Cater Street Hangman

by Anne Perry

  “You were the only one here at the time?” he asked.

  “Apart from Mrs. Dunphy, and Dora, of course. Why?”

  “Your mother and sisters were at some church function. Where were your father and Mr. Corde?”

  “Ask them.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “But they came home passing close to Cater Street, if not actually through it?”

  “If they had seen anything, I’m sure they would have told you.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Of course they would! Whyever not?” A terrible thought hit her like a blow. “You can’t—you can’t imagine that one of them would—”

  “I imagine everything, Miss Ellison, and believe nothing until there is proof. But I admit, there is no cause to suppose—,” he left it hanging a second. “But someone did. I would like to have another talk with Maddock—undisturbed.”

  That evening everyone was at home, even Emily. They sat with the French windows open onto the lawn and the late sun in the garden, but instead of the balmy air of evening, filled with the scents of the day, it seemed only heavy with oppression.

  It was Sarah who said what they were all thinking, or something close to it.

  “Well, I’m not worried,” she lifted her chin a little. “Inspector Pitt seems a sensible man to me. He’ll soon discover that Maddock is as innocent as the rest of us. I dare say he’ll even decide so tomorrow.”

  Charlotte spoke her thoughts, as usual, before she considered.

  “I have no faith at all in his good sense. He is not like us.”

  “We all know he is a different class of person,” Sarah said quickly. “But he is used to dealing with criminals. He must know the difference between a perfectly respectable servant like Maddock, and the kind of ruffian who goes around strangling girls.”

  “Garotting,” Charlotte corrected. “And there is a lot of difference between ruffians, as you put it, who attack and rob people, and the sort of person who garottes women, especially servant girls who have nothing worth stealing.”

  Dominic smiled widely.

  “And how would you know, Charlotte? Have you become an expert on crimes of passion?”

  “She doesn’t know!” Edward said very sharply. “She is being contrary, as usual.”

  “Oh, I don’t agree,” Dominic was still smiling. “Charlotte’s not contrary; she’s just forthright. And she has been spending a lot of time lately with that police fellow. Perhaps she’s learned something?”

  “She could hardly learn anything of value, or suitable for a lady to know, from such a person,” Edward said with a frown. He turned to her. “Charlotte, is this true? Have you been seeing this person?”

  Charlotte found herself colouring with confusion and anger.

  “Only when he called here on police business, Papa. Unfortunately he has come on two occasions when no one else was in.”

  “And what have you been saying to him?”

  “Answering his questions, of course. We hardly have social conversations.”

  “Don’t be impertinent! I meant, what has he asked you?”

  “Not a great deal.” Now that she came to think of it, their conversations had been of no immediate relevance to his investigations. “He asked me a little about Lily, and about Maddock.”

  “He’s a perfectly awful man,” Sarah shivered. “It really is appalling that we should have to have him in the house. And I think we should be very careful about letting Charlotte talk to him. You never know what she may forget herself and say.”

  “Do you suggest we should stand in the street and answer his questions?” Charlotte lost her temper completely. “And if you don’t let him speak to me, he will suspect I know something shameful that you are afraid I will let slip.”

  “Charlotte,” Caroline’s voice was quite soft, but there was an edge of firmness in it that had the desired effect.

  “I don’t think he’s awful,” Dominic said casually. “In fact, I rather like him.”

  “You what?” Sarah was incredulous.

  “I rather like him,” Dominic repeated. “He has a dry sense of humour, which must be difficult enough in his job. Or perhaps it’s the only way to retain his sanity.”

  “You have a peculiar taste in friends, Dominic,” Emily said tartly. “I should be obliged if you didn’t entertain him at home.”

  “It would seem redundant at present,” Dominic said pleasantly. “Charlotte appears to be doing very well. I doubt he has time to spare.”

  Charlotte was about to reply, when she realized he was teasing. She blushed with confusion. Her heart was beating so violently she worried in case someone else noticed it.

  “Dominic, this is not a suitable occasion,” Caroline said clearly. “It seems this person really does consider that Maddock might be involved.”

  “More than involved,” Edward was totally serious now. “I gather he actually thinks he might have killed Lily.”

  “But that’s ridiculous.” Sarah was not yet more than superficially worried. Her concern was still only a matter of social inconvenience, a stigma to be circumvented with care, to be talked away. “He couldn’t have.”

  Emily was thinking hard, frowning.

  Edward folded his hands together, staring at them. “Why not?”

  Sarah looked up, startled, but no one else spoke.

  “After all,” Edward went on, “it is inescapable that someone did. It would also appear that it might well be someone who lives around this area, which precludes the sort of criminal who ordinarily attacks people in the street, robbers and so forth. And no robber of any efficiency attacks a servant girl out late, such as Lily. She could have nothing worth taking, poor child. Perhaps Maddock became infatuated with her, and when she rejected him for this young Brody, he lost his head. We have to consider that that may be the truth, however disagreeable.”

  “Papa, how can you?” Sarah burst out. “Maddock is our butler! He has been for years! We know him!”

  “He is still a human being, my dear,” Edward said gently, “and subject to human passions and weaknesses. We must face the truth. Denying it will not alter it, nor can it help anyone, not even Maddock; and we have to consider the safety of others, especially Dora and Mrs. Dunphy.”

  Sarah’s face dropped.

  “You don’t think—”

  “I don’t know, my dear. It is for the police to decide, not us.”

  “I don’t think we should leap to conclusions.” Caroline was obviously unhappy. “But we must be prepared to face the truth, when it becomes inevitable.”

  Charlotte could no longer keep silent.

  “We don’t know that it is the truth! She was garotted, not strangled: killed with a wire. If Maddock suddenly lost his temper, why did he have a wire with him? He doesn’t walk around carrying a garotting wire!”

  “My dear, it’s quite possible he lost his temper before he left the house,” Edward said quietly. She was not looking at them. “Refusing to face it will not help.”

  “Face what?” Charlotte demanded. “That Maddock could have killed Lily? Of course he could! He was out in the street at the right time. So were you, Papa. So was Dominic. I dare say there were a hundred other men who were, and we shall never know three-quarters of them. Any one of them could have killed her.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Charlotte,” Edward said sharply. “I don’t doubt the other households can account for their men-servants at the relevant time. And there is no reason to suppose any of them were acquainted with poor Lily anyway!”

  “And did Maddock know the Hiltons’ maid?” Charlotte demanded.

  Caroline winced.

  “Charlotte, your behaviour is becoming offensive.” Edward’s face was stern; it was obvious he wished to end the matter. “We understand that you would prefer it to be someone we don’t know, a wanderer from some slum region, but as you pointed out yourself, the motive of robbery doesn’t stand. Now let us consider the m
atter closed.”

  “You can’t just say that Maddock killed Lily, and leave it at that!” She knew she was risking his very real anger, but the indignation inside her would not let her be silent.

  Edward opened his mouth, but before he could muster words, Emily broke in.

  “You know, Papa, Charlotte has a certain truth. Maddock might have killed Lily, although it seems rather pointless if he was fond of her. In fact, self-defeating! But why on earth should he kill the Hiltons’ maid, or Chloe Abernathy? And they were killed first, before Lily. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Charlotte felt a rush of warmth towards Emily. She hoped Emily knew it.

  “Murder itself is hardly sensible, Emily,” Edward’s colour heightened with anger. To be defied by Charlotte was becoming habit, but by Emily as well was intolerable. “It is a bestial crime, a crime of animal passion, and unreason.”

  “Are you saying he’s mad?” she looked at her father. “That Maddock is bestial, or passionately, unreasonably insane?”

  “No, of course not!” he snapped. “I am not an expert in criminal insanity, and neither are you! But I presume Inspector Pitt is; it is his job, and he believes Maddock is guilty. Now you will not discuss the subject any further. Is that understood?”

  Charlotte looked at him. His eyes were hard, and could it possibly be that they were also frightened?

  “Yes, Papa,” she said obediently. She was used to obedience. It was habit. But her mind rebelled, whirling with new thoughts, with new fears finding shapes, with something very dreadful.

  Chapter Five

  THE WRETCHED POLICEMAN RETURNED the following day, questioning Maddock first, then Caroline, then finally asking if he could see Charlotte again.

  “Why?” Charlotte was tired and this morning the deep unhappiness of fear and the reality of death had settled upon her. The blindness of the first shock had passed. She had gone to sleep on tragedy, and wakened to find it still with her.

  “I don’t know, dear,” Caroline replied, still in the doorway. She held the door open for her daughter. “But he asked for you, so I suppose he must think you can help somehow.”

  Charlotte stood up and walked out slowly. Caroline touched her arm gently.

  “Do be careful before you speak, my dear. We have had a great tragedy; don’t let your distress, or your concern for Maddock, provoke you into saying something you may afterwards regret because it has led to conclusions you did not foresee. Do not forget he is a policeman. He will remember everything you say, and try to see meanings beneath it.”

  “Charlotte never thought before she spoke in her life,” Sarah said crossly. “She’ll lose her temper, and I can’t blame her. He is a most disgusting person. But the least one can do is behave like a lady, and say as little as possible.”

  Emily was sitting at the piano.

  “I think he admires Charlotte,” she said, touching the top note lightly with her finger.

  “Emily, this is no time for levity!” Caroline said sharply.

  “Can’t you ever think of anything but romance?” Sarah glared at her.

  Emily smiled with a small uplift of the corners of her mouth.

  “Do you think policemen are romantic, Sarah? I think Inspector Pitt is excessively plain, and of course he must be common, or he wouldn’t be a policeman. But he has the most beautiful voice, sort of surrounds you like warm treacle, and his diction and grammar are excellent. I suppose he is trying to better himself.”

  “Emily, Lily is dead!” Caroline gritted her teeth.

  “I know that, Mama. But he must be used to that kind of thing, so it won’t prevent him from admiring Charlotte.” She turned to her sister and regarded her objectively. “And Charlotte is very handsome. I dare say he doesn’t mind her tongue. He is probably used to indelicacy.”

  Charlotte felt her face flaming. The thought of Inspector Pitt’s even entertaining such an idea about her was unbearable.

  “Hold your tongue, Emily!” she fumed. “Inspector Pitt has no more chance of enjoying my attentions than—than you have of marrying George Ashworth. Which is just as well, because Ashworth is a gambler and a cad!” She pushed past Caroline and into the hall.

  Pitt was in the smaller, rear sitting room.

  “Good morning, Miss Ellison,” he smiled widely; it would have been charming in anyone else.

  “Good morning, Mr. Pitt,” she said coldly. “I cannot think why you should have sent for me again, but since you have, what is it you want?”

  She stared at him, trying to make him feel awkward, and instead thought for an appalling moment that she saw in his eyes the admiration Emily had spoken of. It was intolerable.

  “Don’t stand there staring like a fool!” she snapped. “What do you want?”

  His smile vanished.

  “You seem very disturbed, Miss Ellison. Has something further happened to distress you? An event, a suspicion, something you remembered?” His light, intelligent eyes were on her face, waiting.

  “You appear to suspect our butler,” she replied icily. “Which is naturally distressing to me, both because you are blaming someone in my home, and no doubt you will arrest him and put him in prison, and because, since I’m perfectly sure he didn’t do it, whoever did is still out in the streets. I would have thought that such a situation would be enough to distress any person of the slightest sensibility.”

  “You leap to conclusions with the greatest of mental athleticism, Miss Ellison,” he smiled. “To begin with, we frequently arrest people, but we take them to court; we do not put them in prison. You might feel sure he is not guilty, and I am inclined to agree with you, but neither you nor I has the right to dismiss anyone from consideration until something is proved or disproved regarding their involvement in the affair. And to conclude, you are wrong in assuming that because I am still looking at Maddock, I have ceased to look elsewhere.”

  “I do not wish for a lecture on police procedure, Mr. Pitt.” She could see his point, even that he was right, and it did nothing to help her temper.

  “I thought it might be reassuring.”

  “What is it you want, Mr. Pitt?”

  “The night that Lily was killed, when was the last time you saw Maddock before he went to look for her?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “What did you do that evening?”

  “I read. What can that possibly have to do with it?”

  “Oh?” His eyebrows rose with interest. He smiled. “What did you read?”

  She could feel herself colour with annoyance because her father would have disapproved of her books as something that was not becoming for a lady to wish to know about.

  “That is not your concern, Mr. Pitt.”

  Her answer seemed to amuse him. It suddenly occurred to her that he might have thought it was a romance, or old love letters.

  “I was reading a book on warfare in the Crimea,” she said angrily.

  His eyes widened in surprise.

  “An unusual interest for a lady.”

  “Possibly. What has it to do with Lily, which I’m told is your job here?”

  “I take it you chose that opportunity because your father does not approve of your interest in such bloody and unfeminine subjects?”

  “That is none of your concern either.”

  “So you read alone; you did not call in Maddock or Dora to fetch you any refreshment, or alter the gas, or lock the doors?”

  “I didn’t wish for any refreshment, and I’m quite capable of turning the gas up or down myself, or locking the doors.”

  “Then you didn’t see Maddock at all?”

  At last she realized what he was seeking. She was annoyed with herself for not having seen it before.

  “No.”

  “So he could have been out any time during the evening, as far as you know?”

  “Mrs. Dunphy said he spoke to her. He only went out when Lily was late home, and—and he became worried.”

  “So he says. But Mrs. Dunphy
was alone in the kitchen. He could actually have gone out earlier.”

  “No, he couldn’t. If I had called for anything I should have noticed his absence.”

  “But you were reading a book your father did not approve of.” He was looking at her closely. His eyes were frank, as if there were no wall between them.

  “He didn’t know that!” But even as she said it the sickening thought came that Maddock probably had known it. She had taken the book from her father’s study. Maddock knew the books well enough to spot which one was missing, and he knew her. She turned to face Pitt.

  He merely smiled. “However,” he went on, dismissing the book with a wave of his hand. Really, he was a most untidy creature, so different from Dominic. He looked like a wading bird flapping its wings. “I can think of no reason why he should harbour any feelings against Miss Abernathy.” His voice lifted. “Was Miss Abernathy a friend of yours?”

  “Not especially.”

  “No,” he said thoughtfully. “From what I have been told, she would hardly have been your choice of company. A somewhat flighty girl, much given to laughter and rather frivolous pursuits, poor child.”

  Charlotte looked at him. He was quite grave. Was he not sufficiently used to death in his job that it no longer moved him?

  “She was not an immoral girl,” she said quietly, “just very young, and still a little foolish.”

  “Indeed.” He gave a tight little grimace. “And not in the least likely to have had a liaison with someone else’s butler. I imagine her sights were set a good deal higher. She could hardly have remained in the kind of society she sought were she in any way engaged with a servant, even a superior one!”

  “Are you being sarcastic, Mr. Pitt?”

  “Quite literal, Miss Ellison. I do not always observe the rules of society, but I am quite aware of what they are!”

  “You surprise me!” she said cuttingly.

  “Do you disapprove of sarcasm, Miss Ellison?”

  She felt her face flush; it had been the perfect barb.

  “I find you offensive, Mr. Pitt. If you have some question to ask in connection with your business, please do so. Otherwise permit me to call Maddock to have you shown out.”