An Appetite for Murder (39 page)

From downstairs, there came the sound of distant exclamations as other servants heard the noise. ‘We don’t have long,’ said Frances as she followed Sarah into the bedroom. Inside was dark and smelled foul; worse, far worse than the cells at Paddington Green. Frances crossed the room and drew back the curtains. There was a figure in the bed, a woman both young and old; young because she was probably little more than thirty but old because she had become shrunken and shrivelled. Her hair lay carelessly about, her face and hands were unwashed, and her lips were cracked and parched. At first, she seemed to be no more than a corpse, but then very slowly and with a great effort, the skull-like head turned towards Frances and she extended a thin hand, as if it was all she could do just to lift it off the counterpane.

It was not a sickroom, thought Frances. A sickroom has comforts, and medicines and water, and fragrances, and clean linen. This had none of those things. This was a prison, a torture chamber, a tomb.

There were footsteps on the stairs and a woman in housekeeper’s attire with a bunch of keys at her waist appeared in the doorway. When she saw what lay within, she reeled back in horror, her hand clasped over her mouth. ‘Who are you!’ she gasped.

‘I am Frances Doughty, private detective, and this is my associate Miss Smith. We have come to save Mrs Elliott,’ said Frances. ‘Do not attempt to stop us.’

‘We should get a doctor,’ said Sarah.

‘No,’ decided Frances. ‘We need to remove her from the house.’

‘You have no authority to do that!’ said the housekeeper.

‘But nevertheless we will,’ said Frances.

Sarah began to wrap the sick woman in blankets as gently as she could, and lifted her off the bed.

‘Bring us some water,’ Frances ordered the maid, who immediately ran to comply.

The housekeeper folded her arms and stood stoutly in Sarah’s way, then caught the look in her eye and stepped aside. ‘Where are you taking Mrs Elliott?’

‘Somewhere where her life may be saved,’ said Frances. ‘If she stays here she will die.’

The maid had returned with a water carafe and glass, and Frances took them. ‘Come with us,’ she said.

‘But I never –’

‘Listen to me,’ said Frances, ‘you have connived at an attempt to murder this lady, and if you try to deny it or run away things will go very badly for you. But if you come with me and explain that all you did was at the command of your master, which I am sure it was, then you may escape any penalty. Which is it to be?’

‘If you go, you needn’t come back!’ said the housekeeper.

There was a soft moan from the figure being borne down the stairs. ‘I’ll come,’ said the maid, who looked grateful to leave the house, ‘but where are we going?’

‘You’ll see soon enough,’ said Frances. She pulled the bedroom door shut and turned to the housekeeper. ‘Any attempt to disturb what is in that room will be a serious crime,’ she said.

The housekeeper bridled at this statement, but realising that she could not prevent what was happening, ran down the stairs and out of the front door, presumably to summon a policeman or a messenger. Frances had no doubt that Mr Elliott would receive the news in a matter of minutes and she hurried after Sarah. A surprised-looking woman wearing an apron and with flour on her arms, had arrived in the hallway and was staring about and wondering what was going on. ‘Nothing to see,’ growled Sarah, as she swept past.

Frances hailed a cab and Sarah carried her fragile burden inside, followed by Frances and the maid. ‘I can’t think when this poor lady last had a drink,’ said Frances, offering the water. ‘Be careful with her, not too much at first, just moisten her lips.’

‘Where to?’ said Sarah. ‘Dr Jilks?’

‘No, her husband might guess that we have taken her to her own doctor, and I want her safe from him. For the same reason we should not take her to Dr Collin as he might guess she is with my medical man, or to any physician nearby.’ Frances thought for a moment, then she looked in her notebook for an address. ‘Yes, I have it!’ Quickly she gave the cabman orders to drive to the surgery of Dr Adair. ‘Once she is safe we will go on. What is your name?’ she asked the maid.

‘Agnes.’

‘Agnes, I mean to go next to Paddington Green police station where I hope you will be brave enough to tell Inspector Sharrock what has occurred.’

The maid began to tremble. ‘Oh Miss, I don’t want to talk to the police!’

‘Don’t worry,’ Frances reassured her, ‘you may leave most of the talking to me, but if you are questioned, you must tell the truth.’

On the way, Sarah tended to the feeble woman, a victim of the cruellest neglect, dropping careful trickles of reviving water into the dry mouth. At Dr Adair’s house, Sarah carried the patient inside. Frances, while thinking it probable that Agnes would not run away if left alone, decided not to take the chance and remained with her, uttering encouraging words to strengthen and sustain the frightened girl and enable her to tell what she knew. A few minutes later Sarah emerged to confirm that the doctor was at home and was attending to Mrs Elliott as a matter of the direst emergency.

‘Excellent,’ said Frances. ‘Please ask him to compose a letter reporting on her condition and when you have it, join us at Paddington Green.’

At the police station, Frances was expecting the desk sergeant to make some comment as she and Agnes approached, but instead he simply ordered them to wait and sent a constable to get Inspector Sharrock, who quickly came striding out of his office.

‘Miss Doughty, I was about to send for you and your friend, and you have saved me half my trouble. Where is Miss Smith?’

‘She will be here shortly,’ said Frances.

‘Then you have saved me all my trouble – come with me.’ Sharrock waved to a constable. ‘More chairs for the ladies!’

When they entered Sharrock’s office Agnes gave a little gasp of terror and backed away, for Mr Elliott was seated there, his normally pleasant disposition notably absent. He leaped to his feet when he saw them and pointed at Frances. ‘That is the person, Inspector! Miss Doughty! As I have told you, and as my servants will testify, she and her associate entered my house, broke down a door doing criminal damage, and kidnapped my wife, who is a very sick woman! And it seems that she has kidnapped my housemaid, too, or else she is a confederate in this.’

‘Agnes is not my confederate, she has accompanied me at my express wish,’ said Frances. ‘I entered your house because I became suspicious that you were plotting your wife’s death. Had I been able to see her and reassure myself that she was well, I would have departed. But your maid, acting under your strict instructions, informed me that Mrs Elliott was unable to receive any visitors. When I discovered that the unfortunate woman was being held under lock and key, I was sure enough of my suspicions to take action and ordered my assistant to break down the door. There we found Mrs Elliott in a state of the most appalling neglect and close to death. We removed her at once to a place where she will receive medical attention.’

‘Where is my wife!’ Elliott demanded, with a dangerous look.

‘Where you cannot find her,’ said Frances.

He turned to the cowering maid and shook a fist in front of her face. ‘Agnes! Tell me where my wife is to be found! If you do not, you will be dismissed at once without a character!’

Agnes burst into tears. ‘It was a doctor’s house but I didn’t take any note of the address!’

‘His name?’

‘I don’t know!’

‘She is a sick woman and should not have been moved,’ said Elliott. ‘If she dies it will be as a result of your disobedience and Miss Doughty’s actions.’

‘Who is Mrs Elliott’s medical man?’ asked Inspector Sharrock.

‘Dr Jilks, but –’

‘Then we can soon settle the matter by consulting him and determining the true nature of your wife’s condition,’ said Sharrock reasonably.

Elliott hesitated and Sharrock raised his eyebrows. ‘Is there some difficulty about that?’ said the Inspector.

‘I do not believe that Dr Jilks or indeed any medical man has examined Mrs Elliott until now,’ said Frances.

‘Is that true?’ said Sharrock. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘It was a very delicate matter,’ said Elliott, defensively. ‘I called on Dr Jilks to ask his advice and then I supervised the care of my wife. But this foolish action by Miss Doughty, and her damage to my home, is the reason I am here and I insist that you place her under arrest, and make her tell me where she has taken my wife.’

‘Hmm,’ said Inspector Sharrock, rubbing at the coarse bristles on his chin. ‘What do you have to say, Miss Doughty?’

‘Only two things,’ said Frances. ‘First of all, we should await the report of the doctor who currently has the care of Mrs Elliott, a report which my associate Miss Smith will bring us very shortly. Also, I suggest that you go to Mr Elliott’s home and examine the room in which his wife was kept and you will then see clear evidence of the conditions in which she was allowed to remain.’

Sharrock nodded. ‘That seems very sensible to me,’ he said.

For a moment, Frances feared that Elliott had already gone back to his home and given orders that all evidence of his wife’s cruel treatment be removed, but his expression showed that he had not. He had been so confident of his authority to have Frances arrested and so panicked by her actions that he had come straight to the police.

Elliott took a deep breath. ‘Inspector,’ he said, with forced calm, bravely attempting one of his charming smiles. ‘Perhaps after all this has simply been a misunderstanding. I am sorry to have become so angry, but my servant sent me a message to say that Miss Doughty and her friend had entered my house, broken down a door and kidnapped my wife, so you can understand my feelings. I see now that I may have acted too hastily. You will appreciate that my sole concern is for the health of my wife, who sadly became a disciple of the Pure Food Society, which, as far as I can see, advocates eating nothing at all. I have done my best for her, but it is a very difficult case. My maid has been acting as nurse, but you can scarcely expect her to understand the true situation. I can see why the circumstances have aroused Miss Doughty’s suspicions, but she is mistaken.’ He smiled again. ‘I realise now that foolish as her actions were, she did so with the best of intentions, but she was – confused. You are a married man, I assume, Inspector?’

‘I am,’ said Sharrock.

‘Then you will know from your experience of the world how muddle-headed ladies who read sensational novels can sometimes over-excite themselves, and will often make mistakes. Really, Inspector,’ he managed a chuckle, ‘which one of us will you believe?’

‘I have known Miss Doughty for quite a while now,’ said Sharrock, with a perfectly straight face, ‘and I am well aware of just how muddle-headed she can be.’

‘Well, there you are,’ said Elliott, his smile easing and broadening with relief. ‘Under the circumstances, I am prepared to withdraw any charges I have made against Miss Doughty. I am even prepared to overlook the damage,’ he added generously. ‘I am being more than fair. Only return my dear wife to my care and we will close the matter and say all is done.’

‘What do you say to that, Miss Doughty?’ asked Sharrock.

‘I must apologise for my muddle-headedness,’ said Frances, ‘and I would like to take this opportunity to clarify the situation so that I understand everything fully.’

‘There really is no need –’ Elliott objected.

‘On the contrary,’ interrupted Sharrock, ‘I would like to hear what the lady has to say.’

‘Well, if you insist,’ said Elliott, trying to conceal his discomfiture.

They all seated themselves as comfortably as was possible in the cluttered office, Agnes still looking as if she would have liked to bolt, and carefully avoiding her employer’s gaze.

‘Mr Elliott,’ said Frances, in her friendliest tone, ‘I believe I am correct in saying that when you and the late Mr Whibley both worked for J. Finn Insurance, you conspired on a number of illegal financial schemes, including embezzling money from the company.’

‘What?’ he exclaimed, half rising from his seat. ‘Inspector, this is slander! Whibley and I hardly knew each other at the time.’

‘You exchanged many notes via a messenger boy called Timmy,’ said Frances.

‘A thoroughly dishonest child, no doubt in prison long ago.’

‘He is now clerk to a solicitor,’ said Frances, ‘and he kept all your notes, even the ones you thought you had destroyed. He has them still. The thing is that when I realised that you and Mr Whibley worked as a partnership, and that what he knew you also knew and what benefitted one also benefitted the other, then a number of things which were previously mysterious became clear.’

‘Inspector, are you going to listen to this nonsense?’ demanded Elliott.

‘Oh yes,’ said Sharrock, settling back in his chair and stretching out his legs under the desk, a look of pleasurable anticipation on his face, ‘and you will, too.’

‘But Mr Sweetman started to notice that something was amiss with the account books,’ Frances continued. ‘He didn’t suspect wrongdoing, in fact he thought he had made some errors and was trying to trace them and put them to rights. He told no one, but I think his agitated manner gave him away, so you and Whibley conspired to have him removed and disgraced before he could discover what you had both done. You planned a robbery for which Mr Sweetman would be blamed. I think Mr Whibley paid Mr Minster to say he had seen the lights on at half past nine, a time when he and Mr Finn senior were dining at a club. That is why you left the gas burning when you left the office after the burglary, to support Mr Minster’s story. You, too, conveniently established an alibi for that hour. You could not have anticipated that Mr Browne would be passing the office a quarter of an hour earlier. However, the two reports were near enough that they were not incompatible. It wasn’t until later, when some of Mr Gibson’s memory returned, that the time of the robbery was established as even earlier, before nine o’clock, a time for which Mr Minster and Mr Whibley both had alibis, but you did not. But by then the case had already been made against Mr Sweetman, strengthened by the finding of Mr Gibson’s pocket book at his house. You were, I understand, the only employee of J. Finn Insurance not to visit the stricken Mr Gibson. You dared not, in case it jogged his memory and he recalled that you were his attacker.’