Death by the Book (17 page)

“And the ride in the country?” Drew asked.

Daniel shrugged. “I wanted to clear my head before I went home. Mother would have known I was upset. It doesn’t matter what happened with me and the girl. I have my mother to think of now. It’s bad enough that she’s had to carry the shame of what my father did. I won’t have her hearing that I’m no better, do you understand? If you tell her this, I’ll deny everything.” Daniel managed to look smug again. “She’ll believe me, too. She always has.”

Russ lit another cigarette. “The problem is, can we get the police to believe you?”

Drew leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me, Mr. Montford, what did you do after the cab took you to the station?”

“Took the train back to London, of course, and another cab after that.”

“And what did you do after it let you off at home?”

“It didn’t. I mean, not right at home. I didn’t want my mother to know I’d been out, so I had the driver let me out at the corner. Then I came round through the garden and into the kitchen. Cook hadn’t seen me come in, and I acted as though I’d just come downstairs for something to eat.”

At least that much tallied with what Cook and Meadows had said. More and more, it was looking as if Daniel’s presence at that particular time and in that particular place was no more than a hideous coincidence.

“How did you get out in the first place?”

“Oh, that.” Daniel smirked. “That’s never been much of a problem. I simply waited for my chance, went down the hall to the bathroom and out the window. The roof is nearly flat under that window, and it’s easy to walk from there round to the trellis at the back of the house. Once I was down that, it was simple to go through the garden to the next street over
and get a taxi to the train station. I’ve done it a hundred times before.”

“And when did you first hear that your father was dead?”

The smirk left Daniel’s face, replaced by anger and bitterness laced with grief. “Just a few minutes after I’d gotten back. I couldn’t believe it. I thought it had to be a joke. A mistake. Something besides what it was. Then we found out about the . . . the girl he was seeing. He’d just gotten through telling me I should do the right thing, be a man of honor, not lower myself to a tawdry affair, and here he was carrying on with some vulgar working-class chit who wouldn’t know a Shakespeare couplet from a Guinness advert.” He closed his eyes, his mouth working helplessly. “It made me sick. Just sick.”

“Did you talk to your mother about it?”

Russ’s voice was professional, detached, and he didn’t look at his client.

“Not really, no. I don’t think she was even going to tell me, but I made her. I knew there was something she was keeping back. I suppose she didn’t want me disillusioned about him. About what he claimed to believe. About God. I mean, what sort of God lets himself be claimed by so many failures and hypocrites?”

“A merciful one.” Drew looked steadily into Daniel’s scornful eyes. “If He judged us, any of us, as we deserve, who would He have left? You?”

There was a touch of gentle humor in that last question, though this time Daniel looked far too weary to reply.

Russ cleared his throat. “Well, theological questions aside, I’m afraid we have more practical matters to deal with at present.”

Drew smiled. “Right you are, Mr. Russ. To the business at hand.”

“Thank you. Now, Daniel, as your solicitor, here’s my advice to you. Tell all this to the chief inspector immediately. He’ll want the woman’s name and address and any other information you have about her. I’m certain he’ll agree to keep all of that confidential, unless, for some reason, your story cannot be corroborated. If you’re telling the whole truth, I don’t see why it need come out in court or why you should have any sort of charges brought against you at all. To my knowledge, there’s no statute against foolishness on the books, so you should be safe from prosecution.”

Daniel took hold of Russ’s sleeve, leaning toward him. “You’ve got to swear to me that my mother won’t ever hear about this. Not ever.”

“I can’t make any guarantees, young man, but I see no reason it should ever have to be told, either in public or to Mrs. Montford. However, if you don’t tell the police about this, you’ll very likely be tried, convicted, and executed for your father’s murder. Which do you think your mother would rather have? A son disgraced and repentant or one hanged?”

Daniel’s grip tightened, and then, letting his breath out in a rush, he released Russ’s sleeve and sprawled back in his chair. “Get the inspector. I’ll tell him everything.”

“Excellent.”

Russ knocked on the door, and the officer outside opened it.

“Go and get Chief Inspector Birdsong, please. My client would like to speak to him.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t leave my post. If you like, you can go down to my chief’s office and speak to him there. It’s all the way to the end of this hallway, then left and left again and just at the very back. The name Edgerton is on the door.”

Russ frowned, glanced back at Drew and Daniel, thanked the
officer, and disappeared down the corridor. The officer shut the door once more and locked it.

Drew studied the prisoner for a moment longer. “So, tell me, Daniel, who do you think is doing these killings?”

“I tell you, I don’t know. I still think that girl killed my father.”

“The one who doesn’t know Shakespeare from Guinness?”

“Yes, that Allen girl.”

“Why do you say that about her? I mean, why Shakespeare in particular?”

Daniel scowled. “Why not Shakespeare? It’s not something a shopgirl is likely to know very well, that’s all. I could have said Byron or Ovid for all the difference it would make.”

“Yes, I suppose. But would she have killed the others?”

Daniel’s scowl turned into a sulky shrug. “Could have. Perhaps she’s one of those who can’t stop after the first murder.”

“Interesting theory. How do you suppose the Shakespeare comes into it?”

“How should I know how the blasted Shakespeare comes into it? Perhaps she has some sort of monomania.”

Drew smiled faintly, watching the prisoner’s eyes. “Could be. Could be. Funny about the killer using Shakespeare, though. Not everybody has a taste for it, do they?”

Daniel snorted. “I never did. I couldn’t wait to get through that in school, all that nancy talk. If he wanted to say it was morning, he should have just said it was morning. Not that rot about day standing jocund on the misty mountaintops.”

Drew chuckled. “‘Jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops,’ I believe is the line.”

“That’s even worse. Though I imagine the ladies like it. I know my mother gets all weepy over
Romeo and Juliet
and the rest of that mush.”

“A lot of women are that way. I suppose she pushes it on you all the time.”

“Not really. When I was younger, she tried to get me interested, and of course they do drown one in it at school. I guess it’s all right and that, but not something I’d sit about reading as she does.”

“Does she have a favorite?” Drew asked.

“Oh, the ones you’d expect,” Daniel said. “
Romeo and Juliet
,
As You Like It
, the romantic ones. She doesn’t like the historical ones so much, but I always thought some of those were rather keen.”

“Even with the nancy talk?”

“Some of it.” A flicker of a smile passed over Daniel’s face, and then it vanished and he glared at the locked door. “Where’s Mr. Russ got to? I want out of this foul place.”

“These things take time, I expect. You might have saved yourself all this trouble if you’d told the police everything from the start.”

Drew waited for a sharp retort, but it didn’t come. Evidently it took a great deal of energy and concentration to keep up the level of ill-temper that Daniel had so far displayed, and at this point he could only sigh.

“I don’t know what’s what anymore.”

“It may not be so grim as it seems, old man. Let’s see what Mr. Russ can manage for you, eh?”

Daniel ducked his head. “I’m sorry, you know.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry I’ve been such a wretch about all this. About you.”

Drew shrugged. “Don’t let it worry you. I know you’ve had a rather rotten time of it lately.” He paused until Daniel was forced to look up at him. “I understand more than you realize about what’s happened to you, and I
am
on your side here.”

Daniel dropped his head into his hands. “I just didn’t want Mother to be hurt. I mean more than she is already, you know?”

“I know. And it’s admirable of you, no doubt.”

He looked up again, his dark eyes pleading. “If they . . . if they don’t let me out of here, she’ll need someone to look after her. There really is no one else, no one to speak of on her side of the family, and she trusts you. If they—”

“I’ll see she’s all right, Daniel, but first we’ve got to see to you here.”

As he’d agreed, Daniel told the chief inspector everything. He gave a detailed account of his movements on the day his father was murdered, provided the name and address of the woman he’d been seeing, and even gave credible-sounding alibis for the other hatpin murders. After cautioning the young man to stay close to home until further notice, Birdsong told them all to clear off.

Afterward, Russ was good enough to drive them back to the Montford home. Daniel returned to his mother’s grateful, waiting arms while Drew and the solicitor parted friends.

O
nce he’d returned to Farthering Place, Drew hardly had time to dress for dinner. As much as he would’ve liked to have foregone formal dress and instead taken something cold at Mrs. D’s kitchen table with only Madeline for company, he knew Aunt Ruth would take that as scandalous proof of his barbarism.

Once the meal was over, he waited until Aunt Ruth had left the dining room, and then he grinned at Nick and Madeline. “I thought the three of us would never have a moment to talk privately.” He caught Madeline’s hand under the tablecloth and linked his fingers in hers. “Did you and Auntie have a good time today?”

“Yes. I really thought she’d be tired after we spent all day shopping, but she doesn’t seem to be. I’m sure she’s gone to read or crochet or something now.” Madeline squeezed his hand. “Miss me?”

“Horribly. And I’ve been desperate to tell you and Nick what
I found out today, but I couldn’t say in front of your aunt. She thinks I’m rather morbid already.”

Madeline frowned, though there was a twinkle in her eyes. “You said you wouldn’t do any sleuthing without me.”

“You promised me, too.” Nick leaned back in his chair, tipping it on two legs. “Bad form, if you ask me.”

Drew took a sip of his coffee. “I didn’t promise either of you. Not really. Now, do you or do you not want to hear what I found out?” He then proceeded to tell them about the interview with Daniel Montford.

“What did you think about Mr. Russ?” Nick asked afterward.

Drew shrugged. “Didn’t think much about him at all, I suppose. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Nick said. “I suppose they worked together for a long time.”

“Has anybody asked him about Mr. Montford and whether or not he might be seeing someone outside his marriage?” Madeline gave them both a knowing look. “You men always say women gossip, and we all know you’re the worst.”

Drew laughed. “It’s a scandalous lie, I’m sure it must be.”

Madeline only smirked at him. “And what else have you accomplished today? Have you figured out any of those messages yet?”

“If indeed the first one was a reference to Shakespeare’s Jack Cade and killing all the lawyers,” Nick observed, “it seems as though the others ought to be related.”

Madeline nodded. “It does.”

Drew looked into his almost empty coffee cup, considering. “First I thought that, being a Kentish man, the next note, the one about Kentish wisdom, might well refer to Cade, as well. But bless me if I didn’t read
Henry the
Sixth, Part Two
, right through
last night and found nothing that seemed to fit. I checked the other histories too and found only brief mentions of Kent and men of Kent, still nothing to suit the message and the victim. Not as the first one did Montford.”

“Maybe it doesn’t mean Kent the place,” Madeline said.

“But what else . . . ?” Nick began.

Drew stood and hurried into the library. Nick and Madeline were immediately after him.

“Drew,” Madeline said, clutching his arm.

“Wait just a minute. I think I am divinely inspired.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “By you, my angel.”

He flipped through the large volume of Shakespeare’s works he’d left on the desk the night before, searching for a particular play and a list of
dramatis personae
.

“There.
King Lear
.” He paused, waiting for her and Nick to make the connection, but Madeline shook her head.

“I don’t—”

“Kent, my darling. Not Kent the county, but Kent the earl.”

Madeline digested that for a moment and again shook her head. “But what wisdom?”

Nick only looked at her and then Drew. “He never ordered anyone’s death in the play, did he?”

“Not ordered, per se.” Drew smiled. “But remember what he said when Lear would have killed him for giving him good counsel? For his
Kentish wisdom
?” He turned to the appropriate page. “If Lear was determined to send away those who would do him good and reward those who meant him ill, Kent told him to go ahead. ‘Kill thy physician and the fee bestow upon the foul disease.’”

“Physician.” Now the understanding came into Madeline’s eyes. “Dr. Corneau. Just like first killing all the lawyers for Mr. Montford.”

“But what about Clarice?” Nick asked.

“I haven’t quite worked that one out yet,” Drew admitted.

“Besides, what does it really mean?” Madeline looked up at him with an intensity in her eyes. “If these men were killed because they happened to have certain professions, it still doesn’t explain why. What does the murderer expect to gain from it?”

“That we shall have to find out.” Drew took both of her hands and stepped back, drawing her with him. “Until then, it’s far too fine a night and we’ve been far too long apart for us to talk nothing but murder and mayhem.”

Nick made a slight bow. “I believe that is my cue to claim fatigue and excuse myself.”

Drew beamed at him. “Definitely a brilliant deduction on your part. You don’t mind, do you, Nick?”

“Not in the least. I’ll try to keep the little gray cells humming, though. I’ll let you know if I think of anything.” Nick nodded at Madeline. “Good night.”

“Good night, Nick.”

“Good night, old man,” Drew called after him.

Once Nick had left, Drew led Madeline out onto the terrace. It was a warm night, and the moon was only a sliver above them. He could hardly see her face in the darkness, but what he couldn’t see, he could imagine. He could picture that touch of mischief and the hint of a dare that was no doubt in her eyes.

“Isn’t it pretty out here?” She released his hand and leaned on the stone railing. “All the tiny lights from the village look almost the same as the stars, twinkling in the distance.”

“Too bad the stars aren’t so short a walk away. I’d take you to one and shower you with stardust.” He slipped his arms around her, and she leaned back, relaxing against him.

Closing his eyes, he pressed his cheek to her hair. “You’re very wicked, you know.”

He nuzzled the back of her ear, and she laughed softly.

“Am I?”

“Being so beautiful.” Her dress was satin, soft and smooth, tantalizing his fingers as they stroked the curve of her waist. “Making me want to forget I’m a gentleman.”

She tilted her head to one side, and he traced his lips down the side of her neck. “When are you going to marry me, darling?” he murmured, his voice low and urgent, and he could feel a shiver go through her.

“Now,” she breathed, and then she laughed and pulled away from him. “Or never. I’m not sure.”

The air shuddered out of his lungs, and he shook his head, laughing softly. “You do devil a man past all patience.”

She leaned back against the wall, a mischievous, provocative gleam in her eye.

“Madeline Felicity Parker!”

Madeline straightened immediately, and even in the near darkness, Drew could see the color that had flamed into her face.

“Aunt Ruth. I . . . we . . .”

“Don’t try to explain. I’ve got eyes, you know.” Aunt Ruth got up from the chair in the opposite corner of the terrace. “And ears.”

“But we were just—”

“I won’t say a thing, young lady, except that with this behavior you’re choosing yourself a steep and thorny path.”

“I didn’t—”

The older woman held up her hand. “No. I have nothing else to say.” With the aid of her cane she thumped back into the house.

“Poor darling.” Drew put his arm around Madeline. “Well, it could have been worse.”

He couldn’t tell if the shaking in her shoulders was from laughter or crying. Perhaps both.

“It could?”

“She could have overheard us on the way back from Bunny’s party last month.”

Her eyes flashed. “She didn’t overhear us. She was eavesdropping. Why does she have to always make me feel as though I’m still fourteen years old?”

“Now, be fair. She was out here first.”

“Well, she could have said something so we’d know.”

“I’ll grant you that, but she’s only trying to look after you, to protect you from the cad who’s had dark designs upon you since the moment he met you.”

He was glad to hear a faint giggle coming from her. “You’ve been a perfect gentleman.”

“Yes, dash it all.”

She laughed again and put her arms around him, smiling up into his eyes. “It’s one of the things I love best about you. I never have to worry about you taking advantage.”

“Because I love you even more than I want you, and that, my darling, is a prodigious amount.”

She buried her face against his chest. “Oh, Drew, I know you do. And I love how patient you’re being with me.” She looked up once more, smiling again despite the glimmer of a tear in her eye. “And with Aunt Ruth, too.”

He cupped her face in both hands and touched his forehead to hers. “You know, we ought to be grateful for the old pepper pot. Despite one’s best intentions, it’s easy to get a bit, uh, carried away from time to time. And nothing cools the ardor like a word or two from your dear auntie.”

There was a decorous cough from the doorway, and they both laughed.

“Or Denny.” Drew released Madeline and turned around. “Yes?”

“Pardon me, sir, but you have a telephone call. Shall I say you are engaged?”

Drew winked at Madeline. “I hope to soon be.”

The butler’s impassive expression did not change.

“Oh, all right, Denny, yes, I’ll take the call. Perhaps you’d best go make up with Auntie, darling. I’ll join you both in a moment.”

Drew went into the study and picked up the telephone. “Hullo?”

“Is this Mr. Farthering?”

It was a woman’s voice, brisk and businesslike, vaguely familiar but not one he recognized right away. “Yes, it is. Who’s speaking, please?”

“I don’t know if you’ll remember me, Mr. Farthering. Oh, dear, I don’t know if I should be calling at all, but I just had to say something to someone.”

“Mrs. . . . ?”

“Forgive me. This is Amelia Burroughs. I was Dr. Corneau’s nurse. At his surgery. You were with the police when they interviewed me and our receptionist the day the doctor was murdered. You said I might call you anytime.”

“Of course. Mrs. Burroughs. How can I help?”

“Well, to be perfectly honest, I’m not sure you can. I most likely should have rung up that Inspector Birdsong about this, but I feel so foolish, not being certain and all. I thought perhaps you could tell me if you thought it was important.”

“Certainly, if I can. What is it?”

“That . . . that girl, the one in the newspaper today. They
said she was the mistress of the first man who was murdered. Mr. Montford.”

“Yes?”

“Well, I’m not absolutely sure, but she may have been one of our patients.”

“Oh, yes?”

“I just don’t know. She looks quite like a young woman who came to us in June. It’s so difficult to tell just from the photograph they printed, but I think she must be the one.”

“Could you look her up in your records?”

“That’s just the problem. If it was this girl, she didn’t use the name Allen, I know that much.”

“I see. Do you know the name she did use?”

“Johnson. Mrs. Mary Johnson.”

“Not exactly original. If I might ask, why did she come to see the doctor?”

“I’m really not supposed to divulge any information about our patients, you understand, but if she’s in some way connected to the doctor’s murder . . . Oh, dear. What should I do?”

“I can understand the delicacy of the situation, to be sure, but you may trust in my discretion absolutely. And if you don’t feel you can confide in me, I most certainly think you should discuss this with the chief inspector. There may be nothing in it, but then again, it may be just the link we’ve been searching for.”

He could hear her quavering intake of breath over the telephone.

“You’ll give me your word as a gentleman not to mention this except as it pertains to the investigation?”

“By all means and upon my honor.”

“This girl, Mrs. Johnson, she said she had been feeling ill. Nauseated and tired. She thought she had a virus of some kind.
The doctor examined her, of course, and found that she had fallen pregnant.”

“Hardly a surprise in your experience, I suppose.”

“No. We saw girls like that more than I’d like to admit. And most all of them with men who wouldn’t do the decent thing by them, leaving them nowhere else to turn. This girl wasn’t any different. The doctor was always kind to them, you know, and asked if the baby’s father was going to be pleased with the news. I know he was trying to make sure she and the baby would be cared for.”

“What did she say?”

“She about took his head off, I can tell you. She said, and quite emphatically, that her
husband
would be delighted with the news, and she made an appointment to come back in a month.”

“And did she?”

“No. I knew she wouldn’t. They never do. Probably went to some back-street butcher to take care of things, if you know what I mean.”

He knew, and the thought sickened him. “That wasn’t the sort of thing Dr. Corneau did, then? Not on the side?”

“No! No, I’m sure it wasn’t. It was only me and a girl at reception in the office, as it was. I’m sure I would have known.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“The doctor, well, he just wasn’t that way. He always told the girls there were couples who wanted desperately to have children and couldn’t, couples who would take their babies and give them a good life.”

“And was the good doctor paid rather nicely by these desperate couples?”

“They paid him, yes.” Her voice was taut. “They paid him for the care the girls received.”

“Did he go through the usual channels with these adoptions?”

She hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“They were legal, weren’t they? All the paper work done? Carried out through the proper agencies and all that?”

She didn’t reply.

“Mrs. Burroughs? Shall I take that as a no?”

“You don’t understand. He’d been helping people long before the government decided to get involved. And some of these people couldn’t go through the agencies. They were too old or they hadn’t money enough or there was some other petty reason they’d been turned down for adopting a baby. Dr. Corneau wanted to help them as well as the girls. But I don’t think he would have ever grown rich on the money. He was only doing what he felt was right, helping those who didn’t think they had a way out.”