The Last Pleasure Garden (16 page)

‘Warm sort of chap, wasn't he?' says Bartleby, as the two policemen walk along the King's Road.

‘I've yet to meet a convict with great love for the police, Sergeant,' says Webb. ‘Still, these men who vouched for him – did they seem reliable?'

‘Far as I could tell, sir. They didn't seem to have been put up to it. I've got their names. And I'll ask the lads at T Division what they know about the landlord.'

Webb nods. ‘He had a grudge against the girl, we know that much.'

‘You think he had someone else do it?'

‘Possibly; though he does not strike me as the type. A queer way to go about it, too. One might imagine a garrotting would suit his purpose; a knife in a dark alley as the girl made her way home. This fire smacks of something different; hardly the act of a determined assassin.'

‘Spur of the moment?'

Webb smiles. ‘Correct, Sergeant. Improvisation. Or, perhaps, desperation.'

‘Where now, sir?'

Webb pulls out his watch from the pocket in his waistcoat.

‘Back to Edith Grove.'

W
ebb and Bartleby find Charles Perfitt already returned home, expecting their arrival, waiting together with his wife. Introductions are swiftly made, and soon the policemen are seated once more in the Perfitts' drawing-room.

‘I fear you have wasted your journey, Inspector,' says Mrs. Perfitt. ‘I have talked to Mr. Perfitt—'

‘Caroline, please,' interrupts Charles Perfitt, rather firmly. ‘I am quite able to speak for myself.'

Mrs. Perfitt blushes and falls silent.

‘I am sure that you are correct, ma'am,' replies Webb, tactfully. ‘And I don't wish to detain you or your husband longer than is necessary. I gather then, sir, that you do not have any further particulars regarding the personal circumstances of Jane Budge?'

‘I looked through my papers, Inspector. She came to us through an agency, as we were new to the area. She was only a young girl at the time. We took her on trial, and she proved suitable. I can provide their address, if you like, though I am not sure they are still in business.'

‘Thank you, sir. Bartleby here will make a note of it. Did you have any contact with Jane Budge after she left your employment? I suppose you or your wife
must have passed her in the street upon occasion, the college being so near by?'

‘Not to any great extent, Inspector,' replies Mr. Perfitt. ‘I may have seen her, in passing, on occasion.'

‘So you do not know, for instance, if she had any particular acquaintances or friends? Or if there was someone who might wish her harm?'

‘I have no idea, Inspector,' replies Mr. Perfitt. ‘Why ever should I? Besides, from what I hear, some lunatic is responsible – that same fellow who's been molesting these girls in the Gardens?'

‘We cannot be certain of that, sir,' says Webb. ‘I merely wondered if you took any particular interest in Miss Budge's welfare, after she left you. Mrs. Perfitt explained you decided to give her a good character, even after the unfortunate business with Mr. Nelson.'

‘I would prefer not to discuss that painful affair, Inspector, if it is all the same to you. I know that my wife has already mentioned it – and I would rather she had not – but, really, I cannot imagine that we need to rake it up again.'

Webb frowns. ‘I fear we policemen must grub in the dirt upon occasion. One never knows what one may find. I would not wish to distress Mrs. Perfitt, however . . .'

Webb's implication is not wasted on Charles Perfitt. ‘Yes, Caroline, perhaps you might be spared this, at least.'

‘Really, Charles,' replies Mrs. Perfitt. ‘There is no need.'

‘Caroline,' returns her husband firmly, ‘I rather think the inspector is right.'

‘Very well,' replies Mrs. Perfitt. And with a polite, if somewhat forced, smile, she gets up and quits the drawing-room.

‘You must forgive my wife, Inspector. She can be rather headstrong.'

Webb dismisses the apology with a wave of his hand. ‘I am sorry to be the cause of any awkwardness, sir. But I fear we do need to discuss George Nelson. He is, at least, the only person we have yet discovered with any grudge against Jane Budge. An unpleasant character too, though he appears to have an alibi.'

Charles Perfitt smiles ruefully. ‘Yes, well I expect Pentonville Prison will stand for that.'

‘No,' says Webb. ‘I am afraid it is not quite so cast-iron as Pentonville. You see, he was released on ticket-of-leave two days ago.'

Charles Perfitt's face becomes suddenly pale.

‘You seem surprised, sir?'

As Caroline Perfitt quits the drawing-room, she finds her daughter loitering near by, upon the stairs.

‘Rose! Heavens, were you eavesdropping?'

‘No, Mama!' replies Rose indignantly. ‘I just heard we had guests, that is all. It is the same men that came this morning, isn't it? I saw them in the road.'

‘Did you now? Rose, I swear, I sometimes think you spend half your life gazing out of that bedroom window. I have told you a thousand times – it is so common.'

‘I'm sorry, Mama,' replies Rose, a little shamefaced. ‘But it is the same men, isn't it?'

‘Rose – please, it need not concern you.'

Charles Perfitt sips from a glass of brandy.

‘You know how servants will have hangers-on, Inspector,' he says at last. ‘I mean, one tries to discourage it, but it is to be expected.'

‘I've heard it said, sir.'

‘But I began to see this fellow Nelson – a labouring man by the look of him – loitering in the street, late at night – almost every night, in fact. Then my wife noticed him in Jane's company when the girl returned from running an errand. There seemed a disagreeable intimacy between them. I told Jane it had been noted and she must desist from seeing him. She protested her innocence of any mischief.'

‘You did not believe her?'

‘I had some doubts. In any case, it was not more than two or three days after I made my opinions clear, that I saw the fellow loitering once more, just as I was going to my bed. Worse – he went down into our area; I was sure it was for some pre-arranged nocturnal assignation.'

‘So you went to have words with him?' asks Webb.

‘With them both. But it was not as I had imagined. Well, it was a fearful attack, Inspector. Rape, that is the only word. The girl was struggling against him, struggling for her life – the way he held her down – she was fortunate not to be seriously injured. Naturally, I intervened. Floored the brute, I am proud to say.'

‘And you gave Nelson in charge?'

‘I made sure there was a prosecution, Inspector. Any decent man would have done the same for the poor girl – for the common good.'

‘Quite, quite,' says Webb.

‘Do you believe it was Nelson that killed her?' asks Mr. Perfitt anxiously, taking another sip of brandy.

‘He claims to have an alibi, sir. And he would have to have made his way into the college somehow. But it's clear he had no great fondness for the girl, let me put it that way.'

‘You have spoken to him?'

‘Not fifteen minutes ago, sir. He's lodging by the
World's End; we found him there, drinking in the public house.'

Charles Perfitt's face freezes into a stony, shocked stare.

‘The World's End?' he says after a brief pause. ‘I rather wish that's where he were, Inspector. I would happily put ten thousand miles between us.'

‘I do not blame you, sir,' replies Webb. ‘But I think he should know better than to give you any trouble. We've marked his card, as it were.'

‘But if he bears a grudge against me, Inspector? I have to think of Rose and Caroline.'

‘Rose?'

‘My daughter, Inspector. I would not put her in any danger,' says Mr. Perfitt.

‘I'll have a word with the local constables, sir,' says Bartleby. ‘Make sure they keep a special eye on the premises. And I think we'll be doing likewise for Mr. Nelson's movements?'

Bartleby's query is directed to Webb, who nods his approval.

‘Tell me, sir,' says Webb, ‘why did Jane Budge leave your employment?'

‘Ah, well, we decamped to the country, Inspector. If I may be honest, my wife took the whole business with George Nelson rather badly. My part in the trial was rather a strain on her nerves; our doctor, marvellous fellow, recommended a thorough rest; I took her for the water-cure.'

‘And Miss Budge was unwilling to accompany you to . . .'

‘Leamington Spa. Dr. Malcolm has his own establishment there. I confess, the baths did Caroline a great deal of good.'

‘A pleasant holiday, you might say.'

‘Yes,' replies Mr. Perfitt. ‘I suppose you might.'

‘Well, I am sure we have wasted enough of your time, sir,' says Webb, raising himself from his chair. ‘Now if you can just find that address for my sergeant, we will be on our way.'

Caroline Perfitt waits until the two policemen have left the house before she rejoins her husband. She finds him sitting before the drawing-room hearth with an half-empty glass of brandy held loosely in his hand. He looks around as she enters.

‘Caroline,' he says, extending his arm towards her, ‘sit down.'

‘Charles, whatever is the matter?'

‘George Nelson has been freed. They have released him on leave.'

Mrs. Perfitt puts her hand to her mouth.

‘Good Lord,' she says in a whisper.

‘Perhaps,' continues Mr. Perfitt, ‘we might take a holiday for a month or so; the firm would not object, I am sure. We might even go abroad?'

‘Charles, no! Rose is coming out this season; we have the ball at the Prince's Ground – and then . . . no, I cannot possibly allow it.'

‘It might be for the best,' says Mr. Perfitt. ‘For Rose's sake if nothing else. I do not want any unpleasantness.'

‘Charles, I assure you, if you have any fears . . .'

‘I just thought this whole business was behind us.'