Finally, she spoke. “You’re right, Billy. I’m just being foolish. I may not have the education of these other women, but I’ve got useful skills, haven’t I?”
“Course you have. No one knows as much about boxing and dead bodies as you,” he said, in a deadpan voice, and then they both burst out laughing.
It was a marginally more confident Sissy who stepped out of the cab in front of Trinity Mansions. She was regaling Billy with a tale of her friend Edith, who worked in the department store over the road, when Beech, Tollman and Victoria came around the corner, prompting Sissy to become quiet and a little flustered again.
Billy put a protective arm around her shoulders and Victoria, remembering that Billy had said that his aunt was ‘in a bit of a flap’, strode forward and held out her hand.
“Hello, I’m Victoria Ellingham. I’m so pleased to meet you,” she said with a broad smile.
Sissy was unsure whether to curtsey or not, but as Billy had anticipated her urge and was holding her in a vice-like grip, preventing her from bending her knee, she tentatively held out her hand.
“How do you do, Miss,” she murmured, as they shook hands.
Beech then held out his hand and said, “Thank you so much for agreeing to help us out today. We do appreciate it,” and the bewildered Sissy found herself shaking his hand too.
Finally, it was Tollman’s turn. He carefully put down the suitcase containing the camera and doffed his hat. “Detective Sergeant Tollman, ma’am. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He gave a rare smile and Billy found himself astonished that his aunt’s cheeks appeared to glow.
Victoria eagerly continued, “Please call me Victoria.”
Sissy looked shocked. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Miss!” she exclaimed.
Tollman said conspiratorially, “That’s what I said, when she said that to me.” Sissy looked bemused and Tollman continued, “So we agreed that I would call her ‘Mrs E’.”
Sissy looked expectantly at Victoria. “Is that all right, then? Mrs E?”
Victoria laughed. “Of course. Whatever suits. What shall I call you?”
“Oh, Sissy’s what I’ve always been called, Mrs E, and I’m very happy with that.”
“Well then, come along, Sissy. Dr Allardyce is relying on your expertise today,” said Tollman, then he dropped his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “She’s never done a post mortem before.”
Tollman winked at Sissy, which was beginning to unnerve Billy, and he waited for Tollman to go into the building before he murmured to his aunt, “I think old Tollman’s taken a shine to you… either that or he’s sickening for something. A smile and a wink out of him in less than ten minutes! He’ll have a heart attack if he carries on like this.”
Sissy laughed and elbowed Billy in the ribs. “Leave it out, you silly sod! I think they’re all lovely. I don’t know what I was worried about.”
“Well, don’t get any funny ideas about walking out with Tollman, now, cos he’s a widower with three grown-up daughters at home, who lead him a merry dance. You don’t want to be doing with any of that.”
“Oh, shut up, Billy… as if I’d be interested in Mr Tollman!”
As they ascended the steps into Trinity Mansions, Sissy asked, “How long’s he been a widower then?”
When Caroline and Mabel arrived, carrying baskets of bottles, jars and Caroline’s medical bag, Sissy and Billy were waiting for them in the foyer, the others having gone downstairs to conduct various interviews. All concerns about introductions and formalities were abandoned as Sissy scrambled to relieve Caroline of a basket she was about to drop, and Billy did likewise for Mabel.
“Oh, thank you so much… er…” Caroline looked harassed.
“Sissy.”
“Sissy. I’m Caroline and this is Mabel. I think we have far too much equipment here but neither of us have ever done a proper post mortem before.”
“I’m sure you’ll have no problems, Doctor,” said Sissy encouragingly, refusing once again to be drawn into using Christian names.
“Have you got my camera equipment?” asked Mabel anxiously, and Billy pointed to the corner of the foyer.
“All safe and sound, Miss Summersby. Shall we take the lift up to the second floor?”
Billy picked up the camera suitcase and opened the two metal grilles of the lift. Everyone stepped inside, and he pressed the button.
“Bit of a squash in here, eh, ladies?” He was trying to be jovial, but he could see that they were not in the mood. Everyone, including Sissy, was thinking about what had to be done when they entered the apartment.
Before he opened the door with the keys Beech had given him, he instructed the ladies to put on gloves. “There is going to be someone coming down here from the Yard later on today to try and find some fingerprints – if Mr Beech feels that further investigation is needed.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Mabel commented. “Important standard procedure. Excellent.”
All the ladies, suitably gloved, were then ushered into the gloom of Adeline Treborne’s apartment. Billy set down the camera case and left to resume his duties as support for DS Tollman.
They set all the equipment down in a corner of the living room and Mabel began to assemble the camera and tripod.
“Mabel, you carry on here, while Sissy and I go and have a first look at the corpse.” Caroline was anxious to get under way. “I’ve never seen a corpse from a hanging before,” Caroline confided to Sissy, “have you?”
“Yes, Doctor,” was the surprising answer, as Sissy took her coat off and revealed that she was wearing an oilskin apron. “The undertaker I used to work for did two burials of clients who had hanged themselves. One was in 1912 and the other was just last year. It was a shock the first time I saw a corpse like that, but I knew what to expect the second time.”
They reached the bed and Caroline drew back the sheet, exposing the body of Adeline Treborne.
“And I can confidently say, Doctor,” said Sissy firmly, “that this lady did not die from hanging.”
CHAPTER THREE
“The Lady Had Very Few Visitors.”
Mrs Bailey was making a huge pot of tea when Billy arrived down in the staff quarters and everyone else was seated around a large, well-scrubbed kitchen table. It was quite a crowd. Aside from Beech, Tollman and Victoria, there was a pale-faced girl (Billy assumed she was the live-out maid who had discovered the body), a thin lad, about fifteen years of age – probably the boot boy – and a man who kept yawning, presumably the night porter who needed his bed.
“Oh, and here’s another one!” Mrs Bailey said brightly, as Billy took his helmet off and sat down in a vacant chair. She began dispensing tea into a battery of china cups and then placing them on the table for everyone to help themselves. “Milk and sugar are over there, Davey. Go and fetch them, there’s a good lad.” The boy obediently trotted over to a large dresser and returned with a milk jug and sugar bowl. Mrs Bailey settled herself down in front of a cup of tea and Tollman got out his notebook.
“Right.” Beech took the lead. “Mr Jenkins…” – he looked at the yawning man – “I can see that you are struggling to stay awake, so perhaps we should start with your version of events.”
“Sorry, sir.” Jenkins tried to stifle a yawn. “I’m not normally this tired but it’s been a very difficult night, hasn’t it, Mrs Bailey?” He looked at her for support.
Mrs Bailey sighed. “Not one of our best, Mr Jenkins. Not one of our best.” She turned to Beech and elaborated. “You see, sir, although the staff down here are not servants… we are paid employees of the landlords… some of the tenants treat us like servants and we are expected to respond kindly.”
“Please elaborate, Mrs Bailey.”
“Well, last night, for example, David went round the building at ten, to collect all the boots and shoes. Well, he had to make two trip
s last night, didn’t you Davey?” David nodded his head furiously.
There was a small silence and, realising that David was not going to elaborate, Mrs Bailey took up the baton again. “It was on account of Mr Ledbetter, in apartment nine, putting out six pairs of shoes. Six! The poor lad didn’t have enough room in his basket. And then Miss Cavendish in number eleven had left a note out for him and he had to bring it down to me. Davey don’t read, you see,” she added by way of explanation.
“What did the note say?” asked Tollman, always a stickler for the details.
“Huh. Complaint, of course! It always is with number eleven. She was complaining that Davey got polish on her shoelaces and she marked her gloves putting them on. Poor Davey! He tries very hard and she’s always got some complaint.”
Beech was trying to progress the investigation. Jenkins seemed determined to deflect all questions to Mrs Bailey and Beech sensed that she could get easily sidetracked. “Well, that was at about ten thirty. Then I got a summons from her in number seventeen.” She pointed over to the wall of numbered bells by which the tenants summoned the staff. “That was at about eleven. So, I goes up there and she’s got bad indigestion, so I came downstairs to get the bicarbonate of soda, to take it back up to her…”
“Is this normal?” Tollman interjected, with a tone of disbelief in his voice. “Only it seems to me that you’re running a hotel here, not an apartment block!”
Mrs Bailey looked triumphant. “That’s exactly what I said to the management company, the last time they visited. If you want this place to be run like a hotel, then you’ll have to employ more staff! The tenants are not supposed to bother housekeeping services, which is me, after ten o’clock at night. They’re supposed to ring the duty porter if they have a problem. But no, her in number seventeen says, ‘Ooh, I couldn’t discuss my digestive system with Mr Jenkins! That wouldn’t be ladylike!’ Silly mare! So, it was nearly midnight before I climbed into bed.”
Billy grinned, and Mrs Bailey winked at him. “More tea, love?”
“Don’t mind if I do, Mrs Bailey.”
“What about you, Lily, love?” she said, in a voice of concern, addressing the pale-faced girl at the corner of the table. Lily nodded. “Plenty of hot sweet tea, eh? When you’ve had a shock, like you have.” Lily nodded again, and tears began to well in her eyes. Victoria put a protective arm around her.
“Perhaps Lily should go back to bed with her cup of tea, and she and I can have a little chat. What do you think?” She looked at Beech for approval.
“I think that would be a good idea,” he replied.
“Yes, you take Lily back to my bedroom, Miss, and I’ll bring the tea through.” Mrs Bailey directed them along the hall and came back to making a fresh pot of tea. “Is she a lady policeman, then?” she asked Beech, in reference to Victoria.
“No. A trained nurse,” he answered quickly. “We sometimes bring them with us on our investigations when we feel someone may be in need of assistance.”
“Oh, that’s a good idea!” Mrs Bailey was impressed, and she turned her attention to stirring the large pot. “Tell them about your night, Mr Jenkins, afore you fall asleep on us!” she chuckled, as she swept out of the kitchen bearing a cup of tea for Lily.
“Yes, well, normally it’s very quiet – except during the London season,” he said, with reference to the social season enjoyed by the upper classes during the summer. “Then you get tenants coming in at all hours, with no regard for the amount of noise they make. But, anyway, last night, I had two tenants ring me. One at one o’clock in the morning to say that he was awoken by the sound of a door banging constantly and another tenant rang me at six this morning to say that her gas supply had stopped working…”
“Did you say six o’clock?” Beech interrupted. Jenkins nodded. “And where is this tenant’s apartment in relation to Miss Treborne’s?”
“The one directly above, sir. Mrs Amory in apartment thirteen. She is right above Miss Treborne.”
“And what about the banging door?” Tollman asked.
“Oh, yes. That was because someone had left the staff entrance slightly ajar and it was moving in the breeze. Hardly what I would call banging, but then Major Sutcliffe reckons he’s got incredibly sensitive hearing and, of course, his apartment on the first floor is right above the staff entrance.”
“Where is this staff entrance and who has keys to it?” Billy could see that Tollman was getting interested.
“I can take you down there, if you like,” Jenkins volunteered, rising to his feet.
“Billy.” Tollman rose also and nodded to Billy to follow.
Jenkins led them down the corridor, past the bedroom – where Billy noted that Lily was sitting up in bed, weeping, and recounting her story to Victoria – and then through a door and up a flight of stairs, which brought them out beside the porter’s cubicle. Mr Bailey was sorting the day’s post into the tenants’ pigeonholes and nodded an acknowledgement as they swept past and down an uncarpeted flight of stairs in the corner of the foyer. At the bottom of the stairs, there was a door to the outside world and two further uncarpeted staircases led up either side of the door.
“This is the staff entrance,” explained Jenkins, “so that all servants, whether live-in or live-out, can enter or leave without coming through the front foyer. In fact, it is not allowed, unless they are accompanying a tenant. For example, there are three ladies in this apartment block that have live-in maids and companions, who go everywhere with them. They can pass through the front foyer, if they are accompanying their mistress, but not if they are on their own. Unless, of course, they have to come down to see the porter. These staircases…” he continued, pointing up one and then the other, “lead to either end of each floor in the building.”
Billy walked up a few steps and his studded boot falls echoed loudly around the stairwell.
“Noisy, isn’t it?” he commented.
Jenkins agreed. “That’s what the Major says, because he’s right by all of this, on the next floor. Mind you, his flat is the cheapest in the block.” He lowered his voice confidentially. “He can’t afford no more rent than he pays now, I heard him say once to another tenant, so he has to put up with it.”
They turned their attention to the door. “Mm. Basic pin tumbler lock,” said Tollman knowledgeably, “easily picked, if you know what you’re doing. How many people have keys to this door?”
Jenkins looked uncomfortable. “I couldn’t rightly say, to be honest. Over the years, the tenants have asked for keys for their personal staff – live-in and live-out. It’s easy to lose track…” He tailed off when Tollman gave him a disapproving look.
“No second lock or bolt, I note,” Tollman added, still fixing Jenkins with a look that implied negligence on behalf of the management.
Jenkins became somewhat defensive. “It’s not possible, Detective Sergeant, for us to bolt the door from the inside. Too many people coming and going. We’d soon have complaints from the tenants if their staff couldn’t come and go at all hours!”
“So, in other words, it’s a complete free-for-all down here, then?” Tollman commented, and Billy could see that he was becoming exasperated. “Show me one of the keys for this door.”
Jenkins lifted up a bundle of keys attached to his belt and separated out one flat silver key from the rest.
“As I thought.” Tollman’s tone was contemptuous. “The sort of key you can get any locksmith to copy easily. You and your mate, Bailey, are going to have to go around all the tenants in this building and find out exactly how many keys to this door are in circulation… and I want a list… by tomorrow!”
“Oh, what?!” Jenkins was not best pleased.
“I could always do it, Mr Tollman,” said Billy grimly, not making a serious offer, merely pointing out the alternative. Jenkins quickly grasped its significance.
“All right, all r
ight.” He put his hands up in submission. “Last thing we want is a hulking great copper banging on everyone’s doors. Bailey and I will do it.”
Billy gave a subtle wink of satisfaction to Tollman.
“We’d better speak to this Major, then,” said Tollman.
“Sorry, Mr Tollman,” was the reply, “he went out just after seven this morning and he won’t be back until late – if at all.”
“Know where he’s gone?”
“Hurlingham Club, probably, Mr Tollman. The Major’s a top-class polo player. That’s why he’s always broke. Very expensive sport to maintain, I hear. Them ponies cost an arm and a leg to keep.”
“I thought the cavalry had taken all the horses for the war,” commented Billy.
“Apparently not,” said Jenkins, as he led them up the back stairs again. “According to the Major, he and some of the other players had to fight tooth and nail to keep their ponies safe and sound in Britain. Obsessed with horses is our Major.”
***
“It must have been a terrible shock for you, Lily,” said Victoria softly, as she urged Lily to drink some more tea. “I don’t know what I would have done in those circumstances.”
Victoria assessed that Lily was probably about fifteen years of age. She appeared fragile – a slim, blonde wisp of a girl – but there were already lines on the face that betrayed a few years of hard work.
Lily’s bottom lip trembled.
“I wouldn’t have known, Miss, if I hadn’t heard a creaking noise coming from the bedroom. I usually go straight into the bathroom and clean the bath and then quietly go about my other cleaning. Miss Adeline used to sleep until very late in the morning and she didn’t like to be disturbed.”
“So, you heard a creaking noise and went to investigate?” Victoria was gently insistent.
“Yes.” Lily’s voice dropped to a whisper. “She was swinging from the light fitment…” Lily put her hands up to her mouth at the memory.
“Lily, I’m sorry to ask you this horrible question… but was Miss Treborne in her death throes?”
A Death in Chelsea Page 3