by Evelyn James
“Someone hit him on the back of the head with a mallet,” Clara explained. “He was at the town hall at the time. It appears he broke in to smash some of the display cases that are there as part of a touring exhibition.”
Mrs Beasley whistled through her teeth.
“Well, that’s a turn up for the books,” she took a moment to contemplate what Clara had said. “Smashing display cases? Whatever for?”
“The police found a lot of money in John’s pocket. It appears someone had paid him to do the job.”
“Well…” Mrs Beasley glanced over at her friend and her gaze hardened. “Good riddance. That’s all I can say.”
“What would Mrs Morley say?” Clara asked.
Mrs Beasley became sad and sighed deeply.
“She loved him, that’s for sure. I can’t say as how she could love such a man, but she did. She forgave him everything and it weren’t just the punches he threw when he had had a skin-full. It was the other women, the tarts he went off with,” Mrs Beasley shook her head, disbelieving of her friend’s tolerance. “John said he had needs and Ruby weren’t fit to fulfil them. We all knew what he meant, disgusting pig. He should have been here of an evening looking out for Ruby, instead he was out drinking and picking up women. I dare say he paid for a few of them too, he would have had no shame about it. Had he been any sort of husband, he would have saved his money for a doctor for Ruby. Now look at her.”
Clara followed the command. Ruby Morley looked like a corpse slumped in the chair, her chest barely rising and falling. Her face was turning blue again.
“Is there no chance of a doctor, or to send her to the hospital?” Clara asked.
“We can’t afford the bills,” Mrs Beasley shrugged her shoulders. It was a fact, not a complaint. “Ruby wouldn’t want to die in a hospital, anyway. She can come and be with us. She’ll go in the spare bedroom. Not like she’ll be able to keep up the rent on this house now John’s gone.”
“Did he work?” Clara asked.
“Sometimes,” Mrs Beasley rolled her eyes. “He had no fixed profession, but he did a lot of grave-digging for the local churches. He was big and strong, and didn’t fuss if he accidentally came across some bones from a former internment. He brought home a leg bone once, you know? Ruby was appalled and said he must take it back at once, could be that the spirit of the person whose bone it was would follow it and haunt their house. John kept waving the bone at her and scaring her. He was mean like that.”
Mrs Beasley looked at her friend.
“Do you think we could get her up to bed? And then, when she is better, she can come to my house.”
Clara didn’t like to say that she was not sure Ruby Morley was going to get better. Once they had her upstairs, she could not see how they would get her down again alive.
“It might be better to carry her to your house straight away,” she said gently. “She can’t be left alone, after all.”
“No, of course,” Mrs Beasley dabbed at an eye, small tears slipping down her cheeks. “Harry will help with that when he comes. Let’s make that cup of tea, shall we? Oh, and I never caught your name?”
Clara realised she was a perfect stranger to this woman and must seem completely out of place.
“I’m sorry, I forgot myself. I am Clara Fitzgerald, I work as a private detective and I have been asked to investigate why John Morley was in the town hall last night.”
“Oh,” Mrs Beasley took a moment to absorb this information. “What is a private detective?”
“Someone a person hires to investigate a problem for them rather than the police,” Clara explained. “I do work with the police, however, and they are looking into the murder of John Morley.”
“I don’t much care about that,” Mrs Beasley gave a sniff to indicate how little it concerned her that John Morley was dead and that someone had killed him. “Who hired you?”
“Dr Browning, he is the expert who travels with the exhibition that is currently in the town hall. He is concerned about threats made towards the items on display. After last night, he is rather frightened.”
Mrs Beasley was puzzled.
“Why would people make threats against an exhibition? Are there valuable items on display?”
“One of the items is very valuable, but also controversial,” Clara nodded. “It is the fossilised skeleton of a dinosaur with feathers. Many believe it proves that some dinosaurs evolved into birds and that it is proof that Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution was correct. But other people are angered by this, because they feel it contradicts the teachings of the Bible.”
Mrs Beasley listened politely but was clearly baffled by all this.
“Don’t people have better things to do than worry about some bones?” She said. “They must not have to work for their bread, or worry about the rent going up, is all I can say. If they did, they wouldn’t have the time for such nonsense. And John was involved in all that?”
Clara did not have a chance to respond as just then Harry Beasley appeared in the house. He had washed and dressed as fast as he could and was now there to see what could be done for his sister. He arrived just as the water in the big kettle started to boil. He glanced at his wife and then at Clara, before looking at Ruby Morley.
“Can someone explain to me what is going on?”
Chapter Nine
Clara went through the story again for Harry. She explained how she had come to be there, and that John Morley was dead, and she was investigating why he had been at the town hall, though not specifically his murder. No one had hired her to find his killer, that was the job of the police. She had been hired to resolve who was behind the attack and threats on the exhibition and whether there was a possibility of further violence.
Harry Beasley listened intently, and Clara sensed that he was an intelligent man whose only limitation on his learning had been his circumstances. He was also very good looking, in a rugged way, and a perfect match to his pretty wife. She busied herself making tea while Clara enlightened Harry.
Harry, meanwhile, sat in the armchair next to his sister and held her hand as he took in everything Clara said.
“Funny business,” he said when Clara was done. “John was not a religious man, or one to take to political causes. He had no strong beliefs, as such. John was only interested in himself and his own pleasure. That meant drink and women.”
Harry glanced at his sister, as if he had forgotten she was so near while he was bad-mouthing her husband. Ruby Morley was unconscious, and Clara was not convinced she was ever going to wake again. There was something deathly about her pallor. She had seen too many patients fall into such stupors and never rouse to be confident that Ruby’s condition was only temporary.
“I didn’t much like John, it’s no secret,” Harry continued. “He was an oaf who didn’t deserve the devotion my sister gave him. He was always looking to earn some quick cash, seeing how he spent everything he earned legitimately and had no real job. I once tried to get him work at the railway station, but he was too much of a danger to himself. He would turn up drunk. You can’t have that around trains, anything could happen.”
“Can you think of anyone who might have put John up to smashing the display cases in the town hall?” Clara asked.
“No. But I didn’t move in John’s circles, for good reason. He could have met the person anywhere,” Harry looked at his sister again and squeezed her hand. “I wanted better for Ruby, now… now I think it is too late.”
“Don’t say that John, with a few good meals and a warm bed she’ll perk up,” Mrs Beasley said with remarkable optimism.
Clara kept her mouth shut, but she could see that Harry was as acutely aware as she was that Ruby Morley’s sickness was terminal.
“Mrs Morley said her husband was a carpenter,” Clara recalled something Park-Coombs had said.
“John certainly had the training. He was apprenticed as a carpenter and when he first met Ruby that was his profession,” Harry explained. “I’ll give
him credit, he was not bad at it, either. But he was lazy and didn’t want to work, and then he took to the drink. Within a year of the marriage he had lost his job as a carpenter and he never worked properly again. He kept some of his tools, however, and from time-to-time, when the mood took him and he wanted the money, he would do work for people. But it never lasted for long. Each time he pulled out his tools Ruby would get her hopes up, say that this time she was sure he would make a good go of things. She always clung to the notion he was a professional workman who had just fallen on hard times. Never could get her to understand he was a loafer with no interest in working.”
“His death must have hit her hard,” Clara looked at the sick woman, feeling so sorry for her. “She clearly loved him a good deal.”
“They say love is blind,” Mrs Beasley remarked, bringing over cups of tea for them all. “In Ruby’s case, that was very true.”
“If you want to know about John, you might want to speak to his friends at the Hole in the Wall. It’s a terrible pub, serves the worst ale you can come across, but it was where John went all the time. They might know who paid him to do the job.”
“Thank you, I’ll try that,” Clara said. “Did John go to church?”
“Never!” Harry laughed. “I think he feared he might be struck by lightning if he stepped into a house of God! No, if you are thinking he might have been motivated by a religious fever of some description, you’ll be disappointed. I reckon the last time he was in a church was on his wedding day, and he looked mighty glad to leave.”
Harry snorted.
“What John knew about evolution and Darwin you could write on the back of a postage stamp and still have room for more,” Harry’s eyes took on an amused twinkle. “I once asked him what he thought about humans being descended from apes, he thought I was implying his mother had run off with a gorilla.”
“He was a very stupid man,” Mrs Beasley added. “He thought cows cocked their legs, like dogs do, and wondered how the farmer got around such behaviour when he milked them!”
“If ever an education was wasted on a man, it was wasted on John Morley. He was lucky he could read and write. I blamed that on chance rather than any great aptitude for learning,” Harry snorted. “I was planning on going to that exhibition, as it happens, on the public day. Will it still be open?”
“As far as I know,” Clara said. “I can recommend it, if you are interested in fossils. Dr Browning is very informative on the subject.”
“I borrowed Darwin’s book from the public library,” Harry said slightly shyly. “I like to read.”
“Harry is a great reader,” Mrs Beasley said with affection in her voice. “He is always trying to improve himself.”
“You’ll enjoy the exhibition, they have put together a fine collection of fossils. And I do recommend speaking with Dr Browning if you have the chance,” Clara said, she had warmed to the Beasleys and liked them a good deal. She was saddened that Ruby had had the misfortune of marrying John Morley, but then everyone made their choices in life, for better or worse.
“Harry, if Miss Fitzgerald is going to go to that pub, I think you ought to go with her. It isn’t a place for a woman alone,” Mrs Beasley looked anxiously at her husband.
“I really am quite self-reliant,” Clara responded politely. “I don’t need to inconvenience you.”
“No, Emma is right,” Harry Beasley sat a little straighter in his chair. “That is not a place for you to go alone, besides, I can probably point out the right people for you to talk to. I’m not sure if many will talk to a woman though.”
Clara was used to such obstacles in her investigations. After a moment to consider, she thought it would be prudent to have Harry at her side. Whichever way she looked at it, there were occasions when a woman alone was at a disadvantage. She could not afford to be precious about her pride when it came to making headway in a case.
“When does the Hole in the Wall open?” Clara asked.
“Early afternoon,” Harry glanced around for a clock in the kitchen to judge the time and spotted one on a shelf above the stove. “Not for a while.”
“We need to get Ruby to ours,” Emma Beasley spoke up. “Then, once she is settled, I shall make us some lunch and you can help Miss Fitzgerald.”
“I don’t like to put you to all that trouble,” Clara was thinking she could go home, collect Tommy or O’Harris and then go to the pub.
“It’s no trouble,” Mrs Beasley insisted. “If you had not been here Ruby would have been all alone when she collapsed, and you came to fetch us and have interrupted your day to assist us. No, we are just returning that kindness.”
Mrs Beasley was firm, she would not be swayed. Clara was liking her all the more and felt that Ruby could have no better sister-in-law taking care of her.
“Then allow me to help you make arrangements for Ruby,” she said.
Mrs Beasley was agreeable to that. Ruby remained unconscious in her chair. Harry said she would be no bother to carry back to their house, she was as light as a feather. He remained with her, almost dozing off in the chair himself, as Clara and Emma Beasley went upstairs to pack some clothes and belongings for Ruby.
“Your husband must be exhausted,” Clara said, feeling bad that she was going to be keeping Harry Beasley away from his bed.
“He works nights,” Mrs Beasley explained. “He can doze for a bit while we pack.”
They entered the back bedroom of the house. Being directly over the kitchen it was the warmest room upstairs in the winter, the heat from the stove rising through the floor and taking the chill off an otherwise unheated room. It was also rather barren. An old bed with an iron bedstead sat in one corner unmade. It looked like Ruby had briefly slept in it, or rather tossed and turned waiting for her husband, and had then abandoned it. The blankets were grey with age, the mattress sagged and was in places darned with thick thread. There had been no money to replace it; like so many others, Ruby Morley made do.
A rough wardrobe looked fit to fall to pieces in the opposite corner of the room. The doors sagged painfully on their hinges as it was opened to reveal a handful of clothes. Mrs Beasley removed all those that belonged to Ruby, pointedly ignoring the two spare shirts and a pair of trousers that had once clothed John.
“They would rent out the front bedroom,” Mrs Beasley explained as they wrapped up Ruby’s clothes in a blanket. “But lodgers never stayed long. John was always accusing them of having designs on his wife. It made everything so difficult.”
“He was very jealous then?” Clara had picked up a hairbrush that belonged to Ruby and handed it to Emma.
“Ironic, isn’t it?” Emma Beasley sighed. “Ruby could not see him for who he really was. She could have left any time. I would have taken her in. We have the room. I use the front bedroom for my work. I embroider things for people. Wedding gifts, christening gowns, handkerchiefs for Christmas. That sort of thing. Some of it goes to shops to sell, other pieces I make specifically for someone. The front room has the best light all day, but we keep a bed in there also. Harry always liked to think there was a safe place for Ruby if she needed it.”
Mrs Beasley drew up the edges of the blanket and looked at the sad bundle of items inside.
“Not much, is it?” She frowned.
Clara opened the drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe and produced a pair of stockings and a couple of handkerchiefs. They had been finely embroidered with the letter R and roses. Clara passed them over to Emma who smiled to herself.
“I made these for Ruby’s wedding. I wasn’t so good then, I can see every error I made,” she placed the handkerchiefs in her bundle. “Not even a cardigan or a hat to call her own. I guess they are in the pawn shop for the summer.”
A tear slowly crept from the corner of Emma Beasley’s eye. She wiped it away crossly as it started to trickle down her cheek.
“I’m glad he is dead,” she said softly.
Clara was not sure she was meant to hear the statement.
They went downstairs and woke Harry. After looking about the kitchen for anything else to take with them and discovering a pair of outdoor shoes and a coat, though how much use Ruby would get from them now was questionable, they prepared to leave. Harry lifted up his sister easily. They walked out of the house, Mrs Beasley locking the front door as they departed. Clara motioned to the broken window and the damage to the door.
“Has there been trouble?”
“John often owes people money,” Harry answered, he was waiting by the front gate for someone to open it for him. Clara hurried forward to help him. She did not correct his statement. John’s debts were past tense now.
Those eyes were on them again as they headed for the Beasleys’ house. Clara felt them stinging into her back. It was like an itch you couldn’t scratch. Clara would have liked to have asked those same neighbours, who now peeped at them and secretly gawked, how many had helped Ruby when they could. She suspected many of them had watched the activity at the Morleys, but kept themselves to themselves. It made Clara a little angry, especially when she realised Ruby’s neighbour, the one who had refused to come out of her house and assist when Clara was trying to find the Beasleys, was standing on her doorstep watching them as bold as brass. Clara had to bite her tongue to avoid saying something rude.
They arrived at the Beasleys’ house and Harry carried Ruby upstairs, his wife following. Clara decided not to intrude further and loitered in the kitchen, feeling that awkwardness of a guest who is left unattended and does not know what to do with themselves.
It was a short while before Emma joined her.
“Harry is taking a nap, while I start lunch,” she said, looking weary herself.
She stroked a strand of hair back from her forehead.
“I’m glad you came today, Miss Fitzgerald.”
“Please, call me Clara.”
Emma smiled. Then she rubbed at her eyes, as if rubbing away her tiredness.
“I have cold meat and I was going to boil some potatoes and beans to go with it,” she said. “I made fresh bread this morning too. You will join us, Clara?”
