A Death at a Gentleman's Club

by Caroline Dunford

  ‘If I have this right, Helios has been systematically eliminating all those who may have been witness to his treachery or, at the very least, those who know enough to have the capacity to put the pieces together and uncover the truth. We can assume something went wrong with his own plans…’

  ‘And he made Phlegon his stooge,’ said Bertram. ‘But how does Fitzroy know this?’

  ‘Only because all the other assets have since died, and while he didn’t say so, I assume he meant in unnatural circumstances.’

  ‘Not so unnatural that the police would notice, but…’

  ‘Fitzroy, who was beginning to join the dots on this old file, did. Lovelock was his last living link, but I don’t think he was one of Helios’ team.’ I shook my head. ‘My head is aching with all this.’

  ‘Let us simply assume Helios, or his descendants, don’t want his treachery known. Why?’

  ‘Executed as a traitor, removal of assets, loss of family reputation,’ I said.

  ‘That’s what I think,’ said Bertram. ‘I think Helios is thinking of his next generation. He must be an old man by now. If he has a son to carry on his name…’

  ‘Fitzroy said something about the worst crimes being committed for love.’

  ‘Did he?’ said Bertram not sounding very interested. ‘Let us have a think about who among our suspects are family men…’

  ‘Or their sons,’ I said. ‘Prentice Davenport said himself he had inherited unexpectedly. What if his father confessed on his death bed and he is trying to clear up the mess?’

  ‘Not impossible,’ said Bertram. ‘But it’s rather like a melodrama.’

  ‘Sebastian Wilkes is old enough to have fathered a number of children,’ I said.

  ‘The rest of them are the right age too,’ said Bertram. ‘We could look in the members’ registers and see if they list whether or not members are married?’ He gestured at the books Fitzroy had been amending.

  ‘I caught Fitzroy writing in those,’ I said.

  ‘That’s jolly interesting,’ said Bertram sitting up. ‘What did he say he was doing.’

  ‘Removing information.’

  Bertram gave a bark of reluctant laughter. ‘Sometimes I can’t help liking the fellow.’

  ‘Ma’am,’ said Evans from the doorway, ‘you can’t go in there.’

  ‘Stop me if you dare,’ said Richenda’s voice. She waltzed in and dumped herself down on Fitzroy’s vacated chair. It creaked in protest.

  ‘I am so tired,’ she said. ‘I’ve been popping in and out of that lift like Amy’s jack-in-the-box toy. Wretched thing always made me feel dizzy watching it.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Bertram.

  ‘The way it bounces up and down - and no matter how many times I see it jump up when the lever is depressed, it always startles me.’

  ‘I meant why were you getting in and out of the lift?’ said Bertram.

  ‘I’ve been looking at the photographs, but to be honest I don’t know what I am looking for. I got one of the porters to point out Lovelock to me in a picture and then I began searching for other ones with him in. But I haven’t noticed anything unusual. I think I should meet your suspects.’

  ‘Probably,’ I conceded at the same moment as Bertram uttered an emphatic, ‘No.’

  ‘I should tell you that we know our murderer only by a codename he once used - Helios,’ I said. Bertram shot me a filthy look.

  ‘Oh, how delicious,’ said Richenda. ‘Does that mean the victim didn’t know his real name either? Because if he didn’t, how could he write about him?’

  ‘If he had known Helios’ real name he would have known to avoid him…’ I said. ‘Richenda, you’re brilliant. Lovelock didn’t know Helios was here! That explains so much.’

  ‘It does?’ said Bertram.

  ‘The last time he saw him was decades ago and Fitzroy said he took on a new identity afterwards,’ I said.

  Bertram clapped his hand to his forehead. ‘What if Lovelock was writing the truth about what actually happened? What if this was all about clearing Phlegon’s name?’

  I nodded. ‘Yes, Fitzroy realised afterwards Helios was the traitor, but I don’t get the impression this has ever been officially acknowledged.’

  ‘You’ve lost me,’ said Richenda. ‘And I thought I was doing so well.’

  ‘Lovelock hasn’t seen Helios since 1878. Helios took on a new identity,’ I explained as succinctly as I could.

  ‘Well, then I’ve been wasting my time looking at old photos,’ said Richenda. ‘He would have to have joined the Holby recently or Lovelock would know him.’

  ‘Dash it,’ said Bertram. ‘She’s right. Euphemia, go through the ledgers and find out who of our suspects joined recently. Richenda, you should go and refresh yourself with cake. You’ve been brilliant. I am going to go and confront Fitzroy with our reasoning.’

  They both departed with some eagerness. Richenda’s was self-evident and I suspected Bertram thought he had got one up on Fitzroy. I doubted that and would have detained him if I had thought of a way to do so without damaging his pride. I hoped he confronted Fitzroy alone. In my experience, although the spy might not yet know the answers to a puzzle, he considered everything. I had no intention of seeking them out. Fitzroy would not be kind when putting Bertram in his place and the last thing Bertram would need would be me witnessing that.

  I pulled over the ledger that the spy had been writing in. He had closed it - and blotted the ink while I was in the room - so I did not think I would be able to easily find what he had redacted. I turned the ledger on its side. Embossed in gold print along the black leather spine it read New Members 1870-1880. Whoever Fitzroy had been removing from the membership list, it had not been a recently joined member. This suggested the spy was up to his nefarious games again, but in this case, I had neither need nor want to know what it was.

  I closed this ledger and moved it to one side. The books were oblong in shape and despite being bound they were all handwritten. Columns read name of applicant, address of applicant, occupation of applicant, date of application, sponsor, accepted/rejected. The script in any book, I quickly discovered, was liable to be the same throughout. Could this be the job of the Honorary Secretary, to write them all? I confess the idea of uncovering Lawrence Prendergast as the culprit disturbed me far less that it transpiring to be one of the more seemingly likeable gentlemen.

  The pages were a dull light blue and the lines of the columns and rows in navy. The script was all in black, save for the accepted/rejected column, where rejected was written in red. I worked my way back from the present day to 1890, by which time my right eye had begun to twitch uncontrollably. The handwriting was cramped and small, and more than once I had to lean closely over the ledger to make out a name. I found only one incident of a rejection, a Martin Pippenny, who listed his occupation as owner of a department store. Generally, the members were civil servants, doctors, lawyers, clergymen, banking merchants, and import and export men, with only Gordon Chapelford listed as a Chartered Accountant. I noted he had been sponsored by Prentice Davenport’s father, Alfred, in 1901. Prentice himself was listed as a heritage member some years later. This must rule out Prentice. I had not found the listing for Alfred as a new member, so he must have joined as a young man. Thus, Lovelock would have had no issue with identifying him. I felt we could rule Prentice out on his own account due to his youth and his father being a long-standing member.

  Lawrence Prendergast had been sponsored in 1905 by a name I did not recognise. I did not think this could clear him. Although, admittedly, he might be a bit young to be Helios. I wondered how I could ascertain his actual age. Guessing the age of gentlemen over thirty was not something I felt confident in doing. Some men appeared to age much faster than others. Having spent time in Africa, the sun had taken its toll on his skin, enough to make him appear older than he was. However, Bertram had thought him too young, and a fellow member of his sex no doubt had a better eye for maturity than I.

 
Gordon Chapelford had been put up for membership by Alfred Davenport in 1891. He was an oddity among the upper middle-class professions of the other members. I recalled that someone had suggested he might have helped a member out of financial difficulties by loading his books but, if so, would that man leave a trail of suspicion by attaching his name to a proposal? Personally, I would have been more careful. However, I could hardly ask Alfred, and I had already ruled out the Davenports. On the whole, Chapelford felt wrong to me. The way he had conducted himself in the interview aside, I thought he was hiding something, but that could be a criminal prosperity that had nothing to do with Lovelock’s murder.

  Alistair Cole-Sutton had been accepted in the Holby club in 1910, a mere three years previously. His sponsor had been Prendergast, who had not only admitted to being in the diplomatic service himself but retained contacts therein. Could he have come across Cole-Sutton before, during his time in the service? I needed to know from Fitzroy how common it was for agents and diplomats to exit either service with a new identity. Could Prendergast have been helping Helios re-establish himself as Cole-Sutton? I felt I was clutching at straws. I had the grace to admit to myself that I wanted Prendergast to turn out to be on the wrong side because he was so unpleasant. Cole-Sutton, by contrast, had been amiable enough during his interview, not only to invite us to a hog roast, but to have both Bertram and me considering going. He had come across as open, honest, and being as helpful as he could. He had offered sensible theories and spoken of his wife and family with great affection. Of course, that gave him a family reputation to safeguard.

  Sebastian Wilkes I found had, surprisingly, only joined the Holby in 1911. His sponsor was another name unknown to me. I flicked back through the volume I had concentrated on but found no mention of the sponsor. Obviously, another long standing-member. But then I thought Wilkes to be the oldest of all of them, so it was of no surprise he might have older friends. I thought back to his interview, he had been a complete gentleman - something Fitzroy never was. If they were once in the same line of business, they would have had very different approaches. This didn’t preclude Wilkes from being Helios, but I had difficulty imaging such a perfectly mannered specimen of civility and etiquette coming from the same stock as Fitzroy. He had had a commanding presence and had been much more in control of the interview than Bertram - but if he was the captain of industry he claimed to be, would that not fit him playing his new character?

  I sat back and massaged my temples. I felt there was a glimmer of light ahead, but it was still very faint. There were ideas at the edge of my mind that would not come into proper focus. I had too much information. I turned to my notes from the interview and started to underline and add to the parts I felt were of significance. Perhaps if I could abstract the essence into a small table or diagram I would begin to see things more clearly. Or at least be able to latch on to what was nagging me at the back of my mind.

  Lawrence Prendergast

  Joined 1905. Elected Hon Sec 1906. Despite current (irate/violent) demeanour must be agreeable to members. Would have had easy access to membership ledgers and all information within.

  Age? Skin prematurely aged in Africa, or older than he looks. Said he was convinced Killian Lovelock was more than a civil servant. Why draw attention to himself like that? Spoke of diplomatic contacts and time in the service.

  Prentice Davenport

  Heritage member, very young and, from interview, not the quickest intellectually. His father, Alfred, joined before 1870, and would have known Lovelock for some time. Father Alfred sponsored Gordon Chapelford.

  Gordon Chapelford

  Cannot dismiss feeling there is something sorely amiss with this character, but it may have nothing to do with Lovelock’s murder. Joined in 1901. Very much the odd man out, both by class and by profession. Appeared an almost comic-like caricature of a lower middle-class gent. Only suspect to claim having seen Lovelock’s actual papers.

  Sebastian Wilkes

  Only a member since 1911. Sponsored by another older man. Confident and controlling. However, extremely well-mannered, in complete contrast to Fitzroy. Seems unlikely they both have/had the same occupation (it is not one for a gentleman). Manners from a bygone age. Prentice mentioned he had a son at Oxford.

  Alistair Cole-Sutton

  Joined in 1910, sponsored by Prendergast. Has three sons. Very amiable character, working in banking. Seemed certain the papers must exist but had never actually seen them. Suggested it was in Lovelock’s character to keep doing paperwork. Given Prendergast’s claim he still has diplomatic contacts could be helping Cole-Sutton evolve new identity, but timing is strange. Grounds for suspicion, except Cole-Sutton’s friendly demeanour is most convincing.

  Cannot tell from notes whether it was Prendergast or Wilkes who first suggested the actual memoirs might not exist. Cannot remember either. Damn!

  I put my pencil down and regarded my little table. Leaving aside my personal preferences, I could only rule out the Davenports. I would have to count that as progress. If I stared at these reports any longer I would give myself a bad headache. I closed the notebook and put it in my skirt pocket.17 Despite the urn-full of tea I was sure I had swallowed that day, I felt badly in need of more.

  I was about to get to my feet when Richenda once more burst in upon me. ‘Oh, good heavens!’ she cried. ‘I didn’t know what to do. Your mother has been taken quite unwell.’

  My heart pounded in my chest. ‘What has happened? Is it her heart?’

  ‘Oh no, nothing like that,’ said Richenda. ‘I think she is merely distressed over seeing your father again.’

  ‘The Bishop?’ I said.

  ‘No, your real father. Josiah Martins.’

  ‘My father?’ For the second time that day I fainted completely away.

  17The advantage of having a seamstress to fit the occasional pocket into a full skirt cannot be denied. It was only when Richenda insisted that the pockets be attached to every garment that the concept became garish.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Fitzroy and I Have a Private Conversation of Some Import

  ‘Really, Euphemia,’ said Fitzroy’s voice. ‘I fear this is a most unbecoming new habit.’

  I opened my eyes to find myself back in the ladies’ powder room, back on the same chaise where I had been laid out before. Fitzroy had a damp flannel in his hand, which he applied to my forehead. The acute pain in my head receded to a moderate one.

  ‘Where is Bertram?’ I asked.

  ‘Elsewhere,’ said Fitzroy. ‘Would you like a glass of water, or a glass of brandy?’

  I inched myself up against the side of the chair. My head felt woozy. ‘Take it slowly,’ warned Fitzroy. ‘I can’t find any sign of head injury, but Richenda seems to think you hit your head on the table. She was a little hysterical, so it was difficult to understand what she was saying. Is she often like that? I do pity Hans.’

  He picked up a lit lamp from a nearby table and held it near my face. He peered uncomfortably closely into my face. He moved the lamp from side to side. ‘Well, your eyes are reacting to the light like normal.’

  ‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

  Fitzroy shrugged. ‘Not sure. I only know that if they don’t I’d need to get you to a doctor quickly.’ He smiled at me. ‘I very much enjoyed reading your assessment of the case. I think, with a little training, you could be a lot of help during interviews and analysis. You show a natural, if unrefined, talent for it.’

  ‘You read my notebook?’ I said. ‘That was in my pocket!’

  ‘Yes, I felt it when I carried you here.’

  ‘You searched me!’ I said appalled.

  ‘No, I told you. I felt it when you were in my arms. I knew exactly where it was. There was no need for me to search you. For once I have behaved as a gentleman,’ he said with a rueful smile. I remembered some of the things I had written and felt myself blush. Fitzroy turned away, so he could pretend not to see my embarrassment.

  ‘B
efore you attempt to rise, let me assure you that Richenda is a fool and your mother is not a bigamist. Your father, I am sorry to say, remains very much dead.’

  It was only when he said this that I remembered why I had fainted. I felt my throat close and a prickle of tears at the back of my eyes. ‘Even when we hear something we know to be ridiculous,’ said Fitzroy kindly, ‘we cannot help but hope.’ He sighed. ‘I did try to deal with this, but I did not count on Richenda and your mother becoming such firm friends. She took your mother for a turn around the club.’

  ‘She saw a photograph,’ I managed to say. I still felt stupidly tearful. Again, Fitzroy turned his gaze away from me and onto the opposite wall.

  ‘Exactly. Before your father ever met your mother, he was a member of the Holby. It was his name you caught me redacting. I did not wish to open up old wounds.’

  ‘But he was only a country curate,’ I said. ‘I have read the professions of the other members…’

  ‘You forget, Euphemia, they also had heritage members. Your father gained his membership because your paternal grandfather was a member.’

  ‘I have never met him.’

  Fitzroy’s shoulders slumped. He suddenly looked very tired. As he placed the lamp back down, his face looked haggard and lined. ‘I am sorry then to tell you that you never will. Your father was their younger son. His parents are both long gone.’

  ‘He had siblings? I have uncles and aunts I have not met?’

  Fitzroy drew up a chair and sat by me. He reached out his hand towards mine and I hesitated for a moment, before taking it. ‘Do you not think that if I knew of any other living relatives of yours I would have told you? Do you think I would have left you living out the life of a servant if you had kin to provide for you?’

  I did not pull my hand away, but I faced him. ‘If it served your interests - I mean the national interests not your personal interests, I grant you that much - to keep me in Richard Stapleford’s house then, yes, I think you might have left me there.’