Murder at the Bayswater Bicycle Club

by Linda Stratmann

  ‘With good reason,’ said Grove. ‘And that is my gun, as you well know, since you stole it when your associate Peters attacked me.’ He held out his hand and Frances, with some relief, returned it to him.

  ‘I think we may have found Sir Hugo’s missing notebooks,’ she said, removing the rolled documents from their place of concealment in Toop’s bicycle.

  ‘And possibly more than that,’ said Grove, taking charge of the papers. He made a further search of the machine, which yielded still more hidden material.

  Toop had given up the struggle, and Mayberry was able to march his dejected prisoner along the road to East Acton while Sharrock took possession of the damaged bicycle.

  ‘Well done, Miss Dauntless,’ said Grove, calmly. He and Frances retrieved their machines and rode back together as the summer sun began to set.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ‘The thing about Mr Toop and his sort, I’ve met them before,’ said Inspector Sharrock a few days later, as he discussed the events of the race meeting with Frances. There were times when he called her to his office at Paddington Green for an interview, but occasionally when their conversations were intended to be less formal, he came to see her and they enjoyed tea and some of Sarah’s excellent pastries. This was the latter situation and they were seated in the parlour at the little round table where Frances interviewed her clients, making short work of a Bakewell tart, freshly made by Sarah from Mrs Pirrie’s own recipe. ‘They’re cowards. I can tell them a mile away. Put them up against a young girl or a smooth-faced weakling like George Farrow, or put a gun in their hands, and they’re as brave as you like. Take away the weapon or show them a hard time and all that courage just melts away.’ He shook his head. ‘Nasty business, though. I have a feeling that you know more about it than anyone will tell me.’

  ‘Has he confessed his crimes?’

  ‘Not yet, but he has been doing a lot of talking to try and save his life. Did you know he had a brother?’

  ‘Yes, a soldier who was killed in Afghanistan.’

  ‘Captain Joshua Toop, hero. It broke his parents’ hearts to lose him. They put up a plaque to him in the local church. Toop had to look at it every Sunday. His mother passed away with the word “Joshua’” on her lips.’

  ‘I could see that Mr Toop wanted to give an impression of wealth and success, and I had assumed that this was because of the deficiencies in his size, but now I understand it ran much deeper than that. What he really wanted was his parents’ approval, but that all seems to have been directed at his brother. It is hard enough to compete with a living hero, impossible with a deceased one. That was why he turned to crime.’ Frances was thoughtful. ‘I know that Mrs Toop suffered a long illness before her death. Was she ever prescribed morphine?’

  Sharrock smiled. ‘Now you’re not the only one round here who has bright ideas. We had a word with the Toop family doctor, and yes, she was.’

  ‘Was I correct that the papers found in Mr Toop’s bicycle included Sir Hugo Daffin’s notebooks?’

  ‘They did. The leather covers had been removed. We found them in the ash bin. And there was a lot of other material that Grove wouldn’t let me see. All very secret. Toop claims he had them for safekeeping.’

  Frances poured more tea. ‘What do you think he will confess to?’

  ‘I suspect that he will admit to killing Farrow, because we have the best evidence against him for that one, but he is hoping for a charge of manslaughter.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. He’ll most likely claim it all happened in a brainstorm when Farrow confessed to murdering Miss Hicks.’ He gave a twist of the mouth. ‘No, it doesn’t convince me, either. I think they sneaked out one after the other, Toop saying he wanted a private talk, and then he strangled Farrow with the rope. Farrow was a weak link in his little scheme, and Toop must have thought he would talk, especially after Miss Hicks was killed. He had to leave the coach house unlocked, of course, to make the suicide idea convincing.’

  ‘I don’t think Farrow did murder Miss Hicks.’

  ‘I’m sure he didn’t. She liked to make eyes at him, but that didn’t impress him any more than it might have impressed your friend Mr Garton.’

  ‘Ah, I see. I think that she must have noticed something and thought she could make him marry her as the price of silence. Toop liked to say he was always willing to help a friend in trouble, but of course that was how he got people into his power. If Farrow went to Toop about Miss Hicks then Toop would most likely have told Farrow he would pay her to keep quiet, but he killed her instead. I remember that afternoon Farrow taking an interest in something or someone he saw on the field. Thinking about it now it was Miss Hicks speaking to Toop. That was when they made an appointment to meet in secret during the professionals’ race. It was easy enough after that to try and put the blame on Jack Linnett. Did Toop have any marks on his hands from the silk ribbon?’

  ‘He had some suspicious looking cuts but he said he got those wrestling with Mr Babbit’s bicycle after the collision.’

  ‘Before a large crowd of witnesses,’ said Frances. ‘How clever! Mr Toop is very adept at thinking fast and avoiding trouble.’

  ‘Talking of fast thinkers, I had an interesting interview recently with Mr Grove. He has associates who seem to be very efficient at unearthing information that those who buried it thought would stay buried. Mr Farrow was sent down from University after a scandal, but left himself open to blackmail. There were compromising letters, I believe. If the General had got wind of it and seen what they contained, Farrow would have lost the allowance he depended on; in fact, his father might even have disowned him altogether. Military men do not forgive that kind of thing. Toop must have seen his chance when he saw that Farrow was upset about something, pretended sympathy for his friend, arranged to buy the letters back, and so got Farrow into his pocket. Farrow then found himself at the mercy of a different kind of blackmailer, and was obliged to pass on information from his father’s papers. What Toop did with it after that we may never know. I know what the Home Office thinks.’

  ‘Will Toop admit to getting information from George Farrow?’

  ‘He might, but only if we can accept his story that he was motivated by a desire to advance his father’s engineering business, and not the sale of government secrets to a foreign spy. Still, early days. If we can agree the manslaughter charge the next step will be to hand him over to Mr Grove’s men. Toop might deserve to die, but given the chance to live he will have a lot of interesting things to say, and a lot of names to name.’

  ‘And he denies drugging Sir Hugo?’

  ‘He does. I spoke to Sir Hugo yesterday and he remembers Toop coming to see him the evening before the race meeting, so that was probably when he slipped the morphine in the coffee. We’re still trying to get information out of Hopper and Peters, who we reckon Toop got to do some of his more menial work. No luck there, but with what we have on the betting fraud it looks like we will get Hopper jailed at long last, not to mention Peters, as well as Babbit and Iliffe, who are in a class all of their own.’

  ‘Fraud and murder?’

  Sharrock helped himself to more cake. ‘Babbit was the first to go to pieces. He claimed that Iliffe killed Cowdray and he only helped dispose of the body because he thought he would be killed as well. He’ll turn Queen’s evidence no doubt. Iliffe is saying it was done in self-defence. And the Hammersmith police found Cowdray’s body in the drains. Very nasty after all that time, but we’re fairly sure it’s him. Skull crushed in from behind.’

  Frances decided not to ask for further details. ‘I read in the newspapers that Mr Ross-Fielder has been committed for trial.’

  ‘Yes, with a very good counsel. He’ll get off I reckon.’

  ‘Is Sir Hugo quite well again? He must have been terribly distressed at how the race meeting went, and the loss of several club members.’

  ‘He’s well and full of plans to revive the club. But he’s back on his bicycle, I’m sorry to
say. It’ll probably kill him one day.’

  ‘I hope he managed to get to the patent office at last. I look forward to discovering more about his work.’

  ‘Ah, well, that was a bit of a sore subject. He had the idea of improving bicycle tyres by blowing them up with air inside. But he has been told that someone else thought of doing it first and had already taken out a patent for it, so he didn’t get one. It probably wouldn’t have worked in any case, so he’s gone back to fitting those extra wheels. If you ask me the sooner the fashion for bicycling is over the better. Which leads to my asking you how you managed to ride that infernal machine when young Mayberry couldn’t? It was almost like you’d done it before.’

  ‘Inspector, haven’t you read Miss Dauntless Rides to Victory? It’s all explained in there,’ said Frances teasingly.

  ‘Yes, well that woman is fast in more ways than one so I hope you don’t go taking after her. I don’t suppose you can tell me now what you were doing at the race meeting? I know you ended up poking your nose into everything but that’s just your way. What were you really there for?’

  ‘The sunshine, an excuse to wear a new bonnet, and watching Mr Garton ride in his race. Do I need any more reasons?’

  Sharrock grunted. She could see that he was not convinced but accepted that this was the only reply he was likely to receive.

  Once Sharrock had departed, Frances settled down to read the latest copy of the Bayswater Chronicle, which included the results of the bicycle competitions. Cedric, she noticed, had been awarded the prize for the best turned-out bicycle, and Mr Grove had won Most Sporting Wheelman for his action in giving up a chance of race victory in order to assist a fellow bicyclist. The betrothal was also announced of club captain Rufus Goring to Miss Sybil Vance.

  Sarah arrived with the news that the date for her wedding with Professor Pounder had been set. It was to take place the following month. ‘I’ll be living downstairs to begin with, but we’ll need to start looking for somewhere else.’

  ‘Mr Garton will be returning to Italy before long,’ said Frances. ‘I’ll be very sorry to see him go but his apartment will be available.’

  ‘It’s a bit fancy, if you know what I mean,’ said Sarah. ‘Anyhow, we’ll find something. But whatever happens we won’t be far away. I don’t ever mean to be far from you.’ She put a letter on the table. ‘This just came. Don’t know what it signifies, but I don’t think it can be good.’

  Frances picked up the envelope, which was addressed to her and was printed with the name ‘Marsden and Wheelock, Solicitors’. ‘Nothing that comes out of that office can ever be good,’ she agreed, and opened it with some trepidation.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  ‘So we meet again,’ said Timothy Wheelock, the new member of the infernal partnership of Bayswater solicitors Marsden and Wheelock. When he had been employed as Mr Rawsthorne’s humble clerk, his small office had resembled a spider’s lair, cluttered with cobwebbed papers and dusty bundles of juicy morsels waiting to be savoured. In his new incarnation he sat like a potentate at a brightly polished desk, surrounded by the steely glimmer of tall locked cabinets. He was immaculately dressed in a black suit and snowy white collar and his bronze locks had been shorn so they stood up like wires, but his fingers, with their array of knuckley gold rings, still bore the dark stains of his former occupation.

  ‘I must congratulate you on your advancement,’ said Frances, politely. ‘Such things are not achieved without hard work. And your forthcoming nuptials – how happy you must be! I trust your betrothed is well?’

  ‘Thank you, yes, she is as lovely as a picture. I can’t wait for the wedding day, but then, what man can?’ He grinned, showing the blackened inner lips and teeth of an inveterate consumer of ink. Mr Wheelock liked ink and that was one thing about him that would never change.

  ‘I am not sure what business we can have,’ said Frances, who had been astonished to receive the letter requesting her presence, a letter that had given no hint as to the reason for the interview.

  ‘It’s not personal,’ said Wheelock. ‘I’m not about to be hanged, and neither are you. Let us be grateful for that.’

  ‘I take it Mr Marsden is not here,’ said Frances, ‘or I doubt that I would be given so much as the time of day. He wants nothing to do with me, not so much out of hatred as contempt.’

  ‘No, he’s a bit under the weather is my future pa-in-law; not been himself much lately, so he leaves a lot of the work to me.’ Wheelock patted an envelope, the only item that sat on the desk in front of him. ‘Now you might imagine that I would have had no communication of late with my former employer – your one-time solicitor and trusted confidante, Mr Rawsthorne, but there you would be mistaken. He is having a very unhappy time of it in prison, and I have agreed to look after his interests which are very – ah – complicated, shall we say, what with the bankruptcy hearings still in progress and all.’

  ‘I would have thought you had little to gain from assisting him,’ said Frances.

  Wheelock chuckled, a noise like a bag of knives being rattled. ‘Oh, but I know his business better than he does himself. There’s always something secret put by, seeds planted, growing on the quiet, fruit to be taken when ripe.’

  ‘I don’t see what this has to do with me,’ said Frances. ‘Please come to the point.’

  Wheelock leaned back in his chair and rubbed his inky fingertips together. ‘The point is that fresh funds have recently come in. A will, made by a former client, an elderly widow who once had reason to be grateful to Mr Rawsthorne, and no family to inherit her fortune. He would have liked to have drawn on her while she was still alive, but her late brother put away everything safe for her long ago, where even Rawsthorne couldn’t get his hands on it. Once he was disgraced she might have changed her will, but she was no longer competent to do so. It was tucked away nice and safe, waiting for her to die. And die she did, just last week, and that’s when I stepped in. She left most of her fortune to charity but a nice little packet, rather bigger than anticipated, went to Rawsthorne. Not enough to meet all his debts, but the result is that there is money to be paid to his creditors, of whom you are one.’

  Wheelock slid the envelope across the desk to Frances. ‘You’ll find a cheque and all the paperwork in there.’

  Frances opened the envelope. When she saw the amount on the cheque she felt a little lightheaded. ‘I – will consult my solicitor, Mr Bramley, to see that it is all in order,’ she said.

  ‘You do that. I ain’t concerned.’ He grinned again. ‘Oh, and in case you was wondering – there won’t be any more.’

  It was not all the funds that Frances had lost, but it was more than enough.

  ‘Don’t spend it all at once,’ said Wheelock.

  Frances smiled. ‘On the contrary, I think that is exactly what I will do.’ She rose to her feet. ‘I doubt that we will ever have business with each other again.’

  ‘We never know what the future holds,’ he said.

  Frances could hardly rest until the cheque had been honoured. There were sufficient funds to settle all her concerns for the future, and to her delight, the owner of the house in Westbourne Park Road was still willing to sell. Her offer to purchase was accepted. Sarah and Professor Pounder made their wedding plans, the lady on the top floor moved away and Tom and Ratty took the apartment. The housekeeper, Mrs Embleton, and the maid, who had been concerned that the new ownership might mean a change in arrangements, were both pleased and relieved to learn that Frances wished them to remain. It would be a family home at last.

  There was only one worry on her mind, and Frances at last broached the never-before-spoken-of subject of Tom Smith’s father. To her surprise, Sarah was not offended by the question. ‘I always wondered why you never asked me,’ she said. ‘He was one of my brother Jeb’s boxing friends. I was thirteen, he was twenty-five. That’s all there is to say, really.’

  ‘Only, I wouldn’t want you to spoil your present happiness, now that you have fo
und a good man, by trying to find Tom’s father and making him pay for what he did,’ said Frances anxiously.

  Sarah chuckled. ‘I might have done that long ago, but he was married with three children. Anyhow, he got a bad beating in the ring quite some years back. Addled his brain. He was good for nothing after that. The wife and children, they got looked after by the other boxing men, so they didn’t want for anything. He died not long ago and the widow got married again. You met her once.’

  ‘I did? When was that?’

  ‘When you came with me and Pounder to see the family. She married my brother Jeb.’

  ‘So who —?’ Frances stopped. She had been about to ask the name of the man who had been the last opponent of Tom’s father, and then she decided that she would rather not know.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  On a clear and bright summer morning, Miss Frances Doughty, lady detective and agent of Her Majesty’s Government, was taking the air in Hyde Park when, as if by chance, she met a gentleman of respectable demeanour.

  ‘Good morning Miss Doughty,’ said the gentleman, as he sat beside her on the bench.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Grove.’

  ‘I have made a full report to my superiors on the events at the Bayswater Bicycle Club race meeting, and I am pleased to say that they have pronounced themselves very impressed by your contribution.’

  Frances was both relieved and surprised. ‘And this is despite the fact that I overstepped my instructions?’

  He smiled. ‘Not so much overstepped but bounded over them with great energy; however, I have assured my masters that what you did was both correct and necessary. Obeying orders is all very well, but sometimes one must use initiative. It is initiative that marks out the extraordinary from the ordinary. Importantly, from my point of view, I doubt that I would be alive now were it not for you.’

  ‘You saved my life once – I was obliged to return the favour. But tell me, has Mr Toop now told you everything you needed to know?’