‘Ethel persuaded Windibank to take her to the Waggon and Horses in the guise of a man. He was a diffident man by all accounts, and his assertive wife would have had little difficulty in persuading him. This would be a clever ploy to get the patrons of the pub to testify to his coming for a drink with a young man. Rudolph Barr.’ How did she do it?
We conjectured that she might have started by expressing the wish to see the inside of a pub. Windibank would have said that he’d have been happy to take her to one, but women weren’t allowed. Ethel would then have said that she could easily pass for one. Windibank would have pooh-poohed the notion, prompting his wife to say that play acting was etched in one’s soul and as such, it was something one never forgot. She had successfully played men’s part on the stage. We imagined a scenario.
‘No, never, darling...you’ve grown rusty.’
‘I haven’t lost my figure, I’ll have you you know Windibank.’
‘Aye, I’ll grant you that.’
‘I’ll wager anything that I could put on my costume from Madge’s Uncle Bert. You take me to the Waggon and Horses and nobody at the bar would be any the wiser.’
Later the women will confess to a comparable scenario. Windibank had unknowingly provided Ethel with the means to nail his coffin. Holmes put forward the hypothesis that the visits to Tottenham Court Road had only one purpose: to find witnesses to testify to the reality of Barr.
Mary would admit later that she was so sure that her plan would have worked that she thought that hiring the two best detectives in London would be enough to shake off all police suspicions. I suspected that there was more to it: the young lady was also being dictated to by chutzpah. She loved to challenge herself in the certain knowledge that she was up to defeating any obstacle. In any case she would have committed the perfect crime.
‘Now,’ Holmes said, ‘we need a motive.’
‘Windibank’s money?’
‘Wouldn’t Mary have inherited it all anyway?’ That was a spanner in the works, but it was still not an implausible hypothesis.
‘Although the mother had trod the planks, it was Mary the truly great performer of the family. Did you notice how well she played her many parts? How one moment she could be the timid virgin and then the next she became the self-assured harridan?’ Holmes did not immediately come to my viewpoint, but he shrugged and let me continue. We discussed the many points and agreed that we ought to confront the pair.
***
‘Mrs Windibank, Miss Sutherland, I am about to shock you. Mr Holmes and I now know that you murdered Mr Windibank in cold blood.’ Ethel flew into a rage. How dared we? We were engaged by them to find the missing men and not to make false accusations against two sorely tried victims. Mary said nothing. She was wistfully shaking her head.
‘Mother, what’s the point? We’ve been found out.’
It was not difficult to get a full confession of their guilt. Mary readily admitted to the killing, but when she revealed the motive, it came as a great shock to both of us.
***
No one could have had a happier childhood than Mary. Her father was the most adorable man alive. The best father in the whole world, the best husband to her mother.
‘We were poor,’ Mary said. ‘We lived on the third floor of a leaky and draughty house in Spitalfields, owned by Mr Windibank. It so happened that he was also dad’s main employer.’
Alf Sutherland was a plumber, and Mr Windibank owning property in north London often hired him. Mary remembered how the two men gradually became friends. Her mother Ethel had wanted to be a musical comedy star. She had one or two parts, but she never went much beyond the chorus line.
‘I am telling you nothing that you don’t know, sirs, but one can’t make a living like this. You had to supplement your income by doing what Mam would never consider doing in a million years.
You understand?’
Ethel and Alf had been childhood sweethearts. They were both twenty when they married. Roger who was born a year later died of pneumonia and Mary came a couple of years later.
They never went hungry, but only lived on the bare necessities. Alf encouraged her in her schooling, and she did well. She was probably the best little learner in the whole school. The hardships seemed slight in comparison to the blissful life that he made for wife and child. He took her everywhere, to walks on the canal, up hills, to parks and she remembered how much fun they had. In Camden Park there were swings. In Highbury Commons there were see-saws. On Hampstead Heath there were slides and roundabouts. Alf took her to all of them. She never had to beg him. He was always there for her. It was laughter and joy. Yes, it was true that it was always her and dad. She supposes that Mam was left out, but she didn’t really mind.
‘No, of course I didn’t mind.’
Then suddenly the lid fell off. Dad was only thirty five, fit and healthy, never a day’s sickness. Only an accident was going to kill him. And it did.
‘Except that I knew,’ said Mary. Knew what?
‘It was no accident, Mr Lernière. Windibank planned it.’
‘What’s your evidence?’
‘I don’t need evidence, I know Windibank. I know what he’s capable of doing.’ I thought it best not to contradict her.
***
‘He had always lusted after Mam. Even as a child I knew it. He would pop in when dad was at work, and Mam would make him a cuppa. He brought cakes which he tried to buy me with. But I never took to him. I caught him many a time trying to put his arms round her, but of course she would never let him. She wasn’t like that, she loved dad and me. She would never do anything to hurt us.’
‘My poor dad wasn’t cold in his grave before Windibank started visiting us everyday. Mam didn’t like it, but what could she do? He’d come with slices of ham, a cut of meat, eggs. And cakes for me.’
The house belonged to him, and they had no money. Mary wanted to kill herself when she discovered that her Mam was according him favours. She threw a pan of boiling water at her. Luckily it wasn’t too serious. Mam explained to her that it was the only way, otherwise they’d starve and freeze to death, with no roof over their heads. It was to forget the misery of her life that Mary devoted all her energy to her schooling. She spent all her free time memorising poetry. Keats, Shelley, Milton, Wordsworth, Tennyson, Byron. She got the best marks, and teacher said that no one wrote better stories than she did. It was this which inspired her to become an author.
Next thing Windibank wanted to legalise the situation. ‘When Mam told me that she had agreed to marry him, if you had cut me with a knife I’d have shed no blood. It was the day we moved to Frederica Close that I said to myself that as sure as a u follows a q, one day I will kill him.’ However, when she saw how devoted he was to Ethel, how he catered for all their needs, she told herself that she might have been too hasty in condemning the man. Mam tried to talk her into softening her harsh judgement of the man. For a time she conceded that he might not have arranged for that wall to collapse on her unfortunate daddy. She should have followed her instincts.
One afternoon when Ethel was out, Windibank arrived from France. Mary ran a hot bath for him, and shortly after he called out for a towel. She remembered having already put one out for him, but shrugged. I’ll bring him another one, she had thought. The moment she came into the bathroom, he jumped on her. He had been lying in wait just behind the door. With her frail physique she had no chance.
‘He raped me thirteen times. Sorry, I mean he raped me. I was only thirteen.’ Having done the deed, at first he was apologetic. He said he didn’t know what possessed him. Then he said it was her fault. He had noticed how she looked at him with those seductive eyes. He was only doing her bidding really. He began cajoling her. It will be our little secret. He will shower all sorts of gifts on her. “Only don’t tell Ethel. It will kill her. You don’t want to upset her. You know how fragile she is. You
may look frail, but I know that you’re really a strong girl. Clever. Intelligent beyond compare.” Mary would not respond. Finally he looked at her with those cruel eyes of his. Mary felt a chill down her spine. She had felt scared.
‘Now listen, little girl, listen good. You say one word to Ethel, and I promise you that I will kill both of you. I’ve worked it out. I will strangle you and burn the house down. It won’t be a big loss. I have twelve other properties and in any case I am well covered by the insurance. Remember, just one word, and...’ Mary was trembling with fear. She had wet her knickers and although she didn’t want to show him her weakness, tears started streaking down her cheeks and she was rocked by her sobs.
It was true that Ethel was not a strong woman. Mary would never do anything to make her mum suffer. Father in heaven would never forgive her. She made up her mind that she would spare her feelings. It was true that she felt strong. She would learn to live with this shame.
Except that-
‘Except that, it was only the beginning. Windibank had found a seam and he was going to keep hacking at it for all he was worth.’ She submitted to him for seven years. Fortunately she had developed this capacity to compartmentalise her life. The burden that she was carrying was always weighing her down, but she was able to share her mother’s happiness. She had learnt the whole of Milton’s Paradise Lost by now. At school she found that her ability to learn was unimpaired. She matured beyond her age. As she had trouble eating properly, she was always physically frail.
This situation had lasted all those years. She had often resolved to tell Mam everything, but her courage always failed her at the last minute. When she left school, she attended the newly opened Pitman College in Oxford Street to learn Shorthand. She was now making a modest living as a typist for Brockwell’s, a firm of insurance brokers in the City. She had two stories published. Others that she submitted later had been returned to her unread, in spite of the assurance that they had been carefully considered before being found not quite right. Still, she had not given up hope of literary success. Anyway, she was earning enough to think of moving to her own modest place. Possibly as a lodger to some well-to-do widow. She decided to talk about this to Ethel. It was on a Sunday when Windibank had gone out for a walk.
‘Mam,’ Mary had said, ‘what would you say if I left home?’
‘That you’ve lost your mind, my girl.’
‘Mam, my mind is made up now, I want to leave home and find a place of my own. Not too far from here so I can come visit you often.’
‘Mary, I don’t want to hear another word about this nonsense again, do you hear?’
‘But my mind is made up, Mam.’ She had stood her grounds.
‘You ungrateful little...little...bitch. How can you say that. After all that your father and I have done for you.’
‘Mam, don’t call him my father. My father was murdered.’ Ethel jumped up in horror. Mary had not said that for some time now, and had more or less accepted that it wasn’t true.
‘I thought you had forgotten that madness. Windibank would never hurt a soul. I told you that before and I’m telling you again. Don’t let me hear that again.’
‘Never hurt a soul, ha!’
‘What do you mean by that? Out with it.’
‘Oh nothing.’ Mary had changed her mind. She won’t argue with Ethel, but when she was good and ready she would just walk out.
‘What do you mean by your Ha? You said... “Never hurt a soul, ha!” I don’t like that tone.’
‘You don’t really want to know.’ Ethel grabbed her by the collar and shook her.
‘You’re hurting me,’ she wailed.
‘I’ll hurt you some more unless you tell me what you meant.’ At that moment, she hated her mother and wanted to punish her.
‘You always knew, Mam, you only pretended you didn’t. You looked the other way. You were complicit in his great crime to me.’ Ethel let go of her daughter. She had grown pale and began trembling. She had understood.
‘You mean...you mean he...’ She could not say it.
‘Yes mother. He raped me when I was thirteen.’
‘Don’t lie to me.’ She kept quiet, but finally said, ‘But why didn’t you-’
‘I believed him when he said he would kill us both if I told you.’ Mary told her everything. She wrapped her daughter in her arms and asked for her forgiveness. She accused herself of being blind. A mother had a duty to protect her child and she had failed in hers. Suddenly she stopped.
She took a deep breath and asked Mary to look her in the eyes.
‘I promise you my sweetheart, that I will kill him with my own hands. Just watch me.’ Mary had said that it was not worth risking the gallows for that.
‘Let us just leave here the two of us. We’ll find a way.’ Ethel said she could never do that.
The man had committed a sin against God and against them. He had to pay. She would happily put the hangman’s rope round her own neck herself after she had dealt with him. Mary urged her to bide her time. That night she slept not a wink and in the small hours of the morning, she had elaborated a revenge plot. They would kill Windibank and no one would suspect them.
Mother and daughter decided to play the happy family while they put their plan into practice. Mary had thought of inventing a young man: Rudolph Barr. Ethel had not lived with Windibank all those years without learning how to deal with him. One night the couple sat down to have a drink together. Ethel had produced a bottle of Johnny Walker for her husband, and stuck to a small dry sherry. The upshot was that he agreed to take her to the pub dressed as a man. Holmes and I were delighted that our conjecture was proved to be right. That was what led to a number of visits to the Waggon and Horses. She told everybody there that she was Rudy Barr, a clerk, Mary’s young man. Windibank was embarrassed, but thought it was very funny, and played along.
Shortly after Mother and daughter started going dancing in Tottenham Court Road, in the guise of young lovers. Ethel was well-preserved, not yet forty, and easily passed for a young man about town in her male togs and clogs. As she had danced on stage, she easily attracted attention on the floor. At first Ethel was not convinced of the necessity of their having to find rented accommodation for “her young man”. She thought that the landlady would be confused by the tenant not sleeping on the rented premises. It was then that the idea of Barr being part of the Secret Service occurred to Mary. That would explain the unexplainable.
Mary had to dampen her mother’s enthusiasm. The poor thing, having missed out on a stage career, loved playing her part in a real-life drama. Having taken the decision to avenge her shame at the hands of her step-father, she found it easy to cope with him. She even let him have his wicked ways with her without the usual revulsion.
On the appointed day, Ethel had prepared ham sandwiches and baked a cake. She knew Aloysius never said no to looking for fungi in Epping. Windibank had got a few bottles of his best wines. There was a bit of an argument when Ethel appeared dressed as Rudy, but she explained that wearing trousers would make it easier for her to walk in the forest, jump over fallen logs and what not. Together the family took a hansom to Enfield. Mary had thought that breaking the journey would throw an eventual police enquiry off their scent. Windibank had again demurred, wondering why the change was necessary and his wife told him that she needed to stretch her legs.
‘I’ll tell the coachman to wait then,’ suggested the prospective victim. The argument intensified but was resolved when Ethel lost her temper. After a short walk they hired another cab all the way to the Forest. It was a cold and gloomy day, and as Mary expected, there were but few visitors. Unexpectedly they quickly filled their baskets with all sorts of mushrooms. Windibank was flushed with joy. They spread a blanket under a tall oak and had a picnic. The sun had come out and it had warmed up. As Windibank had drunk rather a lot, he said he would have a lie down. The women said
they would go pick some wild flowers.
When they came back only fifteen minutes later, Windibank was snoring. Ethel shuddered. ‘He looks so peaceful, how can we kill a sleeping man, Mary?’ she asked. ‘I’ll show you,’ her daughter had responded. There was no question of Ethel doing any killing. She was the one who was going to do it. She would just remember how he had treated her and would have no compunction. She took the bread knife and approached the sleeping man. She looked at her hand holding the knife and was pleased that it was as steady as a rock. Windibank snored. She bent down, and without hesitation plunged the knife in his heart with a vigour that took her by surprise. The stabbed man opened his eyes, tried to raise his hands, but had no strength to do anything else. Mary stabbed him once more. She then slit his neck from ear to ear. ‘They won’t catch me, but if they do, I’ll walk to the scaffold proudly. Vermin like you need to be eliminated from this earth.’ Windibank’s eyes showed that he was neither hearing nor seeing his step-daughter.
She got rid of her blood-soaked togs by burying them between rocks and covering them with leaves and twigs. They took their time cleaning everything up, and she changed into the clean clothes that she had brought. They decided to leave the blood-spattered bread knife behind. Ethel kicked the baskets of mushrooms and they walked out of the Forest. They each went their own way. Ethel, in her Barr persona went by way of Enfield, drawing attention to herself whenever she could. Mary walked aimlessly for more than an hour and finally went home too, by way of Poplar.
‘That, sirs, was how it happened. Now if you want to inform Scotland Yard, do so by all means. Rapist fathers and child molesters all over the world will thank you.’ We said nothing and left. We went to Baker Street together so we might consult and arrive at a decision. We sat opposite each other in silence. I was expecting my former employer to say that there was no alternative to what we had to do. A human life had been illegally taken, and the law must take its course.
The Adventures of Irene Adler : The Irene Adler Trilogy Page 11