Death of a Lady (The Inspector Felix Mysteries Book 1)

by R. A. Bentley

  'Bill Wright,' he said.

  'Teddy Rattigan. Nice to meet you. Worked here long, have you?'

  'Six years, nearly. I come 'ere arter the war.'

  'Bit quiet for a Londoner?'

  'Nah, it's all the same to me, mate. So long as there's a pub I'm 'appy. The missus was born 'ere and missed it so we come back.'

  'How did you come to meet her then? Was she working in London?'

  'My little bit of luck, that was. 'er bruvver and me was drivers together an' 'e brought me 'ome on leave. I seen Nellie an' I thought, I'm 'avin' that! Couldn't believe no-one 'adn't snapped 'er up. Best day's work I ever done.'

  'Rattigan chuckled. What about the job? D'you like it?'

  'Smashin'! It ain't work to me. I'm me own boss, near enough, and I gets some nice motors ter play wiv. What more could yer want?'

  'A happy man, then. Get around much?'

  'Not so much since 'is nibs got poorly. Just local mostly. I runs Lady George abaht more than the rest. That ain't no 'ardship neither. She's a smashing woman, she is. She'll sit and chatter like you was one of 'em. "And how are the children, Mister Wright?" she'll say. I got three, all girls. That's 'er eighteen-fifty at the end. They mostly runs Crossleys, as yer see; always 'ave done.'

  'What about before the war?'

  'Then too. Their Lordships 'ad a Shelsley each. Still did when I come 'ere. They went back to carriages in the war so they was laid up. Who's yer boss — that tall geezer? Wears some fancy schmutter for a copper, don't 'e? Sounds posh.'

  'Inspector Felix. He's all right.'

  'I 'spect that's why they sent 'im — talks the lingo. Oi! Get yer mitts off that! I've just bleedin' polished it.'

  Rattigan snatched his hand away from the Bentley. 'Sorry, mate.'

  'You'll get me shot! You can look but don't touch. Lovely car innit? 'e loves 'is motors, Lord Andrew does. It's a pleasure to work on 'em cos 'e looks arter 'em.'

  'Doesn't mind a girl driving it though.'

  'So Sam said! Just a kid too, by all accounts. 'e likes a good time, does 'is Lordship, and why not?'

  'Does he come down much?'

  'Doubt if it's five times a year. Nothing for 'im 'ere is there? You don't suspect 'im surely? 'e's a bit wild but 'e's straight. Not like some of 'em.'

  'You know that, do you?'

  'Course I do. You can tell.'

  'What about Ernie Crabb? Is he straight?

  'Ernie! What's he got ter do wiv it?'

  'Mate of yours, is he?'

  Mr Wright considered this. 'Not as you might say a mate. I drinks wiv 'im occasional, that's all. Miserable beggar's always moanin. "I 'ates motors, I'm skint, it ain't no fun since the 'orse died." It's a wonder 'e don't slit 'is froat. What's 'e done?'

  'Nothing that I know of. He's got some cars for sale, that's all.'

  'You wanna buy a car off Ernie? That's a larf! I seen yer packing yerselves inter that Chummy. Is that what they gives yer now? Load of bleedin' tightwads. I sez ter the missus, I seen 'appier sardines.'

  'It's hired; it was all we could get. I thought we might be able to do a deal with him. He's got an AC that looks all right. I wondered if you knew about it.'

  'Not aware of that one. Might be all right, might not. Trouble with Ernie, just between you an' me, 'e's a bit of a sprauncer; 'e'll tell yer any old porkie if 'e smells money. Safe enough to 'ire, I daresay. Want me ter 'ave a butchers?'

  'Thanks. I might take you up on that. I'll have a word with the boss.'

  Standing outside the Three Bells, Welmford, was the unmistakable figure of Howard Benyson, the Yard's senior pathologist. Dwarfish, dishevelled and often none too clean, he always seemed to have some fly buttons undone or missing. It was as well, Felix reflected, that his patients were usually dead.

  'Hello, what's this thing?' he demanded, prodding the Austin with his stick. 'Am I suffering from micropsia, or did it shrink in the wash?'

  'She's quite a nice little motor, once you wind her up,' said Felix defensively.

  'Wind her? Oh I see — it's clockwork! Well, it was bound to come, I suppose. Where do you put the key? Is it a big one?'

  'What have you got for me, Howard?'

  'Come for a walk.'

  Opposite the inn was a small public park, and Benyson would say nothing until they had reached the ornamental pool in the middle of it. 'Your Dr Carrington is a naughty boy,' he said settling himself on its wide edge. 'Hmm, Carassius auratus, family Cyprinidae, order Cypriniformes. That one looks a bit sickly, don't you think? Have you got the report?'

  Felix gave it to him. 'It goes on a bit, I'm afraid.'

  Benyson got out his spectacles, narrowly avoiding dropping them in the pool, and rapidly leafed through the half-dozen sheets of typescript. It seemed impossible that he was actually reading them. 'Hmm. See what you mean. Here you are, you can have it back. I'd heard rumours and didn't pay them much attention but I've had a word with one who knows, and it would appear that he takes a particular interest in things gynaecological. Abortionist to the aristocracy about sums it up. Daughter or mistress in trouble? Cross my palm with silver, My Lord, and she'll be right as rain. Restoration of virginity will be a little extra, I'm afraid.'

  'Good heavens! Do they do actually do that? Or am I being naive?'

  'Yes, and yes. I have to say, there's nothing that would stand up in court, or even a disciplinary hearing. Respectable Harley street practice, knows all the right people, quotes Greek at you. And he does have a good reputation, you know, as a doctor.'

  'And what about the postmortem?'

  'A very competent piece of work. He missed nothing.'

  'Damn! I thought you were going to say he'd been got at.'

  Benyson grinned impishly. 'And deliberately misrepresented his findings. I regret to say she was strangled. Quite brutally too — fractured hyoid, crushed larynx. He must have gone at her like a madman. The bash on the head probably put her out, mercifully.'

  Felix let out a long whistle. 'Now that's more like it. Anything else?'

  'Well, she was over two months pregnant.'

  'Was she now!'

  'Not unprecedented in a young bride, of course.'

  'Rather surprising in this one. And now he knows we know. Well there's no helping that.'

  He may not do. He was out when we called, so I asked if we could wait. I've got Phillips with me, by the way. He's over the road, propping up the saloon bar. He kept cave while I shot in and had a look at her. Then we swopped so I'd have a witness. That's really all we needed. She was all laid out, nice as you please. We might have been there twenty minutes at most. I said I'd come back later, but I don't suppose you want me to, do you? I can always make some excuse.'

  'Best not, I think.'

  'Will it help?'

  'Oh yes. Invaluable. I've a horrible feeling we've been barking up the wrong tree.'

  'Good. My problem now is what to do about it; one can't have rogue physicians on the loose. I shall have to take advice.

  'Well don't do anything yet. Unless I'm much mistaken, that gentleman is going to be in a lot of trouble.

  'All right. I'll send you a full report, of course — a post-post-mortem, I suppose you'd call it.'

  'Howard, that's marvellous. I am in your debt. I owe you a meal at the very least.'

  'I'll hold you to that, old man; I want to know how this turns out. But thank you for letting us see her. Remarkable preservation — most interesting. Any chance of some photographs?'

  They sat beneath a hanging cloud of pipe-smoke, each with a well-used notepad in front of him. Occasionally a crumpled sheet would briefly enliven the neglected fire, now a glow of hot ash. Childish voices could be heard outside, but the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock.

  'I can't improve on it,' announced Felix.

  'Neither can I. Swap?'

  'Yes, all right. Sorry about the doodles.'

  'Hmm, see what you mean. What's this thing?'

  'A horse. Doesn't it lo
ok like one?'

  'Well, now that you've told me.' Rattigan frowningly perused the sheet of foolscap, replete with little diagrams and copious crossing out. 'I don't see —'

  'It's on the back.'

  'Oh, sorry. Give me a minute. Hmm, yes, good, good, got all that. And Yates too — good! What's all this? Damn! Missed that. Obvious when you see it laid out. Yes, it's inescapable to my mind, if not very satisfying. Still some gaps.

  'Well, I daresay we'll fill them, by and by.'

  'Such as the motive?'

  Felix glanced at his watch. 'I think I can supply that. Get thee to London, Teddy. Take Yardley with you. With luck you'll be back by late afternoon.'

  'Not in that car, we won't.'

  'No, I suppose not.' Felix scratched his head. 'The train won't do. What about your pal the chauffeur?'

  'Requisition one, do you mean? I can't ask him to do that.'

  'No, all right. Well in that case —' He turned to the switchboard and after some cogitation tentatively selected a cord. 'I don't care for these things. I worry I'll inadvertently knit a jumper. Why is nothing happening?'

  'Have you pulled the key forward, sir?'

  'Nor I have. Ah, now its ringing. Hello, this is Inspector Felix. Am I right for Lady George? Yes, it's rather urgent. Yes, I'll wait.' He put his hand over the mouthpiece. 'I'm getting the hang of it, Teddy! When I'm sacked for incompetence I shall become a telephone operator. My Lady, good morning! I have an urgent need to convey Sergeants Rattigan and Yardley swiftly and, if possible, surreptitiously to London. They expect to return this evening at the latest. Can you help me? Really? That would be marvellous! A thousand blessings be upon you. Would ten minutes be all right? I'll send them along.'

  Left on his own, Felix stood contemplatively at the window until Lady George's car slipped by, to all appearances empty but for His Grace's chauffeur, now resplendent in Godwinstowe burgundy. Turning again to the switchboard, he telephoned to the lodge.

  'Hello, this is Inspector Felix. I'd like to speak to the officer in charge please.' He waited, imagining the great gate being cracked open, just enough for a man to slip inside. 'Hello Sergeant. Oh, good. No, speed them on their way. They'll be back later today, I hope. How are our friends the Press? How many? Good grief! Did he, by golly! Full marks for effort, I suppose. Well if anyone else tries it, arrest them. Yes, arrest them. String 'em from the gates as an example. Listen, kindly ensure that no-one leaves unless you've spoken to me first. No, they can come in. I want them in. Just don't let them out. No, tradesmen are all right, as long as you recognise them. Can you tell the other gate? Not a word to the vultures for goodness's sake. Best to send your chap through the park or they'll smell a rat. I'll inform you if there's any change.'

  More calls followed. Then stepping into the hall he turned through the open doorway of the butler's room and ostentatiously cleared his throat.

  Sam, who had been taking his ease with the newspaper, shot gratifyingly to his feet.

  'Bloomin''eck, sir, you didn't 'alf give me a turn!'

  'Lucky I wasn't Mr Pearson, eh?' chuckled Felix. 'Sam, I wonder if I might examine closely one of your uniform buttons — the silver ones.'

  'Why yes of course, sir,' said Sam, instantly reverting to more refined tones. 'In fact I can do better than that.' He turned to open a desk drawer. 'Here's one to take away. I'll have it back, though, if you don't mind, as we have to account for them.' He appeared about to ask why it was wanted, then clearly thought better of it.

  Felix didn't enlighten him. 'That's topping. Do they vary at all — in size and so on?'

  'No, they're all the same as that one, sir.'

  'And always have been?'

  'Yes, sir. Since I came here anyway.'

  'Good. Kindly refrain from mentioning that I asked you about them. Now perhaps you will cut up to the attic and tell Sergeant Nash I want to see him immediately.'

  Nash appeared, looking hot and dusty. 'You wanted me, sir?'

  'Yes. How's it going, John? Any luck?'

  'Nothing yet, I'm afraid. We've done the first two rooms, as we thought he'd be more likely to hide it near the door, whatever it was. It's not looking very hopeful.'

  'Well they might as well carry on, since I've paid them. John, I have a job for you, and it's got to be done exactly right, so listen carefully.'

  Sending Nash on his errand, Felix pressed the bell-button before returning to his notepad. A veritable herd of horses grew in the margins as with much labour he penned what was in effect, a script.

  "The play's the thing," he thought. "Wherein I'll catch" . . . not quite a king. Sighing, he found himself sketching a tiny, mounted figure in bowler hat and flowing habit. It was almost over now. Another time or two and he'd probably never see her again.

  He jerked round abruptly as Alice Strong came in.

  'You rang, sir?'

  'Yes, can you make the fire up? I'm afraid we've criminally neglected it.'

  'It's pretty nearly out, sir,' said Alice reproachfully. 'I'll have to re-lay it.'

  'Yes, I'm sorry. Pressure of work, you know.'

  He watched her as she raked out the ash and built a bed of paper and sticks, neatly piling on the coals. She's right, of course, he thought, as the flames spread rapidly to the kindling. Marry or burn. But where on earth would I find her equal? "Ay, there's the rub."

  'Sir,' said Alice.

  'Yes, Alice?'

  'Is it true that you've arrested Mr Pearson?'

  'Who told you that?'

  'It's all over the house, sir.'

  'Then it's vain to deny it.'

  'Is he the murderer, then? Did he kill Lady Genny? I can scarcely believe it!'

  'Alice, you surely don't expect me to answer that?'

  'No, sir. Sorry, sir. Will there be anything else?'

  Felix smiled. 'Not at the moment, no.'

  Chapter 15

  Dusk was turning to night as Inspector Felix ascended alone the marble staircase, passing beneath the surely scandalised ancestors in their heavy gilt frames to pause somewhat nervously on the shadowed peristyle. They were, he thought, cutting it damnably fine. Had they, perhaps, taken a puncture? Or had Rattigan somehow failed at the eleventh hour? Well, his audience was waiting and the curtain must rise. If necessary, he would have to ad lib. But even as he turned towards the state drawing room, he saw the loom of headlights sweeping across the park.

  Leaning impatiently over the balustrade he sighed with relief at the arrival of a fur-coated woman, closely followed by Rattigan and Yardley. He could scarcely discern her features in the ill-lit hall, but that mattered not at all, for the behaviour of the night-footman told him all he needed to know.

  It was Hannah Yates who silently admitted him, leaving him to cross unannounced the forty or so feet of well-worn carpet. They had, perhaps unconsciously, drawn their chairs into a loose half-circle around the Duchess, with Major Mortimer in loco mariti beside her and her sons to left and right. Lord Hoddersham had perched himself upon the piano stool, as if to gain some comfort from the proximity of the instrument, and curled in an armchair, somewhat apart from the others, was Lady George. She was wearing a blue velvet dress, the hemline fashionably high, and had kicked off her shoes. Her legs, he noted, were as lovely as the rest of her.

  'Your Grace,' began Felix, 'thank you for agreeing to this gathering, and thank you, lords and ladies, for your cooperation in coming here at such short notice. I hope I shan't need to detain you for long.' He observed them for a few moments unsmiling, feet planted a little apart, a hand grasping the opposing wrist — the stern face of the law. 'As you will be aware, a little under twelve years ago a young woman died in this house. It was not an accident, as some would like to believe, but a brutal murder, both of the woman . . . and of her unborn child.'

  He waited for the inevitable shocked reaction to die down before continuing.

  'I now know the name of her murderer and can prove his guilt. He will be in custody before the day is out.'


  Again he paused for silence, during which there came a knock at the door. Yates went to open it, admitting Stan Pearson in handcuffs, accompanied by Sergeant Nash. A upright chair was fetched and Pearson made to sit on it, Nash taking up station behind him.

  'Thank you for joining us, Mr Pearson,' said Felix cynically, and returned to his theme. 'Now, I'm sure you will agree that the murder of any human soul, be they of high or low estate, is the most heinous, the most unspeakable, of all crimes. It touches not only the victim, but many others — changing lives, ruining lives. Many here, and elsewhere, have suffered these twelve years, from grief, uncertainty and fear, and many will continue to do so. The murderer surely knows this. He must also know that if he will only confess his guilt and bring this investigation to an end, he can lighten considerably that suffering. He is in this room. He sits among you. Will he prove himself the man of honour I believe him to be and stand up?'

  This time there was silence. Patiently waiting, Felix studied their expressions, never allowing his gaze to settle for long on any one of them. He had seen that look many times in the course of his career: an obscure guilt, a nervous shrinking from the taint of association. Only one was different, and those of the women: Hannah Yates, white-faced and distinctly trembling; the Duchess haughty, condescending, and Lady George, sitting upright now, her blue eyes watching not him but her husband, every move he made.

  A minute passed, then two. 'No?' he said, and regretfully shook his head. 'Very well, let us turn to Mr Pearson. Mr Pearson, at the time of the wedding, you were a footman, were you not?'

  Pearson regarded him disdainfully but said nothing.

  'Mr Pearson, kindly answer the question.'

  'Yes, sir, I was.'

  'Can you describe to me what you wore, in that position?'

  Easing himself a little in the handcuffs, the butler gave a small shrug. 'Powdered hair, white stock, white waistcoat, burgundy coat and knee breeches, white stockings and black buckled shoes, sir.'