Marble Arch Murder: A Piccadilly Ladies Club Mystery

by Jane, Bettie

  Julia nodded in agreement to Jacob’s statement. “Mrs. Cooper certainly did talk a lot. I can’t imagine she’d have been capable of holding back that information even if she’d wanted to. I wouldn’t put her in charge of keeping state secrets, that’s for sure. I wonder if Penelope had any idea. She seemed close to the girl and quite broken up that she was dead, but again, why would she leave that information out if she knew about it? My guess is that Penelope didn’t know about Beatrice’s extracurricular activities. If any of the sisters did, maybe Frankie will have learned something.”

  Julia turned her attention back to Dr. Lockley. “What do you know about the timeline?”

  “Time of death is between ten o’clock last night and midnight based on her body temperature. The amount of pooling in her feet tells me the body was only hanging there for less than an hour. There’s a window of time, between approximately midnight and four in the morning, when she was dead but not yet hanging from the gallows where we found her.”

  “Thanks, Uncle. We’re headed back over to the memorial, hoping to find her boyfriend.”

  “I’ll meet you both over there. I suspect Penelope’s hands will be full, and she could probably use a hand.”

  10

  9:00 am

  February 22, 1921

  Tyburn Convent

  London

  Julia found Frankie at the convent where he’d recently finished interviewing all the resident sisters.

  “What did you find out, Frankie? Did you have any trouble gaining access to the sisters for interviews?”

  “Penelope cleared the way for me. She assured me when I arrived that interviewing them was all arranged. One of the sisters saw Beatrice here, in the convent, last night. She looked like she was arguing with Mother Marie.”

  “Oh, that is interesting information. Approximately what time?”

  “She was seen around eleven.”

  “Dr. Lockley put time of death between ten and midnight. I guess we know for sure it was after eleven, then.”

  “Did he determine cause of death?” Frankie asked.

  “Heroin overdose. Possibly self-inflicted considering all the needle marks he found in his examination, although we know she didn’t hang herself from the gallows after she overdosed. Even if she died accidentally, someone went to the trouble of hanging her. I’ve no clue why.”

  “Where was she getting her drugs?”

  Julia shrugged. “Not sure. I want to have a conversation with the boyfriend, Peter Peterson. I think he’s going to have quite a few of the missing puzzle pieces. I spoke with his father and Beatrice’s aunt and uncle this morning and got a description. He’s about six feet tall, pitch black hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Keep your eyes open for him, will you?”

  “Will do. Someone of that description was definitely seen here last night also. Sister Marta said a young man very like that rang the bell, looking for Beatrice. Marta turned him away.”

  “Why didn’t she tell me that a man had been here looking for Beatrice when her identity was first revealed?”

  Frankie’s turn to shrug. “You’ll have to ask her. I imagine she was a bit overwhelmed by Beatrice’s murder and Mother Marie’s disappearance.”

  “True enough. Did you learn anything else from the sisters that might be helpful?”

  “I’m not sure if this is important or not, but several of the sisters mentioned that often Beatrice seemed out of place. That she didn’t know basic things that a practicing Catholic would know. They said she suffered from an erratic personality. She would be calm and humble one moment, and then suddenly she’d be angry and disoriented, then back again. Like quicksilver.”

  “Good work, Frankie. Have you seen Penelope Lockley lately?”

  “I saw her earlier, but not for a while.”

  “If you see her, let her know I’m looking for her, please.”

  “Of course.”

  “How about Sister Marta? I need to talk to her next.”

  “She was walking toward the chapel the last time I saw her. That was only a few minutes ago.”

  “Thanks, Frankie. The memorial will start about ten o’clock. Will you reserve spots for us? Jimmie should be there also. He’ll be taking photographs for the paper. I’m thinking that will be our best chance to see Peter Peterson. I’m certain he knows something that will help us.”

  “Okay, boss-lady,” he said as he walked away.

  She couldn’t help but laugh out loud every time he said that.

  Sister Marta was sitting in the chapel, positioned on the back pew, and seemed to be quietly praying. Julia sat down on the same pew and waited for Marta to notice her.

  “Julia, can I help you? Has there been any word about the Reverend Mother?”

  “No word on Mother Marie, no. I do need to ask you a few questions though.”

  Sister Marta nodded and stood, whispering, “Come with me.”

  Julia followed her into an empty room off the back of the chapel.

  “How can I help you?”

  “Did you ever see Beatrice acting strangely?”

  “She always acted a bit strangely.”

  “Did you ever see her injecting anything into her arms?”

  Marta gasped. “No, never.”

  Julia considered her answer. Beatrice was identified as a bit strange, not quite fitting in with the others at the convent, but apparently she’d managed to hide her addiction while she lived here. Either that or she’d picked up the habit after she’d left the convent. Which was it? Was that even relevant?

  “When we spoke after Beatrice’s identity was revealed, you said you didn’t have a memory of anything unusual happening, but then you told Frankie that a young man came by looking for her late last night. Why didn’t you mention him before?”

  “It slipped my mind in the moment. Another thing I remembered after I spoke with your assistant…another older gentleman came around four this morning, pounding on the door and demanding to see Beatrice. He said he was her uncle and was completely surprised she didn’t still live here when I told him.”

  “Two different people came around asking for Beatrice in the middle of the night and when her body showed up on the gallows, it didn’t seem relevant to you to mention?”

  “I’m sorry. With Mother Marie missing and seeing Beatrice like that…it was all very overwhelming.”

  “What time did the man come by who said he was her uncle?”

  “Perhaps an hour before you came knocking this morning.”

  “Was he stooped over? The uncle?”

  “Yes.”

  Interesting, Julia thought. Uncle William hadn’t only out for walking to stretch his sore back. He’d been at the convent around the same time that Beatrice was being hanged from the gallows. Julia didn’t believe in coincidences. She wished she’d known this little tidbit when she’d spoken to the uncle earlier. She’d let Jacob know, though, since the uncle was going to be coming by headquarters later to formally identify Beatrice’s body.

  What had he been doing here? He’d told Jacob that he’d found out the day before that she didn’t live at the convent anymore, so why would he have gone there looking for her?

  “Can you think of anything else that was unusual?”

  Marta shook her head. “I’ll let you know if I remember anything else.”

  “Thank you, Sister Marta. Does Penelope seem ready for the memorial?”

  Sister Marta nodded. “Your Piccadilly sisters showed up and gave her more assistance than she knew what to do with, I think.”

  “I’m so pleased.” Julia considered a moment. “Frankie mentioned that a few of the sisters saw Beatrice here last night, around 11 o’clock. She was having an argument with Mother Marie. What do you make of that?”

  “I’m not certain. I didn’t see her myself. I think Beatrice and the Reverend Mother always got on well with each other. I can’t imagine what they would have been arguing about.”

  “Can you take me to one of the sisters
who did see her last night?”

  “Certainly, come with me to our sleeping quarters. Sister Prudence saw Beatrice talking to Mother Marie.”

  Julia followed Sister Marta and immediately recognized the sister introduced as Sister Prudence as the one who’d been only able to say “oh my” over and over when she’d seen Beatrice’s body hanging from the gallows.

  “Sister Prudence, please speak with Julia about what you saw last night and anything else about Beatrice that might aid her.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’ll leave you, then,” Sister Marta said.

  “Sister Prudence,” Julia jumped right in. “Could you tell me what Beatrice and Mother Marie were arguing about?”

  “I don’t think they were actually arguing. It seemed Beatrice was trying to convince Mother Marie, though I can’t say of what. They were speaking in hushed tones, but Beatrice looked impatient and the Reverend Mother looked skeptical. When they saw me walking down the hall, they walked away toward the Reverend Mother’s quarters. Whatever they talking about, they didn’t want me to hear about it. I never saw either of them again, until I saw Beatrice out there—”

  “I see.”

  Whatever the topic of their conversation, Julia would bet it was connected with Beatrice’s death.

  “Sister Prudence, how well did you know Beatrice when she was living here?”

  “We shared a sleeping cell, so we spent a fair amount of time together.”

  “Were you aware that Beatrice was struggling with a heroin addiction?”

  Her eyes widened, not in surprise at the mention of Beatrice’s addiction but more surprise that Julia knew of it.

  “I didn’t think anyone knew of it besides myself and Mother Marie. That’s why she left the convent. The Reverend Mother told her she couldn’t stay here as long as she was using. She wanted to send Beatrice to another order where they could help her, but Beatrice refused. She said Tyburn was the only order she believed in. Between you and me, I don’t know if Beatrice even believed in anything.”

  “Based on what her aunt and uncle said, I can’t say that information surprises me. Did you ever meet Beatrice’s boyfriend, Peter?”

  “I saw her sneaking around with a young man, but she never introduced me to him. We all pretended to not notice. We figured eventually everything would get sorted out by the Reverend Mother. It can take quite a bit of time for a new sister to get oriented and completely comfortable here. Mother Marie is usually generous giving the young women time to get their bearings.”

  “What did he look like?”

  “Tall, black hair. That’s all I could tell from a distance.”

  It sounded like the description that Mr. Cooper had given to her earlier.

  “I think he will be here for the memorial. I suspect that he may know more than a little about what happened here last night. If you see him, please tell me or Jacob or Frankie, right away.”

  “Yes, Miss Barlow. I’ll do that.”

  “Great. I’m heading out there now.”

  11

  10:00 am

  February 22, 1921

  Marble Arch

  London

  Julia watched as Penelope, standing at the podium, made final preparations to begin the memorial. There were rows and rows of chairs that hadn’t been here this morning. Jacob was seated next to her. She tried not to look at the gallows, but she couldn’t help but see the memory of the body that hung there only hours before. Most people in attendance weren’t aware of the tragedy that unfolded here.

  “Jacob,” she spoke softly. “Beatrice’s uncle was at the convent this morning, pounding on the door around four am. They didn’t let him in, but he identified himself as her uncle. Why would he have been here? He told us he found out yesterday that she didn’t live here. It doesn’t make sense that he’d have looked for her here. Why didn’t he mention to us that he’d been looking for her?”

  Jacob’s eyebrows climbed. “How’d you know this?”

  “Frankie interviewed all the sisters while we were at the Coopers and the Petersons.”

  Jacob nodded. “When Mr. Cooper comes by the station this afternoon I’ll be sure to ask him about it.”

  Julia wanted to make sure he was connecting the dots. “You realize that the timing puts him here around the time that Beatrice’s body was hanged?”

  He nodded. “I doubt that’s a coincidence.”

  “You might not have to wait until this afternoon to speak with Mr. Cooper. Look.”

  She pointed across the crowd. William Cooper stood at the edge of the mass of people, looking around the crowd.

  Penelope stepped up to the podium and introduced Sister Marta, who began to speak. Most of the crowd focused their attention on the podium, but Mr. Cooper kept searching. She saw recognition cross his face and followed his gaze.

  A tall, young man with slicked back, black hair. She nudged Jacob.

  “I think that is Peter Peterson. Mr. Cooper is looking right at him.”

  Julia and Jacob continued watching Peter. Jacob leaned in and whispered in Julia’s ear.

  “Keep your eyes on him. I’m going to walk toward him and speak to him before he can disappear into the crowd.”

  Marta’s words filled the outdoor space. “Before we begin reading the names of the martyrs who gave their lives at this place for their beliefs, we’d like to especially honor Mother Marie Adele Garnier and former Sister Beatrice Cooper…”

  Jacob moved his way slowly through the crowd while Marta began reading the names of the Catholic martyrs. Julia moved her gaze from Jacob to Peter and back to Jacob as he made his way toward the younger man. As he walked toward Peter, though, Julia noticed that Peter was making his way toward the podium.

  The list of names that Sister Marta read slowly left a somber pall over the crowd. Jacob seemed to notice that Peter was moving towards the podium and adjusted his track accordingly.

  “What is he up to?” Julia muttered under her breath.

  Peter’s gaze was completely focused on Sister Marta, and Julia was becoming more and more concerned for her safety. If Peter was the one who’d left the note demanding that what was left be restored, there was no telling what he would do right now. Nothing had been restored in the few short hours since Mother Marie had gone missing.

  Jacob was moving more quickly through the crowd than he had before and Julia found herself hoping that meant that he was concerned for Sister Marta as well.

  Even though Jacob was hurrying, Peter still looked like he was going to reach the podium before him. Jacob picked up his speed, and Peter seemed to have noticed that Jacob was making a beeline towards him. Peter started running, knocking people over as he forcefully ran into them. People in the crowd gasped in shock and eventually the crowd’s reaction was loud enough that Sister Marta noticed the commotion and stopped reading her list of names.

  She cried out and retreated as Peter stepped out of the crowd and raced to cover the short distance to the podium. Jacob was almost there, maneuvering through the crowd.

  A loud crack filled the air and a moment later, Peter fell to the ground in a crumple.

  A gunshot? What in the world? The crowd went silent for a split second, and then there was pandemonium. Julia couldn’t see Jacob in the crowd anymore. He’d seemingly been swallowed up by the throngs of people. Peter’s limp body lay sprawled on the concrete in front of the podium. Out of her peripheral vision, Julia noticed that in the mass of moving, panicking people, there was one who stood still, eyes locked on Peter’s prone body.

  She was so focused on Peter and Jacob that she’d taken her eyes off of William Cooper. Beatrice’s uncle stood still, gripping the handgun that he’d apparently fired through the crowd at Peter Peterson.

  She tried to decide quickly. Should she stay here and watch to see where William Cooper went? Should she go towards Peter and see if he could be helped? Where was Jacob? Was he being trampled in the crowd?

  After a few brief momen
ts, she made her decision and raced through the pandemonium to get to Peter. If he wasn’t dead, he had information that Julia was certain was vital to understanding what had happened to Beatrice. She needed to know what he knew. Besides, it’s not like she could a stop William Cooper if she’d chosen to go after him. He was armed and clearly had no objection to using his weapon in a crowded place where any innocent bystander could be caught in the crossfire.

  She moved through the crowd and got to Peter about the same time that Jacob did.

  “Are you all right, Julia?” Jacob asked.

  “Yes, you?”

  He nodded and turned his attention to Peter, who seemed to be breathing. A gunshot to his shoulder produced a lot of blood, and Peter didn’t seem to be making any moves to get back up. He was gripping a paper in his hand.

  Jacob took the papers, glanced at them, and then handed them off to Julia so he could apply pressure to Peter’s wound.

  “Who shot me? Someone shot me!”

  “Are you Peter Peterson?”

  “Yes.” He gritted his teeth.

  Julia leaned in and whispered. “William Cooper shot him. I saw the whole thing.”

  Jacob nodded and spoke to Peter.

  “Why would Beatrice Cooper’s uncle want to shoot you, Peter?”

  “I don’t know. He’s mad, obviously.”

  “I see. Any ideas why he might be angry with you, son?”

  “No idea.”

  Julia looked at the paper. It was a list of names and dates, one of which jumped out at her.

  Jack Sheppard. The highwayman who was executed at Tyburn Tree. A distant ancestor of Peter Peterson.

  “Do you know where Mother Marie Garnier is, Peter?”

  “You’ll get her back as soon as that woman reads off the names of the people on this list,” he answered through gritted teeth. “Not a minute before.”