A Case of Doubtful Death (16 page)

Frances nodded. ‘I hadn’t thought of that. You’re right.’

Frances later spoke to Inspector Gostelow about the bag, which Walter had duly delivered, and found that he had drawn the same conclusions as she about Mackenzie’s intentions and the length of time the bag had been in the water. He had asked his constables to pay especial attention to the area where the bag had been found, but he didn’t see that there was any more he could do. The bag and its contents, once dried out and restored to a more hygienic condition, would shortly be examined by Dr Bonner, as Dr Mackenzie’s executor, and who might take it away with him if he liked. Perhaps, suggested Gostelow, he might have some observations.

Frances went home, troubled. There was something about the bag that did not fit with a comment made to her very recently and she could not determine what it was. She decided to occupy herself with other concerns as she often found that a special corner of her mind would address a problem without her being aware of it. That evening she and Sarah, wearing their purple sashes of membership, attended a meeting of the Bayswater Ladies Suffrage Society in Westbourne Hall, where Frances had been prevailed upon to make a short speech about her work as a detective, while Sarah was deputed to act as doorkeeper in case any disruptive elements sought admission. The ladies were told that petitions were being made to Parliament, and the meeting ended in a surge of tea-fuelled optimism that it was only a matter of months before the women of Britain secured the franchise.

When Frances awoke the next morning she had the answer. Mabel Finch had mentioned that Dr Mackenzie’s beard had become grey. Why then had he been carrying all a gentleman needed for a shave?

As Frances and Sarah discussed the question of Dr Mackenzie’s beard over breakfast a letter arrived from Aberdeen.

Dear Miss Doughty

I have never met Dr Mackenzie, only being acquainted with him due to some pamphlets he sent me about his work at the Life House. I was not expecting to receive a parcel of books from him. The letter to which you refer was written the day before I learned of his unfortunate death. He had recommended to me the services of an orderly, a Mr Breck, who he described as a useful, active and reliable person, and was due to appear here to take up his duties on Thursday
23
rd September, but the man did not arrive and after waiting a week I wrote to Dr Mackenzie to discover what had occurred to delay him. I can advise you that as at today’s date, Mr Breck has not appeared and I have heard no word from him or indeed anyone else in connection with the appointment.

Yours truly

S. Stuart, MD

So at least the mysterious word was now clear: ‘Breck did not arrive.’ But who was Breck? It was not uncommon for a young man who wanted advancement, even in the case of something as workaday as a position as hospital orderly, to seek out a respected man and ask him to write a letter recommending him. But it was remarkable that having gone to the trouble of asking for the recommendation and impressing Mackenzie sufficiently that the letter had been written, and the position secured, Breck had then failed to keep the appointment or offer any explanation.

It was possible that Mr Breck and his ambitions and failings had nothing at all to do with the case, but Frances was aware that coincidences were beginning to accumulate around the time of Dr Mackenzie’s death in an unattractive muddle, and she did not like muddle.

Frances was not sure precisely how long it might take to journey from London to Aberdeen, which was a considerable distance, and could not, she thought, be easily done in one day. She studied her railway timetables carefully. Since Breck had promised to be in Aberdeen on the Thursday she had to work backwards and determine when he had to leave London in order to reach his destination on that day. Would he have had to leave London before Dr Mackenzie’s death?

The answer was that he did not; there were overnight mail trains from London on the Tuesday night, and fast trains early on Wednesday to both Edinburgh and Glasgow, from where he might have obtained another train, which would have reached Aberdeen in time to keep his appointment with Dr Stuart. So Breck could have been in London on the night Dr Mackenzie died, or even the following morning.

But did Breck even exist? Had Breck been a name assumed by Palmer as he hurried north for some purpose devised by Mackenzie? Had he set out as planned, and then met with an accident on the way, and was he now either an unidentified body or an unconscious man far from home, that no one would ever connect with the missing Palmer? Or was Breck another man entirely? Was he perhaps someone she had already met under another name? Hemsley? Fairbrother? She couldn’t see either Bonner or Warrinder masquerading as a medical orderly; Warrinder would have found the task too strenuous and Bonner was too much the avuncular, yet superior, doctor to act convincingly in a subordinate role. Whoever Breck was, Mackenzie’s death might have induced him to change his plans and not make his journey after all.

There was one other possibility – that Breck was actually Dr Mackenzie himself, adopting a new name, a new appearance, and applying for a post far from London and planning to flee north to escape his creditors, but dying before he could carry out his plan.

But, Frances asked herself, would a man of Mackenzie’s character do such a thing? Would he run away and abandon the Life House, into which he had put so much of his time and dedication and money, simply over some personal financial difficulty, especially when he had understanding friends whose mercy he might have relied upon? And how was he planning to explain this sudden disappearance? The abrupt departure of a man in Dr Mackenzie’s position would have caused immediate comment and cast grave suspicions on the affairs of the Life House, which would then as a matter of public demand come under scrutiny. The resultant enquiry would reveal that a large sum of money had gone missing from the Life House bank account.

Frances concluded that if Dr Mackenzie had decided to disappear in order to evade his creditors, then he would have provided a reason that would not excite suspicion. For one distracted moment she wondered if the doctor had not actually died at all, but had only pretended to be dead. That would certainly have had the desired result, but then she knew that following his death the body had lain in the Life House for almost a week before burial. It had been seen by people who knew him, and he would have had to fool not only Palmer and Bonner but Hemsley, Fairbrother, Darscot, Warrinder, and all the other people who came to the viewing the following day. No man could hold his breath for long and it would not take a doctor of medicine to observe that the supposed corpse was alive. She could easily have seen through such an imposture herself. The trick would only work if all the diverse people concerned – from Dr Bonner to Mrs Georgeson – had somehow conspired to effect it, and that idea was quite ridiculous. Nevertheless, she felt she needed to discuss the question with both doctors and was busy composing a note when Sarah, who had been out on a number of errands, returned with the certificates from Somerset House, which were especially illuminating.

In
1863
, Maria Biscoby, widow, aged forty-three had married Richard Warrinder, MD, widower. The death of her son, Peter Biscoby, had taken place at Dr Warrinder’s home.

Frances’ first reaction was to be very annoyed that this fact had been kept from her, but she reminded herself that she was in possession of a great deal of information which Doctors Warrinder and Bonner were unaware that she had, and there were some incidents in the past history of the Life House which they might not have wanted broadcast to the world. A visit to Dr Warrinder was, however, called for and she sent him a message announcing that she would soon call, making it plain that it was a matter of great importance and that she also wanted to speak to his wife. If she had not received a reply she would have gone to his house in any case, but a message came back agreeing to an interview.

The Warrinders lived on Ladbroke Grove Road in an establishment very similar to that of Mrs Georgeson but altogether better kept, if containing nothing that had been purchased new in over forty years. Frances was shown into the parlour where Dr Warrinder waited to see her alone and a great deal of fuss was made about fetching tea and offering her refreshments, but no mention at all was made concerning the absence of Mrs Warrinder. Dr Warrinder looked nervous as, thought Frances, he very well might.

‘I am sorry to see that Mrs Warrinder is not here,’ said Frances. ‘It is essential that I speak with her and I believe I made that very clear in my letter.’

‘Oh, I am very sorry, but my dear wife is – er …’ he floundered.

‘Detained elsewhere? Indisposed? Unwilling to speak to me? All three at once? Please be specific.’

He sighed. ‘Oh dear!’

‘Dr Warrinder, I think when I asked very particularly to have an interview with Mrs Warrinder you may well have suspected my reasons. Refusing such an interview will not make me depart unsatisfied. What sort of detective would I be if I were to be put off so easily? Rather it increases my suspicions that you have something to hide and doubles my determination to find it out. If it has nothing to do with the disappearance of Mr Palmer then I will not use the information. Now then, can you confirm that Mrs Warrinder is the former Maria Biscoby, widow of Dr Arthur Biscoby, and the very same lady who accused Friedrich Erlichmann of fraud?’

Warrinder nodded.

‘Good, then we have some progress. I have been reading some very interesting literature of late. Dr Bonner was kind enough to give me a copy of Friedrich Erlichmann’s
A Recovery From the Disorder of Death
,
a Gothic romance worthy of Mr Poe. I have also been perusing the
Bayswater Chronicle
, in particular the editions that deal with the visit of Mr Erlichmann to Westbourne Hall in
1863
and your good lady’s observations on his veracity.’

Dr Warrinder’s hands trembled and he made no attempt to pick up his teacup. ‘I can assure you, Miss Doughty, that my dear Maria is of a quite different opinion now. At the time of her unfortunate outburst she had been recently widowed and was, therefore, in a state of some distress. She was not, and never has been, insane, as was alleged.’

‘In that case, Mr Erlichmann’s comments upon her mental state were tasteless to say the least – if indeed they were his comments. Dr Mackenzie was acting as his translator at the time, was he not?’

‘Ah, yes, he was.’ Warrinder squirmed in discomfort. ‘It was all – very – ’

Frances waited. ‘I am a busy woman, Dr Warrinder. I would be obliged if you would simply tell me what you have to say and then I will be spared the time and the trouble of finding it out, which I undoubtedly will do.’

He slumped sorrowfully in his chair. ‘Maria was very upset at what was said and threatened to go to the law. She said that Erlichmann had slandered her and that the
Chronicle
had published a libel, and was afraid that if she was thought to be insane then her children might be removed from her care. Mackenzie didn’t take it seriously at first, he said that the lady had no funds with which to go to the law, but then it transpired that the solicitor, Mr Manley, was a relative and he was very indignant about it and took the case for nothing. Maria refused to speak to Mackenzie and Bonner tried to placate her, but failed. So I saw her. I was a widower with three children of my own and in a comfortable position in life. Maria, an excellent woman in every way, had been left in a state of great destitution by her foolish husband, dependent on the charity of a cousin for the necessaries of life, unable to give her children the establishment and education that befitted the family of a medical man.’

‘I do not doubt the very sincere esteem for Mrs Biscoby that led to your making her an offer of marriage,’ said Frances, ‘but may I take it that it was agreed that once you were married and the fortunes of her children secured, she would cease to criticize Mr Erlichmann and also take no action regarding the slander and libel?’

‘I – er – believe that we may have discussed that.’

‘I am glad that we are clear upon that point,’ said Frances. ‘And now, if you please, I wish to speak to Mrs Warrinder.’

‘Oh, is that really necessary?’ said Warrinder, apprehensively.

‘It is. Please reassure her that I have no wish to reveal anything that might harm the reputation of either the Life House or its directors.’

Reluctantly, he rang for the maid and asked if Mrs Warrinder could be advised that Miss Doughty wished to speak with her. He took it upon himself to remain in the room, something for which Frances could hardly blame him.

Mrs Warrinder was a robust and handsome lady of sixty. She was dressed in a violet shade of semi-mourning with a discreet line of dark pearls at her throat, suggesting a loss that was distant either in relationship or in time. Frances, still in mourning for her father and brother, felt no great anticipation of the day when she might temper her sombre black with some other acceptable colour.

‘My dear,’ said Dr Warrinder, ‘Miss Doughty gives us her word of honour that she will not say or write anything that will do harm either to us or the Life House.’

‘My only interest is discovering what has happened to Mr Palmer,’ said Frances.

‘I will do all I can to assist you,’ said Mrs Warrinder pleasantly. Such anxiety as existed in the Warrinder household appeared to rest entirely with her husband.

‘It is my belief,’ said Frances, ‘that Mr Palmer may have been in Dr Mackenzie’s confidence over some matters concerning either the Life House or his personal arrangements. He may have been instructed to carry out some task. Therefore, I need to know about anything that may have been causing Dr Mackenzie some concern or difficulty.’

Mrs Warrinder’s eyes hardened very slightly and her lower lip stiffened. Mrs Warrinder had not forgiven Dr Mackenzie for the slander of
1863
.

Frances tried to find a careful and delicate method of introducing the subject and failed.