A Fatal Freedom (14 page)

Could he now accept another that asked him to clear of murder the very woman he had been hired to follow and find guilty of adultery? Would he not consider that, bearing in mind her behaviour in leaving her husband, she could well now be guilty of killing him?

Ursula shivered as she remembered her discovery of a nurserymaid’s body, which had first brought Jackman and her together. She had to admit that the detective had been as concerned as herself that Polly should have justice. And without his experience and support, Ursula doubted that the investigation would have been successfully concluded.

Giving herself a mental shake, Ursula picked up the pen again and wrote an account of the situation without further hesitation.

‘All I know,’ she ended, ‘is that Alice Peters has been charged with murder and is in prison. Rachel Fentiman is convinced she had nothing to do with the death of Mr Peters and wants to hire you to investigate and find the evidence that will prove her innocence. We hoped to find you at home but if not and you read this letter, please contact Miss Fentiman at the above address to discuss the matter.’

At this point, Ursula paused. Should she state she had no intention of playing any part in his investigation?

No, better not to touch on the possibility. With a steady pen, Ursula finished with a formal salutation and signed her name.

She blotted and folded the letter. As she inserted it into an envelope, Daniel returned to say a hansom waited outside. ‘Rachel wanted to take an omnibus but I persuaded her a cab would be faster.’

Ursula scribbled Thomas Jackman’s name on the envelope and sealed it. Did she want him to be at home, or would she prefer it if he wasn’t there? As she went off with Rachel and Daniel, she realised that she honestly did not know.

‘Hello?’ a cheery voice called.

There was a rap on Thomas Jackman’s doorknocker and the visitor came straight in.

Thomas was sitting at his desk in the corner of the small living room, doing his accounts, an upsetting business at the best of times; never enough money to cover his outgoings, however small they were, and his dream of opening an office in the West End, where it could attract a better class of client who could afford higher fees, no nearer. Joshua Peters had responded to a small advertisement he had placed in the
Morning Post
. Now this! He put down his pencil and rubbed the back of his neck.

In from the narrow little hall came Betty Marks, a round, cuddly woman, smiling as though confident of her welcome. One hand held the handle of a small metal pail, its lid slightly askew, steam and delicious smells rising from within.

‘I brought you some eel and oyster stew. Made it for the pub and thought you could do with some.’

That was Betty. Always trying to make his life a little more comfortable when, truth was, ever since she arrived at the next door
Bottle and Glass
,
the recently widowed sister-in-law of mine host Schooner Marks, Jackman’s life had become more and more uncomfortable.

‘I’ll put it out the back, all ready for your tea. Unless you’d like to eat it now, with me?’ Her brown eyes smiled at him, brown hair curling from under a mob cap. Thomas sighed inwardly. Half the male customers at the
Bottle and Glass
thought Betty was prime meat; she’d flash those saucy eyes at them and if it hadn’t been for fear of Schooner they’d have pawed her curvy body, taken her down the lane that ran alongside the pub, narrow and dark, thrust her against the ancient brick and had their wicked way with her. But flirt though Betty did, she was secure in the knowledge that Schooner would see off any that dared to go too far.

So why, Thomas asked himself, wasn’t he delighted with her gifts of food, her desire to spend time with him? Why didn’t he issue the invitation he was certain she was waiting for, to climb the stairs to the bedroom he’d shared with Rose, his wife who’d died some two years ago?

Because she wasn’t Rose, that was why.

And because she presumed too much.

He didn’t want to accept the eel stew but couldn’t think of an easy way to refuse it. And the aroma was delicious. ‘Very kind of you, Mrs Marks,’ he muttered and wondered how to say he didn’t want to eat the meal with her.

She stood looking up at him with bright, confident eyes. Thomas Jackman wasn’t a tall man but she was a short woman. ‘I’ll lay the table for us,’ she said, and headed for the kitchen. Unless he stopped her right now, she would bring cutlery and plates and place them on the small round table in the window.

Thomas panicked. People would pass by, see them sitting there, eating together. It would be as bad as being caught
in flagrante delicto.
Schooner would expect him to make an honest woman of her.

Someone pounded the door knocker.

‘You expecting a visitor?’ Betty asked, unable to hide the curiosity that fought with disappointment.

Thomas breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Never know when folk are going to call. It can be any time if they need my services. That’s what being a private investigator is all about.’ He reached the front door and hesitated. Betty hovered, obviously hoping whoever was calling would go away again.

‘I have to thank you for your kind thought,’ Thomas said, his hand on the doorknob. ‘I’ll return the pail tomorrow, if that’s all right?’

She had no option but to smile.

He opened the front door for her, causing the young man about to beat another rat-a-tat to stumble.

Betty walked past him and the two other people standing on the pavement. ‘Bye, Tom. See you tomorrow.’ She didn’t wait for a response but headed for the pub.

‘So,’ he said, turning his attention to the group on the pavement.

He recognised Ursula Grandison first and for a moment felt a jolt of pleasure that she had come to see him. Then he saw the young man Alice Peters had met so many times when he’d been following her. There was no mistaking the broad-brimmed hat, or his height and breadth of shoulders. Finally, standing beside Ursula Grandison, and almost as tall as her, was the girl who had been with Mrs Peters and the young man at the menagerie. The last time he had seen either of them was when he had tailed the girls to Miss Fentiman’s apartment, and then waited outside for far too long before realising they must have exited through the mews. Which had meant Ursula must have caught sight of him at some stage. Well, he knew she was smart.

His contract with Peters was at an end. What business could they want with him?

‘Come in, please.’ He stepped back from the door and waved them inside.

A few minutes later they were all in the front room. The two girls were sitting either side of the little table, exactly where Betty had hoped she and he would be eating eel and oyster stew. Rachel Fentiman looked sternly intelligent, almost belligerent; Ursula had a very closed look on her face. Daniel Rokeby, the man Alice Peters had left her husband for, stood in a protective manner behind Miss Fentiman. He looked very tall in the small room.

Thomas moved the chair he’d been sitting on at the desk so that it faced into the room. ‘Mr Rokeby, why don’t you sit here?’ he said.

The man looked startled. ‘How do you know my name?’

Thomas said nothing, merely waved his hand towards the chair.

‘Oh, go and sit, Daniel,’ said Miss Fentiman. ‘We don’t have time to waste.’

Rokeby gave her a quick look but obeyed, placing his hat on the desk, sitting in the chair and crossing one elegant leg over the other. At least Jackman could now look down at him.

Thomas leant against the sideboard running along the back wall. He didn’t look at Ursula. If she was in charge of this little party, she would have spoken up before now. ‘Suppose you tell me why you’re here,’ he said to the girl who had knocked him over in the menagerie.

Rachel Fentiman took a deep breath. ‘My brother-in-law, Joshua Peters, is dead. The doctor believes he was poisoned. My sister, Alice Peters, has been arrested for the murder of her husband.’ Her voice, steady until now, suddenly quavered and she closed her eyes for a second. Then she continued, once again in control of herself: ‘The charge is ridiculous. The lawyer our uncle has hired is useless. We want you to investigate Joshua’s death.’

It wasn’t often Thomas Jackman was taken aback but at that moment he was astounded. Joshua Peters dead! Poison suspected! Alice Peters arrested! ‘Whoa!’ He held up his hands then looked across at Ursula. She gave the tiniest shrug of her shoulders. He could expect no help from her. Thomas took a deep breath.

‘You say your brother-in-law was poisoned?’

Rachel Fentiman nodded.

‘How?’

‘The police, and the doctor, believe it was with cherry liqueur chocolates.’

Cherry liqueur? Thomas could think of an obvious candidate to be concealed within those luscious interiors.

‘Prussic acid?’

She nodded. ‘That is what the doctor believes.’

The chocolates would have been taken away by the police to be tested.

‘When did this happen?’

‘Three days ago. At least, that’s when his body was discovered.’

‘Who by?’

‘Sarah, the under-housemaid, when she went into the drawing room first thing in the morning to lay the fire.’

Thomas had a moment’s sympathy for the poor girl. A body that had died in agony would not be a pretty sight.

‘What happened then?’

‘My sister was told and she sent for the doctor.’

‘After viewing her husband’s body?’ Thomas knew Alice Peters was twenty-five years old but she looked six or seven years younger, and fragile. The thought that she had had to undergo such a horrible experience was shocking.

‘She knew he was dead but also that a doctor would have to sign the death certificate.’

Did she indeed? Maybe not so fragile as she seemed. He remembered the way she had withstood her husband’s verbal attack on her that afternoon in Joshua Peters’ study.

‘Did she know poison was involved?’

Rachel Fentiman lost some of her self-possession. ‘No! Of course not. She thought it was a heart attack.’

‘And you say she has been arrested?’

‘This morning, on suspicion of murder. But it’s ridiculous. Alice could not have killed Joshua.’

‘Never,’ said Daniel Rokeby suddenly, uncrossing his legs and placing both feet solidly on the floor. ‘Alice could not do such a thing.’

Thomas looked at the man he had seen Alice Peters meet so clandestinely so many times.

Daniel rose. ‘Enough of this. We’re here because we need you to prove she didn’t kill Peters.’

‘Daniel, please,’ said Rachel. ‘If Mr Jackman is to help us, he needs to ask questions.’

‘Rachel, leave this to me,’ he said furiously.

The girl gave him a cold stare and after a moment he sat down again.

‘On what grounds was the arrest made?’ Thomas asked.

‘That my sister knew about her husband’s predeliction for cherry liqueur chocolates. But so did lots of other people. I did, for instance.’

She did, did she?

‘And on what other grounds?’ There had to be other grounds.

Rachel looked down at her hands, clasped tightly in her lap. ‘According to Inspector Drummond, her desire to end her marriage as evidenced by a diary.’

Thomas saw Ursula look sharply at the girl; this information must be new to her.

‘Inspector Drummond?’ said Thomas. ‘Tall chap, fair hair, with a beard and moustache?’

Rachel nodded. ‘You know him?’

Oh, yes, Thomas knew Everard Drummond. Bright, ambitious, with a reputation for building a case on flimsy evidence. ‘And you say he cites a diary written by your sister?’

She stared at him defiantly. ‘The fact that she wrote down how unhappy she was is not proof she killed him.’

‘Any other grounds for suspicion?’

The stare remained steady. ‘I believe her maid said something …’

‘Millie Rudge?’ roared out Daniel, leaping to his feet again. ‘I told you there was something suspicious about her.’

Rachel said nothing, her basilisk stare seemed to be enough. Rokeby sat down again, a sullen look on his face.

But his vehemence stirred a reaction in Thomas. Millie Rudge had seemed a sweet, innocent girl, fond of her mistress, afraid of her master’s temper, and unsuspecting of his own relationship with her. Surely she could not have said anything to incriminate Alice Peters?

‘An expert on servants told me only recently that they know everything that goes on in a house,’ said Ursula calmly.

Thomas thought about the size of the Mounstanton stately home and the number of servants there and quickly compared it with the Peters household. If the Mounstanton staff knew everything that went on with their employers, how much more must those who worked in the much smaller household.

‘Will you investigate my brother-in-law’s death?’ Rachel Fentiman asked him, fixing him with her compelling gaze.

He looked searchingly at her. ‘Suppose I find that your sister did kill her husband?’

She made a dismissive gesture. ‘Impossible. I know Alice could not have done it.’

Daniel Rokeby rose and took his hat. ‘We’re wasting our time here,’ he said jerkily. ‘There’s got to be some other way.’

Jackman looked at Ursula. ‘What do you think? Is it impossible that Mrs Peters killed her husband?’

Ursula started to pull her gloves back on. She mightn’t have said anything so far but Thomas knew she had taken in every aspect of the little scene. She stood up. ‘You asked what would happen if you found Alice Peters was guilty. You seem to be confident that you can discover the truth. Rachel is convinced her sister cannot have killed her husband. I trust both of you. Please, say you will do what she asks and investigate Joshua Peters’ death.’

A little worm of excitement stirred in Jackman. He knew he wanted this case. Joshua Peters had been a bastard, as mean a bastard as he could remember meeting. He had grown ashamed to work for him. If Alice Peters hadn’t been involved, he would have been happy to allow the bastard’s killer to go free. But Thomas agreed with the others. He did not believe Peters had been murdered by his wife and it sounded as though Everard Drummond had decided that was exactly what had happened. However, best not act too quickly. He had taken the job Peters had offered far too lightly and look what had happened.