Miss Matilda Hayward and the Freak Show (Miss Matilda Hayward series Book 1)

by Helen Goltz

  Chapter 17

  Carl Tufton stood, arms crossed over his singlet-clad chest and blocking the entrance to his lodgings. He was a solid man of ordinary height, balding on top, with tufts of grey and brown hair for sideburns. His face was weathered from years of farming before he determined that a lady of abnormal size should be his wife and thus could handsomely provide for him if he took on the role of business manager.

  ‘I’ve been expecting you; I thought I would be your first port of call,’ he said, looking from Detective Ashdown to Detective Dart with a scowl.

  ‘Can we step inside?’ Thomas asked, flashing his badge for good measure.

  Tufton moved aside. His breakfast tray was still on the table as they entered, and he shoved it out in the hallway to be collected. He preferred not to eat with the other lodgers, too much small talk required, and he found himself to be by far the most interesting of the guests.

  ‘Not staying with the wife in her caravan then?’ Harry asked, knowing the answer.

  ‘You’ve met her, haven’t you?’ Tufton snickered. ‘Not much room left in that caravan. And before you ask, she’s better off staying there and not here so she’s got access to the exhibition if she gets any special requests. Private visits can make us a lot of money.’

  Thomas sniffed his displeasure. He pulled out a chair from under a small table near the door of the boarding house room as Tufton lowered himself on the edge of the bed, and Harry took the only decent lounge seat.

  ‘Tell us about your visit to Mr Burnham that evening,’ Thomas began.

  ‘You read what I said to the young cop?’

  ‘We did. So, colour it in for us,’ Harry responded. ‘Be as detailed as you can, it all helps.’

  Tufton sighed. ‘The Mrs, Anna, has been working for Burnham now for four years and she’s his biggest draw card. But since he got that new manager, her expenses have increased but her wages haven’t risen. I went to put that right.’

  Thomas nodded. ‘So why do you think Mrs Tufton is the biggest draw card?’

  ‘She is. He featured her in all his advertising. The other exhibitors are freaks of nature. Big deal, born unlucky. Anna is a giantess,’ he said, emphasising the word. ‘Remember when you were a kid and you read about giants, dragons, fairies, all the mysteries of the world? Anna is not a freak, she’s part of mythology. She’s a real giant.’

  He had the gift of selling; he was so good that Thomas almost believed him.

  ‘So that’s why you fell in love with her and asked her to be your wife?’ Harry asked, drily.

  Tufton gave Harry a scowl that changed his countenance and made him look like the kind of man who could give even the biggest woman a good beating or injure a man, for that matter.

  ‘I’ve known Anna for years. We grew up in the same community, and we went to the same church. It was a natural progression,’ he said.

  ‘Why didn’t you negotiate with Wilks if he was the new manager?’ Thomas asked.

  ‘Wilks! I don’t like the man, and Burnham was still the owner. I’ve always negotiated with him. He’s a fair man, he was a fair man.’

  ‘So, he agreed to pay more then?’ Harry asked.

  Tufton shook his head. ‘No. But he wasn’t opposed outright to the idea, and he agreed Anna was their best attraction, but he said he’d have to look at the books. He complained about costs going up – costs to rent the ground, put advertising in the newspaper, even the food bill. He said everything had gone up but if he put up the price of entry, fewer people would come.’

  ‘What happened in your last ten minutes together?’ Thomas asked, keen for Tufton’s version of events.

  Tufton frowned as he thought about it. ‘Well, he promised he would look at the books and get back to me. He said if I wanted to come up with some other ideas to promote Anna, he’d be open to it, and then I thanked him and left. He was alive and about to turn in for the night when I left.’

  Neither Thomas nor Harry spoke for a moment, hoping Tufton might add more but he didn’t. He knew his way around a police interview.

  ‘That it then?’ Tufton asked.

  Thomas drew himself up in his seat. ‘We heard the meeting involved Mrs Tufton but she left because there was some tension.’

  ‘Tension? That’s an outright lie, there was never any tension,’ he added indignantly.

  ‘You’ve got a bit of a history of getting hot under the collar,’ Harry said.

  ‘I know what you’re doing here.’ Tufton rose.

  Harry rose as well, ready to subdue him if necessary; he was fairly confident he could still land a good right hook.

  Tufton snapped at them, ‘You’re trying to pin this on me. I can see how I’d fit it neatly for you, but I’m telling you, there was no tension. Why would I kill the man who provided our living? I might have been frustrated but I’m not a bloody idiot.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else around or hear anything unusual?’ Thomas asked, his voice moderate, not rising to Tufton’s anger.

  Tufton strode to the window, looked out, and then turned and leaned back against the sill. Harry sat in the chair he had abandoned.

  ‘I saw Wilks and his wife hovering around, as always. They were walking back from the kitchen tent, probably giving the chef a hard time for something.’

  ‘Did they join you and Mr Burnham during the discussion at any time?’ Harry asked.

  ‘No. I just saw them as I was leaving, and they were walking towards their caravan. She’s an attractive woman, and I heard he doesn’t let her out of his sight.’

  Thomas stored that detail and rose to leave.

  ‘What’s my wife been saying?’ Tufton asked.

  ‘Nothing to us and nothing that incriminates you,’ Harry assured him.

  ‘She’s been talking with that woman from the newspaper. Probably getting ideas of independence. Are you sure she didn’t tell you something?’

  ‘Like what?’ Harry asked.

  Tufton shrugged.

  ‘No. Nobody told us anything pertaining to you that you don’t already know,’ Thomas assured him and sighed. ‘Right then. Don’t leave town before the exhibition does.’

  Thomas opened the door and departed with Harry close behind. They headed down the stairs of the boarding lodge, and as they walked past the front of the building, Thomas looked up to see Tufton watching them from his room window.

  ‘What’s your thoughts on him?’ Thomas asked Harry.

  ‘A bastard of a husband, a shrewd businessman, and way too greedy to kill the source of his income,’ Harry muttered.

  ‘Yeah, couldn’t agree more.’

  *****

  ‘Someone to see you, sir,’ the young desk clerk said as Thomas and Harry entered the police station twenty minutes later. ‘She has been waiting for about ten minutes and said she’d leave if you weren’t back by the top of the hour.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Thomas said and headed down the hallway to his office with Harry close behind.

  Thomas cast around in his mind for victims or relatives who may be waiting to speak with him – he hated this part of the job, as it required empathy and time and he felt short on both. And then he stopped on hearing the sound of her voice coming from his office. A young police officer came out of that very room, smiling, and sobered at seeing the detectives. Thomas quickened his step and ignored the officer who acknowledged the detectives as he passed.

  Taking a deep breath, Thomas entered his office and his eyes searched her out. Matilda was standing near the window, peering out. He stopped suddenly, Harry nearly ran into his back, as his emotions went from delight to concern.

  ‘Matilda! Is everything all right?’ He took in her fine figure in her beautifully fitted red skirt and a white blouse, not a hair out of place beneath her straw sailor hat trimmed with a black ribbon. By her feet rested a small basket, the contents covered by a white cloth. Harry stepped around him.

  ‘Yes, yes, fine, thank you, Thoma
s. Hello Detective Dart, lovely to see you again,’ Matilda said with a smile for Harry.

  ‘And you, Miss Hayward,’ Detective Dart removed his hat. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to it then,’ Harry said.

  ‘It’s a business call,’ she assured Detective Dart. ‘I have some information which you may or may not know concerning the character of Mr Burnham and Mr Wilks,’ Matilda said. ‘If now is convenient?’

  ‘Of course,’ Thomas said, inviting Matilda to sit again and indicating a chair for Harry. He returned to the other side of his desk. ‘Would you like tea or a glass of water?’

  ‘No, I won’t detain you any longer than necessary, but thank you.’

  ‘I would like tea,’ Harry said, and Thomas grinned at him.

  ‘You would care for tea, Detective Dart?’ Thomas asked, reissuing the invitation.

  ‘Yes, I’ll organise it.’ Harry grinned and rose.

  ‘Well, if you two are going to partake, so shall I,’ Matilda said.

  Harry collared a young constable passing by to organise tea for three. He returned to his seat, and they made the customary polite small talk, asking after family and discussing the weather.

  Once the tea had arrived and been served, Matilda began.

  ‘Alice and I were interviewing the Siamese twin ladies today at the Exhibition,’ she said.

  ‘You went to that place again by yourself?’ Thomas grimaced.

  Matilda sighed. ‘Really Thomas, it was mid-morning, and we are not made of glass. Besides, Daniel came with us to illustrate the ladies for our story.’ She failed to mention that Daniel came quite a bit later, but the element of truth was present.

  Thomas visibly relaxed. ‘Good. Who is Alice?’

  ‘Miss Alice Doran; she has just started work at The Women’s Journal and is sharing the writing of the profile pieces with me.’

  Thomas muttered, ‘Another one, Lord help us.’

  Harry was about to chuckle but seeing Matilda’s expression took stock of his behaviour.

  ‘Thomas, you are being most objectionable today. Perhaps I should just speak with Detective Dart and let you return to your business if this is how you are when you are not playing the gentleman at my household.’

  ‘Yes Miss Hayward, this is exactly what he is like all the time, and I have to put up with it,’ Harry added with a smile, extracting the same from Matilda who was quick to temper and just as quick to forget once the moment had passed.

  ‘I unreservedly apologise, Matilda,’ Thomas said, reining in his shortness and opinions. ‘I have been going around in circles on a few cases and I am—’

  ‘Hungry perhaps?’ she suggested, cutting him off mid-speech. ‘I have four brothers and they are all more obnoxious when they are hungry.’

  ‘It is way past lunch,’ Harry agreed.

  ‘Obnoxious is a little strong.’ Thomas bucked up.

  ‘You are most fortunate because I have some bakery items that should tide you over,’ she said, reaching for the small basket that she had placed at her feet. ‘Mrs Tufton gave them to me this morning. Apparently, the nearby bakery keeps sending her little gifts and she claims to not have a sweet tooth except for a particular biscuit.’ She pulled back the towel covering to reveal pastries and offered it to Harry, who was closest.

  ‘Ooh, don’t mind if I do. Thank you, Miss Hayward,’ he said.

  ‘Take two at least,’ she insisted, and he needed no encouragement. She offered the basket to Thomas.

  ‘You were taking these home for your family, I imagine?’ he asked, and Harry froze just as he went to bite.

  ‘No,’ she assured them, and Harry resumed his bite. ‘As you know my family has an exceptional cook and she would be most insulted if I brought home someone else’s baking. I was going to leave them with the front desk if you weren’t in.’

  ‘That would have been a tragedy,’ Harry said, licking the dusting from his lips.

  Thomas chuckled at Harry and accepted two pastries; he encouraged Matilda to continue while he made quick work of them.

  ‘As I said, Alice and I were interviewing Ella and Elvira Hove, who were most agreeable by the way. After we spoke about their lives, I asked permission to discuss what happened the night of Mr Burnham’s murder and promised we wouldn’t include it in our story. I then asked could I tell you if you were the soul of discretion.’

  ‘Well done, Matilda,’ Thomas said, trying not to sound too condescending. ‘Harry and I will be just that.’

  She nodded. ‘I asked them about Mr Burnham, and they said he was their friend, and that it was very much like a family environment at the exhibition. The ladies held him in high regard, and they were visibly upset and not able to comprehend who would do such a thing. But then Elvira said it was a shame it hadn’t been Mr Wilks who was killed instead.’

  Thomas and Harry exchanged looks and Thomas nodded for Matilda to continue.

  ‘Elvira said Mr Wilks was prone to anger, had driven up their boarding cost, was working them for longer hours and that the quality of the meals had declined terribly. She didn’t think Mr Burnham knew because Mr Wilks was always so nice to him.’

  Harry and Thomas accepted a third pastry and, brushing crumbs off his facial hair, Thomas remarked, ‘this is most interesting and very helpful. We didn’t get any of this in the constable’s report.’

  ‘I asked them what they told the constable,’ Matilda said. ‘Apparently, Mrs Wilks was with them throughout the interview which restricted them, and they were also distressed having just heard the news of Mr Burnham’s death.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘We didn’t even think about that. I knew the ladies spoke English but I let Mrs Wilks stay because she said the artists were fearful of the police.’ He made a hmph sound.

  Matilda continued, ‘There was one last thing – something that Anna, that is Mrs Tufton, said to me when I dropped in on her after interviewing the twins. She said Mr Jo-Jo – you know the—’

  ‘Super hairy man,’ Harry cut in.

  ‘Yes, that’s him,’ Matilda said. ‘Anna said something strange is going on… petty thefts from around the exhibition.’

  ‘Such as?’ Harry asked, brushing down his suit front and feeling happily sated after the pastries.

  ‘Mr Jo-Jo and Mr Burnham’s walking canes have gone missing and Mr Jo-Jo is quite upset about it, because, unlike Mr Burnham – who had his cane for show and twirling – Mr Jo-Jo needs his cane according to Mrs Tufton.’

  ‘Odd, but probably no chance of getting those back given the people that pour through that place,’ Harry said, missing the point.

  Thomas was frowning. ‘Did she say what these canes looked like?’

  ‘Not exactly, but Anna said Mr Jo-Jo is quite upset because his cane was of sentimental value. Anna said it was quite beautiful and featured an engraved, ornate brass knob on the end that was a gift from his grandfather before his death and before Mr Jo-Jo was forced to make his own way in the world.’

  ‘Like a steel cricket ball perhaps?’ Thomas said with a glance to Harry, who caught up.

  ‘I couldn’t say,’ Matilda said, and finished her tea. ‘Well, I best get off and leave you to it. I have an interview to write.’ She rose and lifted her now empty basket.

  ‘I will see you out, Thomas said, standing. ‘Matilda, you have been immensely helpful.’

  ‘Have I?’ she smiled, pleased with herself. ‘Good. I shall remind you of that.’

  ‘I have no doubt you will.’ He smiled.

  Chapter 18

  Amos Hayward preferred to see clients in his offices – they were neat rooms, spacious, clean, and well-appointed. Sadly, he had no choice but to go to Mrs Tufton’s caravan, given the impossibility of her visiting without causing much curiosity and discomfort. After hailing a hansom, he collected Matilda on the way, and they were at the grounds in time for their half-past-two appointment with the giantess and her husband to discuss their legal separation.

 
‘I feel I have been here more than I’ve been at home lately.’ Matilda sighed as Amos offered her his hand to descend the cab.

  Amos’s expression of distaste said volumes. ‘I can’t stand meeting in that small caravan, but it is better than entering the exhibition tent.’

  ‘You are good to come, Amos,’ Matilda soothed him as they walked towards the exhibition and to the row at the back where Anna Tufton’s caravan stood at the far end. ‘We’ll be as quick as we can, but you will have to take tea and observe the hostess’s niceties.’

  ‘If we must,’ he agreed and stood back as Matilda knocked on the caravan door and announced her arrival.

  The door was opened with a great deal of force, and Carl Tufton stood in the doorway.

  ‘Miss Hayward and Mr Hayward, I assume?’ he said in a rough manner.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Tufton,’ Matilda said, and Amos offered his hand.

  The men shook briefly. Tufton moved away from the door and the Haywards entered the now tight space with four bodies in it. The table was set with a milk jug, sugar bowl and four cups, plus a plate of biscuits, and Anna remained seated.

  ‘Forgive me for not rising,’ she greeted them, ‘but space does not permit it.’

  ‘Of course,’ Amos said, and took the offered seat.

  ‘I shall make tea since you have prepared it, shall I?’ Matilda asked, allowing Mr Tufton to sit opposite his wife and next to Amos.

  ‘Thank you, Matilda, yes please.’ Anna gave her a grateful smile. No one appeared comfortable with the arrangement. The scene, while reflecting the traditions and manners of a gathering for tea, was reminiscent of no such gathering – instead, a giantess looked meek in the corner, her husband angry and defiant, a solicitor most uncomfortable and a temporary hostess looked out of place.

  After tea was served, Amos began.

  ‘Mr Tufton, as I am acting on behalf of your wife, you of course will need your own representation.’

  ‘I am using the services of Milford and McDonald, and as I intend to run for my local council this year, a divorce does not suit me,’ he said and glared at Amos as if that would settle the matter.