The Bermondsey Poisoner

by Emily Organ

  I felt my mouth open then close again.

  “Oh goodness, James, I’m so sorry to hear it,” I said. “He had been unwell, hadn’t he? I didn’t realise his condition was so serious.”

  “Neither did I. He died yesterday evening.”

  “How awful,” said Edgar quietly.

  A heavy, sinking sensation lurched in my stomach.

  “What was his illness?” I asked. “He seemed perfectly well when we saw him last week. Thursday, wasn’t it? That was only a few days ago.”

  “Apparently, he was taken violently ill on Thursday evening. We think his death may be suspicious.”

  “Not poison?”

  “His death was considered so irregular that an autopsy was conducted late last night. The police surgeon says there are clear indications that Charles had consumed a toxic substance.”

  “It is poison, then,” I said, staring at the floorboards beneath my boots. I felt as though someone had just knocked me over. I pictured Inspector Martin’s young, pleasant face. How could he be dead?

  “Did Sally poison him?” I asked.

  “She must have done somehow. She must have been carrying the poison on her person. No one thought to determine whether she might have been in possession of anything hazardous on the day she was arrested. It is an extremely unfortunate situation.”

  “He visited her home, didn’t he?”

  “Later that same day, yes.”

  “Perhaps he was poisoned while he was there. He may have handled the bottles or the fly papers.”

  “He may well have done, but none of the other constables were affected and I think they had more contact with the paraphernalia than he did. Besides, Dr Grant believes that Charles ingested a large dose of the poison. We know that he drank some tea while interviewing Miss Chadwick. Somehow, by sleight of hand, she must have been able to tip the poison into his cup without him noticing.”

  “But that’s so very brazen!” I exclaimed. “I cannot believe she would have been able to do such a thing without anyone noticing! She doesn’t even strike me as someone who is clever enough to do it.”

  “Perhaps she is adept at ensuring that people underestimate her. She may simply be a good actress; in fact, I’m sure that she is. To get away with all that she has done so far is quite impressive when you consider it. She has been fooling all of us.”

  “I still can’t quite believe it,” I said. “When she approached me in Grange Walk that day it was my suggestion that we went to the police station. She didn’t even have time to prepare herself.”

  “Perhaps she was planning to go to the police station and carry out her attack all the while. It just so happened that you suggested taking her there.”

  I shook my head. “I still cannot comprehend it. Why would she admit to having poisoned three men and then go on to poison the investigating officer while she was in custody? Everyone knows that she has confessed. What would she stand to gain by murdering him?”

  “What did she stand to gain by murdering any of them? We have already established that her motive remains unclear. I think we are dealing with a lunatic.”

  “A lunatic clever enough to poison a police officer while he was sitting in the room with her?”

  “This one seems to be, Penny. I can’t think of any other explanation.”

  “Me neither. What a terrible tragedy! This sort of thing shouldn’t happen to a police officer while he goes about his daily duties.”

  I held James’ gaze and felt a sickening twinge of worry in my stomach as the thought crossed my mind that the same thing could happen to him.

  “It’s a sober reminder of the danger we put ourselves in sometimes,” he said. “At least the suspect is already in custody. We must make sure that she has no opportunity to harm anyone else.”

  “The men at Bermondsey station must be finding it extremely difficult to go about their work,” I said.

  “They are, but Sergeant Richards is managing the situation well. He’s a good officer. The purpose of our work now is to ensure that Miss Chadwick faces trial and is convicted for her actions.”

  Chapter 25

  The shock of hearing about Inspector Martin’s death remained with me as I walked along Borough High Street to Southwark Police Court the following day. The time had come for Sally Chadwick to appear in front of the magistrates and I still couldn’t make my mind up about her.

  Was it possible that Sally’s childlike manner was nothing but a clever act? If it was, she had fooled a great number of people for a very long time. But if she was genuinely of unsound mind, how had she managed to poison four men without detection? And why had she suddenly confessed to her crimes?

  It was early September and the weather was mild, despite the light drizzle. The warm damp encouraged foul odours to rise from the gutters at the side of the road. I walked beneath my umbrella past the many inns which had welcomed stagecoach travellers to London before the advent of the railways.

  A crowd had gathered outside the courthouse. There was no doubt that the case of the Bermondsey poisoner had roused a substantial amount of public interest.

  The courtroom was busy by the time I made my way inside. Every seat was taken and there was barely enough space to stand. I joined the other reporters and wiped my spectacles so that I could survey the public benches clearly. I immediately spotted fair-haired William Curran, the brother of John. I also recognised the scarred face of Florence Burrell, the sister of Thomas. A tall, red-haired man managed to find space to sit at the back of the room, and I realised it was Benjamin Taylor.

  The room fell quiet as three magistrates walked in and seated themselves behind the highly polished desk. The chief magistrate, Mr Sidney Parnell, sat at the centre in a large leather chair. He had a hooked nose and a mane of white hair with matching whiskers.

  Silence descended as a police officer escorted Sally Chadwick into the dock. Everyone turned to look at the woman, who bowed her head as she walked. Her straw-like hair had been pinned to the nape of her neck and she wore a shabby brown dress. Walking behind her was a diminutive grey-haired figure wearing a black hat and a smart, dark dress. I smiled to myself as I realised it was Maggie. Although I felt pleased that my words had encouraged her to help Sally, I felt fearful as to what her reaction might be when she discovered that Sally had possibly murdered a fourth man.

  Mr Parnell opened the proceedings by inviting James to step forward and speak. He looked smart in his dark suit and I felt proud of him as he addressed the courtroom.

  “I became engaged in this investigation nine days ago on Monday the twenty-fifth of August, when the body of Thomas Burrell was exhumed from the churchyard of St Mary Magdalen in Bermondsey. M Division requested my assistance because there was a suspicion that Mr Burrell’s death had been caused by poisoning. The cause of this suspicion was the death of Mr John Curran from arsenic poisoning on the seventeenth of August. His wife, Catherine Curran, is currently evading capture. She had been married to Thomas Burrell from 1880 until 1882. Naturally, my suspicions were firmly on Catherine Curran being the culprit to begin with.

  “However, on Thursday the twenty-eighth of August, the prisoner, Miss Sally Chadwick, confessed to Inspector Martin and myself at Bermondsey police station that she had poisoned John Curran and Thomas Burrell, along with a third victim whose name she could not recall. I believe this third victim to be Mr Francis Peel, another husband of Catherine Curran’s, who died in 1880. His remains have since been exhumed and scientific analysis has confirmed that all three men – Mr John Curran, Mr Thomas Burrell and Mr Francis Peel – died as a result of arsenic poisoning. In addition to the prisoner’s confession, we found evidence of arsenic both in the form of fly papers and a bottled solution at the prisoner’s home.”

  “Very good, Inspector Blakely,” said Mr Parnell. “A succinct and informative statement.” He placed an antiquated pair of spectacles on his nose. “I shall now read out the prisoner’s signed confession to the court. ‘I, Sally Chadwick,
have murdered three men. The first, Francis Peel, died on the ninth of February 1880. The second, Thomas Burrell, died on the eighteenth of May 1882. The third, John Curran, died on the seventeenth of August 1884. Each of these deaths was caused by me giving these men bottles of beer which I had poisoned with arsenic. In each case I acted alone, and no one knew of my intent or my guilt.’”

  He removed his spectacles and nodded at Sally. “May I confirm, Miss Chadwick, that this statement was made by you, and of your own free will?”

  “Yes.” She nodded sadly.

  Mr Parnell addressed James again. “Inspector Blakely, I am sure you are aware that I must ask you whether any inducement has been made to the prisoner in order to extract this confession?”

  “No, Your Honour. This confession has been made voluntarily by the prisoner. She attended Bermondsey police station on Thursday the twenty-eighth of August in the company of Miss Penny Green, who informed me and the other police officers present that Miss Chadwick had confessed to the three murders.”

  “Then let us hear from Miss Green.”

  I had not expected to be called upon as a witness.

  All eyes turned on me as I stepped out into the centre of the courtroom, and my knees suddenly felt weak. James caught my eye and gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

  “Please introduce yourself to the court,” ordered Mr Parnell.

  “My name is Miss Penelope Green.” My voice sounded small and timorous in the large courtroom. “I’m a reporter for the Morning Express newspaper.”

  “Can you please explain, Miss Green, how the confession from Miss Chadwick came about?”

  I told the magistrates about my encounter with Sally in Grange Walk and how I had then accompanied her to Bermondsey Street police station.

  “During your time with the prisoner, was any inducement made by you, or by anyone else, to extract her confession?” asked Mr Parnell.

  “No, Your Honour.”

  “None at all?” His unblinking eyes bored into mine. “I must stress the importance of this point, Miss Green. I’m sure everyone in the court is aware that news reporters often use persuasive tactics in the pursuit of a story.”

  “Your Honour, I did not coerce Miss Chadwick into making a confession. In fact, I was extremely surprised and slightly disbelieving of it, if the truth be told.” I felt a trickle of nervous perspiration run down between my shoulder blades.

  Mr Parnell scowled at me. “Feeling surprise and disbelief does not mean that you are innocent of inducing the confession, Miss Green.”

  My heart was thudding so heavily I felt as though it must have been audible in the silent room. Was the chief magistrate putting me on trial? My work had been helpful to the investigation, yet I was beginning to feel as though I had done something wrong. I didn’t wish anyone to think that I had persuaded Sally to confess for the sake of writing a gripping news story.

  “Your Honour.” I spoke loudly in an attempt to hide the tremor in my voice. “I wish to reassure you and the court that I gave Miss Chadwick no inducement whatsoever to make her confession. I know that doing so would not only bring my own profession into disrepute but would also be considered an attempt to pervert the course of justice, which is a most serious offence.”

  There was a pause as Mr Parnell regarded me. “It is indeed, Miss Green,” he said finally. “And I am reassured to hear that you understand the responsibilities of your profession.”

  The magistrate turned his attention away from me. Shaking with relief, I resumed my position as an observer at the back of the room.

  Mr Parnell asked the clerk to read Sally’s confession to the court once again.

  “Can you confirm that this is the statement you wrote, Miss Chadwick?” asked Mr Parnell.

  “Yes.” Her voice was barely audible.

  “Once again, I must ask you to confirm that you have made this confession by your own free will and have received no inducement or persuasion from anyone else.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your Honour,” Maggie whispered to her.

  “Your Honour,” repeated Sally.

  The magistrate asked the clerk to copy Miss Chadwick’s confession onto the charge sheet and then asked her to sign it.

  “The serious nature of these crimes demands that the prisoner must attend the Central Criminal Court,” said Mr Parnell. “I request that the prisoner be confined within the House of Detention until the next session is called.”

  James stepped forward. “Your Honour, I would like to request that a fourth murder be added to the list of charges.”

  There were gasps from the public benches and Mr Parnell raised an eyebrow, clearly displeased by this interruption to the proceedings.

  “Has the prisoner confessed to the crime?” he asked.

  “No. She denies it, Your Honour.”

  “Please explain the circumstances to the court as succinctly as possible.”

  “My much-respected colleague, Inspector Charles Martin, died of suspected arsenic poisoning two days ago on Monday the first of September,” said James. “He interviewed and arrested Miss Chadwick on the day she confessed to the three murders, and it is my belief that she put poison into his tea during their encounter, which led to the violent illness that ultimately claimed his life.”

  Heads started shaking and there were several stifled mutters around the room. Maggie’s eyes were fixed on Sally, as if looking for some sign of guilt.

  “The inquest into Inspector Martin’s death will be opened tomorrow,” added James.

  “What evidence do you have that the prisoner committed this crime?”

  “It is purely circumstantial at present, Your Honour. However, I suspect her involvement given that the cause of Inspector Martin’s death appears to match that of the men she has already admitted to murdering.”

  “How much time do you need to gather further evidence?”

  “I should like to request the remand of the prisoner for a week. This will enable me to search for evidence that she committed this dreadful crime against Inspector Martin and will also allow time for the inquest into his death to run its course, and for the chemical analysis required when poisoning is suspected to be carried out.”

  Mr Parnell conferred with his fellow magistrates in hushed whispers. Several minutes elapsed before he addressed James again.

  “Very well, Inspector Blakely. The prisoner is to return here at ten o’clock next Wednesday to hear this new charge against her. Miss Chadwick, there is no need for you to make a statement at this time, but is there anything you wish to say?”

  She glanced around the courtroom, then gave Mr Parnell a nervous smile. “It weren’t me what murdered the policeman, sir.”

  I noticed a few heads shaking sadly.

  Why would Sally confess to the murders of three men, yet deny the murder of Inspector Martin?

  It made no sense.

  Chapter 26

  A police carriage with blackened windows took Sally Chadwick to the House of Detention in Clerkenwell. A crowd followed behind in the rain as it made its way up Borough High Street toward London Bridge. I wondered how Sally would fare in a gaol which housed some of the country’s most dangerous criminals.

  I noticed a small figure watching the carriage as it departed.

  “Thank you for coming, Maggie,” I said.

  She spun around, startled by my words. “Oh, ’ello, Miss Green.”

  She turned to watch the carriage again and I noticed the fine quality of her dark dress and wondered how she had been able to afford it.

  “I didn’t know nothin’ about a fourth one,” she added. “A police officer, ’e said?”

  “He died on Monday evening,” I said. “And it appears that Sally poisoned him. We don’t know how she managed it, and I am struggling to believe that she is capable of doing such a thing. Is it possible that she pretends to be simple-minded in order to fool everyone?”

  “Pretendin’?” Maggie turned to face me again. “That ai
n’t our Sally. Always been like it, she ’as. Like I says, she’s always been a child and always will be.”

  “You’ve known her since she was a girl, haven’t you?”

  “I met ’er in the horphanage,” she replied. “I dunno what’s made her so bad as all this. I don’t understand it.”

  “Did you find much opportunity to speak to her before the court hearing this morning?” I asked.

  “Not much. She don’t understand what’s ’appenin’ to ’er, do she?”

  “Is she still refusing to receive any help from a solicitor?”

  “Yep. I dunno what good ’e’d be, anyway.”

  “A solicitor would help to explain what’s happening to her. And he might be able to persuade her to implicate Catherine Curran in the murders rather than taking all of the blame herself.”

  “This ain’t nothin’ ter do wiv Catherine.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?”

  “’Cause she jus’ wouldn’t of done it. Sally’s a lunatic, but I always thought she was a nice, kind lunatic. But now we’re seein’ what she’s really like and folk ain’t safe around ’er.” I noticed that her eyes were damp. “It makes me sad ter say it, but she’ll ’ave ter be in gaol for the good of everyone.”

  “I think a doctor needs to examine her.”

  Maggie shrugged. “Maybe, but what can ’e do now? ’E can’t change what’s ’appened. None of us can. It’s a sad endin’ to the ’ole thing.”

  She nodded farewell and walked away down the street.

  I turned back toward the courthouse with a heavy heart, realising that Sally Chadwick had lost her only possible ally.

  James found me lingering outside.

  “Well done in that courtroom, Penny.” He smiled, but I could see signs of strain in his eyes. Inspector Martin’s death had obviously affected him deeply. “Mr Parnell can be rather intimidating.”

  “For a moment I feared he was convinced that I had encouraged Sally to make her confession.”

  “It’s his duty to ensure that she did so under her own free will,” said James. “But he can make you feel rather uncomfortable, can’t he?”