A Case of Doubtful Death (39 page)

‘I think,’ said Frances, ‘the Inspector would like to hear the truth about what happened on the night of Palmer’s death.’

‘You are looking at a very serious charge, sir,’ said Gostelow. ‘I would advise it.’

Darscot looked from one to the other, and sighed. ‘I am really very sorry that I have said nothing before, but I have been worried out of my wits. I have done nothing wrong, or at least if there was any wrongdoing it was forced upon me. Inspector, if I was to tell you all, would you agree that I would not suffer any penalties?’

‘That depends on what you have to say,’ said Gostelow. He called in the constable. ‘Mr Darscot is about to make a statement. Write down what he says.’

‘To be truthful,’ said Darscot, ‘it is something of a relief to be able to tell you this. It has weighed upon my mind most terribly. Well, the thing is, as you know I went up to the Life House by cab to see if Dr Mackenzie was really dead or just trying to avoid paying his debts. And I had the keys and let myself in. You can imagine how I felt when I walked in and there were Dr Mackenzie and Dr Bonner standing in the middle of the room, arguing.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Gostelow. ‘But this would have taken place
after
Mr Palmer had reported that Dr Mackenzie was dead?’

‘Yes, precisely! So I knew then that it was all a trick. I said straight out that Dr Mackenzie had some scheme to avoid paying me and Dr Bonner was very shocked. It seems that Mackenzie had told Bonner some fancy tale that he wanted to disappear because of an entanglement with a woman – I don’t know the details, but it was all lies in any case. Bonner had agreed to help him because he thought it was a matter of honour. When I said it was to escape paying his debts, Bonner was very upset. He said he didn’t want to help him any more. He said Mackenzie had got him to agree to something under false pretences, something that could damage his standing if it was found out. He asked how much the debt was and I told him £
500
. He wanted to know what Mackenzie had wanted the money for, but Mackenzie wouldn’t tell him. I had no idea myself why he wanted it. Bonner asked Mackenzie why he couldn’t have come to him if he was in money trouble, but Mackenzie wouldn’t say. Whatever the reason, it was obvious that it was something very unsavoury. Then Bonner said something about money missing from the Life House bank account – I didn’t know anything about that, of course, but Mackenzie was very upset and in tears, and admitted that he had taken it but was putting it back. Then Mackenzie said that if he wasn’t so much of a coward he would kill himself, and if Bonner wouldn’t help him he would have to run away.

‘Bonner said he couldn’t do that, he had already sent Palmer with a message that Mackenzie was dead, and he would have to go on with the plan, but Mackenzie said he couldn’t face doing it and just wanted to go away. He was in quite a state by now, and Bonner looked very worried and we both tried to calm him down, but we couldn’t. There was a syringe nearby; I don’t know who had prepared it because it was lying there when I came in. Mackenzie already had one sleeve rolled up as if he had been preparing himself for an injection, and Bonner picked up the syringe and injected him. He said, “I don’t know what you have been up to, but you needn’t think you can run off.” Mackenzie looked alarmed and then he suddenly collapsed. Whether from the injection or fright I don’t know. So we got him onto one of the tables and Bonner took his pulse and found that – well, he thought the man was dead. And I remember saying to him, “Dr Bonner, you’ve just murdered Dr Mackenzie!”’

‘And then we heard a noise behind us, and we looked around and saw Palmer – how long he had been there we didn’t know, but he looked very shocked at what he had seen.

‘Bonner went up to him and tried to placate him, saying that it wasn’t what it looked like and he needed him to keep quiet, but Palmer wouldn’t listen, he said he was going to the police. And he made to go out, but when he turned around Dr Bonner hit him on the back of the head with his walking stick. I think Dr Bonner was very upset, because when Palmer fell down, he hit him again, at least twice more. Of course, we saw that he was dead and when Bonner realised what he had done, he said he was ruined, but then he said that I had to help him, or he would blame it all on me. How it could be my fault I really don’t know, it’s not as if I even know how to give an injection, but Bonner said he was well thought of in Bayswater and had a lot of friends in high places, and if it came to it people would believe him and not me. So I was afraid, then, and said I would help him, but it was only because he threatened me. Of course, I had to do most of the work, but that was only because Dr Bonner was lame. Bonner said we had to hide the body, but we couldn’t put it in the canal because it would be obvious that Palmer had been murdered, and then the police would look into it and ask questions. So I said why not get it buried, and he agreed. Dr Bonner washed the blood off the wall, and I took Palmer into the little side room where they have the coffins and put him in one. I had to get Dr Mackenzie into a coffin as well, it’s a good thing they had that stretcher on wheels.’

‘Why did you put Mrs Templeman’s body in the canal?’ asked Frances.

‘I’d just done what Bonner told me to do,’ said Darscot, ‘and then all of a sudden he said I had to put another body in the coffin with Palmer, as otherwise there would be one body too many and they always keep records of how many there are. But I didn’t know about that and I’d already fastened the lid down, so Bonner said I had to take it up again, and just at that moment we heard the outer door open. It was the other orderly. We only had a moment or two to think what to do, and then I said I’d take the lady’s body and put it in the canal, and Bonner said to do that.’

‘Did you steal Dr Mackenzie’s travelling bag?’ asked Frances.

‘Yes. It wasn’t really stealing was it, the man owed me money, and in any case I thought he was dead. I hoped there might be something of value in it, but there wasn’t. Then when you started asking about Mackenzie, and the bag was being talked about all over Bayswater, I thought I’d better get rid of it, so I threw it in the canal.’

Gostelow looked at Darscot as he might have looked at a piece of refuse that he had just scraped off the sole of his boot. He glanced at Darscot’s card. ‘John Darscot, I am placing you under arrest for the offences of theft and acting as an accessory to murder.’

‘Oh but —’

‘Constable, place him in the cells.’

‘My solicitor will hear of this!’

‘No doubt, and he may even obtain bail, but in the meantime I want you where I can question you further when I have heard what Dr Bonner has to say.’

Darscot was removed.

When Frances left the police station she found Dr Carmichael pacing up and down outside, with a wild look in his eyes. ‘I went to your home and they said you were here. What has happened?’

‘Mr Darscot has been arrested, and the police will be questioning Dr Bonner.’

Carmichael uttered a great gasp of relief. ‘Oh, you don’t know what a great weight that is off my mind!’

‘You are correct,’ said Frances sternly, ‘I don’t, so you had better tell me.’

‘The thing is, I discovered that Darscot was – how shall I say it – a close associate of the person who I suspect had stolen my sister’s journal. I thought it very possible that it had come into his hands, but I dared not confront him directly. I managed by a ruse to enter his rooms at the Piccadilly and searched them, but found nothing. Even if he had had it once, he might have sold it on, but my concern was that he had hidden it and was simply biding his time, and any expression of anxiety on my part would show my weakness and he would take advantage of that. I have every hope of an excellent new post in London and dare do nothing that would jeopardise that. I dared not even mention my suspicions of Darscot to you in case you inadvertently alerted him. I suppose I thought you would have agents who would be able to keep watch and make their own enquiries.’

‘I do,’ said Frances, ‘but without all the necessary facts my hands were tied.’ A thought crossed her mind. ‘That tale you told me about your sister’s letter being given to you in the street. Was that the truth? Or another lie?’

He bowed his head. ‘I am ashamed to say that was not true. I told you that so as to divert attention from Darscot.’

‘Really, Dr Carmichael,’ said Frances in disgust, ‘I can scarcely act for you if you repeatedly tell me lies. You should be ashamed of yourself! I have been making enquiries of every person who frequents Porchester Road for this messenger boy, who you now say is an invention. Come by this afternoon and pay off your account, and we will have done.’

She turned to walk away, but he ran after her. ‘But we have made so much progress in the case!’ he exclaimed. ‘The police will be looking into Darscot’s affairs, and he is safely under lock and key, but you must try and find if he has any secret hiding places or unsavoury associates. Now is the best time to find those documents!’

Frances recalled Darscot’s apparently selfless offers to help Miss Horton with her late brother’s affairs, but ‘selfless’ was not, she thought, an adjective that could apply to Mr Darscot. Perhaps his desire to discover the late Mr Horton’s lodgings had a sinister motive, although it seemed most unlikely that Darscot had entrusted anything of value to a man with such an unhappy brain. She paused. ‘Very well, but you must still pay your account up to date including all my expenses,
and
a further advance. Do that, and I will continue to trouble myself with this foolish story as if it was the truth.’ She walked away.

Back at her lodgings, Frances wrote to Chas and Barstie asking them if they could discover anything of interest about Darscot, especially his business affairs. She also sent a note to Tom who arrived before long, and asked him to redouble his efforts to discover where Mr Horton lived, employing as many other boys as he saw fit, and also if he knew of any other address for Darscot apart from the Piccadilly. ‘Oh, ‘e’s a fly gent an’ no mistake.’ said Tom, ‘ad me runnin’ notes for ‘im all over the place. Paid well, mind, so I kept the old clapper shut. I’m no buzz-man! Got any sardines?’

‘All the sardines you can eat if you can find out where he lives when he is not at the Piccadilly Club. Mr Darscot has just been arrested, although I suspect he can afford a legal man who will have him freed on bail before too long. If there is anything to learn we must do it quickly.’

‘I’ll run off now, then,’ said Tom, stuffing a sausage into a bread roll and pushing the resultant light repast into his pocket.

Next morning, Mr Rawsthorne called on Frances accompanied by the unpleasant Mr Wheelock. Sarah brought refreshments and settled herself in a chair to observe the proceedings. Both the men were aware that Sarah, once the Doughty family’s maid of all work, had been transformed into a lady’s companion and assistant detective, but neither felt entirely comfortable with the new situation and both chose to ignore her, as if she had been a solid but unexceptional chest of drawers, a thing with neither eyes nor ears. Sarah was used to her invisibility and seemed not to mind, while Frances saw it as an advantage as her visitors might be more forthcoming.

‘I have come,’ said Rawsthorne, ‘to speak to you on behalf of my client, Dr Bonner, who is currently in police custody. I believe you know something of the circumstances.’

‘More than most, I’d say,’ sneered Wheelock.

‘Dr Bonner was sojourning in Brighton for the sake of his health, when most upsettingly he received a visit from the police, who not only questioned him about the death of Mr Palmer, but took him into custody. He is now residing in a cell at Kilburn police station in a state of some mental and physical distress. I understand that you were instrumental in finding the body of Mr Palmer and the location of his demise. And, though I find this hard to credit, you somehow managed to be present when the Kilburn police questioned my client’s accuser, Mr Darscot.’

‘That is the case,’ said Frances.

‘Regular Miss Dauntless and no mistake!’ said Wheelock. Sarah scowled at him.

‘Did
you
write those stories?’ Frances demanded.

‘Oh, yes, I’m better’n Charles Dickens, me!’ said Wheelock. Frances thought not.

‘I must say, your endeavours never cease to amaze me,’ said Rawsthorne. ‘How I wish your dear father could be here now, to see you so celebrated.’

‘You are too kind,’ said Frances, reflecting that had her father been alive her exploits would probably have induced a fatal case of apoplexy.

‘It is very possible that should Dr Bonner ever come to trial – and I am doing my utmost to ensure that that never happens – you may be called as witness for his defence. I have interviewed Dr Bonner, but he is adamant that he has done nothing wrong. He admits that he agreed to assist his friend, but for entirely honourable reasons. The plan was for Dr Mackenzie to pretend a collapse and then for Dr Bonner to convince Mr Palmer that the doctor was dead. Once Palmer had left, Mackenzie gave himself the injection to aid in the deception, but then Palmer returned unexpectedly. Mr Darscot witnessed what was happening and tried to extort money for his silence, but when Palmer said he would go to the police, Mr Darscot struck him with his cane and killed him.’