The Testimony of the Hanged Man (Lizzie Martin 5)

by Granger, Ann

  ‘Both you and your wife were away at the time, I believe,’ I told him hastily, ‘I am sure people won’t think . . .’

  He leaned forward. ‘But they don’t!’ he said earnestly. ‘At least, not in the way my dear wife feared. She thought no other lady would call on her in future. That no one would accept an invitation to dinner. That we would not be invited to any respectable house again.’

  ‘And this hasn’t happened?’

  ‘No,’ said Williams frankly. ‘We are – or our home is – indeed quite famous in Putney at the moment. But far from being scandalised, everyone seems fascinated. We see a constant stream of callers at our door and they all want to be shown the potting shed!’

  ‘Human nature, Mr Williams, I am afraid,’ I told him, trying to disguise the relief in my voice.

  ‘The reason I am here and that I have brought my gardener, Coggins here, along with me, is quite different.’

  I turned my attention to the gardener. His face had darkened as his employer described the many visitors to the potting shed and I saw that the sudden fame of the humble building did not suit him at all. Nor, I suspected, did he like so many visitors trampling over the lawns.

  ‘Mr Coggins,’ I said. ‘You helped move the body, as I recall.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ growled Coggins. ‘I didn’t know her, the corpse. Mr Harrington, the Justice, he knew her. The old fellow who looks after the church, he knew her too, and got himself into a fair old state about it. But I didn’t know who she was.’

  At this point he fell silent and seemed still to be brooding on the shabby treatment dealt to him and his potting shed.

  ‘Come along, Coggins, there’s a good chap,’ urged his employer. ‘Tell the inspector what you told me.’ He looked apologetically at me. ‘Coggins is a little nervous, but he is anxious to do his duty as a citizen.’

  ‘I didn’t know her,’ repeated Coggins obstinately, adding unwillingly, ‘but I’d seen her.’

  ‘Where? When?’ I asked, expecting to be told he had seen Rachel in the past shopping in the High Street. But he confounded me.

  ‘Earlier on that morning, really early, and she was alive then.’

  ‘Why did you say nothing of this to us?’ I gasped.

  ‘What for?’ returned Coggins. ‘I didn’t know who she was. I told you that. I just saw her. When I got a look at the body, I thought to meself, that’s her, the same woman. But I didn’t know her name and, as Mr Harrington and the other gentleman did know her name, there wasn’t any point in my saying anything. So I didn’t. Besides, nobody asked me.’

  I felt like burying my head in my hands. Coggins’s attitude was not unusual. It was all too familiar. He didn’t want to be involved in something that was none of his business, and would cause him further inconvenience. His only concern was for his employer’s garden, because if there were any damage there, he would be called to account. But, with the arrest of Lamont, a doubt had entered his head. It was natural that he took his concern to his employer first, and not to the police.

  Mr Williams urged again, ‘Please, Coggins, tell Mr Ross exactly what you told me earlier. I am sure he will understand that you did not at first realise the importance.’

  ‘That’s it,’ said Coggins. ‘That’s what I saw – I saw her early on, alive and arguing with Dandy Jack, down near the river.’

  ‘Dandy Jack?’ I cried. Surely a hitherto unknown suspect was not about to enter the case?

  Coggins had the grace to look discomfited. He glanced at his employer and mumbled, ‘Sorry, sir.’ He turned back to me. ‘I should have said Mr Lamont, as lives at Fox House. Some of the local fellows call him Dandy Jack, because he strolls round the place with that walking stick, and the moustache, and always turned out like a toff. It’s a sort of local joke, sir.’

  Revenge is sweet and I felt an ignoble moment of pure delight at the thought of that fine fellow, Charles Lamont, going by the name of Dandy Jack in the public houses of Putney, and being the object of mirth and derision.

  ‘Coggins became concerned when he heard of Mr Lamont’s arrest,’ Williams explained. ‘He was shocked as indeed we all are. He came to me and I told him he must lay his information before the police immediately. But he didn’t want to come alone, so I have come with him,’ finished Williams tactfully. He did not add that unless he’d come with the gardener, he couldn’t be sure the man would come at all.

  ‘Biddle!’ I called.

  Biddle appeared promptly.

  ‘Fetch pen and paper! This witness is about to make a statement. Sit there and take it down. Please begin at the beginning, Mr Coggins. Don’t leave anything out, however trivial.’

  Coggins stared at Biddle and at Biddle’s pen and paper and then at me. ‘All right, I’ll do me best. Mr and Mrs Williams had been away. I wanted the garden to look all neat and trim when they got back the next day. So I went in to work early and was there at six of the morning. It’s a good time to be working in a garden. The birds are singing; the dew is on the grass and all’s right with the world. Well, all’s right in my world, at any rate.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ I urged him. ‘Don’t go too fast, or the constable will not be able to keep up.’

  ‘All right,’ growled Coggins. ‘Keep your hair on! After a while I heard the church clock strike seven. I carried on working, but don’t ask me to be exact for how long, because I can’t be sure. But the clock hadn’t struck eight. My back was requiring a rest and I took a fancy for a cup of hot coffee. There’s a fellow sets up a coffee stall by the bridge of a morning. He does good business with people going across to work on the Fulham side. The quickest way for me to get there is out of the back gate and along the path by the river. I stepped out of the gate and just before I turned to the left – towards the coffee stall – I chanced to look to my right. There I saw two people and one of them was Dandy – was Mr Lamont. He was talking to a woman. I took a look at her and thought that she wasn’t the sort I’d have expected to see him bothering with. She was as plain as a pikestaff and not a young’un. They seemed to be having a bit of an argument. I thought it probably about the price. I know it was early for that sort of thing. But the drabs are always on the lookout for a customer at any time of day. Not that she looked like any kind of dollymop, as I was saying. But then, perhaps she was just down on her luck, and trying to stay out of the workhouse. Then they walked off into some trees a bit beyond, so I thought they’d come to an agreement.

  ‘I thought no more of it. I went off to the bridge and drank my coffee. I had a bit of chat with a couple of people I knew who turned up there.’ Coggins glanced a little furtively at his employer. ‘Again, I can’t say how long I was there but it couldn’t have been very long. As I was walking back to my work, along the same path, I heard someone hollering. I saw it was Mr Harrington, the magistrate. There was a group of ’em round a body lying on the mud: Mr Harrington, the old chap who looks after the church, and some kids.’

  Coggins paused. ‘There was no corpse lying on the mud when I went past earlier, I can tell you that! Well, they were beckoning to me to come over there and give them a hand. I helped move her. Mr Harrington had the idea to put her in my potting shed.’ Coggins turned to his employer. ‘It wasn’t my idea!’

  ‘Quite, quite, Coggins,’ Mr Williams placated him.

  ‘So that’s it, then. I didn’t get much of a look at her face when we were carrying her, but when we laid her out flat on my bench – ’ Coggins scowled dreadfully – ‘and knocked my cuttings on to the floor, I saw her better. I recognised the woman who’d been talking to Dandy Jack – Mr Lamont. I still didn’t think I needed to say anything. Mr Harrington and the other gentleman, they knew her by name, so they knew more than me. I didn’t think Mr Lamont could have anything to do with it. Why should he? I thought perhaps she’d approached another fellow and he’d cut up rough. Then the police came, local bluebottles first off, and then you.’ Coggins fixed me with an accusing eye. ‘All trampling over the lawn and knock
ing the shrubs about. I thought you’d never be finished. I don’t know how long it was before they moved her out. It was evening before I even got started in the garden. I had to come in early the next day, too, to finish it off. Talk about having my time wasted!’

  ‘What of police time? This was a murder and you could have helped with important information! You were able to fix the time of death, man. Didn’t you realise that?’ I demanded.

  ‘Of course, not!’ argued Coggins. ‘Police work isn’t my business. Gardening is. It wasn’t until I heard you’d arrested Dandy – Mr Lamont, as I thought I’d better mention it to Mr Williams.’

  There was little point in venting my exasperation at the gardener’s late decision to come forward. We all have our priorities; and for Coggins, that meant his disrupted working day and destroyed cuttings. Nor, at first, must it have appeared possible to Coggins that a local resident for many years, a gentleman and employer of other staff, could have anything to do with the death of a woman Coggins had assumed an amateur prostitute. ‘Is there anything else, Coggins? No? Then please read the account as the constable has written it down and, if you agree with it, sign it.’

  Coggins, still frowning, read through it, and wrote his name in a surprisingly clear hand.

  ‘I lost some of my best cuttings,’ he said, ‘through you lot fooling around with dead bodies in my potting shed.’

  Even then Fate had another surprise to spring on us. Late in the afternoon Sergeant Morris reappeared, having searched Fox House. He had a mysterious parcel, wrapped in newspaper, under his arm.

  ‘What have you there?’ I asked him.

  ‘Not quite sure, Mr Ross, so I thought I had better bring it in. I gave that butler a receipt for it.’ Morris set the parcel on the desk and unwrapped it. I was reminded of one of those parlour games that people play at Christmas.

  Unwrapped, the object proved to be a small wooden box with highly decorated panels on both top and bottom, and all four sides. The designs were made up of flowers, birds and foliage for the most part; but on the top was a scene of a harbour with some odd-looking boats floating in it. It was brightly painted in greens, blues and pinks.

  ‘I can’t open it, sir,’ explained Morris. ‘There is a narrow strip along this end that moves to the side, just so far and no further, but then that’s it. You’re no more forward with opening it. Being as it’s a fancy piece, I didn’t like just to break into it. It might be a jewel casket, but it don’t rattle, if you shake it. It don’t weigh much, either. I reckon it’s foreign.’

  Constable Biddle, ever curious by nature, had sidled into the room to find out what Morris had discovered. Neither the sergeant nor I had noticed him, so we were both startled when he announced loudly, ‘It’s a Chinese puzzle box!’

  ‘What are you doing there, my lad?’ demanded Morris. ‘Who asked you to come into Mr Ross’s office?’

  Too fascinated by the box to heed the reproof, Biddle went on in awed tones, ‘It’s just like the one in The Treasure of Kublai Khan.’

  ‘You mean them rubbishy novels you read, I suppose?’ Morris snapped. ‘I told you they’ll end with turning your brain. Seems to me, they already have!’

  ‘No, no, Morris, wait.’ I put out a hand to stem Morris’s ire. ‘Biddle, do you know anything about these boxes, learned from your reading?’

  ‘You put secret things in them,’ Biddle assured us breathlessly. ‘In The Treasure of Kublai Khan, a box like that contains a map showing where the treasure is hidden. It’s in a pagoda.’

  ‘Do you know how to open it?’ Morris and I both shouted at him.

  Biddle picked it up. ‘If you give me a minute or two, I might.’ He studied it, frowning.

  ‘That bit moves,’ said Morris impatiently, indicating the narrow strip. ‘But that’s all.’

  Biddle moved the strip and then tried all the other sides, with the strip still out of position. The top of the box, with the harbour scene, moved about a quarter of an inch, as if it would slide open, but didn’t.

  ‘Sit down, Biddle,’ I invited.

  Biddle seated himself, put the box on the desk, and began anew to try all the sides. He managed to find another narrow strip that slid aside. After that the top of the box moved a little more. After much fiddling around, Biddle gave a cry of triumph, and the lid with the harbour scene slid out altogether to reveal the interior. Morris and I leaned forward. The box was empty.

  ‘So much for that,’ grumbled Morris.

  ‘No, there will be another compartment, Sergeant,’ Biddle promised. ‘Look, the hole isn’t deep enough. There must be a drawer somewhere, underneath it.’ He pushed and pressed at the sides; and the opposite end of the box to that with the sliding strips could be raised about an inch and a half. Beneath it could be seen a small knob. Biddle pulled it and a drawer slid out with an unexpected tinkle of a tune. In it was a folded paper.

  ‘Well done, boy!’ said Morris and Biddle blushed furiously at the rare praise.

  They both watched me as I took out the paper and unfolded it.

  ‘We have him, Morris,’ I said. ‘We have Dandy Jack!’

  ‘Who is he?’ asked the bewildered Morris.

  ‘Biddle will explain to you. I must take this to Superintendent Dunn at once.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  DUNN SPREAD the letter out flat on his desk and together we bent over it and read.

  My dearest wife,

  By the time you read this, I shall be far away. This is not how I would have wished our married life together to end, but it is inevitable. Clearly, the police feel they are now in a position to make an arrest and they will come to apprehend me at any moment. It is only left for me to leave the country. Once I have gone, my hope is that they will cease to pay attention to you, as you are clearly guiltless in the matter of Sawyer’s death.

  I have no regret for removing Sawyer from our lives, other than that it has resulted in the present regrettable situation. She was a dreadful woman, and brought about her own demise. If she had but taken the money she must have saved over the years with us, and left, as I hoped to persuade her to do, all this could have been avoided. But I had overlooked how much she enjoyed having us in her power . . . and her greed.

  She assented without any hesitation to a meeting near the river that morning. I had told her I wished to discuss the new situation without fear of being overheard by other staff. But from the first our discussion went badly. She began to demand even more money. She gloated at the hold she had on us. Had she been in any way reasonable, I swear to you I would not have killed her. But she left me no alternative. I believe you will understand because your uncle left you with no alternative, all those years ago. I know that what you did that day, you did for us both. So did I.

  I know how much this letter will distress you. But I beg you to believe I have acted at all times in the way I believe best for us both. Please be sure to destroy this letter immediately after you have read it. It must not fall into other hands. My love and regard for you remain undiminished, dear Amelia, and I beg you will not think of me with anger. I have not abandoned you, for you remain always in my heart.

  Your loving husband,

  Charles Lamont

  Dunn and I straightened up and looked at one another.

  ‘But she didn’t destroy the letter,’ I said. ‘Lizzie was right. These are Lamont’s last words to her. In reading them, she heard his voice. It was just as though he breathed them in his death agony.’

  ‘He did,’ said Dunn grimly. ‘Because in keeping this letter, she has sent him to the gallows.’

  Faced with the letter, Lamont had no choice but to admit his guilt.

  ‘I still deny that I went to meet her with the intention of killing her. But it was clear she had no intention of being reasonable. She became objectionable, taunting me. I lost my temper. I seized her neck, meaning only to shake her. But she just dropped down dead at my feet.’

  Lamont paused. ‘It was remarkable. I was quite horrified
for a moment or two. But I had to dispose of the body and any evidence; and very little time to do it in. I needed to return home quickly. The girl, Harriet, would have left hot water outside my bedroom door. She would be returning soon to fetch the empty jug and washbasin of water. If she found the jug standing still full but now cold outside my door, it would upset her routine and I couldn’t be sure what she’d do. She might knock at the door, even venture to look into the room, or go down and tell Johnson, who would come up and knock. My absence would be discovered.’ Lamont sighed. ‘But you had worked that out, hadn’t you, Ross? That is why you were so anxious to quiz Harriet.’

  ‘Every household has its morning routine,’ I said. ‘Oddly, it is the part of the day the most fixed in its procedure. If it varies, it is generally because of some necessity.’

  Lamont nodded. ‘I don’t suppose I ever faced a more difficult necessity than I did then. To get rid of a corpse! How on earth does one do such a thing? I dragged Sawyer towards the river, but she was a strongly built woman, as you saw for yourself. Her weight and that of her clothing, and the treacherous nature of the ground under my feet, all slowed me. I could hardly move her at all. I must have lost the cufflink then. When I realised, on returning home, that it had been torn from my shirt, there was no time to return and look for it. It was such a tiny thing. I thought there was a good chance it would be overlooked.’

  ‘It took three men to carry her from the river bank to a nearby garden,’ I told him. ‘I am not surprised you found it difficult to move her. A dead weight is rightly called so.’

  ‘There you are, then,’ said Lamont resentfully. ‘I had no choice but to leave her on the mud. I hoped that the rising river would take her. It would have done, but for pure chance. It those wretched brats had not come digging in the mud . . .’ He gave a twisted smile. ‘It is like a game of cards. You have to play the hand you’re given. Sometimes fortune favours you, and other times it doesn’t.’ He leaned forward, suddenly anxious and urgent. ‘But my wife had no part in it, no part in the murder of Rachel Sawyer at all. My letter makes that clear.’