibly be worse, was taken to an interview room. She was somewhat comforted to see Mr Bramley, and thanked him for being there to support her. Sharrock was also present, but it was clear that he was only to observe the proceedings. The officer behind the desk was a tall individual of almost giant-like bulk, with a red face and very white hair. Superintendent Barnes looked like a man who could appear wonderfully jovial when it was called for, but this was not one of those occasions. He had bright blue eyes that he used to his advantage, enabling him to look at a prisoner very searchingly, suggesting he already knew all that there was to know, so there was no point in trying to hide anything.

  ‘Miss Doughty,’ said Barnes, examining the papers in a folder, ‘you are the daughter of William and Rosetta Doughty, born in September 1860?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And until the death of your father you assisted him in the chemists shop on Westbourne Grove?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘After his death you moved to lodgings in Westbourne Park Road, together with your maid, Miss Smith, and commenced to offer your services as a detective?’

  ‘Miss Smith was once my maid; she is now my assistant.’

  ‘But you have undertaken work as a detective for two years now?’

  ‘I have, yes.’

  Barnes turned through the papers in the file. ‘With some success, it appears.’

  ‘I like to think so.’

  ‘A few months ago, however, you decided to give up that occupation. Why was that?’

  ‘I thought it was too dangerous. I was shaken by a number of tragic events. But I do carry out enquiries where no crime is involved. Missing pets, for example.’

  ‘And missing men?’ he said pointedly.

  ‘I had thought when I was approached by Mr Fiske that Mr Dobree’s disappearance had an innocent explanation.’

  ‘Following the discovery of Mr Dobree’s body, and the finding that he had been murdered, that should have meant an end to your enquiries, but it seems it did not.’ He fixed her with an icy stare. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘When Mr Salter was exonerated of suspicion regarding the murder of his father-in-law the family feared that his reputation had been tainted and I was asked to make enquiries to assist in clearing his name.’

  ‘Did that include making a search of the house where the body was found?’

  ‘I wanted to search but I was not permitted to do so.’

  ‘Instead you asked your agents to search for you with the excuse that they were looking for a missing cat.’

  ‘My client Mrs Maxwell will confirm that she engaged me to find her cat.’

  ‘Was there any reason to suppose that the cat was in 2 Linfield Gardens?’

  ‘It could have been anywhere. I should mention that my agents were under strict instructions to harm no property in their searches and to take nothing, instructions with which they complied. As it so happened their actions uncovered valuable evidence the Kensington police had missed. I
f Mr Dobree’s murderer is found they might be entitled to a reward.’

  Sharrock made considerable efforts to keep a straight face and almost succeeded.

  ‘You were present when Inspector Payne examined the items found, which included an emerald ring, and this you somehow traced to the Portobello Hotel.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where you spoke to Mr Harry Abbott. How well did you know Mr Abbott?’

  ‘That was my first meeting with him. We spoke for only a minute. I wanted to know about a guest of the hotel. He refused to help me.’

  ‘Did that make you angry with him?’

  ‘No, I rather expected that response.’

  ‘But you must have been annoyed that he wouldn’t help you?’

  ‘I understand what you are implying, but that is quite a common occurrence in my line of work. As it must be in yours.’

  ‘When did you next encounter Mr Abbott?’

  ‘When he followed me to my door and attacked me.’

  ‘Were you expecting to see him?’

  ‘No. It was a shock. I had heard he was missing. I thought he needed help, he was bruised and agitated, but then he attacked me with a hammer. He intended to kill me.’

  ‘A hammer.’

  ‘Yes. Have you found it?’

  ‘No, Miss Doughty, we have not. The whole street has been searched, the drains, the bushes, every nook and cranny where this – hammer – might have ended up. But there is no sign of it. None at all.’

  ‘He had one. He raised it to strike me.’

  ‘Are you sure of that? It was dark.’

  ‘I saw it in the light of the gas lamp.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes. I am certain of it.’

  Barnes looked wary and closed the file, pushing it away.

  ‘The thing is, Miss Doughty, you have taken a very close interest in the Dobree case right from the start. Inspector Payne has established that despite your insistence that you never met Mr Dobree or, before recent events, any member of his family, you are aware that Mr Vernon Salter is maintaining your mother in an apartment in Brighton. We have further established that the separation agreement between Mr William Doughty and his wife named Mr Vernon Salter as the other man in the case.’

  Frances could say nothing and she dared not glance at Inspector Sharrock, however it dawned upon her that if the police knew about the terms of the Doughty separation there was only one source for that information, Mr Rawsthorne, her former solicitor. He probably suspected that she had been instrumental in his downfall and would not be thinking of her kindly.

  ‘Moreover,’ the Superintendent continued, ‘it included some information that William Doughty only confided to his family and most trusted friends, his suspicion that Mr Vernon Salter is your natural father.’

  Frances heard Sharrock gasp.

  ‘So Mr Salter is far more than a client to you, and you have strong reasons to protect both him and your mother from scandal. It all comes down to the emerald ring. I suspect that Mr Abbott was blackmailing the family who do not want it revealed that Mr Dobree was in the habit of consorting with an actress at a disreputable hotel.’

  ‘I can see that you might suspect that Mr Dobree was the man who purchased the ring, as did I at first, but I have established that it was quite another man.’

  ‘Indeed? And his name?’

  ‘He did not give me his name. But I was introduced to him by Miss Lorna Lee.’

  ‘Ah. So you accepted the word of an actress – a woman of no character. Others may not. And would this man be willing to come forward and repeat his story to a court?’

  Frances sighed. ‘I doubt it.’

  Superintendent Barnes leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. ‘Miss Frances Doughty, I am formally charging you with the murder of Mr Harry Abbott. You are warned that you must say nothing that might criminate you. I will now proceed to take a written statement, after which you will be returned to your cell to await transfer to the cells at Marylebone Police Court, where proceedings will be taken to commit you to take your trial at the Central Criminal Court.’

  For a moment the words seemed to pass her by, as if they were just sounds with no meaning. She was brought back to reality by Mr Bramley’s hand on her arm. ‘I think my client would like a moment to rest, and perhaps if a glass of water could be provided?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Barnes. He gathered his papers and rose to his feet. ‘Inspector Sharrock, I will leave the rest of the arrangements to you.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  When Barnes had left the room, Frances sat quite still for a while, until she was shocked back to reality by Inspector Sharrock bringing her a glass of water. The glass rattled against her teeth as she drank. He sat beside her sympathetically for a moment.

  She blotted her lips with a handkerchief. ‘What will happen now?’

  ‘Constable Stuckey will write down your statement and when you’ve signed it we’ll get you back to your cell. Take as long as you like over it, you can have rests from time to time if you want them.’

  ‘I need to send a message to Sarah.’

  ‘I can arrange for that,’ said Bramley.

  ‘When will I be taken to Marylebone?’

  ‘Tomorrow morning.’

  Frances had no idea what the prisoner accommodation was like at Marylebone Police Court, or how many visitors she would be permitted there. At Paddington, she knew she would be allowed the maximum privileges in Sharrock’s power, and probably more. She had to clear her head and think fast.

  ‘There was a hammer,’ she insisted. ‘I didn’t imagine it. Ask the constables to look again. Either that or —’ she wondered suddenly if Inspector Payne, who seemed to have focussed his entire distrust of the female sex onto her, had deliberately removed it. Was he capable of such a dreadful act? ‘Would you be so good as to speak to Inspector Payne? He was the first to find the body. There must be some little thing he can recall. Is it possible he picked up the hammer and – in the heat of the moment – has forgotten about it?’

  Sharrock grunted. ‘I think I know what you’re implying. I’ll have a word. But I think you’re wrong. He’s a miserable character, but not wicked.’

  By the time Frances had completed her statement, Sarah had returned, together with Cedric Garton, who Frances knew from experience could change from languid aesthete to man of action in an instant if required.

  ‘The police have been all over the street, or at least everywhere a hammer could have been dropped or thrown,’ said Sarah. ‘Nothing’s come up.’

  ‘I’ve been talking to the neighbours,’ added Cedric, ‘and there is no one who saw the attack on you. Not surprising if it was just in front of the door and behind a hedge. The people on either side couldn’t have seen it. I have spoken to the people opposite who looked out of their bedroom windows when they heard police whistles, but all they saw was Payne standing over the body and the constables running up.’

  ‘It seems to me,’ said Frances, ‘from the way that I have been questioned, that Superintendent Barnes has made up his mind that there never was a hammer at all.’

  ‘We’ll carry on the work,’ Sarah reassured her. ‘It must be somewhere.’

  ‘If it isn’t still in the street then it was taken away,’ said Frances. ‘Inspector Payne took it, or one of his men. Or someone found it next morning.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘And if someone just picked it up they might not have known it was important. It might have been someone passing by and not a neighbour. We could put a notice in the papers, ask them to hand it in, no questions asked.’

  ‘Don’t you worry,’ said Cedric. ‘If it’s in London, we will find it!’

  Leaving some comforting little gifts behind, they had scarcely departed when Vernon Salter arrived. Sharrock, without commenting, showed him to Frances’ cell, but she could see him glancing back and forth, comparing the appearance of the two.

  Salter perched beside Frances on the bench. He was h
eavy eyed and spoke with an effort. ‘You look well.’

  ‘Thank you, I am. There is a solution to this, I am sure of it.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to help you, anything at all?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Only – please make sure mother doesn’t hear of this.’

  ‘I shall protect her, of course. I assume this is all a terrible mistake? Miss Smith told me you had actually been charged with murder. I can’t believe you would kill someone!’

  ‘I am responsible for a man’s death,’ said Frances, the words sounding strange as she spoke them, ‘and of course I regret it very much, but he was trying to kill me. If I had not struck him I would have died.’

  ‘The police must be made to understand that!’

  ‘That will be hard unless they find the weapon he used to attack me. At least this will take their attention away from you for a while. But I have learned something of interest very recently. Your father-in-law was seen standing outside the back door of the Lodge room before the last meeting of Mulberry Lodge he attended – I assume he must have climbed up the back stairs – and he was looking out of the little window there. It gives a view of the alleyway and also the yard of the lodging house. There was some kind of criminal activity going on in that house. A convenient place to hide and distribute stolen goods – perhaps the proceeds of the recent burglaries in the area. But did you ever notice any sign that your father-in-law suspected you of involvement in those activities? Have you ever climbed the back stairs of the tavern and looked out of the window?’

  Vernon looked mystified. ‘I suppose I knew those stairs existed, but I have never had any occasion to go up them. I always used the main stairs to go to the Lodge room, as we all did. The only time I ever went along the corridor leading to the stairs was to visit the gentleman’s convenience.’ He paused as an idea occurred to him. ‘I do recall something. There was one time – it couldn’t have been long before Lancelot died – I was at the tavern for a meeting of the Mulberry Lodge, probably the same one you are referring to, and perhaps spent a little longer than was usual in that room.’ He rubbed his stomach reflectively. ‘When I returned to the lounge bar Lancelot had just arrived and he looked at me very strangely, but said nothing.’