‘I’m afraid so,’ Flora replied aware there was nothing more this girl could tell her.
‘What will happen to me now?’ Cecily asked, the tears flowing freely now. ‘If Victor killed this woman the police will want to talk to me, won’t they? Then Mr Hanson will have to be told.’
‘As I see it,’ Flora spoke carefully, aware she was about to make a promise she might not be able to keep, ‘I have no reason to tell anyone about your relationship with Victor.’
‘Do you mean it?’ Cecily pleaded, hope in her face.
‘I certainly shan’t be the one to mention you to the police.’ The fact that someone would, whether it was via the woman at Boltons Library, or William when his boss found out, was something Flora chose not to think about.
William! The thought occurred to her that his reaction to Evangeline’s advertisement meant he knew far more about the murder victim than he had admitted to. Did he also know why she had visited Mr Crabbe the night she died? Was she looking in the wrong direction, and the answers to this case were much closer to home?
‘Mrs—’ Cecily dried her tears and blew her nose noisily. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t even know your name.’
‘I didn’t give it, and hopefully we shan’t have to repeat this conversation.’ Flora rose and gestured to Sally that they were leaving. ‘Best we forget it altogether.’
‘Thank you for being so discreet.’ Cecily showed them out, the handkerchief still clutched in her delicate hand. She was still thanking them when Flora was fifty yards down the road.
*
‘Are you thinking what I am, Missus?’ Sally asked once they were back at the apartment. ‘That this Victor did a similar thing to the nurse who wrote the other letter?’
‘We cannot be sure, but it sounds very much like it. We have no proof he actually stole anything from the Hansons. If he had, surely someone would have noticed, and Cecily seemed quite convinced nothing was missing.’ Or perhaps Mr Hanson did notice and reported it to a higher authority?
‘In my experience, the servants are always questioned first when anything goes missing.’
‘Apparently not in this case. Thus if anything was taken, it wasn’t something a servant would want.’
‘So what was he looking for?’ Sally asked.
‘There’s no way we’ll know, Sally. Cecily was certainly enamoured of him until he betrayed her trust. She’s an unusually attractive girl, so he’s most probably a handsome man.’
‘How do you make that out?’
‘Pretty women are rarely attracted to homely-looking men, Sally. Like goes for like.’
‘Handsome or not, that Cecily got shot of him quick enough.’
‘Yes, she did, though she still felt aggrieved enough to answer Evangeline’s advertisement. Also, if Victor courted her in order to gain access to her employer, it’s doubtful he would have used his real name.’
‘That means we know even less than when we went in,’ Sally groaned.
Flora considered for a moment. ‘The advertisement particularly mentioned Victor’s eyes. Which makes me feel he shouldn’t be too hard to recognize.’
Sally released an exasperated sigh. ‘Well, it’s something. ‘She said he liked poetry too.’
‘Doesn’t make him sound very dangerous, does it? Nosey maybe, and a possible thief, but a murderer who reads poetry? That doesn’t sound likely.’
‘What about this nurse who wrote the second letter?’
Flora retrieved it from her bag and opened it out, while Sally read over her shoulder.
The writing was looped and slightly uneven on a thin sheet of poor quality white paper. ‘It’s from a Molly Bell who’s a nurse at St George’s Hospital.’ She tapped the page against her bottom lip. ‘What could a lady’s maid to the wife of a government official and a nurse have in common?’
‘Perhaps he just likes women’ Sally shrugged. ‘Don’t matter who they are or where they came from.’
‘I doubt it’s that simple.’ The Foreign Office connection was too much of a coincidence for Flora. ‘We need to speak to this Miss Bell. I have a feeling her story will be infinitely more interesting than Cecily’s.’
‘We, Miss Flora? Can I come too?’ Sally visibly brightened.
‘You might as well. You’ve come this far.’ Flora pushed aside her misgivings as to what William would have to say about it if he knew what she was doing. She refolded the letter and returned it to the envelope. ‘I doubt we can simply charge into a public hospital and drag a nurse away from her work.’ Flora recalled her days as a governess when her time was not her own and personal plans were always a rare luxury that had to fit around the demands of her employer. ‘I’ll write a note for you to take to the hospital to ask if she would be willing to meet me, possibly at a tea shop close to the hospital. The one near Marble Arch might suit. She probably works on a shift basis, so we’ll arrange it for one of her breaks.’
‘Suppose she doesn’t want to see us?’ Sally asked.
‘You’re the one who is good at persuading people, Sally. And aren’t nurses very poorly paid?’ She jiggled her bag up and down making the coins inside jingle.
‘Good point, Miss Flora.’ Sally grinned.
Chapter 22
When Flora arrived at the tea shop near Marble Arch the following morning, apart from Sally, the only other customer was a man in a brown suit who did not look up from his newspaper when she entered. She removed her gloves and waylaid a waitress in a monochrome parlour maid’s uniform, requesting her to bring a pot of tea. She doubted her delicate stomach could stand coffee. ‘And another portion of whatever my maid is eating.’
‘Thanks, Missus,’ Sally said when the waitress had left. ‘I do like those milly foil things. I could eat them all day.’
‘Millefeuille, Sally.’ Flora smiled. ‘They are nice, aren’t they? If a bit rich for me at the moment. What time did Miss Bell agree to be here?’
‘Stop fretting, she’ll get here. The porter at the lodge wasn’t at all helpful, but one of your half-crowns bought me ten minutes in the nurse’s home.’ She took another bite of her cake, leaving a line of cream and crumbs around her mouth. ‘Did Mr William come home before you went to bed last night?’
‘No, he didn’t, and after I waited up until midnight.’ Flora had resolved to tell him about Evangeline’s bag and the letters before he discovered their visit to Mr Hanson’s house. She had decided not to wait until he heard about her investigations from elsewhere and confronted her. Besides, it was easier to seek forgiveness than permission.
Her evening of tense indecision had been considerably lightened by a telephone call from Bunny, who confirmed that he would be coming to luncheon the following day as planned. The only glitch in the conversation being when Flora had to admit that she had not yet told William about the baby. ‘Maybe we could tell him together?’
‘That wasn’t the plan, Flora. But I suppose it’s better than turning up on his doorstep with a screaming bundle.’
‘Our child won’t scream,’ Flora had insisted.
The jangle of the shop doorbell banished all thoughts of Bunny, bringing Flora’s head up to a slab-faced girl in an ill-fitting olive-coloured coat that had seen better days, who hovered on the threshold.
‘That’s her.’ Sally nudged Flora.
‘How many half-crowns did it take to persuade her to come?’ Flora whispered.
‘Half-crowns didn’t do it.’ Sally’s expression turned sheepish. ‘She wants a fiver.’
‘A what?’ Flora stared at Sally, aghast. ‘And you agreed? That’s three months wages for a nurse.’
Sally shrugged. ‘You want her to talk, don’t you? Now hush, she’s on her way over.’
Flora gritted her teeth and indicated to the newcomer she join them at the table; but the gesture was apparently too subtle, for the girl still hovered uncertainly in the doorway. The tearoom had filled up since Flora’s arrival, but at a wave from Sally, she finally made a beeline for their window ta
ble.
‘It is extremely kind of you to agree to this meeting, Miss Bell.’ Flora indicated the empty chair next to hers. ‘Do take a seat.’
‘Can’t stay long, my shift starts in half an hour.’ Her brown felt hat sported a bedraggled feather hanging limply above one eye. She slapped her bag on the tabletop and plonked herself down on the chair.
‘Haven’t you recently finished a night shift?’ Flora asked.
‘I need the money, so the extra shifts come in handy.’ She made a gesture of dismissal with her hand. ‘Are you the woman who put that advert in the paper?’ she asked, forestalling Flora’s attempt at an introduction. She directed a nod at Sally. ‘She said it was someone called Miss Lange.’
‘Not exactly.’ Flora debated whether to admit the truth or keep silent in case the girl clammed up once murder was mentioned; though her expression showed more belligerence than nerves.
‘My sister inserted the advertisement,’ Flora said, compounding the lie she had told at Boltons Library. ‘In your letter, you said you were acquainted with this man, Victor.’
‘Where is she then?’ Ignoring the question, she gave the tea shop a swift, searching look. ‘This sister of yours.’
‘Ah, no, Miss Lange couldn’t be here this morning,’ Flora said. ‘I understand if it’s a delicate situation, I shall be most discreet.’
‘There wasn’t anything delicate about it.’ Miss Bell helped herself to a Chelsea bun from the plate the waitress slid onto the table. ‘Victor and I weren’t involved in that way. I only wrote that letter hoping there might be something in it for me.’ She took a generous bite of the bun and chewed noisily.
‘Is nursing not as lucrative as you hoped?’ Flora masked the irony behind an obsequious smile.
‘Huh!' She swallowed and licked sugar from her fingers. ‘I thought I’d hand out pills, place cold cloths on hot foreheads, or read books to those too weak to sit up. The truth is I clean up blood, shit, piss and God knows what else for ten hours a day.’ She caught Flora’s grimace, adding. ‘Pardon me, Miss. I’m a straight talker, always have been.’
‘Don’t apologize on my account, Miss Bell,’ Flora said, bemused. ‘It’s er – refreshing. Which in some ways makes this interview much easier.’ She withdrew a white five-pound note from an inside pocket, folded it into a palm-sized square and pressed it into the girl’s hand.
‘Well, there’s a turn-up.’ Miss Bell stared at it for a second, then tucked it into a shabby black purse that hung from her forearm, patting it with satisfaction. ‘Didn’t expect anything that quick. You can call me Molly. And just so’s we’re clear, I know about Miss Lange. I saw the report in the paper.’
‘Then why did you ask if I was her?’ Flora asked, mildly irritated.
‘Thought he might be a copper.’ She cocked her chin at the man who sat huddled in the corner. ‘I don’t need me collar felt if that’s what you had planned.’
‘I’ve no idea who that man is, but I doubt he’s a policeman and he’s definitely not with us.’ She turned to Sally for confirmation, who nodded.
‘That’s all right then.’ Molly signalled to a waitress from whom she ordered a Chelsea bun and pot of tea. ‘Can’t abide coffee,’ she said in answer to a question no one asked.
‘Miss Bell, Molly,’ Flora said carefully, annoyed the nurse appeared to have taken the upper hand. ‘If you knew Miss Lange had been killed, why didn’t you go to the police yourself?’
‘What for?’ A brow twitched above one expressionless brown eye. ‘Didn’t have anything to do with me, did it?’
‘Not even if this Victor might have been responsible for her death?’ Flora persisted.
‘Why would I think that?’ Molly took a sip of her tea which was more like a loud slurp. ‘I never met Miss Lange and I haven’t seen Victor for weeks.’ Her plain face remained bland, making Flora wonder if she knew more than she was saying; or perhaps the girl possessed no sense of civic duty, let alone compassion for others.
‘Would you mind telling me under what circumstances you met this man Victor?’ Flora nibbled at a sugar biscuit, hoping the nausea that had visited her that morning would not return.
‘It was one Sunday last June.’ Molly lifted the top of the teapot the waitress brought, dunked in a spoon and gave the contents a vigorous stir. ‘It was the day of a riot at Speakers’ Corner. About a dozen casualties were brought to the hospital that afternoon. Bloodied heads and broken noses mostly. I wasn’t sure what he was doing there at first. He wasn’t bleeding and didn’t seem to be one of them.’
‘Victor, you mean?’ Flora asked.
She nodded. ‘Then someone knocked into him. He went white and grabbed at his arm, clearly in pain. I offered to get him a doctor, but he refused.’ She tilted the pot and poured golden brown tea into her cup from which a wisp of steam rose.
‘Was Victor involved in the fighting?’ In response to Molly’s gesture, Flora passed her the sugar bowl.
‘I don’t think so.’ Molly tipped three lumps into her cup and stirred, the metal clink against china unnaturally loud.
‘If he didn’t want to see a doctor, why did he come to the hospital?’ Flora clenched her hands in her lap wishing Molly would get on with it.
The nurse gave her a ‘who’s telling this story?’ look. ‘He’d put his shoulder out, but said he didn’t want to take up the doctor’s time with something so trivial.’ She snorted. ‘He must have taken me for a fool because I could see him eyeing the coppers who came to question the other injured. Anyway, I let him sit in the nurses’ room until everyone left, then I put his shoulder back in.’ She mimed a twisting movement accompanied by a cluck of her tongue.
A sudden wave of nausea made Flora squeeze her eyes shut and hold her breath until it passed. When she opened them again Sally was staring at her from across the table.
‘You, all right? You look a bit poorly.’ Molly frowned, her fork held aloft covered in whipped cream.
Flora nodded. ‘Manipulating a dislocated shoulder is indeed a skill, Miss Bell.’ This blatant flattery was greeted with a self-conscious blush, instead of the scorn Flora had expected.
‘Yes, well, I’ve done it enough times, so I’ve got the knack.’ She smiled, revealing even white teeth marred by one crooked canine. ‘Anyway, that’s when we got to talking. It was late by then and only a skeleton staff was on. He didn’t seem in any hurry to leave so I made him a cup of tea.’
‘I’ll bet he wasn’t.’ Flora’s nerves stretched at the harsh jangle of the shop doorbell as the gentleman in the corner left. ‘I gather Victor wanted something more than the enjoyment of your excellent company?’ She didn’t bother to mask her sarcasm, aware she was in a tetchy mood but without knowing why.
‘Yes, well. Took me about a while to twig, didn’t it?’ Molly blushed furiously as if she were ashamed to admit she had fallen victim to Victor’s charms when she should have known better.
‘What did he want from you?’ Flora asked, growing impatient.
‘Their names and addresses. He said that some of the men injured in the riot would need help as they couldn’t work. That he managed a relief fund for an organization that supported foreigners living in London.’
‘That sounds unlikely,’ Flora said, sceptical. ‘Did you believe him?’
Molly shrugged, took a large bite of her half-eaten bun, and chewed. ‘I didn’t see the harm. I mean it’s not as if he was asking me to raid the drugs cupboard for laudanum or anything like that. All he wanted was their names and addresses.’
‘All? That’s quite a lot to ask of you. Aren’t patient details kept private?’ Flora broke off at Sally’s scowl, aware her temper was growing increasingly short. Nausea still threatened and she wanted to get this meeting over with quickly in case she embarrassed herself. ‘Can you remember any of these names?’
Molly’s vigorous shake of her head set her felt hat into a wobble that threatened to dislodge the precarious feather altogether. ‘I couldn’t pronounce them,
let alone remember. They were all foreign. We have plenty of Frenchies and Italians where I live in Kings Cross, but they didn’t sound anything like them. One of the coppers said something about, “Ruddy Balkans”, but I’m not sure where Balkan is.’
Balkans. Flora straightened, her tone sharpening. ‘Did Victor tell you anything else?’
‘Only that he was in Hyde Park by accident and was passing the riot when someone threw him to the ground. That his shoulder was an old weakness and didn’t take much to put it out. He took me for a drink afterward as a thank you. Not that it was a romantic meeting if you see what I mean.’ Molly flushed a deep red as if aware she was unlikely to be singled out for such attention by a man like Victor. ‘All he did was ask questions about the men brought in.’ She stared into her teacup, held in hands that sported short fingernails and roughened skin which had evidently spent a lot of time in hot water. ‘Y’know, thinking about it, he could have been one of them Balkans himself. He had the look of a foreigner, although he spoke English really well, and without an accent.’
‘Did you give him the names and addresses?’ Flora asked gently.
‘Might have done.’ Molly shrugged and picked at the cake crumbs on her plate. ‘Those who gave their names anyway.’
‘Did you meet Victor on any other occasion?’
‘He said he would meet me at the cafe near the Serpentine the next Sunday afternoon but he didn’t turn up.’ She shrugged again. ‘Haven’t seen him since.’
‘And on the strength of this one meeting, you decided to answer the advertisement?’
Her cup clattered noisily into the saucer. ‘If Miss Lange was keen enough to put an advert in a newspaper, she might pay me for what I knew.’ She glanced at the clock on the wall, murmured something indistinct and scrambled to her feet. ‘I must go. I’ve been late on shift twice this week.’ She upended the untouched plate of biscuits into her bag, clicked the metal clasp and patted it with a pleased smile. Aiming a swift nod in Sally’s direction, she strode outside, the tea shop door shuddering on its hinges as she left.
A Knightsbridge Scandal Page 24