by L. A. Nisula
Chapter 14
MADAME DE BRETON WAS on the main floor when I entered the shop. She looked up as soon as she heard the door open. “You were asking about Miss Hayes, weren’t you? Do you have news about her case?”
“Not yet, I’m afraid. In fact, I was hoping you could help me find some new areas to explore.”
“Oh dear, but of course I will help you. I had heard that someone was arrested and had hoped that was the end of it.”
So news of Milly’s arrest had gotten out. I wondered how. I was quite certain Inspector Wainwright wasn’t gossiping. “That was my cousin. She has nothing to do with it.”
“Oh, that’s…I see… Of course.” I wondered if she guessed that Milly was the other woman that Miss Hayes had been looking for. “What did you need to know?”
I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, so I asked the first thing that sprang into my mind. “What made you think Miss Hayes was going to look into something about Randall Fetherton?”
Madame de Breton stared at a spot just above my head. “I don’t really know. I knew she had been very upset about him, angry more than sad, so when she did something so out of character, I thought it must be related.” She continued to stare at the window. I was about to give up and ask something else when she abruptly said, “The cab. That was it. When she left here, she went to the cab stand and got in a cab, so she clearly wasn’t going home. I mean it was obvious she wasn’t ill, and she lives just down the street. If she had been ill enough to need a cab to get that far, she would have sent someone here to begin with, or asked one of us to help her home. So she had to be doing something else.”
That made sense. Now if only I could find the cab. That was the sort of thing Inspector Wainwright was good at. “You didn’t see which cab it was, did you?”
“One of the ones at the stand. The driver was wearing a red scarf, if that helps.”
“It might. Thank you.”
Madame de Breton nodded, her accent becoming stronger now that the talk of murder was over. “De rien. I would hate for her murderer to go free. If I may aid you in any way, let me know, please.” I still couldn’t tell if she thought Milly was involved and was trying to not say it as she was my cousin or not. Surely she must have figured out Milly had been arrested for being the other woman.
I left the shop and went to the taxi stand. There were two hansom cabs there waiting for fares from the high street. I picked the one closer to me and asked if he’d been wearing a red scarf on the day of the murder. No luck there, but the first driver did remember another regular who had been wearing one in the last few days. Both promised to keep an eye out for him, so I handed out my card and told them to send the man to my flat if he remembered picking up a woman matching Miss Hayes’s description. There didn’t seem to be much else to do there, so I set out for home.
~*~*~
I hadn’t been able to think of anything else to look into as far as the murder was concerned, so I spent the evening in my flat going through pattern books, considering what to do with my yarn and trying to put thoughts of Randall and alibis and Rusham Street out of my mind. But it was harder to put aside thoughts of the attack on Nora, and that was the crime I had promised not investigate. Inspector Wainwright was insisting it wasn’t related, but I doubted he believed that. It was too much of a coincidence. And yet how had they known she would be going out? The way Randall told the story, which may or may not have been true, it had been a random errand, not a regular task.
So they had to be watching the house, waiting for her to leave. And that meant everyone there was still in danger from the killer. It also meant they had probably seen me poking around the street. That was a worrisome thought. I considered sending word to Milly to be careful, but her building didn’t have a telephone, and we didn’t have our own mechanical birds at Paddington Street, so I would have had to walk to the nearest telegraph office, and I didn’t even know if Milly was at home. Besides, I was probably being ridiculous anyway. As far as I knew, I hadn’t stumbled on anything particularly interesting yet.
And if that theory were correct, then Miss Hayes hadn’t been the intended victim but someone caught up in whatever was going on at 24 Rusham Street. Where did that leave the investigation? I realized I ought to go see Inspector Wainwright in the morning and see if he had made the same steps of logic I had and reached the same conclusion. If not, he’d have to start looking for more connections to the Fetherton household. At least Nora had been lucky and Constable Declan had been late on his rounds, otherwise, she might have disappeared into the river, and we wouldn’t have known if she’d been attacked or panicked and left of her own accord.
And that supported the idea that the house was being watched. Constable Declan was quite consistent on his beat. Both Tommy the errand boy and Mrs. Parker at the chemist’s had known exactly where to find him when they needed him. If he hadn’t been delayed by the pickpocket, he would have already passed the place where Nora was attacked, and the attackers would have had the time it took to complete his entire beat and come back to the same spot to deal with Nora. That suggested they knew his beat, which again suggested they’d spent considerable time in the area, or at least that the person who sent them out had if there was a leader of some kind behind all this. It was becoming increasingly clear that I would have to go and see Inspector Wainwright in the morning.
~*~*~
The next morning, I had a leisurely breakfast of tea and leftover scones and wondered how best to approach Inspector Wainwright. I considered leaving him another note, but I wanted to see his reaction, and I wanted to be there in case he needed to ask me anything. I doubted he would send a note if he had questions, but he might ask me to clarify things if I was standing in front of him. When the bell on the pneumatic tube rang, I was almost pleased for the distraction, even if I was dreading which card was being sent up.
When I opened the tube, there was no card inside. Instead, there was a note written on the edge of a torn bit of newspaper. “Tom Harris, cab driver, was told you were looking for me.” So they had found Miss Hayes’s driver. I grabbed the latchkey to send down, then remembered the rather morbid turn my thoughts had taken the night before and thought the better of it. I grabbed a pen instead and scribbled, “Please wait, I’ll be right down,” and sent the note back instead.
When I got down to the street, I found a middle-aged man on the doorstep who was so bundled up against the cold it was hard to tell what he actually looked like. “Mr. Harris?” I asked to be certain.
“That’s me, miss. You were asking about a fare I had a few days ago?”
“Yes, outside Madame de Breton’s shop. Do you remember her?”
“I do indeed. Sorry it took so long to get to you, but I was on duty. Just going home now.”
“Then let’s go to the pub and get some breakfast and you can tell me what you remember.” There was a nice pub nearby, where the barman knew me by sight at least and there were always several respectable clerks and other office workers about. It was the safest place I could think of in a hurry.
Mr. Harris nodded. “Dinner for me, but sounds good. Oy, Robbie, walk on.”
I noticed that the hansom cab parked at the end of the block had been watching us. The driver waved to Mr. Harris then set the horse walking towards Marylebone Road.
“My brother. We share the cab. Now, which pub did you want? The one on the corner there?”
At the pub, we ordered our food and took a table in the middle of the main dining room where we could be seen. As Mr. Harris chose the table, I took it as a good sign he was who he said he was and not one of Nora’s attackers.
“Now, Miss, before I answer any questions, I’m afraid I’ve got to ask why you want to know about this young lady I ferried around on Wednesday.”
It was quite a reasonable question. “I’m afraid it’s a rather delicate situation. The lady in question was murdered that afternoon.”
“Murdered?” he hissed. “First I’ve heard of
it.”
So maybe Inspector Wainwright had followed the same lines of logic I had the night before. Why else would he have delayed in looking for the victim’s cab driver? “I’m trying to re-trace her steps from the time she left her place of employment until she got to Rusham Street, and I was hoping you would be able to tell me something, anything really. Where she went from the shop, if she saw anyone. I know she was employed at Madame de Breton’s and took the day off.”
“And what’s your interest? I don’t think you’re police.”
“No, but my cousin was one of the people who found the body, and that means she’s a suspect. She’s already been arrested once but released.” I left out the bit about her being arrested because she insisted on confessing.
There was a pause as the barmaid brought my tea and his chop and ale.
When we were settled again, he said, “Ask whatever you like. I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Where did you take her?”
“She wanted to go to the City. She was looking for some fellow.”
“Did she find him?”
“Aye, right where she thought he’d be. A little pub not far from the Bank of England.”
“So she went to meet him?”
“No, not to meet him, to see him. She sat in my cab for ten minutes, said she’d pay me what I thought was fair, so I figured ten minutes would be what it took to get from where we were to St. Paul’s in afternoon traffic and charged her that.”
It was a fair guess at timing, so he hadn’t tried to cheat her. I nodded to encourage him to go on.
“Well, after she waited, he started walking, and she had me follow him, all the way across London Bridge to an office building.” He paused to sip his ale.
“And then?”
“She waited again, followed him to another pub near Blackfriars which I happen to know has a booming trade in the horses and watched again, but he didn’t come out, so she must have figured he was staying there and told me to go to an address in Bloomsbury.”
“24 Rusham Street?”
“No, but near there. 18 Crescent Road. It’s around the corner.”
That made sense. She wouldn’t have wanted to be dropped at the front door if she was going to sneak in the back. “Could she have gotten to number 24 through the yard of number 18?”
“Easily. When she got out, she went round the side of the house. I thought she was looking for the servants’ entrance to see someone, but she could have been looking for a way into the facing yard.”
“And the man she followed, what did he look like?”
“Fast. Not someone I’d let my sister follow. Too-small suit, bad mustache, flashy coat that wouldn’t keep him warm in Spain.”
I nodded. That was Randall. “You didn’t happen to see him in the area after you dropped her off, did you?”
He shook his head. “You mean in Rusham Street? No. No other cabs either. I keep an eye out so I don’t steal someone else’s fare.”
“Do you know the time?”
“Not exactly, but I’d say it was around three.”
It would have been possible for Randall to have gotten there before Miss Hayes did, but it would be close, and depending on whether or not he stayed at the pub. I suspected he had. Randall wasn’t smart enough to fix up an alibi that well, plus he hadn’t used it. “Thank you. Let me buy you some dessert.”
“No, miss, this is fine. Glad I could help. I suppose I can expect the police next?”
“I’m afraid so.”
He shrugged. “It happens. They won’t think I’m a suspect, will they?”
He was the last to see her alive before the murderer, but even Inspector Wainwright should be able to see he had no motive. At least I hoped so. “Did you find another fare?”
“Two streets over. Took a lady to the shops on Oxford Street.”
So he could manage an alibi if Inspector Wainwright proved difficult. “I’m glad. Thank you again.” I would try to arrange it so Constable Declan was the one to question him, just to be safe.
Chapter 15
OUTSIDE THE PUB, I knew there were no other legitimate reasons to delay going to see Inspector Wainwright. It was probably best to get the whole thing over with quickly, and then I’d have the rest of the day without having to dread it. I made my way to the Underground.
There was no one I knew in the entry to Scotland Yard, and I was quite certain Inspector Wainwright hadn’t left my name, so I waited in the line with everyone else wanting to see someone on the force. A man three parties ahead of me pulled out a small book and started to read. I realized I should begin to carry something similar if I was going to be spending this much time waiting to bring Inspector Wainwright information. Then I realized the man was most likely a regular visitor to the Yard, meaning he either stumbled over bodies as often as I did or, more likely, was involved in some less than savory pursuit that involved regular questioning, or possibly had an even more difficult family than mine. Still, bringing a small novel was an excuse to buy more books.
The most irritating part of the wait was how little Inspector Wainwright appreciated the inconvenience I went to bring him new evidence. When I entered his office, he gave me a look that said he was barely suppressing a groan and said, “Do I want to know why you’re here?”
“I have some new information for you.”
“Because you’re convinced you can do a better job of following important leads than Constable Edwards and Constable Kittering?”
“I happen to know none of you went looking for the cab Miss Hayes took to get to Rusham Street on the day she was killed.”
“Perhaps because we didn’t find it important.”
“And you would know that without talking to the driver?”
Inspector Wainwright glared at me.
“Besides, I was thinking about the case last night and came up with some interesting questions I thought you might want to look into.”
“I might look into, not you?”
“More things to consider when you’re looking at evidence, I suppose.” I outlined the chain of logic I’d been following the night before. Inspector Wainwright didn’t interrupt while I was talking, which I took as a good sign. When I’d finished, his words were less encouraging.
“It seems you’ve spent a great deal of time thinking about this, which is precisely what you were not supposed to do.”
“I’m looking out for Milly. Someone has to, and despite what she thinks, she’s not very good at doing it herself.”
“Miss Pengear, I’ve already told you I don’t consider your cousin a suspect. If she would refrain from confessing, I could refrain from arresting her, and we would all be much happier. Now please, do not go looking for the men who attacked Miss Wilson.”
“But they could be connected to the murder. If you’re not going to...”
“I highly doubt they are connected. Murder of random women is not part of their game. Interfering amateurs are an entirely different matter.”
“‘Their game?’ You mean you do know who they are? Then why aren’t you after them?”
“Because they are not the kind of criminals you can go after without planning. Miss Wilson’s attackers are part of a known gang, The Tinrippers, if you must know. They focus on forging coins mostly.”
I shuddered in spite of myself. “I’ve been typing up some of the reports on them. I certainly don’t want to have more than that to do with them. But what do they have to do with number 24?”
“Nothing, as far as I can tell. They must have either mistaken Miss Nora for someone they were supposed to go after, or somehow she got some of their forgeries, and they were trying to get them back, or maybe Lanebridge is slipping and simply made a mistake. You can see why I don’t want you going after them.”
But something entirely different had caught my attention. “Lanebridge?”
“That is what I said, yes.”
“He’s part of the gang?”
“Yes, obviously, th
at’s why I mentioned him.”
“I haven’t seen his name in my typing.”
“I assume you’re getting low-level forgeries, maybe a few minor assaults. Lanebridge is one of the top men in the gang.”
“And you’re certain he’s involved in this?”
“If you aren’t planning to continue investigating, then why are you asking all these questions?”
I ignored him and pressed on. “How did you identify him?”
“By his description. Miss Wilson did see him, as did Constable Declan.”
“So he is the short, skinny one with his hat pulled down?” I assumed Constable Declan had given Inspector Wainwright a more complete description than I’d gotten.
“Yes, Miss Pengear. Are you finished wasting my time?”
“But Inspector, Lanebridge is the name Randall Fetherton has on the letter box at his flat. Or he did when I went there the day you brought Milly in for questioning.”
That got his attention. “You’re certain?”
“I saw it. At first, I thought Milly had brought me to the wrong flat, but I mentioned the address to his mother, and he does live there. Alone, if that’s your next question.”
“It’s not an unusual name, but under the circumstances, it is odd. Still, keep away from the assault and anything to do with the Tinripper Gang, understood?”
“I don’t put myself in danger if I can avoid it, Inspector. Now I’ll get out of your way.” I hurried out of his office and down to the pavement. I needed to question Randall at once, and that would be easier with Milly there.
