The Dead Woman of Deptford: Inspector Ben Ross mystery 6

by Granger, Ann

  Aha! I thought. So Frank Carterton is not the only one seeking to make use of me. I am to spy on the Wellings family on behalf of Scotland Yard.

  By the following afternoon the fog, which had begun lifting in mid-morning, had completely dispersed. The London fog is like that: sometimes it can last two or more days and the world seems to have come to a halt. But now, though it remained cold and dull, it was dry and as clear as London air ever is of a wintertime when every chimney is putting forth smoke. I had been wondering how Patience was managing under the strain. It seemed a good idea to take advantage of the better conditions and what daylight was left before the early dusk fell. I dressed in my best and set out for Goodge Place.

  I found the household in a great to-do. Patience’s parents and her two aunts, Amelia and Caroline, were due to arrive at any moment.

  ‘This is not a good time for me to call,’ I apologised.

  ‘But it is! I am so glad you are here, Lizzie,’ said Patience. ‘Do come into the back parlour.’ She seized my arm and towed me towards the room. In a conspiratorial whisper, she added, ‘We are less likely to be disturbed here, although my Aunt Matilda is running all over the house, fussing about the arrangements. One moment she is upstairs making sure the beds have all been aired. The next moment she is in the kitchen conferring with Cook about the dinner. She has twice sent round to the butcher for extra meat and to the baker for white bread. I am sure we could feed an army, not just my family.’

  I could hear Mrs Pickford’s voice for myself, echoing from upstairs. ‘But there must be enough towels! Lucy, do go and look in the cupboard. No, no, not those. They are worn and whatever would my sister Wellings think?’

  ‘What about Edgar?’ I asked, when Patience had shut the door. ‘Will he be coming today, or is he too busy at the hospital?’

  ‘He says he is too busy at the hospital. But he will have to come this evening and dine with us all.’ Patience gazed at me in despair. ‘And then, oh Lizzie, then it will be a time of reckoning. As soon as dinner is over, Papa and Uncle Pickford will take Edgar into the study and, as my uncle says, “sort the matter out, once and for all”.’

  ‘Edgar must be expecting that,’ I said. ‘He can’t be surprised. He has got himself into this scrape, after all. At least the financial worry will be taken care of, won’t it? Your father will settle his debts?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Patience. ‘He will do that. It isn’t the money that is worrying Edgar now – although he will get a terrible lecture on his ways. It will be mortifying for him. But far worse will be news of the murder investigation. You see, my parents have not yet been told any of that. Learning that Edgar has been gambling, that he has run up debts and been borrowing money; all that will be bad enough! But they must also be told that Edgar was marched off to Scotland Yard by Inspector Ross.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ I said. It would be a horrifying shock to the Wellings family. I wondered how they would cope. One thing did occur to me. ‘Patience, my dear,’ I said. ‘Please do try and prevent your father going to Scotland Yard and demanding to see my husband. It is enough that your Uncle Pickford went. Ben is very busy with this case and it doesn’t help to have people bothering him for information that he really cannot give them. Frank has been to see Ben, you know. I don’t think Ben can do with any more interruptions.’

  ‘I will do my best,’ said Patience dolefully. ‘But they pay no attention to me, you know. When they find out that Edgar is being treated as a suspect in a murder inquiry . . . when they learn all about his having gone to a moneylender . . . when they learn about the awful thing that happened to Mrs Clifford . . . My father’s first instinct will be to rush to Scotland Yard for information. My mother will be utterly distraught. My aunts will be in hysterics. They will all insist that Papa do something.’ Patience fell back in her chair and gazed at me in despair. ‘Whatever shall I do?’

  ‘My dear, other than persuade your father not to trouble Ben, you don’t have to do anything!’ I told her firmly. ‘It is Edgar who is in a pickle, not you.’

  ‘But I am!’ Patience sat up with a start and waved her hands. ‘A different pickle, if you like, but it has to do with Edgar’s problems. My parents must be told that my marriage to Frank is delayed because of it. Mrs Parry insists and, you know, Frank has to listen to her. Until the murderer is found and Edgar’s name cleared, there can be no wedding. My poor mother will be so worried and upset. Papa, too. On top of the debts, the murder, Scotland Yard’s involvement, now the wedding uncertain, oh, it will be too much for them. How I wish my aunts weren’t coming, too. They do interfere dreadfully and always have such a lot to say about everything. And it really isn’t their business, you know.’

  ‘Are neither of them married?’ I asked.

  ‘Neither of them,’ said Patience. ‘Aunt Caroline was engaged but her fiancé was sent by his company to India, to oversee some business there, and he went down with a fever and died. Aunt Caroline has worn half-mourning ever since.’

  ‘That is very sad,’ I said.

  ‘Well, yes, at first it was,’ agreed Patience. ‘But it was all twenty years ago; and to keep on wearing mauve and grey, or purple when she wants to look grand . . . I believe she does it to draw attention.’

  ‘I see. Will Frank be here to dine this evening?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Patience. ‘It is to be a family conference. Frank isn’t exactly family because he and I are not yet married. Perhaps,’ added Patience, tears coming to her eyes, ‘we never shall be!’

  ‘Frank is a man of his word, Patience,’ I told her firmly. ‘I do not say that Frank doesn’t have his . . . shortcomings. But he says he will stand by you and he will. Of that you can be absolutely certain.’

  ‘I do believe it,’ said Patience in a small voice. ‘Dear Frank is so loyal. He is the kindest, sweetest man. But, do you see, he has a fine career to make and he cannot make it if my family’s troubles drag him into a scandal. If Edgar— if Edgar were to get into even more trouble, I should be obliged to release Frank from our engagement. I cannot let him ruin his life because of me.’

  ‘Pull yourself together, Patience!’ I ordered her. ‘This is no time to go to pieces.’

  Nor was it; for a tremendous hubbub broke out.

  ‘They are here!’ cried Patience, running to the parlour door and throwing it open.

  The house seemed to be full of people; not only that, but their luggage, too. There was a quantity of it: trunks and hatboxes, various mysterious bundles and a picnic hamper. The stout boy with the brass buttons and two maids were busy gathering up the luggage to take it upstairs. Outside the house, through the window, I glimpsed two four-wheeled cabs trotting off.

  Some of the party had already spilled into the drawing room, but remaining in the hall were two amply proportioned ladies, one clad in a virulent shade of violet. They were divesting themselves of bonnets and shawls. This revealed both of them to be laced as tightly as could be into their corsets. That, combined with the effort of travel and the emotion of reunion, resulted in both of them being very red in the face, and perspiring. They mopped their brows as they chattered of their journey, talking over one another and not waiting to hear if anyone replied.

  Otherwise, they bore a striking resemblance to one another. They had round, good-natured faces framed with false curls. I was secretly glad that I had been warned of Caroline’s taste for mauve and purple, as it would enable me to remember which of the sisters she was. Neither of them was very tall but both were vociferous.

  ‘Such a throng of folk on the station! You would never believe it! The smoke from the engine came right into the carriage, and we had to veil our faces to shield ourselves from it. When we reached London, I swear, we never saw so many people running up and down the platforms. And the noise! You never heard the like. Well, how are you, Matilda love? How do you manage with all the crowds in London? We were terrified to see so many cabs and carriages, omnibuses and folk walking, well running . . . everything so helter
-skelter . . .’

  ‘My aunts,’ whispered Patience unnecessarily.

  But we had been spotted. With cries of delight the two ladies descended on Patience and embraced her. Then they turned their attention to me.

  ‘This is Mrs Ross,’ Patience introduced me. ‘She is Frank’s cousin. Lizzie, allow me to present my Aunts Briggs. This is my Aunt Amelia and this’ (turning to the lady in violet) ‘my Aunt Caroline.’

  ‘Bless me,’ exclaimed Aunt Amelia. ‘Dear Frank’s cousin! We are pleased to meet you, aren’t we, Caroline?’

  ‘We’ve not met any of dear Frank’s family, have we, Patience? It’s lovely to make your acquaintance, Mrs Ross,’ gushed Caroline. ‘Frank is such a splendid lad, and so clever, and we are so looking forward to seeing him married to our Patience here. We tell her all the time what a lucky young woman she is, don’t we, Amelia?’

  ‘I am also very pleased that Frank and Patience are to be married, Miss Briggs,’ I told her. It was not for me to tell them of Mrs Parry’s objections.

  ‘Now, Mrs Ross,’ declared Amelia, ‘you must come and meet our sister Dorothy, Patience’s mamma, and her husband, Walter.’

  ‘I am looking forward to meeting them both,’ I told them. ‘But to tell you the truth I was just about to leave. I have another call—’

  ‘But you cannot go without meeting Dorothy and Walter! They are in the drawing room, come along.’

  So I was borne along into the drawing room, wedged between the two ladies, Amelia in front of me and Caroline behind. Both wore full crinolines so there was no other way of proceeding. Patience followed at the tail of the procession. In the drawing room I found Mr and Mrs Pickford, with a lady and gentleman. The man was tall and rather distinguished-looking. This must be Mr Wellings. An anxious-looking lady of faded prettiness, and slighter build than her sisters, must be mother to Patience and Edgar.

  Introductions were made and much more chatter followed. Eventually, Mrs Wellings asked if my husband and I were to come to dinner that evening with, perhaps, Frank and others of his family?

  At this, such consternation showed on the faces of Mr and Mrs Pickford that I had to speak up loudly and insist that, alas, my husband and I were unable to come to dine that evening. But I was sure we should all meet again. In the meantime, I really had to leave . . .

  They all expressed regret. As I was ushered out into the hall by Patience, I heard Walter Wellings ask, ‘Well, now, brother-in-law! What has happened that we must all of us come running down to London, eh?’

  As the front door closed on me, I heard, from the street, a sudden outbreak of female shrieks and wails. Anyone else passing by would have thought all the ladies in the house under attack – or that a fire had broken out. I guessed the news had been broken that the marriage was delayed. How they would all react when told of Edgar’s debts and the murder, I dreaded to think.

  Inspector Ben Ross

  I was pleased to see the fog lift by midday. It interferes with business of all kinds and with police work in a dozen ways. The morning was quiet. Dunn called me in and asked how the investigation was going. I told him that we had unfortunately lost a prime witness, the man who had discovered the body.

  ‘Drowned, eh?’ grumbled Dunn. He scratched his head of thick, stiff hair. Even the damp air had not made it lie flat. It was as much like a brush as ever. ‘Foul play?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘Impossible at the moment to say, sir. There are no marks upon the body other than what one might expect. It’s a fortunate thing for us that the lighterman, Midge, recognised the dead man when he and his assistant hauled him aboard.’

  ‘I don’t like coincidences,’ growled Dunn.

  ‘There is nothing against Midge,’ I said. ‘I had Biddle check our records. Besides, Morris and I visited the man in his home last night. He appears a decent, hard-working fellow. He has a family. The house is as neat as a new pin.’

  ‘Yes, yes . . .’ said Dunn, waving away my description of the Midge family household. ‘Well, then, let us say that coincidences do happen. But how did Parker come to be in the water, eh? He was an important witness. You told me you thought there was more he could tell you, that he was holding something back. Is that what killed him?’

  ‘It is possible someone wanted to stop his mouth, sir. In fact, I feel that is the case, but I have no proof of any kind to set before you, or the coroner. To tell you the truth, I have a fancy someone watched Midge’s house while we were there. It could have been a curious neighbour. It was too dark and too foggy to make anything out. But whoever it was followed us for quite a way when we left. We couldn’t see him, you understand, but Morris felt his presence, too.’

  Dunn nodded. He understood.

  ‘The fellow in charge of the morgue is confident it is a simple drowning; and he’s seen any number of bodies taken from Father Thames.’

  ‘But you are not?’ Dunn squinted at me.

  ‘My instinct, like yours, sir, is that there must have been foul play. To lose Parker now, when I had renewed my interest in him? I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Nevertheless, there are other possible explanations and I know I mustn’t dismiss any of them out of hand. It could be a straightforward accident. He could have drunk too much and stumbled into the water on his way home. Also, he expressed concern to me, regarding his roommates. He was obliged to share lodgings with two others. He said he did not like the look of either of them. But if they had set about him, I would expect to find more injuries on the body. Inspector Phipps has sent a constable to the lodging house in question. He does not expect to learn anything of interest.’

  ‘If the police have come asking questions, Parker’s roommates will have vanished,’ Dunn said. ‘Now, then! About young Edgar Wellings. We should be seen to be doing more about him. The public does not expect an obvious suspect to be going about his business without any hindrance from us. What’s more, I do believe that the hospital authorities, when they do find out, will be angry they weren’t told at once that one of their doctors was in such serious trouble. They must be informed, Ross. There is a prima facie case for charging him.’

  ‘With respect, sir, it is weak when it comes down to detail. If we arrest him it will be, frankly, because we have no other suspect. If only we had the missing IOUs. That would give us a list of likely persons! All of them would have wanted to be free of Mrs Clifford.’ I paused. ‘The entire family is about to descend on Goodge Place. I do not envy young Wellings. He will probably be wishing we had arrested him and locked him in a cell where his furious relatives can’t reach him.’

  Dunn snorted. ‘Perhaps, so. But I shall be contacting the hospital. They will wish to suspend him from his duties, pending our investigations, I dare say. But he can expect no less.’

  I had hoped to avoid this; but I had to agree that the superintendent was right. We had not found another suspect. Bart’s must be told that the shadow of a violent crime lay over one of their young doctors; not a man to have treating the sick and vulnerable until he was completely cleared of all wrongdoing. The world, however, cannot always wait. It would not have surprised me if Bart’s dismissed Wellings outright, here and now.

  ‘He has still not been charged, sir!’ I protested. ‘His behaviour has been reckless in the extreme and foolish. But he claims that when he left that house, Mrs Clifford was alive. She was found nearly half a mile away. How could he have transported her, dead or dying, to Skinner’s Yard?’

  ‘He could have attacked her and then bitterly regretted it. He saw she was alive, but injured and in need of medical help. He could have set off with her to seek assistance.’

  ‘He is a doctor, sir!’ I clung to my defence of the wretched Wellings. ‘He could have treated her there himself at the house. Called on her maid, whom he must have known slept in the attic, and between them they could have got the poor woman to her bed. Then he could have sought help.’

  ‘And, when she died, he’d have found himself charged with causing her death and not a jo
t of defence. Caught with her blood on his hands!’ snapped Dunn. ‘Come, come, Ross, he’s lucky not to be sitting in a cell as we speak. That uncle of his was right to be surprised we hadn’t arrested the fellow and locked him up. That, by rights, is what we should have done. The longer he remains free to wander about at will, and no one any the wiser in the hospital where he works, the more indefensible our lack of action appears. Especially following the death of the witness, Parker. If the gentlemen of the press find out we have a suspect and have not charged him, I can imagine what they will do with that!’

  The press would have a field day, anyway, I thought to myself, once the news gets out, as it must when Bart’s becomes involved.

  Dunn had been watching my face and read my misgivings. ‘I will take care of it, Ross. If Mrs Ross complains, refer her to me,’ he added.

  ‘My wife will understand,’ I told him. It was true; she would do so. But she would not like it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Elizabeth Martin Ross

  WHEN BEN came home that evening he was downcast. The investigation had stalled. Worst of all, from my own personal viewpoint, Superintendent Dunn intended to inform St Bartholomew’s Hospital that one of their junior doctors, Edgar Wellings, was a prime suspect in a case of murder. Patience would be sure to call on my support at once. It would not just be Patience who would be distraught. I could find myself with the whole family on my hands.

  ‘But you don’t think Edgar pushed Harry Parker into the river, surely?’ I protested.

  ‘I don’t know who is responsible for that. I am certain in my own mind that Parker’s death is suspicious, even without the physical evidence of a fatal blow.’ A thought apparently struck Ben because he clicked his fingers and added, ‘See here, if I had locked up young Wellings, he would be completely out of the picture with regard to the death of Parker. Now, unlikely though it seems, we can’t discount him. I was remiss in not keeping him under my eye. The wretched fellow is completely unreliable. I should have ignored the possible embarrassment to Carterton and just done as I would with any other suspect.’