Beech went slowly around the flat, making a mental note of the contents of each room. The small kitchen was pristine, as though it was never used; the bathroom was cluttered with cosmetics and bore the tidemark of a recent bath, although the bath was dry. He noted the presence of a few crystals of bath salts on the side of the bath.
The small bedroom appeared to be part study and part storage. Two large cabin trunks were on their ends along one wall and a desk was on the wall opposite. Beech swung open one of the cabin trunks and noted that it seemed to be meticulously packed for a lengthy holiday. But where would one go, during a war? He found it odd. Ever since the Lusitania had been torpedoed by a German U-boat, two months ago, no one with any common sense was signing up for ocean-going cruises any more.
Lastly, Beech entered the main bedroom. The shape of Adeline Treborne’s body underneath the sheet seemed very small. He lifted the sheet and was surprised to see that the body looked rather peaceful and composed, apart from the purple discolouration around her neck. The cut piece of a red curtain tie-back was draped loosely round her neck, like some macabre rope of beads. The bedside table was littered with all kinds of pills and potions. They would have to be collected and investigated. He looked up at the ceiling, where the rest of the curtain tie-back was dangling from a central light pendant. He noted with alarm that it was a gas fitment, which had started to come away from the ceiling owing to the weight of the body. There was no smell of gas but he nonetheless opened the nearest window and left the bedroom, locking the door behind him. Then he left the apartment as quickly as possible to find the porter.
“Is there still a gas supply to this building?” he asked urgently as he approached Mr Bailey’s cubicle.
“Yes, sir,” replied Bailey, “although we are in the middle of changing to electricity.”
“Can you switch off the supply, at once,” Beech ordered, his tone of alarm causing Bailey to move swiftly out of his cubicle and head for the stairs. Beech followed the porter down to a cupboard, where an elaborate set of handles had to be moved to the shut-off position for each apartment in the building.
“The tenants are not going to like this, sir.”
“Well, it’s better than them being blown up,” was Beech’s terse response. “Just let all the tenants know that there is a leak and you will endeavour to have it fixed as soon as possible.”
“Shall I call the Gas Company, sir?”
“Not yet, Bailey. My people need some uninterrupted time in that apartment. I’ll let you know when you can call them in. Do you have a telephone I can use?”
“Yes, sir. Follow me back to my cubby hole.”
Beech lifted the receiver and asked the operator to connect him with Mayfair 100. After a short time, the telephone was answered by Detective Sergeant Tollman.
“Ah, Tollman, good man! Is the team all there, at the moment?”
“Yes sir,” Tollman answered, “with the addition of Miss Mabel Summersby, who is currently taking photographs of the ladies.”
“Is she, by George!” Beech said, thoughtfully. “That could be rather useful. Could you tell everyone that I shall be with them in about half an hour and to be ready.”
“Yes, sir.” Tollman sounded hopeful. “Do you wish Miss Mabel to stay then?”
“Yes, Tollman, I certainly do. I shan’t be long.”
The police driver was waiting patiently outside. Beech gave him the address in Mayfair, sat back in the passenger seat and smiled at the thought of being able to get ‘the team’ working together again. Their first case had been such a resounding success but the enforced idleness that had followed had weighed heavily with all of them.
Beech smiled, as he looked forward to being able to galvanise them into action. He realised that, although he had visited the house frequently in the last few weeks, he had missed the vibrant energy that they had all displayed while working on their first case.
Thankfully, that is all about to change, he thought contentedly as the car stuttered to a halt in front of the house.
CHAPTER TWO
The Team Prepare
Beech looked at his assembled team and relished their excited anticipation as he uttered the words, “We have another case.”
Their relief was palpable, and an air of expectation filled the room as they waited for Beech to explain further.
“Last night, Lady Adeline Treborne was found hanged in her bedroom…”
“The society gossipmonger!” Caroline interrupted in astonishment.
“Yes,” Beech continued. “She was…”
“That woman was disgusting!” This time it was Victoria interrupting, with some feeling.
Beech stared at the floor in resignation, as the two women vied with each other to remember the worst anecdotes they could about the unfortunate Adeline Treborne.
Victoria was first. “I’ve never forgotten the time when Millicent Cheshire – she was eighteen at the time – fainted at her own coming-out party – and the Treborne woman intimated in the newspaper that Caroline was pregnant…”
Caroline was outraged. “What about the time she wrote a piece about that orchestral conductor, Sir Emory Peters? She practically named every single one of his male lovers!”
“If I might continue…” Beech said, raising his voice, which made Arthur Tollman hide a smile behind his hand and Billy Rigsby flush slightly. Caroline raised her eyebrows and Victoria pursed her lips. Mabel Summersby, who only ever read scientific journals, had absolutely no idea who they were talking about and merely looked confused.
Beech continued, “Lady Adeline’s mother, the Duchess of Penhere, is of the opinion that her daughter was murdered…”
“God knows there must be enough people who wanted to perform the deed…” muttered Caroline, refusing to keep her opinion to herself.
“Peter,” asked Victoria, in a concerned tone of voice, “Are we only to be given crimes involving the aristocracy?”
Beech looked irritable and sounded even more irritable. This was not how he had imagined his announcement being received.
“Do you want to work on this case or not?” he asked bluntly.
“Yes!” came the unanimous response from the team.
“Then kindly allow me to explain the details of the case – without interruption.” He glared at Victoria and Caroline and a silence fell across the room.
“Right.” He looked around, to make sure he had everyone’s full attention, then he resumed. “As I said, Adeline Treborne seems to have hanged herself last night. The live-out maid discovered her hanging from a light fitment in the bedroom and, understandably, became hysterical. She called the boot boy, who was outside in the corridor, I presume – we will confirm that today – who, in turn, called the night porter, who then roused the day porter. Lady Adeline’s mother, the Duchess of Penhere, was called by telephone. She rushed around there by car but did not enter the apartment. Her chauffeur cut down the body, placed it on the bed, covered it with a sheet and then stood guard outside in the hallway. Meanwhile, the Duchess took a taxicab to the Commissioner’s office – apparently, Sir Edward was a good friend of the late Duke – and the Commissioner called me in. All clear so far?”
Everyone nodded. Tollman, as usual, was taking notes. Beech continued, “I then escorted the Duchess back to Trinity Mansions in Chelsea. I spoke to the chauffeur and the day porter, a Mr Hobson and a Mr Bailey, respectively. They explained to me the chain of events, nothing more. Mr Bailey’s wife had sedated the live-out maid and is going to keep her in their rooms until we question them today. I entered the apartment and found a certain degree of untidiness but nothing to suggest a struggle. She had had company for a meal. There were two dinner plates, one half empty, on the table and two used wine glasses. The bath had been used but not cleaned – but, presumably, that would have been the live-out maid’s job, as soon as she arrived. There was a
small bedroom, which contained two packed cabin trunks. In the main bedroom, the body of the deceased was on the bed, covered with a sheet. The gas fitment in the ceiling appeared to have become dislodged, presumably with the weight of the body, and I immediately opened a window and went downstairs to get the porter to turn off all the gas supply to the building. That’s it. Any questions so far?”
Tollman spoke first. “Yes, sir. What makes the Duchess so sure that her daughter did not commit suicide – other than a parent’s unwillingness to accept the act?”
Beech shook his head. “Not much, I’m afraid. She spoke of her daughter having a strong sense of self-regard, also of being very conscious of her position in society… and there was also the question of them being a staunchly Catholic family and her daughter would not be able to be buried in the family crypt if she was a suicide.”
Tollman was not convinced. “Sounds like a case of wishful thinking to me, sir. It’s hard for some relatives to cope with the fact that suicide is against the law and the Church frowns on it as well. I take it that the Duchess was aware of her daughter’s reputation?”
“Apparently they had barely spoken for months and the Duchess said that Lady Adeline’s activities had ‘greatly distressed’ the family. So, I think the Duchess harboured no illusions about her daughter.”
Caroline interjected. “Can we have a copy of the autopsy report?”
Beech smiled broadly. “We can do better than that, Caro. How would you like to perform the medical examination of the body?”
Caroline was ecstatic. “Really?! How splendid! Why do I get the honour?”
“The Duchess pleaded that she did not want her daughter’s body cut up by some police surgeon,” Beech replied, “and I promised her it wouldn’t be. Any surgery must be minimal and delicate, if you get my drift. Nothing visible once the body is dressed for burial, unless there is an absolute necessity to access the brain, for example. Unfortunately, you will have to conduct the autopsy at the scene. Not ideal conditions, I’m afraid.”
“Can I help?” Mabel Summersby asked tentatively. “Only I’ve just finished reading Dr Hans Gross’s book, Criminal Investigation, and I would rather like to put some of his knowledge into practice.”
“I suppose you read it in German, as well?” said Caroline, half-joking.
“Of course.” Mabel seemed surprised that anyone would ask. “There is no English translation at the moment.” Caroline smiled and shook her head in amusement.
“Actually, Peter,” Caroline said to Beech, “it would be very helpful if Mabel could assist me. And, also, I think it would be a good idea if she could bring her camera equipment.”
Everyone looked over to the corner of the room where Mabel’s bulky Graflex camera stood on a tripod.
“I agree. I think it would be jolly useful for us to have a visual record of the crime scene,” murmured an impressed Beech.
“Ideally, I could do with another pair of hands as well… to help me move the body and so on. Perhaps Constable Rigsby or Mr Tollman…?” She trailed off as the two policemen shook their heads firmly. Caroline looked disappointed but then Billy had an idea.
“My Aunt Sissy could help you. She used to work as an undertaker’s assistant – laying the dead out in their homes, like. Washing and dressing them and so on.”
“She sounds perfect!” Caroline was thrilled. “Can you telephone her?”
“Straight away,” said Billy, on his feet and out of the room in a flash.
“What is my task?” asked Victoria anxiously, beginning to feel left out.
“We shall all be going to Trinity Mansions.” Beech was firm. “Tollman and Rigsby will interview the porters, while you and I will talk to the live-out maid. Then we must leave Caroline’s team to their work, while you and I, Victoria, go and speak to the Duchess.”
“Without wishing to incur your displeasure again, Peter,” Victoria said pointedly, “can I just ask once more if we are only to be allowed to work on cases that involve the aristocracy?”
Beech drew a deep breath. “It is a fair point, Victoria,” he conceded, “and the answer is, I don’t know. Sir Edward has the final say on what cases we are to be given. This one happens to involve the family of a personal friend. I think, after our first case, he is aware that we can handle assignments that require extra discretion. I’m hopeful that, eventually, we will cover a broad range of crimes at all levels of society… but we must bow to Sir Edward’s wishes. The last thing we want is to unnerve him by making demands at this early stage.”
“Let’s not rock the boat, eh, Mrs E?” Tollman gave her a friendly word of advice and Victoria nodded her understanding.
Billy came back into the room and said, with a grin, “Sissy’s in a bit of a flap at being asked to assist – in her words – ‘such refined and educated ladies’, so I’m going to go and pick her up and reassure her, if that’s all right with you, sir?”
“Of course!” Beech agreed. “I am surprised, Rigsby, that your aunt is capable of being ‘in a flap’ about anything!”
“Ah, yes, well, my aunt may be able to knock the block off some East End rough who looks sideways at her, but she can’t always cope with those who may be termed ‘her betters’,” Billy said wisely. “She’ll come around, once she gets to know the two ladies.” With that, Billy put on his helmet and left.
“Fancy someone being nervous about meeting me!” Caroline exclaimed.
“Absolutely understandable,” murmured Beech. “Frankly, Caro, you are the most terrifying woman I know!” – which earned him a punch in the chest from Caroline and amused everyone else.
Mabel suddenly found her voice and said, out of the blue, “We shall need equipment for the post mortem! I need containers for the stomach contents and bodily fluids.”
Caroline agreed. “I need some equipment too. Mabel, make a list, and you and I will go to the medical suppliers in Wigmore Street first. Is it all right if Mr Tollman takes your camera equipment? He’ll be very careful, I’m sure.” She looked at Tollman for confirmation and he replied firmly, “Extremely careful, Doctor.”
Mabel unscrewed the camera from the tripod and folded everything up into a small suitcase. Tollman carefully lifted it up, as though it contained fragile porcelain, and followed Beech and Victoria out of the door.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can!” Caroline called after them and then she turned back to make a list quickly with Mabel.
***
Billy shot a glance at his aunt, sitting ramrod straight in the taxicab, and gave a small smile. He could tell that she was nervous because she had been completely silent throughout the journey so far. This was entirely unknown for the usually garrulous Sissy.
“I dunno what you’re worried about, Aunty,” said Billy, squeezing her hand. “You’ve met my governor…”
“Oh, yes, proper gentleman, Mr Beech,” Sissy said hastily. She looked at Billy and furrowed her brow. “It’s not him I’m worried about,” she said confidentially. “It’s these young women… they’re posh and professional… whatever are they going to think of someone like me? I left school at ten. I’ve only ever been in service or done laying out. What am I going to say to them?”
“Listen.” Billy tried to be firm but kind. “The lady doctor is all right. She’s got no airs and she don’t pull her punches. In fact,” he added with a grin, “she reminds me of you.”
“What do you mean, Billy?”
“She can give Mr Beech a right earache sometimes, but she makes me laugh.”
“Gertcha, you monkey!” Sissy was beginning to thaw. “What about the other one… this pharmacist?”
“Well, I don’t really know her that well,” said Billy thoughtfully. “You might find her a bit odd. She’s very clever and very scientific but she lives in a world of her own. She arrived at the house this morning with the buttons on her jacket done up
wrong and she strikes me as being away with the fairies sometimes. But Doctor Caroline rates her, so that’s good enough for me.”
“Will I be meeting the widow lady, as well?”
“What, Mrs Ellingham? You might do.”
Sissy was worried again. “She’s really posh, isn’t she? She’s Lady Maud’s daughter.”
“Look, Aunty…” Billy tried not to sound exasperated. “This isn’t like you at all! Since when have you ever worried about what people think of you? Mrs Ellingham and her mother, Lady Maud, are all right. They have a laugh and a joke like the rest of us. They might live in a house in Mayfair, with servants, but you live in a house in Belgravia now…”
“Yes, but we’re the servants, your mum and I. We don’t get ideas above our station.”
“Oi, stop that!” Billy was annoyed now. “You don’t realise how much this war has changed people. These ladies are working people now… working… just like the rest of us. Their fathers, husbands, brothers are dying out in France and elsewhere, just like the menfolk from the lower orders. God knows how many men will be left once this war is over and these women… educated women… might have to keep on working, cos they won’t be able to find a husband to support them. Everything has changed, Aunty. We’re all working class now.”
There was a silence and Billy wondered if he had gone too far; but then he reasoned that Sissy had not clipped him around the ear, so he couldn’t have upset her that much.
A Death in Chelsea Page 2