by David Field
‘I just had a bad feeling,’ Jack replied. ‘Uncle Percy’s methods are a bit excessive and it seemed likely that Ormonde would over-react when you pulled the trick with the gag. Good job I hung back and that Miss Abigail remembered me by sight.’
‘I think your face is already embroidered on her heart,’ Esther grimaced back up at him, ‘and that sounds like her coming back up. Better start looking like a guardian of the law again, instead of my husband.’
Abigail reappeared in the doorway and Jack made a great pretence of assuring Esther that a cable would be sent to every police station in London, seeking the apprehension of a man suspected of the attempted murder of one of his employees.
‘Rest assured, Miss, we won’t leave a stone unturned,’ he told her, as he looked round and appeared to become aware of Abigail’s return.
‘Could you summon a cab, please? I’ll escort this young lady to her home and ensure that nothing else happens to her, then I’ll come back and take your statement.’
‘I’ll make sure I have tea and biscuits waiting for you,’ Abigail said, smiling invitingly as she took Esther’s other arm, and between them they escorted her gingerly down the stairs. She was placed in the chair in front of the salon counter and while they waited for Abigail to summon a cab Jack gazed up at the “Ophelia” painting, still in pride of place on the wall.
‘She does look a bit like Lucy, doesn’t she?’ Esther observed as she followed Jack’s gaze.
Jack frowned. ‘Unfortunately for Lucy, yes she does. I think my mad uncle has some scheme in mind for getting her involved as well. But for you, this is the final day of your employment here, believe me.’
Alice Bridges made the predictable fussing noises as Jack opened the front door to their rooms and led Esther gingerly down the hallway with one hand supporting her arm.
‘God love us, what happened to you?’ Alice said as she took in the livid red weals on Esther’s neck.
‘It’s a long story,’ Jack replied, ‘but it would seem that Esther will be home for a while, so we can relieve you of baby-minding duties until further notice. Thank you so much for all you’ve done. Are you sure we don’t owe you anything?’
Alice shook her head. ‘Definitely not. It was a pure pleasure to look after the dear little thing and if you ever need anyone to look after her in the future, do please think of me first.’
‘We will, Alice, and thank you again,’ Esther assured her. ‘Why don’t you come down here for tea tomorrow morning, and let me do my best to explain it all to you?’
As the front door closed behind her, Esther reached up and kissed Jack. ‘Thank you, my knight in shining armour. Now lead me to our daughter, who nearly became motherless.’
As they stood there holding hands like two young sweethearts, gazing adoringly down at their peacefully sleeping daughter, Esther began to tremble, then burst into tears. Jack lowered her into a chair and knelt down to hold her reassuringly in his arms.
‘It’s delayed shock,’ he advised her. ‘We see it a lot in accident victims.’
‘It’s true, isn’t it?’ Esther sobbed. ‘If Abigail hadn’t been there, I’d be dead and poor sweet little Lily wouldn’t have a mother. Please don’t make me go back to that dreadful place and that sick lunatic!’
‘That’s one thing you can rest assured of,’ Jack replied consolingly. ‘If Uncle Percy tries to insist, I’ll simply resign from the force and become a coalman, like you suggested.’
Esther gazed up at him through a haze of drying tears. ‘You’d really do that for me?’
‘Of course I would. You’re the most important person in my life. You and Lily, of course. The Yard is just how I earn my living, and there’s more than one way of doing that.’
‘But while you’re still a police officer,’ Esther reminded him, ‘you have to go back to Ormonde’s salon and have tea and biscuits with that rather entrancing Abigail, who’s clearly set her sights on you.’
‘I suppose I do,’ Jack conceded, ‘but I’d rather stay here with you. However, the “entrancing Abigail”, as you call her, will get suspicious if I’m delayed too long.’
Shortly after five pm, Jack answered the knock on the door and a massive bunch of flowers was thrust into his face. He burst out laughing and looked out into the hallway at the crestfallen face of his uncle, who also appeared to be armed with a large wine bottle.
‘You’ll need more than that if you expect Esther to allow you in,’ Jack advised Percy.
‘At least three helpings of that delicious fish and fried potatoes that you employed to seduce me into getting involved in your madcap schemes,’ Esther insisted from behind Jack. ‘I’ll put the oven on, and don’t even think of showing your face back here without them.’
An hour and a half later the silence was palpable enough to be photographed and Esther felt guiltily aware that she was the cause of it. She reached across the table and rested a hand on Percy’s wrist. ‘I’ll forgive you, provided that we’re agreed that I’m finished at the art salon.’
‘I think everyone is,’ Percy assured her, ‘including that sweet young thing who worked there legitimately.’
‘That “sweet young thing” had designs on Jack,’ Esther pouted, ‘but has the salon closed down already?’
‘It can’t continue without Ormonde himself, I imagine,’ Percy pointed out, ‘and there’s been no indication that he’s about to resume business. We have men posted to look out for his return, but so far without any success.’
‘You were too late,’ Jack advised him. ‘When I went back to take the statement from Abigail Prendergast, she told me that Ormonde showed up around the middle of the day, ran upstairs, came back down with a couple of heavy looking travelling bags, told Miss Prendergast to lock the salon and take a month’s wages out of the petty cash drawer, then headed off in a cab in the direction of Holborn.’
‘I’ll take a guess that he was heading for his country retreat in Wiltshire,’ Percy said, nodding, ‘which is precisely where we want him.’
‘So I’m finished at the salon?’ Esther asked anxiously.
Percy nodded. ‘Indeed you are, my dear, with the grateful thanks of Scotland Yard for all your invaluable assistance.’
‘I’m not sure I achieved anything, apart from exposing that abortionist,’ Esther replied with a frown.
‘He was arrested and charged two days ago,’ Percy advised her. ‘I don’t think we’ll need you to give evidence against him, but if you do we’ll make sure that the court’s left in no doubt that you weren’t really seeking an abortion.’
‘You’ll actually admit that Scotland Yard was obliged to rely on a mere woman?’ Esther said sarcastically and Percy smiled.
‘The day is not long away when we’ll actually employ them, but not necessarily for the sort of work you did for us. There’s an increase in the number of complaints from women prisoners alleging that they were groped inappropriately by male officers while being taken into custody.’
‘I hope neither of you indulge in anything like that,’ Esther replied frostily and Percy grinned back at her.
‘Believe me, what we have to endure from the women we arrest is far worse than what we’re alleged to do to them. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been kneed in the unmentionables.’
Esther looked at Jack with raised eyebrows and he nodded.
‘A couple of times,’ he admitted. ‘Plus I’ve been offered all sorts of sexual services in exchange for releasing them. None of which I accepted, let me hasten to add.’
‘You’d better not, if you want to avoid an injury,’ Esther threatened him with a mock scowl.
‘Anyway, Uncle,’ Jack enquired, if only to change the topic of conversation, ‘do you still need me on the Ormonde case, and if not, what am I likely to find waiting for me when I report back for duty tomorrow?’
‘You’re going nowhere near Whitehall yet, my boy,’ Percy assured him. ‘We haven’t finished with Ormonde by a long chalk.’
>
‘Presumably we’ll be journeying down to Wiltshire in order to arrest him for the attack on Esther?’
‘Yes, but not yet,’ Percy replied with a slow grin. ‘We’ll let him stew out there for a while, but by the time we take him into custody I’ll have another nasty surprise lined up for him.’
‘Not involving my wife, I hope?’ Jack enquired.
‘No — your sister,’ Percy replied with a conspiratorial wink.
Jack’s draw dropped. ‘Mother will hang your guts on her washing line if you expose Lucy to the sort of danger that Esther experienced. And she’d no doubt do so already if I peached on you regarding Esther’s brush with a lunatic.’
‘What I have in mind for Lucy will not bring her face to face with Ormonde, you may rest assured of that,’ Percy replied with a self-satisfied smirk. ‘At least, not in the flesh.’
‘What exactly are you planning?’ Esther demanded. ‘Quite apart from being my sister-in-law, she’s a very good friend, and Jack’s mother won’t be the only one after your guts if you harm a hair on her head.’
‘You can both breathe more easily,’ Percy smiled reassuringly. ‘But you would admit, would you not, that being confronted with objects associated with his heinous deed makes Ormonde very nervous?’
‘I think the marks that are still visible on my neck attest to that,’ Esther replied acidly.
‘Precisely,’ Percy continued. ‘So how do you think he’d react to being confronted with Marianne herself?’
‘You’re going to dig up her corpse and dump it on his doorstep?’ Esther asked sarcastically, while Jack sat there expressionless.
‘Not quite,’ Percy replied, still smiling like someone who’d won a fortune at the races. ‘Are we not also agreed that Ormonde’s become convinced that he’s haunted by the restless spirit of his victim?’
‘Yes, so what?’ Esther said.
‘Well, how do you think he’d react to being confronted by her ghost?’
It went deathly quiet, as Esther rose from the table and began collecting the plates.
‘You’re madder than even I imagined,’ she replied bluntly.
Jack winced and smile apologetically across at Percy, who seemed not to be in the slightest bit offended as he replied confidently, ‘As someone recently said to me — “Oh ye of little faith”. Jack, from memory, describe the layout of the Booking Hall of Kemble Station.’
Jack closed his eyes and described his recollection of it. ‘There’s a fairly large open section as you go in, with a bench down the right hand wall. Then, to the left, there’s a wall with a window that looks into the area where the ticket-seller-cum-porter sits, selling tickets. And that’s about all I can remember.’
‘That’s all you need to remember,’ Percy advised him. ‘But you’d agree with me that the window between the two allows passengers to look into the ticket seller’s room, while at the same time allowing the ticket seller to look out into the Booking Hall, and that you have to pass through that booking hall to get to the platforms?’
‘Yes, but so what?’
‘I’ll collect you at ten in the morning, young Jack,’ Percy advised him as he rose to leave. ‘Then we’re off to see a woman about a ghost.’
Chapter Fifteen
‘Cable from Scotland Yard, Sergeant,’ Constable Jacks advised Joe Oakley as he walked in from his home two doors up the street. Oakley took the paper from him and studied it with an irritated frown.
‘They don’t ask much, do they? Confirm that he’s back in residence, keep ’im under discreet observation, alert the Yard immediately if ’e shows any sign o’ movin’ out, and above all don’t alert ’is suspicions. I suppose it’ll make a change from breakin’ up pub brawls and catchin’ poachers, but ’ow much manpower do they think we’ve got at our disposal down ’ere?’
‘D’yer want me ter see to that, Sergeant?’
‘No thanks, lad. The cable said “discreet”. Yer about as discreet as Bill Tansley’s prize bull when it’s ’on ’eat. Leave the clever stuff ter yer superiors.’
‘Yes, Sergeant.’
‘I don’t s’pose yer’ve seen ’im around ’ere lately?’
‘No, Sergeant.’
‘Well, I’ll try the station first. Then maybe a quiet word wi’ Bert Gregson.’
‘Yes, Sergeant.’
‘Right, get the pot on fer tea, then I’m off ter the station.’
Within the hour Sergeant Oakley had learned that the man that Scotland Yard wished to have placed under discreet surveillance had passed through Kemble Station two days earlier, dragging two heavy travelling bags, had tipped the porter generously for his assistance in loading them onto a wagon waiting hopefully in the forecourt for passing trade, and had instructed the driver to take him to Sandpool Farm, where he remained, so far as anyone was aware. Later that evening Oakley wandered in plain clothes up to the farm itself, lost ten shillings to Bert Gregson in card games that he put down to expenses, and cabled back to London that their man was where they had suspected him of being.
‘Avaunt and quit my sight!’ Hilda Fancourt bellowed from the stage as the two men walked down through the stalls. ‘We’re in the middle of a lighting rehearsal and Iago is about to get his come-uppance. It had better be good!’
‘It is,’ Percy assured her as he reminded her that the young man with him was the brother of her leading lady, who confirmed that assertion by jumping four feet down off the stage and embracing them both enthusiastically.
‘Uncle Percy — and Jack — don’t tell me you’ve acquired an interest in the theatre? Or are you perhaps here to watch me rehearse without having to buy a ticket for the public performances themselves? And why are you free to attend during the working day? Shouldn’t you be out catching criminals?’
‘That’s several questions at once,’ Percy replied with a grin, while Jack left the explanations to him. ‘And the answer to them all is “yes”. Yes, we are here out of interest in the theatre, yes we do want to see you perform, yes we are at work, and yes we are seeking to buckle a serious criminal.’
When Lucy remained silent, the smile slowly fading as she tried to absorb it all, Percy extracted the photograph of Edgar and Marianne Ormonde and handed it to her.
‘We require your assistance to capture him, for which we require that you look as much as possible like her.’
Lucy looked with an experienced eye at the image of Marianne, then smiled. ‘Give me ten minutes,’ she offered.
Percy raised his hand to detain her. ‘Not now. And not here.’
‘When and where?’
‘That will depend upon what your stage manager can arrange,’ Percy explained. ‘I don’t see her on stage at present.’
‘She’s probably up in the lighting gallery, checking the look of her sets under the unforgiving bright lights,’ Lucy suggested.
‘She was, but now she’s down here among the paying audience,’ came a voice familiar to Percy, and he turned round to smile ingratiatingly at Frances Fordyce.
‘Allow me to introduce my nephew and Lucy’s brother, Jack, who’s also, by a happy coincidence, an officer employed by Scotland Yard. Jack, this lady, with assistance from Lucy, is going to produce the ghost of Marianne Ormonde.’
‘You’ve decided to go ahead then?’ Frances asked, smiling, and Percy nodded.
‘We have, but it will require a good deal of organisation and not a little inconvenience. We all have to travel to a small township north of Swindon and we have to set up our operation during the hours of darkness. As I understand it, we’ll require two substantial mirrors, a co-operative railway employee, the acting talents of my niece, and a certain amount of theatrical make-up.’
‘When?’ was Frances’s only question, while Lucy began to make domestic excuses, which Percy waved aside.
‘Your children will be none the worse for being looked after by a successful architect for a day or so and when you return triumphant, they’ll be all the more overjoyed at your renewed
presence, and may even behave themselves.’
‘We open in two weeks,’ Lucy reminded him.
‘This will be over in two days,’ Percy assured her. ‘Allow for at least two nights at a hotel in Swindon, a very busy day setting up what I believe you actors call the “set”, and a very dramatic evening that will end in the arrest of a self-confessed murderer.’
‘If he’s confessed, why do we need to set what I suspect is a trap?’ Frances asked.
‘What makes you think that?’ Percy said innocently, to which Frances replied with a conspiratorial smile, ‘I know my Shakespeare. It’s Hamlet who delivers the line “The play’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of a king”. You’re hoping that a ghost will wring a confession out of a suspect, aren’t you?’
‘Once again, your astuteness humbles me,’ Percy replied with genuine gallantry, and Frances smiled as her glance dropped to the floor.
‘At least it’ll save you the effort of beating it out of him with your billy clubs,’ she parried.
‘Most of this is escaping me,’ Lucy complained. ‘I believe I’m being cast as the ghost of a murder victim in order to confront her killer in the belief that he’ll confess. Aren’t you rather placing me in danger? I have two children, remember.’
‘You won’t be face to face with him,’ Jack explained. ‘At least, that’s what Uncle Percy assures me.’
‘Indeed she won’t,’ Frances confirmed. ‘As I understand it, Lucy will appear courtesy of Pepper’s Ghost?’
‘Exactly.’ Percy smiled at Lucy reassuringly.
‘And this all takes place in Swindon, you say?’ Lucy asked. ‘And will take two days? What costume will I require?’
‘That will be supplied,’ Percy explained.
‘At a guess, from the original corpse?’ Frances said, at which Lucy let out a ladylike scream.
Percy turned to wag an admonitory finger at Frances. ‘There are times when astuteness can prove unwise, madam, and I believe that was one of them.’
