I had a thought. ‘But you said the murderer of Alice Hawkins had a defect in his boot which William Ashby did not.’
‘A horseshoe nail,’ Sidney Grice said. ‘Ashby sold nails. There were some loose in his backyard. One must have become wedged in his sole; it left its mark in the bloody footprint and, somewhere on his flight home, fell out again.’
‘But why did Inspector Pound not receive the letter?’ I asked.
‘James Hoggart lost his nerve. He was frightened that he would be recognized or detained while the letter was read. Then what defence would he have had? So he met Grace Dillinger at the canal as pre-arranged and told her that he had delivered the letter, hoping to collect his reward and make his escape abroad before she found out that he had not done so.’
‘But Grace Dillinger had no money to give him,’ I said.
Sidney Grice closed his fist on the coins. ‘Besides which, why leave a man alive who could testify against you when you could leave him dead and silent? Once she was convinced he had carried out his task, Grace Dillinger stabbed James Hoggart in the back of his neck and pushed him, letter and all, into the canal.’
‘Where the rats would have fed on him until there was nothing left if his wig had not floated away and attracted the attention of young Albert, who tried to pawn it.’
My guardian opened his fist. ‘Imagine, then, William Ashby’s dilemma. No letter appears. He has no defence and cannot even tell the truth any more without condemning himself and the mother of his child to death. I do not suppose they thought I would even take the case. It is well known how unashamedly greedy and snobbish I am.’
‘They could not have dreamed that I would pay your fees.’
He tossed the coins in the air and scooped them back as they fell. ‘Once you did, all they could hope for was that I would fall for their charms and support his case. It was a forlorn hope but they were clutching at straws.’
‘At least Grace Dillinger stuck by William throughout his trial,’ I said. ‘And she still tried to rouse support for him afterwards. Surely she would have been better to let him die with as little fuss as possible, knowing that he might break down and confess what really happened. She must have cared something for him.’
My guardian snorted. ‘Now you are attributing human feelings to her. If Ashby thought for one moment that she was deserting him, he would be far more likely to implicate her. Also, there was still a chance that he would be acquitted and get his inheritance. No doubt he would have met an unfortunate end as soon as was convenient after their wedding, when he was of no further use to her. I am only surprised that she did not take the opportunity after the execution to leave the country. She was not a suspect but she knew that I was still poking about.’ He stopped and looked at me. ‘March? What is it?’
‘Today is the twenty-seventh, is it not?’
‘It is.’
‘Grace Dillinger is booked to sail for Australia on the Aphrodite by the first tide in the morning and,’ I took a deep breath, ‘I have given her the fare.’
63
Parma Violets
It was my guardian's turn to stare.
‘You knew she was fleeing the country and you helped her?’
‘I thought she wanted a fresh start for herself and her baby.’
He wrenched at the air. ‘She has no baby.’
‘I did not know that,’ I said. ‘You knew but you did not tell me. You were too busy being clever.’
‘If you were a man I would knock you down for that,’ he said.
‘And another thing,’ I said. ‘If Inspector Pound had answered my question about how she fell, I could have told you she was feigning her collapse on the first day. People pretending to faint float decorously into a safe space. Genuine cases topple over and hurt themselves. But you and your friend were so busy being superior men that you did not even—’
‘Damn it all, girl,’ said Sidney Grice. ‘You have aided and abetted the escape of a monstrous mass-murderess and all you can do is twitter on about—’
‘Do not call me girl,’ I said. ‘Perhaps if you had kept me better informed—’
‘So now I am at fault?’ He slammed his notebook on to the table. ‘You sneak about behind my back, meeting up with all sorts of vile unnatural women. Do not imagine that I do not know what goes on in that house in Huntley Street.’
‘Nothing goes on,’ I said. ‘It is a haven from men like you, and God alone knows how we need it.’
‘And smoke and drink. Do you think I have no sense of smell whatsoever or that those parma violets can begin to mask the stench of your vices?’
I swept my hand and accidentally upset my teacup. It did not break but I let it lie leaking on to the linen tray cloth.
‘We cannot all be pure like you.’
‘Why not?’ He pointed his pencil in my face. ‘Why can everybody not be pure like me? Is it because you are all weak and self-indulgent and bone-headedly stupid?’ He sprang out of his chair and tugged the bell pull. ‘But all may not be lost yet… I hope that wretched creature remembers the code.’ He went to the desk and scribbled something on his headed notepaper, folded it, and glued it into an envelope. ‘Well, don’t just sit there like a stuffed squirrel, woman. Get your cloak.’
I stood up and followed him into the hall.
‘Where are we going?’
‘We are not going anywhere. I am going to the docks to try to stop Grace Dillinger boarding, if she has not already done so. You are going to Marylebone Police Station to give this note in person to Inspector Pound. I hope I can trust you to get that small thing right.’
‘But what if he is not there?’
‘Then you must use all your severely limited charms to insist that he is fetched immediately. Tell them I said it is of the utmost urgency.’ He rushed into the hall and ran up the flag. ‘Open the door to light up the entrance. They may not see the flag at this time of night. Stand in the doorway and wave your silly little hand, and squawk out to every cab you see until two stop. You will take the first. I may have to wait a little while yet.’
‘But why?’ I went to the door.
A cab was already pulling up.
‘Because Molly has not yet responded to my urgent instruction,’ he said. ‘Ah, here she is.’
At that Molly ran down the corridor, carrying his insulated flask.
64
The Power of the Name
‘Marylebone police station, as quick as you can,’ I called up to the cabby.
‘Been a naughty girl, ’ave we?’ he called back.
More naughty than you can possibly imagine, I thought as I clambered aboard.
There was not much traffic and we made good time. I paid the driver, gave a good tip and ran inside, pushing my way through the assembled rabble to reach the desk.
‘Miss Middleton.’ The desk sergeant looked up from a stack of paperwork. ‘You haven’t been arrested for drunk and disorderly have you?’
‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘I have an urgent note here for Inspector Pound.’
The desk sergeant put out his hand. ‘I shall make sure he gets it first thing in the morning.’ But I held on to the letter.
‘I have to give it to him in person,’ I said. ‘Now.’
The desk sergeant chuckled. ‘More than my job’s worth to disturb him at this time of night.’
‘It will be more than your life is worth if you allow a multiple murderer to escape because of your failure to act.’
The sergeant looked dubious and then horrified.
‘Oh, for the love of Moses,’ he said, and I turned to see an old woman vomiting copiously over the end of his desk. ‘Foster, get her out of here and get that mess cleaned up. She’s done it all over the charge sheets.’
An old man toppled forwards and caught hold of the desk.
‘If I puke can I go too?’
‘Just get out.’ The sergeant swept them away with a wave of his hand. ‘All of you. I’m blasted to hell and back if I’m going t
o fill all those forms out again.’
‘Fanks, Serg, you’re a toff.’ The old man weaved towards the door.
‘What ’bout me?’ a gaudily painted woman called from where she stood propped up in a corner. ‘I ’saulted one of your lovely big boys. That’s got to be worf a night in a warm cell.’
‘Get out.’
‘It’s on your ’ead if I ’ave to ’sault anovver hofficer,’ she said, gathering her things in a piece of cloth as she marched off.
‘Right.’ The sergeant turned back to me. ‘You were saying.’
‘This letter is from Mr Grice.’
‘Frightened to show his face here, is he?’
I ignored the question. ‘Listen to me, Sergeant. There is a dangerous murderer on the loose.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘This is London, Miss Middleton. There are a million people within a square mile of this building and probably a hundred murderers out and about tonight, and not one of them as dangerous as Inspector Pound when he is dragged from his bed.’
A constable turned up with a bucket and mop, clutching a handkerchief over his mouth and nose as he swabbed the desktop.
‘They have no stomach these days,’ the sergeant said.
I remembered something my father had told me – to command the man you must know his name.
‘You are Sergeant Horwich,’ I said.
‘I am.’
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ I said. ‘Mr Grice told me that you are the only man in this station capable of judging the importance of this case and taking the initiative to deal with it.’
‘He did?’
The sergeant preened his moustaches and expanded his chest.
‘I believe his words were: Sergeant Horwich is worth the rest of them put together. Trust him for he will know what to do.’
The sergeant tidied his mutton-chop whiskers.
‘Beacon.’ He struck the desk bell and a constable came from the back room, buttoning his jacket collar. ‘Run down to Inspector Pound’s house, Beacon, and tell him there is an urgent message for him from Mr Sidney Grice about a mass-murderer on the rampage, and that he is to come to the station immediately.’
‘What? Me?’
The sergeant waved a hand. ‘Go. And if you are not back with him in five minutes, I will put you on puke-cleaning duties with Foster for the rest of your short career.’
There was a black and brown mongrel snoring on a bench. It snarled when the constable prodded it with his truncheon and went back to sleep when he stopped.
‘Thank you, Sergeant Horwich,’ I said. ‘I shall wait in Inspector Pound’s office.’
‘But nobody is allowed in there, miss.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Then I shall not be disturbed.’
65
A Matter of Conscience
It was almost a quarter of an hour later, and the clock was striking midnight, before Inspector Pound appeared, slightly dishevelled, his hair and moustaches hastily combed. He was more than a little annoyed to be dragged in from his home.
‘Miss Middleton.’ He straightened his cuffs. ‘If I had known it was you I should have come a little quicker.’
I handed him the note and he read it carefully.
‘I see.’ He sat on the edge of his desk. ‘And there is no doubt about it?’
‘None,’ I said.
The inspector folded the note and slipped it back into the envelope.
‘But why does Mr Grice wish me to join him?’
‘To catch Sarah Ashby’s murderer.’
‘But Mr Grice has repeatedly assured me that we have already caught and hanged him,’ Inspector Pound said. ‘There is nothing to be gained by casting further doubt on the justice of that. It upsets people’s faith in the law. If, however, Mr Grice can prove that William Ashby murdered Alice Hawkins, I would be most grateful to have that case cleared. Sir Randolph died outside my patch and, as for James Hoggart, his death did not even make the evening papers. So, if Mrs Dillinger flees the country, so much the better. Her presence here can be nothing but an embarrassment and we will be well rid of her.’
‘Embarrassment?’ I echoed. ‘Is that all she is to you? This woman murdered her husband and her own daughter, and James Hoggart, and incited the murder of Alice Hawkins. She is a monster. Who knows who she will kill in Australia?’
The inspector flushed a little but only said, ‘Then that will be their problem. With any luck they will catch and execute her, and you will not have to worry about her any more.’
‘So you are going to sit here and let her escape?’
Inspector Pound shook his head. ‘No, of course not. I shall go back to bed and let her escape.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be on the side of good.’
‘That would be nice,’ he smiled grimly, ‘but my job is to maintain law and order in the metropolitan area, and it is my judgement that this is best achieved in this case by getting the criminal permanently out of the country and not by shaking the confidence of the people we are supposed to be protecting. Imagine what her defending lawyer would make of it – we were wrong about William Ashby, how can we be so sure about Grace Dillinger? Besides which, juries are always reluctant to break the necks of beautiful women.’
I picked up my handbag from the floor. ‘Then there is nothing more to be said.’
‘Let me get you a cab.’ He stood up. ‘In fact we can share one, for Gower Street is on my way home.’
I said, ‘But I am not going to Gower Street.’
‘Where then?’
‘Why, to the docks, of course. If nothing else, Mr Grice needs to be apprised of your indifference.’
The inspector put the envelope into his inside pocket and said, ‘You cannot go to the docks alone. It is not safe even in the day. I can send a message to Mr Grice.’
I stood up and said, ‘I shall not let that woman sail away, not while I can breathe.’
‘I cannot let you go to the docks.’
‘What?’ I said. ‘Will you detain me, an innocent girl, when you will not detain the slaughterer of innocents?’
Inspector Pound crinkled his mouth and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stood up and opened the door and called down the corridor.
‘Sergeant Horwich, get one of the men to bring a Black Maria. We are going to the docks. And find a blanket for Miss Middleton. She will freeze to death at this time of night.’ He turned to me and said, ‘And I would not want that on my conscience.’
66
The Aphrodite
The horses nosed cautiously, stumbling through the thick stinking air.
‘We are lucky there was a police vehicle free,’ Inspector Pound told me as we sat up in the front seat next to the driver. ‘You would never get a cab to come here at this time of night.’
‘Is it a dangerous area?’ I asked.
‘Very. You should not even be here.’
‘Are there lots of foreigners?’
The street was so narrow that we scraped the walls as the van rocked from side to side.
‘There is worse than foreigners here.’
‘Is that possible?’
The inspector grunted. ‘I think you mock me, Miss Middleton, but there is many a man gone missing in this area only to be washed up on the Isle of Dogs with his wallet missing and a smile in his throat.’
The sides of the street disappeared and, from the swirling of the fog, I judged that we had come into an open space. Our driver pulled the horses up and spoke for the first time since we had left Marylebone Station. ‘Here we are, sir.’
The inspector peered about us. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, sir. My brother works here. And all my uncles.’
Inspector Pound clambered off and I could hardly see the hand held up to help me down into a deep puddle.
‘Good job you aren’t wearing a nice dress,’ he said as I slithered about.
The driver passed us a lantern but it produced no more than a weak halo, casting the inspector’s face i
nto a ghoulish yellow glow.
‘It should be straight on, sir. If you find yourself swimming, you’ve gone too far to the left.’
‘Mind your tongue and wait there,’ Inspector Pound said. ‘And you had better keep hold of me, Miss Middleton. At least that way we will go over the edge together.’
‘It cannot be much wetter,’ I said and slipped my arm through his.
‘That should be the Aphrodite.’ The inspector pointed. There was a faint red light and we inched our way towards it, me sliding my feet and my companion tapping ahead of us with his cane. The water was slapping against a wall and I could hear voices, some shouting, and the ships creaking and banging against the piers. I stepped into another slimy puddle and our light went out.
‘Blast that man.’ Inspector Pound shook the lantern. ‘The oil has run out. I sometimes think I am working in an institution for the mentally defective, and don’t you dare tell Mr Grice I said that.’
I laughed and said, ‘I think we need to go more to the left.’
‘How so?’
‘Because I can see the green starboard light as well now, and those yellow lights must mark the end of the wharf.’
‘If you say so.’
We changed direction and, as I began to make out the outline of a ship before and above us, I heard a familiar voice raised close by.
‘I do not care if you are Admiral of the Fleet with the King of Siam on board, you will not set sail until I say so.’
A lower gruffer voice said, ‘You have no authority on land or at sea, Mr Grice, and as my first mate has already told you, if you put one foot on to my gangplank, I shall have you cast in irons for mutinous trespass.’
Sidney Grice stood under a lamp with a small group of men round him.
The Mangle Street Murders Page 24