A Death in Chelsea

by Lynn Brittney

  In order to find out what number, Ruth devised a clever plan. She took an envelope and wrote on it ‘Miss Adeline Treborne, Trinity Mansions, Sloane Square, Chelsea, London’, then sealed the envelope and took it to Trinity Mansions herself.

  When Ruth Baker went into the foyer, she said to the porter, “My employer asked me to deliver this letter to Miss Adeline Treborne, but he hasn’t put the number of the apartment on it. Will it still get to her?”

  The porter said, “Oh, she’s in number twelve. Don’t worry, I’ll put it in her pigeonhole. It will get to her all right.”

  Beech remembered the envelope addressed to Adeline Treborne, and the blank piece of paper, in the wastepaper basket, when he had first visited the apartment.

  Sydney said that Ruth decided they would go to see Adeline Treborne very early in the morning and frighten her. Warn her off, Ruth had said. “She’ll take one look at you, Sydney, and she’ll know to leave us alone.”

  Sydney had been working at Sloane Square Underground station, mending the large iron pipe that encased the River Westbourne, which was suspended above the station tracks. He worked a night shift, so that the trains wouldn’t be disrupted.

  “I suppose you used waterproof cement?” asked Tollman. Sydney nodded.

  Ruth met him when he finished at 5.45. She took him round to the servants’ entrance and she picked the lock. “Nimble fingers,” said Sydney, smiling. “Not like me,” and he held up his large, misshapen hands. Ruth had also picked Adeline Treborne’s door lock and they had gone in.

  “But she was dead!” Sydney said in a surprised voice. “We didn’t know what to do! Then Ruthie pulled a rope off the curtains and said, ‘String her up, Sydney! Just to make sure. Then she won’t bother us no more.’ She was already dead,” he said feebly, shaking his head at the memory.

  “So, you climbed up on the bed and hung her up? Is that right, Sydney?” asked Billy gently.

  Sydney nodded. “Ruth said it was for the best. She was already dead, though.”

  “Then what happened, Sydney?” Beech chipped in.

  “We went home! Ruthie said it had been a good day and we wouldn’t have no more trouble. So, I went to bed.”

  There was a pause while Tollman and Beech stepped outside, leaving Billy to chat innocently to Sydney and keep him company.

  “Sounds like the truth, Mr Beech,” said Tollman. “I don’t think Sydney is capable of lying.”

  “No. And yet… he didn’t tell the truth when his wife was accused of murdering babies, did he?”

  “True. But he was very controlled by his wife. Perhaps she told him exactly what to say.”

  “Well, we need to find out. Get him some more tea and we’ll have a little chat with him about the babies and his wife’s death. We might as well give CID a few crumbs.”

  Tollman sorted out some tea and they settled down to have another little chat with Sydney Baker.

  “Who killed Ruthie, Sydney?” Tollman decided to get straight to the point.

  Sydney’s face crumpled. “I don’t know,” he said miserably. “I got home from work and she was lying there, knife in her chest. She was wheezing and trying to speak and I was upset. I didn’t know what to do. She just said to me, ‘Run, Sydney. Run and hide’, and then she died. She stopped breathing and I knew she was dead. I did what she told me.” He was crying now, remembering his beloved Ruthie. Billy put his arm around the big man’s shoulders to comfort him.

  “Sydney,” Tollman said quietly, “do you remember when the police took Ruthie away to ask her about the babies?” Sydney nodded. Tollman continued, “What happened to the babies?”

  Sydney shook his head. “Ruthie said never to tell anyone.”

  Billy looked at Tollman and Beech and they nodded encouragement to him to coax the big man into telling the truth.

  “Yeah, the thing is, Sydney…” Billy said in a chummy tone of voice, “I was talking to your mum and she said that you don’t have to keep a promise after someone dies. Your mum said you should tell people what happened to the babies, so that their mothers won’t search for them no more.”

  Sydney appeared to see the logic of this and answered, “Well, it was their mothers’ fault, Ruthie said. So, if I tell you, will that put it all right?”

  Billy nodded. “Yes, mate. It will.”

  So, Sydney recounted the terrible tale of Ruth Baker and her murder spree – except Sydney, poor simple Sydney, had just believed his devil of a wife when she said that each baby had died ‘for want of a mother’s love’.

  “Ruthie said that the women who gave up their babies were wicked and no matter how much Ruthie took care of them, they died because their mother didn’t love them. I said ‘Don’t take the babies in no more, Ruthie. I don’t like it when they die.’ But she said that they were entitled to a few weeks of being looked after and loved and it was her duty.”

  “What happened to the dead babies, Sydney?” Tollman asked the question he had been waiting to hear the answer to for fifteen years.

  “Gave them a Christian burial. Ruthie insisted. There’s a big flower bed in the churchyard at St Patrick’s Church in Clerkenwell. We’d bury them there at night. I would dig a deep hole and Ruthie would say a prayer. All Christian-like.”

  “Jesus, no wonder that churchyard has the most wonderful array of roses I’ve ever seen in my life!” Tollman couldn’t believe it. He’d spent the last fifteen years visiting that churchyard whenever he could to marvel at the floral display.

  “How many babies? Can you tell us?” Beech asked.

  Sydney held up both hands and Billy realised that he meant ten. “Ten?” But Sydney closed his hands, then opened them again, twice more and Billy took a deep breath, “Oh my God. Thirty?” Sydney nodded.

  All the men sat in silence at the thought of thirty small souls buried in a flower bed in Clerkenwell.

  ***

  It took Tollman and Beech until ten o’clock that night to compile a report for Sir Edward and tailor a report for the boys in CID, which told them only about Sydney’s innocence in the death of his wife and the grisly information about the bodies of the babies. Sydney was still charged with the murder of his wife, but when he protested, Billy told him it was a formality and they were going to look for Ruth’s murderer.

  Billy, after settling Sydney Baker down in the cells for the night, was sent home to Lady Maud’s house to tell the others that Beech and Tollman would be working late and that they would all have a breakfast meeting in the morning.

  “It may be that the Adeline Treborne case is closed for us now,” commented Beech to Tollman, as they were writing their reports. “We can’t prove that the drug overdose that killed her was anything other than an accident. Also, we are now handing over the Ruth Baker case to CID.”

  “Mm. Maybe, Mr Beech. But I still think Ruth Baker was killed by someone involved in the Treborne blackmailing business. Somebody took the book… why? Was that person going to carry on the blackmailing? We need to tie up the loose ends.” Tollman was not happy. There were too many unanswered questions and he knew that it would keep him awake tonight fretting over them. Then he cheered up at the thought of putting his report, and the Commissioner’s letter of authority, on Carter’s desk before he left, and Carter having to tell the boys in CID that they had thirty bodies to dig up tomorrow.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Another Ghost from Tollman’s Past

  “I would imagine that the Ruth Baker infanticide will be all over the newspapers tomorrow,” Beech said over breakfast, which had been a sombre affair once the men had revealed what had taken place yesterday.

  Victoria spoke first. “It has long been a scandal, in my opinion, that there is no proper legislation to deal with adoption. If an unwanted illegitimate child in London is lucky enough to be placed in the Foundling Hospital or a Dr Barnardo’s Home, then these instituti
ons have procedures in place for adoption and do a certain amount of vetting of prospective parents. But there are too many desperate women who turn to unscrupulous back-street baby farmers. All of this traffic in babies should be regulated.”

  Tollman sucked his breath in and shook his head. “In some ways I agree, Mrs E. But once you start regulating things, it becomes a minefield. I wouldn’t like to be the one who sets out the rules for who can and can’t adopt a baby. But I agree, these little mites should be protected from the likes of Ruth Baker.”

  Beech decided to turn the conversation back to the Adeline Treborne case. “My personal opinion is that we have maybe gone as far as we can with the Adeline Treborne case…”

  He was rudely interrupted by the women’s protestations that there was so much more to do.

  “We have to carry through with the sewing circle…” said Victoria.

  “I’m sure that I will be approached as a blackmail victim,” protested Lady Maud.

  “What about the last name on the list?” asked Caroline.

  Beech looked heavenwards. “I was about to say that, however, Mr Tollman has convinced me that we should continue and… as he said… tie up the loose ends.”

  “Quite right, Mr Tollman,” said Victoria briskly. “We can’t have any more slapdash policing.” This barb was aimed at Beech, who gritted his teeth and ignored it, but not before Caroline had noted, with surprise, the coolness between them. Tollman just looked puzzled at the comment.

  “Let us just recap what we have so far,” said Beech. “Mr Tollman, you make a start.”

  Tollman looked at his notebook. “Right. We know that Ruth Baker and her husband, Sydney, went to see Adeline Treborne early on the morning in question, hoping to put the frighteners on her. According to Sydney, Treborne was already dead. Ruth told him to string the body up, presumably to make it look like suicide, which he did. We can definitely place Sydney there because his fingerprints were found at the scene and traces of waterproof cement, which he constantly used at work. Another set of fingerprints belonged to Reginald Ingham, aka the Major, and we know he was there, from witness statements and by his own admission. There were two unknown sets of fingerprints found in the apartment. One set could be Ruth Baker’s, but we can’t know because we can’t get fingerprints off a dead body and we didn’t have fingerprinting fifteen years ago, when she was arrested on suspicion of murder. We haven’t matched the other set up yet – and we have plenty of others in the frame who would have loved to kill Adeline Treborne and get their hands on that book.”

  “One set of fingerprints must, surely, be the maid, Lily,” said Victoria, scrabbling in her bag for the maid’s address. “You could send someone round to fingerprint her. I have her address… but she doesn’t seem to have put her surname on the paper.”

  Beech took the paper and said he would organise something, then he turned to Billy and asked, “Rigsby, remind us, from your notes, who could be suspects now… bearing in mind that we are not talking about the hanging element of it but, possibly, drugging someone and stealing the book…”

  “Or, she drugged herself and the person was just there to get the book and took advantage of Adeline being insensible?” posited Caroline.

  “Ah,” interjected Victoria, “it would have had to be someone who knew what the book looked like and where it was usually kept, because don’t forget that all of you went into the apartment after Adeline Treborne died and none of you reported it to be a mess, as though someone had torn the place apart looking for the book.”

  Beech nodded. “I feel we should rule her brother out. The Duke was so devastated when I told him his sister had been blackmailing people that I cannot believe he knew about the book.”

  Billy looked at his notes and said, “Sir Anthony Jarvis’s son gave his dad an alibi, saying that they were together in Limehouse for the son’s birthday. That could be a lie, or the father could have arrived late, or the son could have slipped round to Chelsea…”

  The team all looked doubtful. Billy continued, “We only have the Major’s word for it that he went to see Adeline just to have a chat and nothing else. He insists he didn’t kill her and he doesn’t have the book. We didn’t find the book in his apartment and we searched everywhere…”

  “Besides, it’s not his style,” said Tollman. “I’ve known about Ingham’s activities for a long time and he’s just a con man. He’s never even swatted a fly.”

  Billy continued, “Don’t forget that the crabby woman next door said she thought she heard two women talking at after midnight.”

  Tollman nodded. “Yes, I remember that. Could be something or nothing.”

  Billy closed his notebook and said, “The manager of the jeweller’s shop has a solid alibi, in that he was celebrating his wedding anniversary all evening with friends and neighbours.”

  “Oh, by the way, the Yard have uncovered four of Robinson’s customers who have reported burglaries in the last six months,” Tollman added. “So I think we may have him as an accessory, unwitting or not, to insurance fraud.”

  “Well, I think we can leave that until we have closed the Treborne case,” decided Beech.

  Billy suddenly asked, “What happened at the interview with Lady Patrick, sir, because Mr Tollman and I had left then?”

  Beech stirred uncomfortably. “Lady Patrick may have to be interviewed again,” he murmured, trying to avoid catching Victoria’s eye.

  At this point, Lady Maud said, “Ah, Lady Patrick! This makes the sewing circle lady even more suspicious!”

  “How so, Maud?” said Beech curiously.

  “One of the first servants pointed out to Elsie Rigsby at this sewing circle was Lady Patrick’s maid. And some gossip was repeated about her.”

  “Such as?”

  Maud shrugged. “She was American, and she was odd.” Victoria smiled sardonically, and Maud continued, “Elsie Rigsby said that the woman who ran the circle, a Mrs Leighton, was herself very odd and very nosy. She made a point of quizzing Elsie about her employer… me, of course… and then accompanying Elsie on her walk home, which, of course, was to here. Elsie said that she seemed to be sizing up the house and she lingered until she was sure that Elsie had gone inside. I shouldn’t be surprised if I get a visit or a letter from the woman very soon, trying to extort money.”

  Mary stuck her head around the door and informed Beech that there was a telephone call for him from the Yard. After Beech left the room, Caroline whispered to Victoria, “Have you two had a falling-out?”

  Victoria whispered back, “I will tell you about it later,” which just made Caroline more intrigued.

  Beech swiftly returned and said, “It appears that Lady Patrick wishes to speak to me again and is waiting at the Yard. Victoria, I would like you to come with me and interview her.” He looked straight at Victoria, as though it were a challenge.

  Victoria rose and answered “Gladly,” in a defiant tone and marched out to get her coat and hat.

  “Er, Mr Beech,” said Tollman, anxious to get his request in before Beech disappeared. “I know the last name on the blackmail list, or rather, the place – Peachtree. It’s a little village near Gravesend. Can Billy and I go and look for this Kit B?”

  “Yes, of course. If nothing else, it will put another blackmail victim out of their misery when you tell them about the Treborne woman’s death.”

  Caroline chimed in, “I’m not working today. Can I go with Mr Tollman and Billy? I’m sure I can contribute in some way!”

  Beech looked at Tollman for approval. Tollman smiled. “I’m sure Dr Allardyce will be an asset to our investigation,” he said formally, and Billy grinned.

  As they all began to gather themselves together and go their separate ways, Beech turned to Lady Maud and said, “Maud, if you should receive any communication from this Leighton woman, do not agree to see her on your own. Let me know immediate
ly of any contact. We do not want you to be in danger. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, dear boy. I shall contact you at once.”

  ***

  When Beech and Victoria arrived at the Yard, Sergeant Stenton was waiting outside Beech’s office.

  “Begging your pardon, Chief Inspector,” he said confidentially. “Might I have a word?”

  Beech nodded, asked Victoria to wait for a moment and allowed Stenton to take him over to a large window facing Victoria Embankment. “See that gentleman there, sir?” he asked, pointing to a man who was sitting on a bench, ostensibly reading a newspaper. “He used to be in CID a few years ago. Name of Albert Wood. Bent copper who was shown the door and is now a private detective. Lady Patrick arrives here, this morning, in a state of some distress. Says she is being followed and she is in danger and wants to speak to you. One minute later, Wood turns up in another taxicab, looks dismayed because he can’t come in here, and takes up residence on the bench over there. He’s been there ever since.”

  “I see. Thank you, Sergeant. Let me know if Mr Wood moves away.”

  Stenton nodded and Beech moved over to Victoria to appraise her of the unusual situation that had cropped up. “Let us see what Lady Patrick has to say,” he murmured.

  The exquisite doll creature was glad to see Beech but, again, ignored Victoria. She wept a little and Beech waited for her to allow him to question her.

  “Lady Patrick, one of my sergeants told me that you said you were being followed and are in danger. Is this true?”

  “Yes,” she said simply. “I became aware that a man was following me, yesterday, when I came to the jewellers. He’s not very good at following people. He is very clumsy at keeping himself hidden, so I am always aware that he is there. And then, this morning, there was this…” She rifled in her clutch bag and produced a note, which she handed to Beech.