An Appetite for Murder (41 page)

‘Mr Sweetman, it has to be said to his eternal credit,’ said Sharrock, ‘was horrified by the sight of the money. He felt sure it was the proceeds of crime and categorically refused to accept it. Whether it is even his is in some doubt, since it ought by rights to be a part of Mr Whibley’s estate and go to charity. When I mentioned this to Mr Sweetman he seemed perfectly content with that arrangement.’

‘And the letter?’ asked Frances. ‘Did Mr Whibley explain his actions?’

Sharrock handed the document to Frances. ‘I don’t know how you do it, Miss Doughty, I really don’t,’ he said. ‘Anyhow, I think you deserve to see this for yourself.’

Mr Whibley’s letter was a full confession to masterminding the burglary at J. Finn Insurance, although he revealed that the actual crime was carried out by Mr Elliott. He was adamant that at the time Elliott had convinced him that Mr Gibson’s injuries had been accidental, although Frances felt it was very much a matter of Whibley choosing to believe what was best for his conscience. She sensed a certain relish in Whibley’s revelation that Mr Minster had been paid to give them an alibi and keep his mouth shut, and that a will had been forged in the name of Mrs Minster in case anyone should wonder how her husband acquired a large sum of money so shortly after a robbery. Whibley had felt no qualms about implicating Sweetman in the robbery since Elliott had told him that Sweetman was a villain who ill-treated his wife – a lady who Whibley admitted admiring – and deserved all that came to him. After Sweetman’s arrest, Whibley volunteered to examine the company books, and told Mr Finn senior that small sums were missing and had probably been stolen by Sweetman, but advised him that for the sake of the company’s reputation no further action should be taken.

Whibley had thought very little about Sweetman’s fate in the intervening years and was unaware that he had been released early until he arrived at the office asking about his family. Worried that Sweetman might press for his conviction to be re-examined, and that he might inflict further cruelties on his wife, Whibley arranged to meet Elliott to discuss the potential problem. To his astonishment, Elliott had suggested they remove Sweetman in a more permanent way than previously and when Whibley objected, simply laughed and commented that he had not been so squeamish about Gibson and Walsh. It was only then, Whibley claimed, that the full horror of what had been done in his name became apparent. He demanded to know if Sweetman really had been the villainous creature Elliott had represented him to be and found that Elliott could not even recall having made that statement.

Mr Pennyforth squirmed in his seat. ‘I – er – I believe I heard the names Sweetman, Gibson and Walsh spoken during their conversation. They were talking very loudly at that point.’

‘Why do you think Mr Elliott killed Mrs Sweetman?’ asked Frances. ‘Was she trying to have her husband exonerated?’

‘Oh, Elliott didn’t kill Mrs Sweetman,’ said Sharrock. ‘Quite impossible. The marks on her neck showed an even pressure with two thumbs. His left arm is all but useless. However, we’ll get him for Gibson now at least. As you see, Mr Whibley was very careful to start his letter by saying that he believed himself to be dying, and had it witnessed by two servants, though I doubt very much that they were allowed to see the contents. Minster will have some questions to answer, although he might get lenient treatment if he comes clean about his being an accessory to Elliott.’

‘I think if you offered the same leniency to Mrs Minster she might have a tale to tell,’ said Frances, seeing that Whibley’s letter had removed any suspicion against that lady in respect of the forged will.

‘She might, but she can’t give evidence against her husband,’ said Sharrock.

‘No, but she can give evidence against Mr Elliott,’ said Frances.

Next morning Frances was once again called to Paddington Green, where Mrs Minster was sitting in the Inspector’s office stubbornly refusing to make a statement. ‘She says the only person she will speak to is you,’ said Sharrock resignedly. ‘I’m starting to think lady police might be a good idea after all — just to interview women and children of course.’

‘Leave us alone together for a few minutes and then bring Mr Elliott in; the sight of him might concentrate her mind,’ said Frances.

Mrs Minster, twisting a ragged kerchief in her hands, was red-faced and angry. ‘What will I do?’ she said. ‘They’ve told Fred he won’t go to prison if he talks, so what good would it do me to say anything?’

‘It’s Mr Elliott they really want, not either of you,’ said Frances. ‘You were his mistress, weren’t you, at the time of the robbery?’

She gave a sour grin. ‘He has a way with him; he still does. Good-looking, and that smile would melt the most faithful heart. I was young and I’d not been married long, but I knew it was a mistake. Minster was never any good to me.’

‘And he asked you to go to Mrs Sweetman and pretend to be her husband’s mistress. Why did you do that?’

She looked amazed. ‘How do you know about that?’

‘I know,’ said Frances, although of course it had just been a good guess.

‘He said that he could help get me free of Fred. He said that Sweetman was the robber and had half-killed Mr Gibson, but his wife was standing by him and was going to give him a false alibi so he was going to get away with it, and I had to tell her I was his mistress so she would see him for what he was. He had a letter in Sweetman’s writing, something ordinary from the office, but he blotted out some of the words and changed others so it could read like something different. I was to show it to her as proof. In the end the poor woman was so upset she hardly read the letter, but she saw it was in his hand.’

‘But he didn’t help free you of your husband,’ said Frances.

‘No, well I had the children soon after, twin boys, and he wasn’t happy about that. They died a year later, and I thought it would all be all right then, but when I asked him, he said he was moving up in the world and couldn’t get involved in anything like that. Then I saw him with Mrs Sweetman. He tried to tell me there was nothing to suspect, but I knew what was going on.’

‘Would you be prepared to tell all that to the Inspector?’ asked Frances. ‘Mr Elliott is an evil and heartless man. He deserves prison at the very least.’

‘Oh, you don’t know the half of it!’ she burst out.

‘I don’t?’

Mrs Minster shook her head. ‘Everything he says is a lie, every promise he makes he never means to keep! He made me think he cared something for me but the only person he cares about is himself!’ So strong was her emotion that her twisting of the kerchief ripped the fabric apart.

The door opened and Sharrock entered bringing with him Elliott, who was in handcuffs. The prisoner was understandably startled to see the two women in the room, and it was unclear which of them he was less pleased to see. ‘Mrs Minster, I understand you might have something to say to this gentleman,’ said Sharrock.

‘Annie –’ said Elliott, making a good recovery and adopting one of his practised smiles.

‘Don’t you “Annie” me!’ cried Mrs Minster, jumping up to face him. ‘Not after what you’ve done; and what you made me do! You told me your wife was going to die! You told me you would see to my divorcing Fred! You told me we could be married at last! I should have killed you before I believed a word you said!’ She flew at him, and he did his best to defend himself, but it took all of Sharrock’s strength to drag her away, though not before she had left two neat thumbprints on Elliott’s throat.

‘Well,’ said Sharrock, after everyone was calmer and he had taken Mrs Minster’s statement and charged her with the murder of Mrs Sweetman, ‘we have concluded our case. It seems that Mrs Minster was sent by Mr Elliott to see Mrs Sweetman to discover her intentions following the release of her husband, where she found the lady to be in a forgiving mood. She had had some hard years, and considered that as Mr Sweetman had served his time, she was willing to put the past behind her and see if they could be reconciled. Mrs Minster told her that she had already got back with Mr Sweetman and they were going to make a life together, but Mrs Sweetman was not as gullible as she had once been, and said that she would only believe it if she heard it from her husband’s own lips. That was when things turned bad. They argued and Mrs Minster thinks that in the heat of the moment she let something slip that told Mrs Sweetman she had been duped all along. And I think Mrs Minster saw that she, too, was a fool and a dupe. She claims she can’t remember what happened, but the next thing she knew Mrs Sweetman was dead.’

‘I hope she will not hang,’ said Frances.

‘Not if she helps us hang Elliott, I shall do my best about that,’ said Sharrock.

It was not very often that Frances had nothing but good news to tell, but that afternoon she wrote to Edward Curtis to advise him that the murderer of Mrs Sweetman had been unmasked, and it was only a matter of time before charges were made regarding the 1866 robbery and attack on Mr Gibson. His uncle had been entirely exonerated. She also wrote to Benjamin and Mary Sweetman, who were still in their lodgings and caring for a thriving child, telling them that their father had been proven innocent of all charges, and it would also be shown that the accusation that he had had a mistress had been a lie. In both letters she suggested that if a reconciliation was to take place she would be happy to act as an intermediary. How the family might resolve the question of the unusual ménage of Mr and Mrs Finn was an issue she did not address and about which she had no intention of enquiring. She received letters of gratitude from all parties, with the news that Mr Curtis would make the arrangements for the family to be reunited.

Two weeks later, Mr Curtis paid her a visit, and while he still looked strained, the pressing anxiety was gone. ‘Miss Doughty, I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have done for my uncle. He is now far happier than he could ever have anticipated! Not only is he a free man with no stain on his character, but he and my cousins have now met and a more touching scene could not be imagined.’

‘I hope they are well and prospering,’ said Frances.

‘Oh, they have been doing very well indeed,’ said Curtis. ‘It seems that Benjamin has for a number of years been personal valet to a business gentleman, and Mary is nursemaid to the three beautiful children of a young widowed lady. However, the widow has decided to settle abroad and it is all arranged that Benjamin, Mary and my uncle will form part of her household there. I think it is for the best, as there will always be those who, while it can be proven that the name of Sweetman is without blame, will not choose to believe it.’

‘I think that is a very wise course of action and I wish them all every good fortune,’ said Frances.

Mr Curtis sighed. ‘Would that we were all as happy in life!’ he exclaimed, suddenly.

‘Indeed,’ said Frances. There was a silence. ‘Is there something I can assist you with?’ she asked.

‘Well, yes,’ he admitted, ‘although …’ he added cautiously, ‘it is a very delicate matter and one requiring the utmost secrecy and discretion.’

‘I am often called upon to deal with matters of that nature,’ said Frances. ‘If you wish to engage my services please let me know what you require. Your secrets will be quite safe.’