The Affair of the Christmas Card Killer (Lord Kit Aston Book 1)

by Jack Murray

  The doctor left, and the nurse sat down beside him and mopped his head. When she had finished she set the rag down on a small bedside table. The soldier moved his arm and little and felt for the nurse’s hand. Finding it he took hold of her hand and weakly shook it.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said faintly.

  Although it was difficult to focus on her face he could see she was smiling. Her hand felt so soft he was reluctant to let go, so he continued to hold it. The nurse did not stop him.

  ‘The other soldier? What happened to him?’ he asked after a few moments.

  The nurse put her mouth to his ear and said, ‘He’s alive. He wasn’t badly hurt. Scratches really.’

  A tear rolled down the side of the soldier’s cheek and he fought hard to contain his emotion. Instead he nodded. The nurse used the rag to mop his cheek with her free hand.

  ‘My eyes. I can’t see very well, did something happen to them?’ he asked after a few moments.

  ‘We weren’t sure if you had suffered any ocular lesions, due to exposure to gas, so we gave you some eye drops as a precaution. The morphine will also be affecting your vision, we’ve had to give you frequent doses,’ she replied into his ear. ‘We don’t think your eyes have been affected, but your vision might be impaired for a day or two.‘

  ‘And my leg? It’s not good, is it?’

  The nurse was silent. He looked up and could make out her free hand rubbing her eyes. Finally, she replied in his ear, ‘No, I’m sorry. There was nothing they could do.’

  ‘I understand,’ he whispered. ‘I’m sorry to put you all to such trouble.’

  The nurse continued to hold his hand. They were both silent for a while. The soldier contemplated what his life would be like now. The pain was relentless, however the morphine was doing its job and making things bearable. Strangely he felt he could wiggle his toes.

  ‘You’re very kind to stay with me like this,’ said the soldier finally.

  ‘I don’t mind. I’ll have to go soon, though. Sorry.’

  For the next few minutes she gave mopped his brow and gave him some water. After this she inspected the wound but decided to leave it. Replacing the blanket over his leg she told him that she would be back soon.

  He stayed awake for another hour but eventually fell asleep again.

  -

  He awoke to the sound of screaming in the next bed. A doctor, a nurse and an orderly were all holding down a young soldier. All of them were covered in blood.

  Another day, he was still alive. A good sign and then he felt the pain in his leg. It was brighter inside the tent, yet he had no idea what time it was. His vision was still blurred, and he was unable to focus on the people walking up and down the corridor between the beds. The smell was still bad, but he had become accustomed to it.

  The soldier in the next to him had stopped screaming. He was whimpering now. Glancing over to him he could see how, in all probability, he had lost both legs. Poor devil, he thought. The doctor and the nurse left him and came over.

  ‘I see you’re awake. We shall be moving you later today. Unfortunately, we’re running short of beds and it looks like you’re well enough to travel,’ said the doctor.

  The soldier smiled grimly and said, ‘I’ll just pack my things then.’ The doctor was already moving on as another soldier was crying out in anguish. The nurse remained behind, however and sat down beside him.

  ‘We’ll get you ready for the ambulance,’ said the nurse. The soldier recognized her voice. His hearing was still affected by the ringing from the bombs, however he could tell a little bit more about her from the way she spoke. It was clear she came from a wealthy background.

  ‘You don’t sound like a nurse,’ said the soldier.

  ‘Well, I’m not allowed to be a doctor for some reason, so I’m a nurse. Would I sound more credible if I were your doctor?’

  ‘I believe you would,’ laughed the soldier before breaking into a coughing. ‘I’ve heard voices like yours elsewhere. Feels like a lifetime ago.’ He squinted at her but still could not get a clear picture of how she looked. The nursing cap covered her head, so it was not possible to see the colour of her hair.

  The nurse did not reply to this but instead put some water to his lips and said she would bring some food. Putting her hand to his forehead she said, ‘Your fever is well down now. You’re definitely fit to go. Are you feeling a lot of pain?’

  He was in great pain. His leg was in agony and all he wanted to do was scream. He replied, ‘Only my heart. Must I leave you?’ He smiled despite the pain and it was apparent she was smiling also.

  ‘I’m sorry nurse, I don’t think I ever caught your name.’

  There was a hesitation then the nurse replied, ‘Tanner. Nurse Tanner.’

  ‘You seem unsure,’ said the soldier.

  The nurse laughed at this but said nothing. Finally, the soldier persisted a bit more. ‘Am I allowed to know your first name?’

  She seemed reluctant but finally relented and said, ‘It’s Mary.’

  ‘Mary Tanner,’ said the soldier, ‘I shall remember you. I just wish I could see you better.’

  ‘Indeed, but this brings us to an interesting subject,’ replied the nurse.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, what exactly is your name? You were carrying three sets of identity cards. One Russian, one German and one British. On the one hand you could be a Mr Alex Chekov, on the other Herr Klaus Adler or, finally, Simon Page.’

  ‘Yes, I can see how this might appear a little strange,’ admitted the soldier.

  ‘You could say that. We weren’t sure you were British.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I know,’ laughed the nurse, ‘This much is apparent,’ laughed the nurse.

  ‘Can you do me a great favour, Mary? Can you get in contact with Major Roger Pagett? Please tell him that you have Simon Page in your care.’

  ‘Simon Page. Is this really your name?’ asked the nurse, sceptically.

  The soldier smiled and said, ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’

  Chapter 29

  28th December 1919: Lincoln County Police Station

  Harry Miller lay on his bunk in the Police cell. He was bored. It was now around ten. Breakfast had been two hours ago, he was hungry again. The cell was small, barely six feet wide and ten feet long. He knew this because he had measured it earlier. It was empty except for the bed, a slop bucket and a wash hand basin. The window was too dirty to allow much light in and too high up for Miller to look out of.

  Apart from a pre-bedtime walk, he had not been able to leave the cell since his arrival. In the absence of anything better to do he got onto the floor and did some press-ups. This is how Inspector Stott found him.

  ‘Jolly good idea. I wish I’d the energy for this sort of thing,’ said Stott as he entered.

  Miller leapt to his feet and nodded. Despite his pre-army career taking him onto the wrong side of the law, his experience with the Police and detention had been minimal. It seemed to Miller that Stott was not a bad lot. In fact, he suspected that Stott doubted Miller’s involvement in any murder but was unable to admit as such.

  ‘Any news, sir?’ asked Miller politely.

  ‘No, still waiting for the coroner’s report, Miller,’ said Stott before adding, ‘Nothing from Lord Aston either.’

  Miller looked disconsolate. He had no doubt he would be cleared but was feeling frustrated by the incarceration. Stott could see he was vexed. ‘We need to conduct a formal interview now, Miller. If you’ll come with me.’

  Stott led Miller out into the corridor and they walked to an adjacent room, which was as densely furnished as the cell he had left. It consisted of one table and two chairs. Stott and an unnamed Police officer joined him in the room. Miller sat down opposite Stott and the interview began.

  The initial questions dealt with Miller’s whereabouts over the previous three days, who he had been with, when and what he had been doing. Miller answered the questions, truth
fully, which included acknowledging he had possibly been the last person to see Cavendish alive on Christmas night. He also admitted to being in the library alone following the death of Cavendish.

  Stott appreciated the little manservant’s honesty. He also noted how Lord Aston had not mentioned either of these things. It added to an overall impression that either the man before him had committed no crime or else he was playing a dangerously disingenuous game. However, the latest disclosure, if Cavendish had been murdered, would potentially tighten a noose around his neck. Unusually for Stott, he felt sad about this.

  The thought of Lord Aston prompted a different tack in the questions and Miller recounted how they had first met in No Man’s Land and his subsequent employment. These questions confirmed to Stott, Lord Aston’s intense loyalty to Miller and would not necessarily be a trustworthy witness. It disappointed Stott to think anything bad of the lord but he also took at as a very English sort of loyalty. On the whole it recommended Lord Aston even more to him.

  They turned next to Lord Cavendish. Stott looked at Miller and asked, ‘When did you first meet Lord Cavendish?’

  ‘Never met him until we arrived Christmas Eve?’ responded Miller.

  ‘But you were aware of his connection with your brother’s execution?’ continued Stott.

  ‘I had no idea. The first I heard about my brother was a fortnight after he was dead.’

  Stott seemed genuinely surprised by this. ‘Really, weren’t you told anything?’

  ‘No, I was at the front. Communications were patchy,’ Miller shrugged. ‘I sent a letter to the War Office last year to find out more about what had happened. They weren’t very forthcoming. I’m sure you can check all this Inspector Stott. Just to underline, though, I still don’t know why they executed Dan. There is absolutely no way I would’ve been able to obtain information on who conducted the tribunal, who ordered the execution and who did the shooting.’

  ‘Then how did the Cavendish sisters get hold of this information if it’s not available?

  Miller gave Stott a look that suggested he was being naïve. ‘I don’t have the same set of friends, sir.’

  Stott nodded but said nothing. It was certainly true it would have been difficult for Miller to get this information. He concluded that it was improbable Miller could have found out from loose talk or private inquiries about the circumstances of his brother’s death without Lord Aston. This presented the extraordinary prospect of Lord Aston being an accomplice. Stott was certainly not the man to waste time on such a line of inquiry.

  ‘Do you know why your brother was executed?’ asked Stott.

  Miller pondered for a moment and then replied, ‘I know a few blokes who were executed for desertion. Poor devils. But Dan, I don’t know. Wasn’t the type to scare easily.’

  He remained silent for a minute thinking through his answer and then added, ‘Dan was not what you’d call a natural order taker. He had problems with authority. I think the only reason he joined up was to avoid the nick. I can see him causing a bit of trouble for the brass. You’d meet a few blokes like Dan. Mouth off a bit about the War, refuse to obey orders, things like that. Truth is I don’t know, but this has always seemed the most probable explanation.’

  ‘I see,’ said Stott scribbling on his notebook. ‘Why did the Christmas cards with the threatening messages end up in your pocket?’

  Miller slumped a little. ‘Someone planted them.’

  ‘Who? Why?’ said Stott, getting to the point.

  ‘Well obviously the man who killed Lord Cavendish. He wanted to avert suspicion. It’s not like it wasn’t easy to plant ‘em. My coat was hung up in a cloakroom. Anyone could’ve done it. The thing is, why would I leave them in my pocket after Lord Cavendish was found dead? It doesn’t make sense. I mightn’t have a university degree but I’m not a total idiot either.’

  In fact, Stott agreed with Miller on this. If Miller had murdered Cavendish or unless he was playing a double bluff, it was madness to keep the Christmas cards. However, if Miller was telling the truth then he was right to say anyone could have planted the cards. This was becoming more involved, thought Stott. By now he hoped the coroner’s report would show Cavendish had died of natural causes. Life would be easier for him, which, when all was said and done, was all that mattered.

  There was a knock on the door.

  ‘Yes, who is it?’ shouted Stott.

  -

  Doctor Noel Farrell turned seventy on Christmas Day. Sitting at his desk, he regarded the finished report with distaste. Looking up at the calendar on the wall his eyes fell on a date circled in red ink: the last day of December. This brightened him up, for a moment anyway. He returned to his usual mood of sour dislike of everything and everyone.

  He hated Christmas, he hated his name and he hated the fact that every day this combination would be a reminder of the astonishing lack of imagination on the part of his parents. Some of his colleagues would have described the worthy Doctor as crotchety. If being mean spirited, cantankerous and rude was what they meant, then they were underselling him considerably.

  In all probability, this was his last ever post mortem. Retirement beckoned on the last day of the year for the coroner. The only people looking forward to his imminent retirement more than he was, were his colleagues in the hospital, the Police and many upright members of the legal profession, all of whose misfortune it was, to have had so many dealings with him over the years.

  One final check of the report on Lord Arthur Cavendish was made and then he placed his report in an envelope and scribbled a note on the front. With some effort, he got up from his desk walked to the door. Outside was a Police constable he had not seen before. He shoved the envelope into the outstretched hand of the young man, turned and slammed the door before the Policeman could say thanks.

  Three more days and then he would be free. No more dead bodies before then, he prayed. He turned around in his chair and lifted a book from the bookcase behind him. Opening it he began to read.

  -

  Constable Coltrane exited Lincoln Hospital and walked over to his bicycle without any apparent urgency. Although wintry, the sun was shining, quite a pleasant day really, he thought. Then he remembered he had forgotten his gloves. It might only be a few minutes back to the Police station, but he was worried about frostbite. He had read all about the Antarctic explorers and what they had faced. Best to be quick.

  One final check of his satchel, everything was in order. The coroner’s report was still there. Unfortunately, it was inside a sealed envelope, so he could not get an advance viewing of the old scroat’s findings. Hopping on his bike, he made his way out of the hospital as quickly as he could.

  The journey back to the station took less than five minutes. It was a very cold Coltrane who made his way through the station entrance, past assorted civilians and some rough looking young men.

  ‘Where is Inspector Stott?’

  ‘Interview room,’ came the reply from a colleague. Coltrane turned and made his way towards the room. Along the way he lifted a colleague’s cup of tea from his desk and drained it.

  ‘Oi!’ shouted his colleague laughing at the impudence of the new recruit. Coltrane laughed and waved the report in the air. His colleague recognized what its probable contents were and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  Coltrane shrugged and whispered, ‘Sealed.’

  ‘Pity,’ came the reply.

  Coltrane walked to the door of the interview room and knocked. He heard Stott asking who it was. Coltrane announced himself and did not wait for a reply. He entered brandishing the report.

  ‘The coroner’s report?’ asked Stott, looking at Coltrane with ill-disguised disdain.

  ‘Yes sir,’ replied Coltrane.

  ‘Well give it here,’ said Stott grabbing it from the young constable. He opened up and read the contents quickly in silence. Miller looked at him expectantly. His heart was thumping. He had not felt such anguish since that night two years ago. Resistin
g the urge to rip the report from the Policeman’s hands he waited patiently for news. Stott did not keep him waiting long.

  Chapter 30

  28th December 1919: Cavendish Hall

  Henry and Lady Emily came down the stairs together. Curtis immediately went towards them and bowed slightly saying, ‘May I help you with anything?’

  Henry replied, ‘Can you get the staff together Curtis, in the kitchen, including the Edmonds family, also. Can you also ask Lady Esther and Mary to join us in the drawing room?’ A moment later he added, ‘Please.’

  ‘Yes sir,’ responded Curtis and headed towards the kitchen. Something in the tone of voice from master Henry perturbed him. Gone was the disdain. The lack of interest was also missing. In its place was a note of authority he had not heard before. This did not augur well, thought Curtis.

  Arriving in the kitchen he said, ‘Quick, Lady Emily and master Henry are going to come down. They clearly want to make an announcement.’ Looking at Devlin, he said, ‘Can you get the Edmunds family here immediately?’

  Devlin went to get his coat. Curtis turned to Elsie, ‘Can you tidy the kitchen a little? Polly, can you find Lady Esther and Lady Mary and ask them to join master Henry and Lady Emily in the drawing room? I’ll go and get some seats from the store room.’

  ‘What about us?’ asked Agnes, who was sitting with Godfrey.

  ‘I should stay, if I were you,’ replied Curtis before disappearing into another room. He came back a few minutes with a couple of additional chairs.

  ‘I think we should all stand but the ladies can sit, what do you think Miss Buchan.’

  ‘Good idea, Mr Curtis. Should we have any food?

  ‘No, I think master Henry means business,’ said Curtis grimly.