by Emily Organ
“It wasn’t!” snapped Lillian.
Maynell turned to stare at his wife. His lips moved but no sound came out.
“He loved me,” she said quietly. “He even apologised to me in his letter.” A strange grimace broke across her face and I struggled to ascertain whether she was laughing or crying.
“He didn’t love you,” scorned her husband. “He loved that… I can’t bring myself to even say it!”
“Mr Geller was in the way,” said James. “Am I correct, Mrs Maynell? If it hadn’t been for him Simon Borthwick would have given you his full attention. If it hadn’t been for Mr Geller Simon Borthwick wouldn’t have even considered moving away to America. Away from you. Am I right?”
Tears flowed down Lillian’s face unchecked.
“No!” shouted Maynell. “No, I refuse to believe it! The man was a degenerate. Both of them were! But this has nothing to do with my wife; nothing at all. This is all wrong, Inspector! You’ve concocted this strange, twisted tale out of nothing. Nothing, I tell you!”
“And what do you say, Miss Preston?” asked James. “You’ve been rather quiet.”
She took a few steps towards him, her eyes fixed on his.
“Miss Preston?” said James.
Without saying a word, she lunged forward and struck him in the stomach. James fell back, colliding heavily with a chair, and that’s when I saw the flash of metal in her hand.
“She’s got a knife!” I screamed. “Use your revolver, James!”
Chapter 58
James lay on his side on the floor, his face creased with pain and his hands clutched to his stomach. I bent down to retrieve the gun he kept in a holster beneath his jacket.
As I did so, Catherine lunged toward me. I sheltered myself with my arms, knowing that if I rolled away she was likely to stab James a second time.
I heard a shout and Catherine fell backwards. She had been hauled to the ground by Jeffrey Maynell.
“James!” I cried.
“I’m all right, Penny,” he whispered. “Call for help, will you?”
“Someone fetch a doctor!” I shouted.
But Jeffrey Maynell was still grappling with Catherine and Lillian stood behind the desk, unsure what to do next. Blood began to seep through James’ fingers and across his waistcoat.
I lifted his jacket to locate his revolver. Lillian walked over to her husband and her friend, and I wondered who she intended to help. I felt my fingers close around the cold metal of the gun.
“Stop!” I ordered, standing to my feet and pointing the gun at Catherine. “Stop now!”
Jeffrey Maynell had hold of Catherine’s wrist as the pair scrambled around on the floor. They instantly froze, and the gas light flickered on the blade in Catherine’s hand.
“Drop the knife!” I shouted, the barrel of the gun trembled so much in my hands that I could barely keep it pointed at her.
She kept her eyes on me as she allowed the knife to slide from her hand. It fell to the floor with a clatter.
“Mr Maynell, call for help!” I said. “James is injured!”
“Of course.”
He began to get to his feet, while I kept the gun pointed at Catherine. I glanced briefly down at James, who had managed to push himself up into a sitting position.
“I’m all right, Penny.” He forced a smile. “It’s only a flesh wound.”
Neither of us saw Lillian throw herself at me until it was too late. She grappled with me and extracted the revolver from my shaky hand.
“Stay where you are!” she shouted at her husband, who stood poised with his hand on the door.
“Lily…” he said, his eyes fearful. “Don’t do this.”
“Get your knife, Catherine,” she said to her friend. “Between us we can finish them off. Jeffrey, get on the floor next to the inspector.”
Maynell cautiously did as he was told, while his wife kept the revolver trained on him. Catherine grabbed the knife and moved toward the door as if planning to prevent our escape.
“James needs help,” I pleaded. “He’s injured.”
“You think I want to help a police inspector who’s about to arrest me?” Lillian asked. She shifted the barrel of the gun away from her husband and pointed it at me.
“Lillian, please don’t make this any worse than it already is,” I said quietly, my eyes trained on the revolver. “You’ll never get away with it. Just stop now for everyone’s sake. Please.”
“Simon apologised to me,” she said with a cackle. “Isn’t that the strangest part of it all?”
The door swung open, making Catherine startle and the slick-haired maître d’hôtel appeared in the doorway.
“Is everything all right? I…”
Lillian swung her arm around to point the gun at him.
“Duck!” shouted Mr Maynell.
James lurched at Lillian’s legs and a gunshot rang out. Lillian was knocked to the floor and the revolver fell from her hand.
“Grab the gun!” shouted James, still holding on to her.
The stunned maître d’hôtel remained standing where he was, the gunshot having missed him by some stroke of good fortune.
Maynell and I both scrambled for the revolver, but he got to it first.
“Catherine!” Lillian cried out. “Help me, Catherine!”
Maynell got to his feet, clasping the gun firmly in both hands.
“She can’t hear you, Lily,” he said to his wife. “I’m afraid you’ve shot her.”
Chapter 59
“How I’ve missed you, Tiger!” Tears dripped onto her fur as I hugged her thin, bony body. Her purr reverberated loudly in my ear.
“She’s already eaten two tins of sardines,” said Mrs Garnett. “And a slice of cake.”
“Cake?”
My landlady shrugged. “She needed fattening up after ten days shut away in Mr Rumbelow’s stable. The rats may have sustained her for a while, but after that she must have been rather hungry. Mr Rumbelow told me she’s welcome to return any time for a spot of rat-catching.”
“I shan’t be allowing her back there in a hurry,” I said. “She belongs here.”
“Fancy getting stuck in a stable like that. Cats do such foolish things. I told you she hadn’t been stolen, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t think Tiger would ever stray as far as Monkwell Street.”
“I’ve always said that cats have a secret life we know nothing about. Who knows where she goes and what she does? You’re lucky Mr Rumbelow happened to mention her to Mrs Hooper next door, otherwise I don’t know how you’d ever have got her back.”
I hugged Tiger even tighter.
“I am lucky, indeed.”
“So, what of the woman you believed to have taken her?” asked Mrs Garnett. “What’s happened to her?”
“She’s dead.”
“What?! How?”
“Do you remember that rain-soaked woman, Mrs Maynell, who visited me one evening? She accidentally shot her.”
Mrs Garnett’s mouth hung open.
“Mrs Maynell was arrested in Mayfair this evening. That’s where I have just come from. Inspector Blakely has taken her to Vine Street police station.”
“The people you associate with, Miss Green… That little fair-haired woman the size of a girl shot her friend? Did she do it because she thought the woman had taken your cat?”
“No. I shall have to explain it all to you in due course, Mrs Garnett. For the time being I’d rather make a fuss of Tiger now that she’s returned.”
“Yes, you do that. Just cuddle the cat and forget about all that horrible shooting business. The things women do these days.” She sucked her lip disapprovingly. “And let’s get some kerosene combed through Tiger’s fur. She’s covered in fleas from Mr Rumbelow’s stable.”
Chapter 60
“We passed a sleepless night at Puerto Cabello in Venezuela as our ship was moored beneath the prison there,” said Mr Fox-Stirling with a glass of red wine in his hand. “Every half-hou
r the sentries called out from one man to the next. Centinela alerta! And no sooner had they finished one round when they struck it up all over again! Every half-hour. Day and night. Centinela alerta!”
“Presumably to ensure that no chap was asleep on the job,” said Eliza’s husband George.
“Exactly so,” replied Mr Fox-Stirling. “And there was no chap asleep on our ship, either! There were magnificent palm trees in Puerto Cabello, however. I’d wager that some were one hundred feet high. And all the stems pierced with bullet holes!” He slapped the table as he laughed and gulped back a large mouthful of wine.
“Penelope and I are delighted that you are willing to return to those shores again and search for our father,” said Eliza.
We were dining at my sister’s home on a course of spiced beef with marrow au gratin. Mr Edwards sat opposite me, listening intently to Mr Fox-Stirling’s tales of derring-do. The conversation had lost my interest some time earlier and I had spent much of the evening wondering how James was progressing with his questioning of the Maynells.
“I must say that I am very much looking forward to my return to Colombia,” boomed Mr Fox-Stirling. “I’ve missed the fine cigars there.”
“Don’t forget that you have the Himalayas to see to first,” said his wife.
“Forget the Himalayas? How could I forget them, Margaret?” Mr Fox-Stirling laughed again as Eliza’s butler refilled his glass.
“That’s the life of an adventurer!” said Mr Edwards admiringly.
“We’re quite happy for you to proceed with your Himalayas expedition first, Mr Fox-Stirling,” said Eliza. “It’ll take us a while to raise the funds for your trip.”
“On that note,” said Mr Edwards, clearing his throat. “I should like to make a donation if I may.”
“Really, Mr Edwards?” said Eliza. “That’s terribly kind of you.”
“My parents left me with a not-insubstantial inheritance,” continued Mr Edwards. “It does nothing for me other than accrue a little interest in the bank.”
“No, you must keep your inheritance,” I said. “You may need it for something important.”
“There is more than enough to meet my needs,” he replied. “I should like to do what I can to help you discover what happened to your father.”
“Thank you, Mr Edwards.”
“Please call me Francis, Miss Green.” He held my gaze and I smiled. “The same applies to everyone here,” he said, turning to the other guests. “None of this Mr Edwards nonsense, please. Call me Francis.”
“Of course, Francis,” said Eliza. “And a handsome name it is, too. Thank you for your kind offer of help with our search for Father. It’s much appreciated, isn’t it, Penelope?”
“It is,” I added. “Thank you, Francis.”
He grinned, as if pleased to have entered this new state of familiarity.
The housekeeper entered the room and whispered something into Eliza’s ear.
“Penelope,” Eliza announced. “I’m informed that there is a caller for you.”
Chapter 61
James stood in Eliza’s hallway, his bowler hat clasped in one hand.
“How are you?” I asked. “How serious is your injury? You should be resting!”
“The injury’s fine, it’s healing quickly. Thank you, Penny.” He glanced down at his stomach. “It’s well bandaged and there’s no chance of me resting at the moment. I’ve been busy interviewing the Maynells.”
“You should come and join us in the dining room,” I said. “There’s far too much food and drink for our small party to get through. Eliza could have invited another four people!”
“That’s a nice thought. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. It’s been rather a busy day down at the station in Kensington. Do you think your sister would mind?”
“Of course she wouldn’t!”
James took a step forward and then hesitated. “Mr Edwards isn’t with you by any chance, is he?”
“He is,” I replied, “but that doesn’t matter a bit. He’ll be pleased to see you.”
“On second thoughts, perhaps it’s not a good idea after all,” James said, frowning slightly. “No, I’ll journey home as I intended. The cab brought me through Bayswater and I remembered you telling me you would be dining here with Mr Fox-Stirling this evening. I only stopped by to tell you what has happened with the Maynells.”
“Please, James.”
“Please what?”
“Please stay.”
“It’s not appropriate, Penny.”
“Tell me how you got on, then.”
“Jeffrey Maynell knew nothing of what his wife had been up to. That much is clear.”
“And Lillian?”
“She has confessed.”
My heart skipped excitedly. “Well done, James!”
“It will make the trial easier to manage and by confessing Lillian’s hoping the sentence will be more lenient.”
“She doesn’t deserve a lenient sentence,” I scorned. “I don’t suppose Simon Borthwick ever knew that Lillian was his persecutor.”
“No, I don’t think he did. He even apologised to her in his letter, didn’t he? It seems he blamed himself for the termination of their engagement. And perhaps he suspected that Mr Geller had been murdered due to the nature of their friendship.”
“Which is why he feared that he would be next.”
“I think so. And Lillian was your persecutor, too. She sent many unpleasant letters about Borthwick, including the one you found in his book.”
“She forged all the different styles of handwriting?”
“No, she paid a forger to do that. She had no qualms about implicating her husband and his colleagues in this tragic affair.”
“Jeffrey was cruel toward her.”
“It seems that he was; however, I don’t think it ever truly broke her heart. Every move she has made since her relationship with Borthwick ended was part of a calculated scheme of revenge.”
“And to think that she came dashing over to my home one rainy evening desperate to confide how beastly Jeffrey was!”
“That was all part of her clever manipulation. She was hoping to frame her husband.”
“But the earring let her down.”
“Indeed.”
“She made the mistake of admitting that it was hers.”
“Yes. I wondered why she didn’t deny it. She may not have realised where she had lost it. And perhaps she was certain that Repton was about to be charged with Geller’s murder. She’d evaded suspicion for so long that maybe she had become a little overconfident. Repton appears to be completely blameless. He has been released from custody, so he won’t miss his ship after all.”
“And I don’t suppose we’ll ever hear Catherine Preston’s side of the story.”
“No. Lillian’s confession confirmed that Catherine strangled Richard Geller, but I would have liked to speak to the woman myself. Lillian put paid to that.”
“I recall now something Lillian and Georgina told me about Catherine Preston,” I said. “Georgina commented that Catherine had always done what Lillian had asked her to when they were at school. Lillian’s explanation was that Catherine had a motherless upbringing. But that doesn’t fully explain why Catherine was so willing to do Lillian’s bidding. Did Lillian explain it any better to you?”
“I don’t think Lillian really understands it herself. From what she told me she has always had an unusual hold over Catherine. Perhaps money played a part. Lillian’s family was wealthy and Catherine’s far less so, and it sounds as though she grew up without her mother, which must have affected her in some respects. Lillian is mortified that she has accidentally killed her friend, but she chose her path and now we must leave the rest to the judge and jury. I wanted to thank you, Penny, for persevering at that jewellery shop in Burlington Arcade. You put my work to shame!”
“Not at all.”
“Well, you did, because I was unable to get Maynell’s name from them.”
“It was all down to a tall tale and a few tears. That combination is easier to conjure when you’re a woman.”
“Indeed it is, Penny. I couldn’t have employed that same trick!”
We both laughed.
“I’ll let you return to your meal. Apologies for the interruption.” He placed his bowler hat back on his head.
“I wish you would join us, James.”
“You know that it would make matters rather awkward.”
I sighed.
“You were right, you know,” said James, lowering his voice.
“About what?”
“What you said on Blackfriars Bridge. No one is forcing me to marry Charlotte.”
“You made a choice.”
“I did. But I made that choice before I met you. Had we met sooner, I believe things might be rather different now.”
His words saddened me, and I couldn’t miss the opportunity to respond. “But we didn’t meet sooner, and nothing will ever change that. You can still make a choice, though. You know that, don’t you?”
“I can, but the repercussions of such a choice would be…” He trailed off and stared down at the tiled floor. “I don’t know. It would be quite dreadful. The wedding has already been postponed once before.”
“And?”
James looked at me, his eyes searching my face.
“Can you imagine if I called it off?”
“There would be some fuss for a while,” I said, “but it would eventually calm down and be forgotten about.”
“An uncle of mine was once sued for breach of promise.”
“Charlotte wouldn’t do that, would she?”
“She would! And her mother would weigh in, no doubt. It would be awful.”
“What else can I say, James? Yes, it would be awful, but only for a while. And then you would be free to pursue happiness with someone else.”
“With you?”
