by Bettie Jane
“A coincidence, of course. If you’ll excuse me.” He picked up the drinks and started to move past her.
She had time for one last statement and it was a big risk. “Certainly. As I said, Lord Withers, my condolences to you, good sir. How truly tragic for you to lose your wife and unborn child. I do hope they catch whoever is responsible for this tragedy sooner rather than later.”
She watched his face as she dropped what she assumed would be a bomb on Lord Withers. If Sidney’s assertion was correct—that Withers was incapable of fathering a child—and he knew of her pregnancy, he might very well of committed her heinous murder to avoid the disgrace of raising another man’s child.
He was quite good at controlling his response to Julia’s statement if he didn’t know about the baby. He was entirely too calm if he’d just heard this for the first time for someone with his temper. He knew his wife was pregnant and she would bet her breakfast tomorrow that he was definitely not happy that Julia Barlow from the World News knew about it too.
“Thank you, Miss Barlow. Good day.”
Julia returned to her table and sat down again with her friends. “Edith, I do think it’s quite possible that Lord Withers’ is our killer. Of course, I’ll need more to go on, but I’m certain he knew of the pregnancy. I’ve heard it rumored that Lord Withers was unable to father children. If that’s true, her pregnancy would have been evidence of the ultimate betrayal.”
Julia watched Jimmie’s face as she delivered her supposition to see what his reaction might be to that information.
Edith, oblivious of the subtle interplay between Jimmie and Julia, said, “Lord Withers, you say? How scandalous.”
“Jimmie, are you—are you the father of Lady Eliza’s baby?”
Edith, dramatic as ever, raised the back of her hand and rested it on her forehead and let out a shocking gasp. “Oh my! Jimmie, say it isn’t true. Eliza Withers didn’t catch you in her salacious net did she?”
His eyes widened in surprise and he gave Edith a dirty look, before speaking to them both. “Of course not. We weren’t that friendly.”
“Did you know of the pregnancy before now?” Edith grilled him.
Jimmie nodded. “Yes, that’s why she wanted to leave him. She was determined not to raise a child in such a violent household.”
“Who is the father, Jimmie?”
He shook his head, “I honestly don’t know, Julia. She never would tell me. Believe me, I asked. I would have done murder to the bloke that took advantage of her…shall we say compromised her home life and quite obviously her safety.”
Julia nodded and stood. “If I were you Jimmie, I’d not repeat that sentiment where anyone could hear you. I fear you are going to have a hard enough time as it is defending your innocence. I have an idea. Come with me, darlings!”
“Where are we going?” Edith and Jimmie asked at the same time.
“As I see it, either Philip killed Eliza because she was pregnant with another man’s child or the father of that baby killed her. Perhaps whoever he is didn’t want it known that he’d fathered her baby and she’d threatened to expose him. We need to know who fathered her baby and Philip is certainly not going to tell us. Perhaps Oscar will know if anyone else does.”
Jimmie nodded. “Off to see the Goodalls in Mayfair then? Do you suppose he’ll be home? At this time night on a Saturday, I’d think we’d find him in Soho.”
Julia put on her coat and adjusted her mauve cloche as she answered. “He and Opal were co-hosting a painting demonstration tonight. Mattie reminded me earlier today at brunch. They should still be there.”
Edith followed suit, pulling her floor length coat together in the front and buttoning it. “Of course. I’d forgotten about that in the mayhem of the Armistice Day murder.”
“Off to Mayfair then, shall we?” Julia led them out of the Candlelight Club and into the chilly November London evening.
______
Later Saturday Night
West End, London
The fashionably dressed threesome made their way back to the West End and on to the exclusive neighborhood of Mayfair, gossiping about the occupants of the grand homes along the way. Most of the families that lived there had grown up with Julia and her friends. They’d gone to boarding school together and then on to university. There wasn’t much their peer group didn’t know about each other, but much they’d all managed to keep secret from their parent’s much more austere generation.
The girls walked on either side of Jimmie, one on each of his arms. Edith set the pace, practically skipping along under the canopy of trees that lined the streets. “This is like a miniature treasure hunt, darlings. A hunt for Oscar. It’s just too much fun. If he’s not with Opal, perhaps she and Mattie will join us in our search. We’ll race about the entirety of London in a scavenger for Oscar Goodall. Maybe Frankie will join us as well.”
“Oh, Edith,” Jimmie smiled at her. “I do believe your own best friend could have been murdered and you’d still want to have a treasure hunt.”
“I fear you might be right. I quite adore the thrill of the hunt,” Edith said, her voice light and sing-songy. She slowed her steps, though, and then stopped completely, turning to look at Jimmie. “Oh, Jimmie. I must apologize. How like me to put my foot straight into my mouth. She was your friend and here I am just flitting about the city as though we’re on some sort of holiday. Please forgive me, Jimmie. You must. Say you forgive me or I shall simply die.”
Her apology poured out of her mouth as water from a failed dam, enthusiastic and messy.
“There is nothing to forgive, my dear Edith. Your enthusiasm for life is quite a welcome distraction from the macabre reason that we are here in the first place. What’s happened to Eliza is truly horrid, and we will find out who did this to her. You must continue to be your charming self.”
She stretched on her tip toes to kiss Jimmie on the cheek. “Right, then, my friend. It’s a deal. Sealed with a kiss.”
He ruffled her hair playfully and the trio continued their semi-lighthearted stroll toward Opal and Oscar’s home.
The Goodall’s butler greeted them at the door and showed them back to the library where Opal and Mattie were painting.
“Well, hello lovelies,” Opal said, and kissed their cheeks. “You’ve made it. How was your evening so far?”
Julia answered first. “Hello, Opal. Mattie. Good to see you both. I’ve been on a reasonably decent date with Sidney Guinness. Reasonable enough that it should keep my father satisfied for at least a few days.”
Mattie nodded a greeting but didn’t speak, just continued to concentrate on her painting.
Jimmie interjected, “I didn’t know that. I thought you detested the man.” There was a slight hint of something in his voice, Julia thought. Perhaps irritation?
“Well, I do. Or rather I did. He’s not so bad as I thought. Don’t worry, I have no intention of marrying him, but as long as I give him some attention every now and then, Mother and Father will leave me alone. They simply must quit harassing me to marry and the only way they’ll do that is if they think I’m seriously considering the possibility.”
Opal poured drinks for the newcomers and asked, “Don’t you feel even a bit badly about using Mr. Guinness in that way?”
Julia sipped from her drink and spoke once she’d swallowed the boozy concoction. “Not a bit. He’s using me as well. I’m certain he’s trying to convince my father to agree to some sort of business arrangement and I suspect he believes that I’ll put in a good word for him—as if my opinion would matter at all to my father—if he shows me a good time, including an intention to marry. So, no, I don’t feel bad. We are using each other, and he is quite a good dancer so it’s not all for nothing. Additionally, he gets to be seen around town with me on his arm. I do believe he is coming out ahead in this arrangement.”
All the girls, save Mattie, giggled and Jimmie rolled his eyes. “Women are devious creatures. I think the moniker “fairer sex” is
a misnomer.”
Mattie, mostly silent in the corner until now, laughed heartily at this statement. “Oh, Jimmie,” she said not at all hiding the flirtatious sensation that flavored her words. “Men and women are both devious creatures, but we,” she made a sweeping motion to include all the women in the room, “we are still the fairest sex even when we are being diabolical.”
He made a silly bow. “Quite right, you are my dear, Mattie. Quite right, indeed.”
Julia cut to the reason they were here. “We are sorry to interrupt your evening of painting but we want to speak with Oscar. May I borrow your brother for just a moment, dearest Opal?”
Opal shook her head, her loose auburn hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. “I should quite love to let you speak with him. In fact, I do not know where he is. I’ve been looking for him as well. He was supposed to join us this evening. We planned this painting demonstration ages ago. He was going to bring a few of his artist friends to assist with our painting. I shall never become the accomplished painter I want to be without some help from the best artists in Soho. Oscar knew how important this was to me. It was his bloody idea in the first place.”
She paused her tangent to take a breath then continued.
“He’s probably zozzled somewhere in Soho. This whole business with the Withers seems to be quite disturbing for him. I’ll box his ears when I see him, though. Why is it that you are looking for him anyway?”
“To determine if he knows anything about the Withers family situation that might give us insight into who killed her.” Julia paused in thought, something tickling the back her brain. “It seems rather unlike Oscar to stand you up, Opal.”
“It is completely unlike him. My brother is the most reliable man in London, I believe. Do you think that something has happened to him?” Her voice climbed in pitch. “Julia, you don’t think that he—the Armistice Day Killer is still on the loose—oh, say he’s okay?”
Jimmie embraced Opal. “I am quite sure that your brother is just fine and, as you say, zozzled somewhere in Soho.”
Julia offered her own comfort, practical as it was. “There is no evidence at all that the Armistice Day murder was more involved than what we already know. Besides, Oscar is hardly a helpless member of the fairer sex.”
Opal wiped a lone tear that escaped with the handkerchief that Jimmie offered her. “We need to find my brother. I will simply not rest until he is located.”
“Of course,” Edith agreed. “None of us will rest until we find him. Let us go to Soho. I need to know more about Philip Withers and I think he’ll my best source of information, even if he is at the bottom of a bottle of gin.”
The small group, now consisting of Julia, Jimmie, Edith, Mattie, and Opal, searched every club and pub.
“Where is that rascal Oscar?” Edith asked. “We’ve been to every club in Soho. If he was here, we’d have found him by now.”
They’d explored every inch of the bohemian, artsy neighborhood of Soho. They’d found Cabarets, dancing, music, plenty of gin, but not Oscar.
“You’re quite right, my darling Edith. If he was here, we’d have found him,” Julia agreed.
Opal’s small, fearful voice tugged at Julia’s heartstrings. “I want to go to the police, Julia. Disappearing like this is not at all like Oscar, especially with our parents traveling. He would never show me up and then not at least come round to let me know what he was up to. He’s very protective of me in that way.”
“Agreed. Something does not feel right about this. We shall go to the station immediately and see how the police can help us. Jimmie, darling, in the meantime would you be a dear and see if you can track down Frankie and Cecil. Perhaps one or the other has heard from Oscar and if not, then perhaps Cecil can ask some of their shared bohemian friends when anyone last saw him.”
“Of course. Ring me after you finish up with the police.” As Jimmie walked away, Opal said, “Someone should be at my house in case Oscar returns.”
“Mattie and I can go back to your house and wait for Oscar,” Edith said.
Julia smiled at Edith, appreciative that she’d volunteered. As high-strung and flighty and unawares as she could be sometimes, when it mattered Edith arrived with strength to support those she loved.
“That’s a lovely idea, Edith. Thank you. Opal and I will go to the police and then we will meet you at the Goodall residence.”
Chapter 5
Late Saturday Night
Scotland Yard, London
Julia spoke once they’d arrived at police headquarters, since Opal was quite distraught. She’d been slightly anxious about her brother’s status when they’d begun looking for him in Soho, but by the time they’d searched the neighborhood from top to bottom, Opal had grown pale and the fear in her eyes was tangible.
“We need to report someone as missing, please. It is most urgent.”
The constable she spoke with kept an exaggerated grim expression as he asked them a few questions, to which Opal only occasionally nodded.
“Name of potentially missing person?”
Julia took a deep breath and quelled the violent urges that threatened to overtake her at the officer’s obvious half-hearted attempts to take them seriously.
“He is missing in fact, not potentially. His name is Oscar Goodall. This is his sister Opal. She last saw him this morning, before he attended brunch at my home. He left there sometime after three in the afternoon and as far as we are aware nobody has seen him sense.”
Opal shuddered at Julia’s last statement and buried her face in Jimmie’s handkerchief that she still held. Her words were muffled, but Julia could just make out Armistice Day killer. Julia was concerned for the continued decline in her sensitive friend’s disposition, who was clearly thinking of the worst possible scenario for the reason her brother might be missing.
“As you can see, Opal is quite distraught. I insist that you help us turn over the city in locating him. Their father is Richard Goodall, but he and Mrs. Goodall are away traveling. I’m certain Oscar’s father would not be at all pleased to discover that your crack team of investigators didn’t step to and immediately assist his bereft daughter at such a disturbing time.”
“Goodall, you say?” the constable added, bracing his hands on the desk between them. “I see. In that case, one moment. I’ll find Inspector Gibbs for you.”
“Good man, thank you very much.”
He disappeared to an unseen area somewhere in the building and Julia turned to Opal. “Now, Opal, darling. Listen to me. You mustn’t let your imagine run away with you. We will get the police looking straight away in the unlikely event that there is foul play involved, but it is quite more likely that Oscar is simply at a house party or out with friends setting the Thames on fire. Keep hope, darling girl. Jimmie will talk to Cecil and Frankie and then we will know more. In fact, while we are sitting here in this god-forsaken police station, I suspect that Oscar is already back home. Now, keep your wits about you so that we can give this Inspector Gibbs as much information as possible to assist in their search for him. Can you do that?”
Throughout Julia’s admonishing speech, Opal began to sit up straighter, dry her eyes, and square her shoulders.
“You are quite right, as always, dear friend. I must hold it together for Oscar. He is likely somewhere having the time of his life as you say. If not, then I shall stay strong until we find him.” She leaned in and lowered her voice and whispered in Julia’s ear. “Tell me you don’t think this has anything to do with what happened to Eliza Withers. I simply couldn’t stand to think of my poor brother—”
“You must not think of that, Opal. It is not a helpful.
A dashing man with slick black hair and a perfectly square jaw approach them and extended his hand. Julia stood and shook it.
“You must be Inspector Gibbs,” Julia stated.
“I am. And you are?”
“My name is Julia Barlow and this is my dear friend Opal Goodall.”
Opal no
dded and managed a glimmer of a smile which was overshadowed by her sad, glistening blue eyes.
“Her brother, Oscar, has gone missing. He was last seen at my home in Mayfair around three in the afternoon. It is unlike him not to notify his sister of his whereabouts, especially when their parents are away. We’ve searched all his usual haunts, and he is still nowhere to be found. Our friend is continuing to inquire of anyone who knows him in hopes of finding additional information, but we want to formally request that the police open a missing persons case and help us find him.”
“You would, would you? He’s only been missing since this afternoon?”
“Yes, this afternoon, but even that brief of an absence is simply not like him.”
“I see.”
Inspector Gibbs was less dismissive than his colleague before him, but Julia was still unimpressed by his seeming lack of care to this matter.
“What information do you need, Inspector, to aid in your search?”
He let out what Julia hoped was a resigned sigh and picked up a pen.
“I’ll need more information about Oscar, was it? About Oscar’s last movements.”
“Thank you, sir. You’ll not regret coming to our aid.”
“I’m sure I won’t.”
“He was at my home for a brunch I had with a few of my friends. I took leave around 3pm and he would have left soon after. So sometime after three.”
“I’ll need a list of everyone who was at your brunch, Miss Barlow.”
“Of course. Mattie Hawkins, Oscar, of course, Jimmie Hutchins, Sidney Guinness, and Frankie Sutton.”
He scratched down the names. “What was the purpose of your gathering? Did anything strange happen when you were with him today?”
“I gathered together a list of people that might have information about what happened to the late Lady Eliza Withers. I write for the World News and was the second person to discover her body, Mattie Hawkins being the first.”
His eyebrows climbed as she spoke. “I see. The first person to discover the body was who then?”