‘And then we heard a noise behind us, and we looked around and saw Palmer – how long he had been there we didn’t know, but he looked very shocked at what he had seen.
‘Bonner went up to him and tried to placate him, saying that it wasn’t what it looked like and he needed him to keep quiet, but Palmer wouldn’t listen, he said he was going to the police. And he made to go out, but when he turned around Dr Bonner hit him on the back of the head with his walking stick. I think Dr Bonner was very upset, because when Palmer fell down, he hit him again, at least twice more. Of course, we saw that he was dead and when Bonner realised what he had done, he said he was ruined, but then he said that I had to help him, or he would blame it all on me. How it could be my fault I really don’t know, it’s not as if I even know how to give an injection, but Bonner said he was well thought of in Bayswater and had a lot of friends in high places, and if it came to it people would believe him and not me. So I was afraid, then, and said I would help him, but it was only because he threatened me. Of course, I had to do most of the work, but that was only because Dr Bonner was lame. Bonner said we had to hide the body, but we couldn’t put it in the canal because it would be obvious that Palmer had been murdered, and then the police would look into it and ask questions. So I said why not get it buried, and he agreed. Dr Bonner washed the blood off the wall, and I took Palmer into the little side room where they have the coffins and put him in one. I had to get Dr Mackenzie into a coffin as well, it’s a good thing they had that stretcher on wheels.’
‘Why did you put Mrs Templeman’s body in the canal?’ asked Frances.
‘I’d just done what Bonner told me to do,’ said Darscot, ‘and then all of a sudden he said I had to put another body in the coffin with Palmer, as otherwise there would be one body too many and they always keep records of how many there are. But I didn’t know about that and I’d already fastened the lid down, so Bonner said I had to take it up again, and just at that moment we heard the outer door open. It was the other orderly. We only had a moment or two to think what to do, and then I said I’d take the lady’s body and put it in the canal, and Bonner said to do that.’
‘Did you steal Dr Mackenzie’s travelling bag?’ asked Frances.
‘Yes. It wasn’t really stealing was it, the man owed me money, and in any case I thought he was dead. I hoped there might be something of value in it, but there wasn’t. Then when you started asking about Mackenzie, and the bag was being talked about all over Bayswater, I thought I’d better get rid of it, so I threw it in the canal.’
Gostelow looked at Darscot as he might have looked at a piece of refuse that he had just scraped off the sole of his boot. He glanced at Darscot’s card. ‘John Darscot, I am placing you under arrest for the offences of theft and acting as an accessory to murder.’
‘Oh but —’
‘Constable, place him in the cells.’
‘My solicitor will hear of this!’
‘No doubt, and he may even obtain bail, but in the meantime I want you where I can question you further when I have heard what Dr Bonner has to say.’
Darscot was removed.
When Frances left the police station she found Dr Carmichael pacing up and down outside, with a wild look in his eyes. ‘I went to your home and they said you were here. What has happened?’
‘Mr Darscot has been arrested, and the police will be questioning Dr Bonner.’
Carmichael uttered a great gasp of relief. ‘Oh, you don’t know what a great weight that is off my mind!’
‘You are correct,’ said Frances sternly, ‘I don’t, so you had better tell me.’
‘The thing is, I discovered that Darscot was – how shall I say it – a close associate of the person who I suspect had stolen my sister’s journal. I thought it very possible that it had come into his hands, but I dared not confront him directly. I managed by a ruse to enter his rooms at the Piccadilly and searched them, but found nothing. Even if he had had it once, he might have sold it on, but my concern was that he had hidden it and was simply biding his time, and any expression of anxiety on my part would show my weakness and he would take advantage of that. I have every hope of an excellent new post in London and dare do nothing that would jeopardise that. I dared not even mention my suspicions of Darscot to you in case you inadvertently alerted him. I suppose I thought you would have agents who would be able to keep watch and make their own enquiries.’
‘I do,’ said Frances, ‘but without all the necessary facts my hands were tied.’ A thought crossed her mind. ‘That tale you told me about your sister’s letter being given to you in the street. Was that the truth? Or another lie?’
He bowed his head. ‘I am ashamed to say that was not true. I told you that so as to divert attention from Darscot.’
‘Really, Dr Carmichael,’ said Frances in disgust, ‘I can scarcely act for you if you repeatedly tell me lies. You should be ashamed of yourself! I have been making enquiries of every person who frequents Porchester Road for this messenger boy, who you now say is an invention. Come by this afternoon and pay off your account, and we will have done.’
She turned to walk away, but he ran after her. ‘But we have made so much progress in the case!’ he exclaimed. ‘The police will be looking into Darscot’s affairs, and he is safely under lock and key, but you must try and find if he has any secret hiding places or unsavoury associates. Now is the best time to find those documents!’
Frances recalled Darscot’s apparently selfless offers to help Miss Horton with her late brother’s affairs, but ‘selfless’ was not, she thought, an adjective that could apply to Mr Darscot. Perhaps his desire to discover the late Mr Horton’s lodgings had a sinister motive, although it seemed most unlikely that Darscot had entrusted anything of value to a man with such an unhappy brain. She paused. ‘Very well, but you must still pay your account up to date including all my expenses, and a further advance. Do that, and I will continue to trouble myself with this foolish story as if it was the truth.’ She walked away.
Back at her lodgings, Frances wrote to Chas and Barstie asking them if they could discover anything of interest about Darscot, especially his business affairs. She also sent a note to Tom who arrived before long, and asked him to redouble his efforts to discover where Mr Horton lived, employing as many other boys as he saw fit, and also if he knew of any other address for Darscot apart from the Piccadilly. ‘Oh, ‘e’s a fly gent an’ no mistake.’ said Tom, ‘ad me runnin’ notes for ‘im all over the place. Paid well, mind, so I kept the old clapper shut. I’m no buzz-man! Got any sardines?’
‘All the sardines you can eat if you can find out where he lives when he is not at the Piccadilly Club. Mr Darscot has just been arrested, although I suspect he can afford a legal man who will have him freed on bail before too long. If there is anything to learn we must do it quickly.’
‘I’ll run off now, then,’ said Tom, stuffing a sausage into a bread roll and pushing the resultant light repast into his pocket.
Next morning, Mr Rawsthorne called on Frances accompanied by the unpleasant Mr Wheelock. Sarah brought refreshments and settled herself in a chair to observe the proceedings. Both the men were aware that Sarah, once the Doughty family’s maid of all work, had been transformed into a lady’s companion and assistant detective, but neither felt entirely comfortable with the new situation and both chose to ignore her, as if she had been a solid but unexceptional chest of drawers, a thing with neither eyes nor ears. Sarah was used to her invisibility and seemed not to mind, while Frances saw it as an advantage as her visitors might be more forthcoming.
‘I have come,’ said Rawsthorne, ‘to speak to you on behalf of my client, Dr Bonner, who is currently in police custody. I believe you know something of the circumstances.’
‘More than most, I’d say,’ sneered Wheelock.
‘Dr Bonner was sojourning in Brighton for the sake of his health, when most upsettingly he received a visit from the police, who not only questioned him about the death of
Mr Palmer, but took him into custody. He is now residing in a cell at Kilburn police station in a state of some mental and physical distress. I understand that you were instrumental in finding the body of Mr Palmer and the location of his demise. And, though I find this hard to credit, you somehow managed to be present when the Kilburn police questioned my client’s accuser, Mr Darscot.’
‘That is the case,’ said Frances.
‘Regular Miss Dauntless and no mistake!’ said Wheelock. Sarah scowled at him.
‘Did you write those stories?’ Frances demanded.
‘Oh, yes, I’m better’n Charles Dickens, me!’ said Wheelock. Frances thought not.
‘I must say, your endeavours never cease to amaze me,’ said Rawsthorne. ‘How I wish your dear father could be here now, to see you so celebrated.’
‘You are too kind,’ said Frances, reflecting that had her father been alive her exploits would probably have induced a fatal case of apoplexy.
‘It is very possible that should Dr Bonner ever come to trial – and I am doing my utmost to ensure that that never happens – you may be called as witness for his defence. I have interviewed Dr Bonner, but he is adamant that he has done nothing wrong. He admits that he agreed to assist his friend, but for entirely honourable reasons. The plan was for Dr Mackenzie to pretend a collapse and then for Dr Bonner to convince Mr Palmer that the doctor was dead. Once Palmer had left, Mackenzie gave himself the injection to aid in the deception, but then Palmer returned unexpectedly. Mr Darscot witnessed what was happening and tried to extort money for his silence, but when Palmer said he would go to the police, Mr Darscot struck him with his cane and killed him.’
‘Have you examined Mr Darscot’s walking cane?’ asked Frances.
‘The police have it now.’
‘And do they think it is capable of breaking a man’s skull?’
‘That is the one difficulty,’ said Mr Rawsthorne. ‘Young Darscot’s walking cane is of the light decorative variety favoured by fashionable young men. Not only is it incapable of inflicting the wounds found on the deceased, it is quite the wrong shape. Dr Bonner’s stick, however, is a far more sturdy object. There are no bloodstains on it, but the police are assuming it has been well cleaned. But Dr Bonner is adamant that he did not strike Palmer with anything.’
‘I have interviewed Dr Bonner on a number of occasions,’ said Frances, ‘and like so many medical men, he is able to dissemble with great ease. I do believe, however, that Dr Mackenzie deceived him as to the true reason for his wanting to leave London. If I were you, I would place a watch on Mr Darscot and ensure that if he is bailed, he does not try to escape.’
‘There’s any number of good detectives about Bayswater who would do that,’ said Wheelock. ‘I shall see about employing one.’
Later that day, Frances attended the Marylebone magistrates’ court to see Mr Darscot, assisted by his solicitor, the sour and surly Mr Marsden, granted bail on all charges. As he was hurried away in a cab, she sent Tom to follow on with instructions to place a watch on wherever he went and then report back.
As she left the court, Frances was approached by Mr Gillan.
‘Well done, Miss Doughty, even for getting that slippery fellow this far. I take it you are aware of his true identity?’
‘I am not,’ said Frances. ‘I had no idea he had another one.’
‘He has several and this is not the first time I have seen him in such a situation, although the last time he was calling himself Dalton, and he was operating in East Marylebone with a series of petty thefts and swindles. He got six months on that occasion.’
‘Do the police know this is the same man?’ demanded Frances.
‘Not yet, but they will do when I have spoken to them in about two minutes from now. An interesting customer, his specialty is being the sociable helpful type, and getting to know unsuspecting people. Next moment he is their new bosom friend, playing on their weaknesses and borrowing money they won’t see again.’
‘What about blackmail?’ asked Frances.
‘He’s never yet been caught out in that, but it suits his style.’
‘And moneylending?’
‘Oh, I can’t see him up to that. He spends money on styling himself up to look the gentleman, but after that it’s all hand to mouth with him.’
‘He told me that he had lent £500 to Dr Mackenzie about a year ago,’ said Frances.
To her discomfiture, Gillan laughed. ‘I doubt he has ever had such a sum in his hands, especially not a year ago when he must just have come out of prison. And even if he had, he wouldn’t have lent it to someone else. No, with that fellow the money all goes in one direction. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am about to have a word in someone’s ear.’
CHAPTER TWENTY
On the way home Frances was deep in thought. If Gillan was correct then Darscot had never, as he claimed, lent Mackenzie £500. What if she removed the £500 loaned by Darscot to Mackenzie entirely from the story, as if it had never existed or even been needed in the first place. What followed? She suddenly realised that this made the situation very much simpler. Now there were not two lots of £500 but one, and instead of Mackenzie needing £1,000 to settle his debts, he only needed £500, the money he took from the Life House and had tried to pay back.
But if Darscot had not loaned Mackenzie £500, why was he insisting that he had? Again the answer was that there was only the one sum of £500. Darscot had blackmailed Mackenzie and demanded £500 from him, and Mackenzie had had to steal the money from the Life House accounts. The fact that Mackenzie had tried unsuccessfully to take money a second time, suggested that Darscot had renewed his demands. It wasn’t a loan repayment that Darscot had been after at all, but blackmail money. No wonder he had been angry when he thought his quarry was pretending to be dead to avoid paying him.
But what was the subject of the blackmail? There were the Erlichmann revelations, but Frances didn’t see how Darscot could have known about them, and in any case, the original blackmail had taken place a year ago before the danger had become known. The only other possible subject that Frances knew about was the scandal concerning Madeleine Carmichael. But even if the journal had fallen into Darscot’s hands, how would he have been able to make the connection between Dr Mackenzie and something written twenty years ago concerning events in Edinburgh? Given what Frances had been told about the lady it seemed most unlikely that her journal would be in any way explicit about her sufferings, and Mackenzie, even if mentioned, was not an uncommon surname in Scotland.
Tom reported that Darscot had returned to his rooms at the Piccadilly Club and had not strayed out since. His only visitors had been the club manager and his solicitor, Mr Marsden. Dr Carmichael had moved out into some nearby lodgings, which he had taken for a week.
Chas and Barstie arrived with more news, and a little embarrassed that they had not previously known anything about the devious Mr Darscot, or Dalton, or whatever other name he used.
‘This is his longest sojourn in Bayswater,’ said Chas, ‘and very probably his last, even if he can wriggle out of this latest escapade. Have no fear, if he is acquitted we will have our eyes on him in future!’
‘But it seems he is about to turn legitimate,’ said Barstie, ‘or what counts as legitimate in his circles. Mr Darscot is the new owner of the Life House.’
‘But how can that be? He has no funds,’ exclaimed Frances. ‘I know he has made a claim on the estate, but that is far from settled and in my opinion, never will be.’
‘A small payment on account has been made and the papers will be completed very soon,’ said Chas. ‘And when I find out how he has managed it, I will want to try it for myself.’
‘Then you should have the opportunity of finding out,’ said Frances. ‘I would like you to call on him. Find out as much as you can about his interests; also if he has a journal which once belonged to a Madeleine Carmichael. If he does, he might be willing to sell it.’
Chas and Barstie had no difficulty in ob
taining an interview with Mr Darscot, the details of which they reported to Frances the following day.
They had found Darscot sitting alone in his room at the Piccadilly Club with a bottle of brandy. He was quiet, but neither drunk nor despondent.
‘What can I do for you gentlemen?’
‘This is in the nature of a business call,’ said Chas. ‘We have heard that you have been experiencing a little difficulty and were wondering if there was any service we might perform for you.’
Darscot looked wary, but waved them both to some chairs and offered brandy, which they declined.
‘It is true that I have been accused of a number of misdemeanours,’ he said casually, ‘but as you see, I am a free man, and my solicitor has advised me, although at exorbitant cost, that he will be able to clear me of any suspicion.’
‘You are not intending to leave Bayswater?’ asked Barstie.
‘No, it is best if I remain here. A sudden departure would not help my reputation, and in any case, all my business interests are here, and I am very comfortable. The manager has been to see me in some anxiety on that point; he seemed to imagine that I was about to pack my bags and leave. I have mollified him with assurances that I intend to remain, and what weighed with him far more, I paid my rent up to date. He is now satisfied.’
‘I have heard that you have recently purchased an interest in a business hereabouts,’ said Chas.
‘Your spies are most efficient.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But, it will be some days before the papers are completed, indeed if they ever are, as this latest difficulty may cause a delay and it could be some weeks before I can turn my new property to any useful account.’ He poured himself another brandy. ‘I have to confess that securing an interest in the Life House has temporarily exhausted all my means. If you really wish to perform a service for me, then you could lend me £100.’
A Case of Doubtful Death Page 29