‘Justice! Justice! When has justice ever done the right thing?’ Daniel ran a hand desperately through his hair, leaving it even more dishevelled. ‘We have to find whoever it is who has done these foul deeds. Jackman, you said you would discover the perpetrator.’
‘We are hoping this visit to Montagu Place will yield some vital evidence.’
Mrs Trenchard folded Alice’s letter and returned it to Daniel. ‘Yes, Mr Rokeby, go there with the others. The more witnesses the better.’
Ursula caught sight of Jackman’s face. Like her, he obviously felt the addition of the poet to their party was more likely to be a hindrance than a help but there was nothing that could be done. She said goodbye and led the way out of the drawing room with an indelible picture of Mrs Trenchard’s white and agonised face in her mind. Surely there had to be some evidence that would at the very least identify other suspects for the deaths of Joshua Peters and Albert Pond? The Fentiman sisters must not have to stand trial for murder.
* * *
A four-wheeler cab was found without much delay. Throughout the mercifully short journey, Daniel bombarded Jackman with questions: How was his investigation going; what was the evidence against Rachel; how had Pond’s whereabouts been discovered; why couldn’t Jackman make Inspector Drummond see that neither sister was responsible for murder? Ursula leaned her head against the seat back and tried to ignore the throbbing that was threatening to turn into a serious headache.
All the time she fought to keep her mind clear, Ursula felt a terrible fear that this expedition to investigate Joshua Peters’ safe was not going to produce any evidence that could persuade Drummond to release the sisters. She was certain that all Rachel’s protestations of innocence would be useless. Until she and Jackman could identify at least one blackmail victim who had sufficient to lose from exposure to make murder the only option, Rachel and Alice seemed doomed. The uncertain motion of the cab racked up the headache to the point where it seemed hammers were beating at the inside of her skull.
At Montagu Place, Daniel immediately jumped out, ran up to the front door and banged the knocker. There was a long delay before it was finally opened. Emily’s eyes widened as she took in the group. Martha explained matters and they were all taken down to the kitchen where she and Mrs Firestone, apparently the only two members of staff left in the house, were eating supper.
At any other time, Ursula would have found the aroma of macaroni cheese appetising. Now it induced nausea and she quietly left the kitchen and waited on the hall stairs for Mrs Trenchard’s letter of authority to be produced. The quiet was blissful and she began to hope that the hammering in her head would soon go away.
Instead, stray thoughts intruded. Why had Daniel insisted on coming with them? Had he perhaps already known about Albert Pond’s death? But how? Ursula felt a tingle along the nape of her neck, a sure sign something was asking her to concentrate. Had Millie, she wondered, been in touch with Daniel? Told him where Pond was living? After all, Millie had been Alice and Daniel’s go-between; she would know him quite well. Was he afraid there would be something in the safe that could incriminate him?
‘Are you all right?’ asked Jackman quietly. She had not been aware of his approach. She nodded. ‘It is only a slight headache.’ Then she summoned a smile, ‘I would not like you to lose your assistant as soon as she started her duties.’
Martha and Daniel joined them, together with Emily. ‘I’ll show you Mr Peters’ bedroom. That’s where his safe is.’ She led the way upstairs.
Joshua Peters’ bedroom was dark. Emily switched on the electric light then drew back heavy brown velvet curtains trimmed with gold fringing to reveal a window overlooking the rear of the house.
It was a very masculine room, with red and black striped wall paper, a mahogany tallboy, a large bed with carved walnut head and foot boards, and a heavy quilted bedcover in a dark red paisley pattern. On one side of the bed stood a night cabinet very similar to the one in Albert Pond’s rooms. A carpet with swirls of dark caramel on a darker brown covered the floor.
Opposite the bed was a fireplace with a nicely blackened grate, slate hearth and Delft tiling. To one side stood a heavy wardrobe, on the other was a free-standing cheval mirror, with behind it a large oil painting of a stag at bay.
Emily moved the mirror and fiddled with the frame of the painting, then swung one side of it away from the wall. Jackman gave a sigh of relief as they saw a large, iron safe. ‘Quite a simple lock, no codes required, just a key.’ He ran his fingers over it. ‘I wouldn’t reckon much, though, to the possibility of cracking it open without one.’
‘As I said downstairs, sir,’ said Emily, ‘ we haven’t been able to find a key.’
‘Right, team,’ said Jackman. ‘Any ideas as to a devilish clever hiding place?’
Daniel lifted the bedcover, swung himself under the bed and ran his hands over the exposed springs. Martha tried to move the headboard to check behind it – and failed. Ursula started to take out drawers from the tallboy, searching their contents, checking underneath each drawer, then piling them up on the floor. Martha came to help. Emily stood by the door, watching the activities with a slightly scornful look on her face. ‘We’ve done all that,’ she said.
Jackman checked underneath the window sill and behind the curtains, then cleared out the contents of the wardrobe and the long drawer at its bottom. ‘Rokeby, you check the underside and back of this piece. I’m going downstairs to the study. The desk has at least one hiding place.’ He left the room.
Ursula carried on checking the tallboy’s multitude of drawers.
‘Never seen a chap have so many socks,’ Martha said. ‘Or with such natty clocks.’ She held up a dark grey pair with an ivory silk pattern down the side. ‘Hardly worn,’ she added.
They reached the last of the drawers without result. Daniel had finished his searches and replaced the contents of the wardrobe. ‘Not a sign of a key.’ He stood back and surveyed the room. ‘It can’t be here, we’ve searched everywhere.’ He sounded thoroughly frustrated. ‘Yet it has to be somewhere. You, girl, has the entire house been searched?’
‘Her name is Emily,’ said Ursula frostily. ‘You’ll have to forgive him,’ she said to the maid. ‘It’s been a long and trying day.’
‘That’s all right, miss. The master hardly ever called me by name.’
Daniel struck his forehead. ‘To think I’ve displayed manners as bad as that brute! Emily, I present my deepest apologies.’
For the first time since they’d arrived, she smiled. ‘Thank you, sir. And, yes, we have all checked every inch of this place. We even looked in the garden.’
Ursula put the drawer from the top of the tallboy back in place, listening to the slight ‘clunk’ as it moved smoothly in and met the wooden back.
Martha slotted in the next drawer.
‘Just a minute,’ said Ursula. ‘Let me check something.’
She started to correct the haphazard way she had piled the drawers on top of each other, lining them up carefully, matching their outlines. In the middle of her task Jackman returned with a depressed shake of the head. ‘Yes!’ she suddenly breathed. ‘Look …’ She pointed to the drawer in the middle of the first pile. ‘Don’t you see, it’s slightly shorter than the others.’
‘But it hasn’t got a key stuck to it,’ said Daniel, running a hand over the back.
‘No,’ said Ursula, reaching into the space it had occupied in the chest. ‘But, look what I’ve found!’ She withdrew her arm.
‘Oh, my heavens,’ said Emily, both hands at her mouth.
‘Well done, assistant investigator,’ said Jackman, taking the heavy iron key. ‘Now let’s see if it’s the one we need.’
They all watched as he fitted it into the lock, turned it – and opened the safe’s door.
Daniel, Martha and Emily crowded round to see what was revealed and Ursula blessed the fact that she was tall enough to see over the heads of the two servants.
An ir
on shelf split the interior of the safe into two. The top half looked empty; in the bottom rested a collection of jewellery cases.
Jackman lifted out several. ‘Martha, will you please put these on the bed. Emily, please check their contents and see if you can identify any missing items.’
Gradually, nearly a dozen open cases were assembled. Joshua Peters had good taste in jewellery, Ursula thought as she looked at necklaces, bracelets, earrings and brooches set with diamonds, emeralds and amythests, plus a lovely double string of pearls with matching drop earrings. Emily reverently touched the contents of each case. ‘I wasn’t the mistress’s maid but I saw her dressed for evening occasions often enough and I recognise them all.’
‘Anything missing?’
Slowly she surveyed the glittering collection. ‘One thing,’ she said finally. ‘A gold chain and locket.’
‘That was her mother’s,’ said Martha. ‘She wore it almost all the time, unless she was dressed up for a function. It would have gone to prison with her.’
‘There’s a small fortune there,’ said Daniel in astonishment. ‘If I’d known, I’d have told her to bring as many as she could when she came to join me. Selling them would have meant a great start to our life together and I reckon she earned them, the way that brute treated her.’
‘But she was leaving him,’ said Ursula quietly. ‘I can understand her reluctance to take any.’ She remembered Alice describing the functions Peters had insisted they attended together. ‘I felt I was a doll, dressed up and hung with jewels to demonstrate how successful Joshua was,’ she’d said.
‘He probably made sure she didn’t know where the key was kept,’ said Jackman.
‘Anything else in the safe?’ asked Ursula. ‘Papers? Notebook with addresses?’
Jackman stood back, revealing the empty spaces above and below the shelf. ‘That seems to be it, I’m afraid.’
‘So Pond cleared out the evidence,’ said Ursula with a frustrated sigh. She wondered why he hadn’t taken at least some of the jewellery as well, but maybe he thought he’d be branded a thief and sent to jail.
Jackman knelt down in front of the safe and ran a hand round the inside, reaching into the back and then round the sides and front. ‘Just a minute, there’s something here.’
The safe had a frame at the front that the door fitted into. Working carefully, Jackman detached a slim envelope that had somehow been forced against it at the top, out of sight.
It was unsealed. As the others watched, fascinated, Jackman took out a sheet of paper and rapidly scanned it.
‘It appears to be a love letter addressed to“My Darling Pistachio” , and signed “Your loving Almond”.’
‘Couple of nuts,’ murmured Daniel.
Jackman handed the piece of paper to Martha. ‘Is that Miss Fentiman’s writing?’
She took one look and shook her head. ‘Nor is it Mrs Peters’,’ she said.
Daniel snatched it out of her hand, immediately denied knowing the handwriting but started to read the letter anyway. He raised an eyebrow. ‘I say, maybe written by a nut but it’s pretty fruity.’ He handed it to Ursula. She gave it a brief glance then gave it back to Jackman.
He returned the piece of paper to the envelope. ‘We’ll need to subject it to a closer scrutiny than is possible here.’ It was slipped into an inside pocket. ‘Now, Emily and Martha, please close up the jewellery cases. We need to return them to the safe and I think the key should be given to Mrs Trenchard.’
Ursula watched the return of the cases to the safe, her mind in a daze. All she could think about was gratitude that Jackman had not asked if she recognised the writing.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Back at Mrs Maple’s boarding house, Jackman helped Ursula descend from the cab.
After demanding that the investigator clear Alice and Rachel’s names, Daniel had stalked off. Jackman had sighed and found a cab. It had taken them first to the Trenchard residence, where he handed over the safe key, then to St George’s Square, where Martha was dropped. She had said she’d be very happy to find her own way home, but neither Jackman nor Ursula would hear of such a thing. As Martha opened the front door, Ursula thought that she seemed older and frailer than when they had first met. With both the sisters she had known all their lives now in prison accused of murder, it was no wonder.
The headache that had been growing ever since that afternoon made Ursula long, above everything, for her bed. Now, however, she realised that Jackman was insisting that they discuss the day’s events.
‘Wouldn’t it be better to leave it until tomorrow? I’m quite worn out,’ she said, drawing a hand across her forehead.
‘I’m sure you’ve managed to cope under worse conditions,’ he said, giving the cabbie a salute of farewell. ‘If I didn’t think it was important, I wouldn’t insist.’
It was easier to accept the situation than continue to protest. Ursula led the way in.
The boarders’ lounge was occupied but Meg said it would be quite all right to use the dining room to talk. ‘So long as you don’t mess with the breakfast laying,’ she added. ‘Can I bring you some coffee?’
Ursula looked at Jackman, who said, ‘I’d kill for a pot of tea. And a sandwich if you had such a thing; we haven’t had anything to eat since midday.’
‘You poor things! You go in there and I’ll bring you something that’ll keep you going.’ Meg disappeared down to the kitchen.
Ursula removed her coat and hung it over the back of one of the chairs then sat and fingered the material. ‘It’s hard to believe it was only this morning that I retrieved this from Millie,’ she sighed.
‘It’s the first time I’ve seen you less than one hundred percent,’ Jackman said, sitting opposite her.
‘Have you forgotten what we went through in Liverpool?’ she smiled faintly.
‘You have a point. That Mountstanton business was taxing.’ He crossed his legs, unbuttoned his jacket, and put his thumbs in the armholes of his waistcoat and returned her smile. ‘Regretting taking on the position of investigative assistant once again?’
She tried to rally. ‘Of course not. I just wish we were making more progress. Were you as surprised as I was to see Daniel Rokeby turning up like that?’
‘You think there was more to his appearance than a letter from Mrs Peters?’
She shrugged. ‘Do you think Millie could have been in touch with him? They must know each other quite well.’
He sat up a little straighter and ran a hand over his chin; Ursula heard the faint rasp of new-grown stubble. ‘Hmm! You think our friend Albert Pond could have been blackmailing him and that he took action? Any suggestions as to what the blackmailing could have been about?’
Too tired to think, Ursula shook her head. ‘Nothing, other than, perhaps, the death of Joshua Peters?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t given consideration to that possibility. There is, though, absolutely no evidence whatsoever. I conducted a thorough investigation into him after Peters first hired me and could find nothing to blacken his name apart from his being a second rate poet and scratching a living with the odd article.’
‘Which isn’t a crime.’
‘Quite.’
Ursula saw Jackman slightly narrow his eyes and knew without any doubt that he was about to bring up the matter of the letter found in the Peters’ safe.
The dining room door opened and Meg manoeuvred a tray on to the table. There was a pot of tea, milk and sugar and a plate with several rough-cut sandwiches. ‘Supper today was salt beef, with enough left over for these,’ said Meg, unloading plates, cups and saucers and napkins. ‘I’ll collect them things after you’ve finished, no need to bring them down to the kitchen, washing up’s all been done for tonight.’ Then she was gone.
‘What a treat,’ said Jackman, lifting the brown teapot. ‘Shall I pour?’
‘Please.’
‘Now, get yourself outside that and you’ll feel miles better.’ He handed over the nicely large cup
and saucer then offered sugar. Ursula refused but he helped himself to two large spoonfuls, carefully stirring it in.
The tea was refreshing but Ursula found that she didn’t really feel up to consuming the thick sandwiches; however Jackman soon demolished his portion.
‘Right,’ he said, dusting off his fingers with the napkin. ‘Now, are you going to tell me who wrote that letter? The one Rokeby called “fruity”? And don’t try to tell me you don’t know because it won’t wash.’
Ursula wished she had done a better job of concealing her reaction. But Jackman knew her too well. She forced herself to remember what she had gathered from the letter.
‘Thomas, did you think it contained anything that a blackmailer could use to extract money?’
He took out the envelope and re-read the love letter.
‘Ah! Well, it depends on whether it is adulterous or not.’
‘You mean, if the writer isn’t married and the letter was sent to another unmarried person, then it could be considered innocent?’
‘And that’s what you believe? That it is innocent?’
‘Under those circumstances, yes.’
‘And you are not going to tell me who writer and recipient are?’
‘I have particular reasons for not doing so,’ Ursula said slowly.
‘I can see that. But, surely, you can understand that because it was found in a blackmailer’s safe, it almost certainly is not innocent.’
Ursula found it difficult to counter his logic or to meet his gaze. Instead she rose. ‘Please, wait here, I’ll be back in a moment,’ she said and hurried upstairs to her room. Here she took out her copy of the fragment of paper Meg had rescued from Alice’s fire.
Re-entering the dining room, she found Jackman had refilled both their cups. She handed over the scrap of paper and explained its history. ‘I should have given it to you sooner,’ she said.
‘And what stopped you, may I ask?’
‘I think you can probably see why not.’
‘Read it to me, I can’t make any sense of it myself.’
A Fatal Freedom Page 34