The House of the Hanged Woman (Albert Lincoln)

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by Ellis, Kate


  ‘As a matter of fact, I have,’ Kelly said, gesturing Albert to take a seat. ‘Turns out we were right. Both our friend in the cave and the Reverend Bell were poisoned. A large amount of laudanum was found in the reverend’s body – same with our unidentified victim. I suppose suicide’s a possibility in the vicar’s case.’

  ‘I think that’s unlikely.’

  ‘From what I saw of him, I tend to agree. And suicides don’t bash their own faces to a pulp, so our man in the cave was definitely murdered. We can only assume that both men were somehow tricked into consuming laudanum.’

  Albert took a moment to absorb this new information. Mrs Bell had been right to suspect her husband’s death hadn’t been natural; he wondered how he was going to break the news to her. And the news that the man in the cave had died in the same way suggested a connection. Although he couldn’t imagine what that connection could be.

  ‘The bottle I gave you – the one I found in the stables at Tarnhey Court?’

  Kelly sat back in his chair and arched his fingers. ‘The bottle contained eye drops. Quite a common remedy. It’s a poison and not to be taken by mouth, but it’s definitely not an opiate. We can rule it out.’

  ‘Laudanum’s easily available.’

  ‘It isn’t as easily available as it used to be, but there’ll still be a bottle or two in many households. I’m afraid you’re looking for the proverbial needle in a haystack.’

  Albert watched the doctor’s face. It was clear he had no idea of the real reason for his visit and he almost felt guilty. He liked the man.

  ‘There’s something else I need to ask you, Doctor. It’s a delicate matter.’

  Kelly grinned. ‘You should have come to my surgery, but I’ll make an exception just this once.’ He leaned forward. ‘What seems to be the trouble?’

  The misunderstanding didn’t make Albert’s task any easier. ‘It’s not about my health. You were seen talking to Rose Pretting.’

  ‘Oh.’ The doctor sat back and arched his fingers again.

  ‘You’ve been meeting her?’

  ‘I’ve bumped into her from time to time.’ He paused. ‘It’s an occupational hazard, I’m afraid – patients developing a … crush.’

  ‘Letters were found hidden in Rose’s house. They’re from a man. Did you write them?’

  Kelly sighed and shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t do anything so stupid.’

  ‘But you don’t deny she had a crush on you. Did you feel the same?’

  Kelly suddenly rose from his seat, a spark of anger in his eyes. ‘I admit she used to contrive meetings, make doe eyes at me, come to my surgery with imagined maladies. She even followed me sometimes when I went out on walks. But I swear I never gave her any encouragement.’

  ‘Was she with you when you discovered the body of the man in the cave?’ It was a guess but when Albert saw Kelly’s reaction he knew his question had hit home.

  The doctor sank back into his chair and took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t say anything at the time because I was embarrassed. I saw her and I slipped into the cave in the hope of shaking her off.’ He shook his head. ‘I’m sure she genuinely believed that I was interested in her, but it was all in her imagination. First of all she was married and her husband, in my opinion, was a brute. Secondly there’s the fact that she’s my patient and I wouldn’t risk being struck off the medical register even if I was attracted to her – which I’m not. I felt sorry for her but that’s as far as it went. Besides, there’s a young lady in Manchester I see from time to time; a sister in the Royal Infirmary there. I wasn’t interested in Rose Pretting and I hoped she’d get the message eventually, but in the meantime I did all I could to avoid her.’

  ‘You were seen having words with her.’

  The doctor looked exasperated. ‘I was trying to explain to her as kindly as I could that there was nothing between us, but she was behaving as though she didn’t believe me. In the end I told her to leave me alone and stormed off in frustration. I didn’t wish to hurt her feelings, but I couldn’t allow her to continue with her delusions, could I?’

  Albert watched the man’s face and his instincts told him that he was telling the truth. ‘Let’s return to the day you discovered the body. Did Rose follow you into the cave?’

  Kelly’s face reddened and he nodded slowly. ‘I’d just slipped into the cave when she appeared at the entrance. She came inside and began … She was carrying on as though we’d arranged to meet there and before I knew it she was kissing me. I pushed her away. Told her to go home.’

  ‘But she didn’t?’

  ‘No. I think she’d have stayed if I hadn’t noticed the smell of rotting flesh. There’s no smell like it and I knew something was wrong. I took out my lighter and when I flicked it on I saw the body. She saw it and gave a little scream but at least it meant she didn’t want to hang around. She ran out of the cave and I assume she went home. Then I informed the police, saying I’d gone there later that day and praying she hadn’t said anything. If it had come out that she was there too, people might have got hold of the wrong end of the stick.’

  ‘You know Sergeant Teague is looking for Rose’s lover? He’s certain the man killed Bert Pretting at Rose’s request so they could be together.’

  ‘Unless she was pursuing some other poor chap, I think the lover existed only in her head.’ He thought for a moment. ‘I don’t think her marriage was happy, so it’s possible she sought comfort elsewhere – but not with me.’

  Kelly looked straight at Albert, anxious to be believed. Everything about his story seemed to fit with the letters from Rose’s wardrobe. Albert had encountered many guilty men and women in the course of his police career but he was as sure as he could be that the doctor wasn’t one of them.

  However he knew it wouldn’t be long before Sergeant Teague spoke to Edward Price and made the connection. And he couldn’t trust the sergeant not to reach the obvious conclusion.

  He left the doctor’s surgery, the house that held so many unsettling memories, fearing there might be another arrest. And this one might not be justified.

  Chapter 58

  When Albert arrived back at the police station he made for his office and shut the door behind him. As soon as he’d sat down his telephone began to ring. It was Scotland Yard. Sergeant Sam Poltimore.

  ‘Sir, I’ve found out that your mother-in-law’s arranged Mary’s funeral for tomorrow. Three o’clock at that so-called church of hers, followed by burial in the municipal cemetery. I called round to offer my condolences and one of her cronies from that church was there. I overheard her discussing the arrangements. Thought you’d like to know.’

  ‘Thanks, Sam. I’ll make sure I’m there. Not that I’ll be welcome.’

  ‘There’s something else you should know. I’ve been making enquiries into that reverend – Thomas Gillit. My cousin in Kent remembers a Tommy Gillingham who lived in the Rochester area before the war. Used to claim he was some kind of medium and went round big houses getting in touch with dead loved ones. He was quite popular at one time, then there was a bit of a scandal. Some writer exposed him as a fraud and he left the area. Do you think it could be the same chap?’

  Albert thought for a while. ‘Any way of finding out?’

  ‘I can try,’ said Sam cheerfully. Albert knew that once Sam had the bit between his teeth he wouldn’t give up. Since Mary’s death, Gillit no longer had the power to affect his life, but it would still be good to be proved right … and to save others from Gillit’s smooth trickery.

  The moment he’d finished the call there was a knock on his door and Constable Smith hurried in. Standing in front of his desk like a schoolboy called to the headmaster’s study, he announced, ‘You know that Ford motor car hired from New Mills, sir? A constable from Bowness called me on the telephone half an hour ago. It’s been spotted.’

  ‘He’s sure it was the right car?’

  Smith suddenly appeared unsure of himself. ‘He didn’t get the registration number, but
it was a Ford and he hadn’t seen it before. It was black.’

  ‘I think they all are,’ said Albert quietly, not wishing to dampen the young man’s enthusiasm.

  ‘He said the driver fitted Mr Billinge’s description. I told him to stop it if he saw it again. Did I do right, sir?’

  ‘You did very well, Smith,’ said Albert, favouring the constable with a smile. ‘What about the hotel?’

  ‘It sounds like it’s our man all right. But he checked out yesterday.’

  This wasn’t what Albert wanted to hear but he tried to hide his disappointment.

  ‘What if they find him, sir? Will they arrest him or what?’

  ‘What on earth for? I was called up here because it was thought he’d been murdered, but if he’s found up there safe and well, the matter will be closed. It’s not against the law to go off somewhere on your own to think things over.’

  ‘If it does turn out to be him, will you be going back to London?’ Albert saw a forlorn look on Smith’s youthful face.

  ‘Not yet.’ He paused. ‘I’ve been talking to Dr Kelly and he now has proof that the Reverend Bell was poisoned.’

  Smith’s mouth fell open. ‘Who’d want to poison the old vicar? Everyone liked him.’

  ‘The doctor also says that the unidentified man in the cave was poisoned with the same substance, so there could be a connection. I need to speak to Sergeant Teague – bring him up to date with developments.’

  ‘I’ll tell him to come in, shall I, sir?’ Smith said before leaving the room to take up his post behind the front desk.

  Through the open door of his office Albert saw Sergeant Teague give Smith a curt nod of acknowledgement and, after a moment’s hesitation on the threshold, he entered and stood to attention by Albert’s desk.

  ‘You wanted to see me, sir?’

  Albert told him to sit down and when he repeated what he’d just told Smith he saw a look of disbelief on the sergeant’s face.

  ‘The old vicar – murdered? I can’t believe that. He was a harmless sort and very popular in the village. Even his sermons weren’t too long. He died of natural causes. Everyone knew that. Even the doctor,’ Teague said, as though he suspected Albert of lying.

  ‘Mrs Bell wrote to me in London to tell me she thought there was something odd about her husband’s death, but I decided not to say anything until I had proof. And now I have that proof I want to undertake a full investigation.’

  Teague frowned. ‘It might have been accidental … or he might have taken his own life.’

  ‘I think that’s unlikely, don’t you? We need to find out who the Reverend Bell visited on the night he died. And that means house-to-house enquiries. Can I leave you to arrange that, Sergeant?’ Before the sergeant could answer Albert carried on. ‘And if we find out who’s responsible for the vicar’s death we might be closer to discovering who killed the man in the cave.’

  ‘I don’t see how there can be a connection, sir. Unless it’s some mad man.’ His eyes lit up. ‘Or mad woman. That Mrs Pretting was planning to poison her husband. Maybe the reverend found out somehow and she silenced him.’

  This scenario hadn’t occurred to Albert, but he said nothing as he watched Teague leave his office. Perhaps the man was right about Rose Pretting after all. If Kelly was to be believed, she’d lost touch with reality and lived in a fantasy world. But could Kelly be trusted?

  There were times when Albert doubted his own judgement.

  Chapter 59

  Rose

  I’ve asked the inspector from Scotland Yard to visit me in this place of smells and wickedness. They’ve given me a rough dress to wear and taken my clothes and make-up off me. I’m not allowed any comforts, they say. Murderesses don’t deserve them.

  The wardresses look at me as though I’m an unpleasant insect that’s landed in their food. I can feel their disgust and hatred as they bark their orders at me. They tell me I’m to face a trial and they say the jury doesn’t like people like me. Women who betray their husbands and then plan to kill them so they can be with some fancy man. They keep telling me I have to name my Darling Man but I won’t. Never.

  They say I’m going to be hanged. One of the wardresses, the fat nasty one with the eyes like tiny grey buttons, told me how the hangman comes to measure you the night before and how they tie your hands and ankles and shove a hood over your head before it happens. She said it’s what murdering whores deserve. But I never murdered anybody. All I did was dream about it.

  There is one wardress who’s not so bad. She even asked me if I was all right yesterday. I asked her to pass on the message but I don’t know if I can trust her, even though she did give me a smile. I told Sergeant Teague about Bert’s secret but he took no notice, so I need to see the inspector. I need to make sure he knows all about what Bert was up to. It’s my only hope.

  Chapter 60

  On Saturday morning Albert asked Mrs Jackson to serve his breakfast early and by seven o’clock he was arranging his knife and fork on his empty plate and taking his final swig of strong tea. He wanted to catch the seven-thirty train to London so he’d have time to call in at Scotland Yard before attending Mary’s funeral. He’d telephoned Sam the day before and asked him to contact an expert he’d used in several previous investigations and arrange a meeting. Sam had promised to take care of it.

  After speaking to Sam, he’d visited Rose Pretting’s home and Dr Kelly’s surgery. The doctor had been surprised by his unusual request but Albert had come away from his house with the evidence he hoped would help to clear up the matter of Bert Pretting’s death. He hadn’t told Sergeant Teague what he’d done, and he wanted the man kept in ignorance until he was certain of his ground.

  The uneventful journey to London allowed Albert time to turn the cases over in his mind. He had to acknowledge that he was no nearer to bringing the killer of the man at the Devil’s Dancers and the Reverend Horace Bell to justice now than when he’d first arrived in Wenfield. He stared out of the window at the passing landscape with a feeling of helplessness. His only glimmer of light in the darkness was the possibility that Henry Billinge MP might soon be found alive and well in the Lake District.

  Once in London he took a taxi to Scotland Yard where Sam was waiting for him with a small elderly woman wrapped in enough furs to face a Moscow winter. Mrs Greenbaum felt the cold, Sam explained.

  Albert shook the woman’s birdlike hand and she looked up at him through her thick pince-nez and smiled.

  ‘Sergeant Poltimore here says your wife has recently passed away. My condolences.’

  Albert thanked her politely, experiencing an unexpected stab of grief at the reminder.

  He was relieved when at last he was able to get down to business. He’d used Mrs Greenbaum’s expertise with written documents several times before and he trusted her judgement. He took the samples of handwriting obtained from Kelly’s surgery and Rose’s house from the briefcase he was carrying and told her what he wanted her to do. She promised to let him know the results of her investigations as soon as possible.

  When Mrs Greenbaum had gone, Albert headed for his office and Sam followed, picking up a cardboard file on the way which he carried to Albert’s office under his arm like an officer’s swagger stick.

  ‘Know that cousin I was telling you about? The one in Kent?’ Sam said as he sat down and placed the file on the desk in front of him.

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘Well, he suggested I get in touch with the local paper, ’cause there was a bit of a scandal at the time. I telephoned the paper and they sent me some old cuttings from 1912 before the war.’

  Sam pushed the file towards Albert, who opened it and scanned the contents with a satisfied smile.

  ‘I’ll see you at the funeral,’ said Sam.

  Albert nodded, grateful that he’d have some support among the members of the League of Departed Spirits.

  Once his business at Scotland Yard was over, he took the tram to Bermondsey. The curtains of his hou
se were drawn as was the custom, but the front door was ajar to allow the neighbours to come in and pay their respects.

  When he stepped into the house it seemed colder than usual and silent, apart from a low murmur of voices from the parlour. He took a deep breath, summoning his courage before entering the room. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected to see but the sight of Mary lying in the centre of the room in an open coffin shook him for a moment. Vera was bent over her daughter’s body, gently stroking her hair and muttering what sounded like words of comfort while Thomas Gillit looked on, a benevolent half smile on his face.

  There were other people in the room too, mostly women in black gathered near the window like a gaggle of crows. As soon as Albert entered the room all eyes turned on him, some curious, some hostile.

  It was Vera who spoke first. ‘I told you, you’re not welcome here. Get out.’

  There was a flurry of anticipation as though the little audience in black were hoping to witness an interesting scene, something they could gossip about for weeks to come. Albert ignored them and stood his ground.

  ‘As Mary’s husband I’ve every right to be here.’ He searched for the right words. ‘Mary and I went through a lot together. She was my wife.’ He glanced at Vera, but she looked away.

  Then he turned to face Gillit. ‘I’m sure you’ll agree that it would be wrong to turn me away, Mr Gillingham. It is Tommy Gillingham, isn’t it?’ He tried his best to make the question sound innocent.

  The man didn’t answer and Vera came to his rescue. ‘This isn’t the time or the place, Albert. I said you’re not welcome.’

  At that moment the door opened and Sam Poltimore walked in, taking his place at Albert’s side. With the arrival of a stranger, Vera’s anger subsided into a withering look.

  Although Albert was tempted to confront Gillit there and then with the evidence Sam had discovered, he realised that at least he should let Mary be decently buried first. He heard the clip-clop of horse’s hooves outside the window, announcing the arrival of the hearse.

 

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