Elementary Murder

by AJ Wright

  ‘Like worms, miss, them trams!’ he’d yelled above the strength of the wind.

  Later, she paid the 6d entrance fee for Dr Cocker’s Aquarium and Menagerie, and she had felt such a lifting of her spirits watching Billy’s reaction as they passed cages where lions, tigers and panthers prowled with their fierce scowls and occasional deep-throated roars. It was only when he said, ‘Bet they’d scatter if me dad were ’ere!’ that her spirits flagged. It would take the boy quite a while to leave everything behind, including his spaniel-like trust in such a brute.

  Now, as they walked up the steps to Poulton Station, Jane spied the man standing just beyond the gates. She gave him a wave and placed a hand on Billy’s head.

  This is the boy, the gesture said. The one you’ll soon be taking to Liverpool Docks and the first stage of his new life.

  The two of them passed through onto the platform. She saw the boy shrink back when she introduced him to the man.

  ‘Don’t worry, Billy. This is Mr Laidlaw from the society. He’s going to take you on a long and exciting journey, just as I told you. You’ll be safe with him, and you’ll have a life beyond your wildest dreams. Canada is the most beautiful country in the entire world.’

  Mr Laidlaw gave her a nod.

  ‘You met Detective Sergeant Brennan?’ she asked.

  ‘I did indeed. And you were right. He struck me as a tenacious character. He would have taken this child back with him.’

  ‘All the same, I’m sorry I lied to him. About Billy’s whereabouts. And his state of health.’

  ‘For a greater purpose, Jane,’ came the reply.

  She was silent for a while as Billy wandered along the platform, keeping an eye out for the promised train. Then she said in a low voice, ‘He finally told me last night as we tucked him into bed. That it was Emily Mason, our pupil-teacher, who kept him safe.’

  ‘Why would she do that?’

  Jane shrugged. ‘He just said she kept him safe from the police. A strange girl.’ She gave a long sigh. ‘She too had a troubled childhood. Perhaps if I’d been there when she was suffering …’

  Laidlaw patted her shoulder and smiled. ‘You can’t save them all, Jane. Don’t be greedy!’

  ‘I suppose Sergeant Brennan will wish to speak with me when I return.’

  ‘If you need my support …’

  She smiled in gratitude. ‘You’ve done more than enough already. Besides, Charles will be there.’

  He shrugged and touched the brim of his hat. ‘In that case …’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said as the boy was led away to the waiting room.

  When it was clear she wasn’t coming with him, Billy turned and ran back to her, throwing his arms around her waist and clinging to her so tightly she found it difficult to breathe. He muttered something she couldn’t quite hear, so she managed to push him from her.

  ‘What did you say, Billy?’

  The boy sobbed and said, ‘I want me dad.’

  Emily Mason remained doggedly silent as they took the train from Seaforth to Southport, gazing through the carriage window with her head resting against the glass. The other passengers gave her – and Brennan – curious glances, but when he faced them and held their looks with a challenging expression on his face, they soon turned back to their newspapers or their thoughts. At one stage, as they were passing through Ainsdale, she raised her head and gazed out at the expanse of sandy beach with the glimmer of water reflecting a dying sun in the distance, a reminder, perhaps, of the fate she had planned for herself. Or was it the view of a horizon of escape, a vision of a future denied her?

  It was the same on the platform at Southport, head bowed, sullen and silent. They sat on a bench and waited for the L&YR train back to Wigan. It was only when they boarded the train and found an empty carriage that Emily began to speak.

  ‘What’ll happen now?’ she asked.

  Even though she had murdered two innocent people and tried to kill another, he still felt a pang of pity for this girl. For that was what she was. A girl.

  ‘You’ll stand trial for the murders of Dorothea Gadsworth and Henry Tollet.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘If you’re found guilty, you could well hang.’

  There was a pause as the awful truth of that sentence – in both senses of the word – struck home.

  ‘Do you want to tell me why you did it, Emily?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Then let me do it for you.’

  He watched as she once more rested her head against the window.

  ‘Your father is Richard Weston.’

  She closed her eyes.

  ‘And your mother was Julia Reece.’

  A sigh. Nothing more.

  ‘You know what happened between them? In Hawkshead?’

  She said in a low voice, ‘They fell in love.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose they did. But they were forced to leave, weren’t they?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Because they did a wicked thing.’

  She gave a rare smile then. ‘You mean they produced a wicked thing? She didn’t know then she was expecting. When she did, Grandmother told her in no uncertain terms that she’d made her bed and should now lie in it. Before she once again brought shame on the family. I was that shame, you see?’

  ‘She married Sidney Mason.’

  For the first time since he’d brought her from Seaforth she showed real anger, her eyes flashing a venomous look at the mention of the name.

  ‘That pig! He beat my mother, he beat my grandmother. You don’t think she was born deaf, do you? He was a monster. More than you can imagine.’

  A cold shiver ran through him.

  Then she said quietly, ‘It wasn’t only my mother he did things to.’

  Brennan went cold. He recalled what Weston had told him – that Sidney Mason had infected Julia with syphilis. She had died relatively quickly, but he had heard of cases where that vile contagion festered, sometimes for years and years, before rendering the innocent victim insane. If Emily had been infected too …

  Suddenly, he said, ‘He was your first victim, wasn’t he?’

  The expression on her face showed relief more than fear. This policeman knew.

  ‘He came home drunk one night – nothing new there – but he began on me, fumbling, pawing, as he always did. But my mother caught him this time, and he hit her so hard I could feel the draught as he struck her and struck her, and she was sinkin’ to the floor at the top of the landin’ beggin’ the swine to stop. But even then she was thinkin’ o’ me. “Don’t let little Em see this, Sid. Don’t let little Em see this!” But he just laughed and snarled and swung an’ swung until I could bear it no more, so I ran at the bastard as hard as I could an’ I caught ’im right in his balls an’ he doubles up an’ I runs again an’ heaves ’im down the stairs like the sack o’ shit that he were.’

  As she spoke, he could almost hear the schoolteacher diction fade away and the rawness of that moment bring its own brutal clarity of expression.

  ‘What happened on the Friday, when Dorothea Gadsworth came to school?’

  She lowered her head. She had expended so much energy on remembering the distant past that the present had misted over for a while. He gave her time to recover her senses. By this time they had reached Parbold, and he looked out at the fine rolling hillside, at the way the small clouds were now drawing shifting shadows on the green slopes of Parbold Hill.

  ‘I heard her. She told that school inspector she recognised Richard only his name weren’t Richard it were David an’ he’d done a really bad thing a long time ago an’ was it right he should be headmaster now?’ She too looked through the window. ‘It was as much news to me as it was to him. I’d never known about that.’

  ‘What did the inspector say?’

  ‘Said it were a grave matter she were talkin’ about an’ he could only make mention in his report. Let others deal with it. So I had to do summat. Since Mason died, Richard Weston – my
dad – came back an’ did all he could to look after us. I owe him everythin’. Everythin’.’

  ‘How did you lure Miss Gadsworth back to the school?’

  Emily Mason had tears in her eyes now. ‘Simple. Just waited for her at the station an’ told her the inspector wanted to see her. Wanted her to sign summat. She jumped at the chance. ’Specially after she’d messed up the interview earlier.’

  ‘And the poison?’

  ‘John Prendergast don’t care much about keepin’ stuff like that locked away.’

  ‘It was the bottle of whisky that made me curious,’ said Brennan. ‘I mean, you gave her a mug of tea with the arsenic in, right?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So why remove the mug and put the Scotch in its place?’

  Emily shrugged. ‘It’s what people who kill themselves do, ain’t it? Get drunk before. I thought it might make it more realistic. Only that poison didn’t work straight off. I thought she’d just take it and drop. Only she didn’t. So I locked her in the classroom.’

  ‘But you wrote the word “FAILED” to make us think it was suicide?’

  ‘Yes. Wrote it an’ slid it under the door after I’d locked it. An’ it was easy droppin’ that key Monday mornin’ so they all thought she’d locked herself in. I thought that was clever of me.’

  There was a child-like tone in her voice, almost a plea for adult praise.

  With a heavy sigh at the sloppiness, the childish opportunism, of the crime, he went on. ‘You left a note for the inspector at his hotel?’

  Emily nodded. ‘I’d heard him tell my father he was staying there for another inspection. So I wrote the note, tellin’ him I had definite proof Miss Gadsworth was tellin’ the truth.’

  ‘And he came to meet you.’

  ‘I’d pushed one man down the stairs when I were nowt but a babby. It were easy pushin’ him in. Only after he’d told me he’d not put it in the report yet.’

  ‘And Nathaniel Edgar?’

  ‘I missed me aim in the dark. He’d threatened my father, said he’d tell everyone I was his daughter. I was listenin’ after school. His window was open and I was passin’ my father’s office. The caretaker saw me an’ waved. I think dad thought he was wavin’ at him. As if he would!’ She curled her lip. ‘They’d have sacked him. An’ Mr Edgar’s nothin’ more than a drunkard. They get what they deserve, drunkards.’

  Brennan laid his head back. They would soon be arriving at Wallgate Station, and making the short walk down King Street to the police station.

  ‘How did you know it were me?’ Emily asked.

  He thought about it for a second, then said, ‘I don’t believe in coincidences, Emily.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘When I interviewed you, before we knew the school inspector, Henry Tollet, was missing, let alone dead, you said to me that all school inspectors should be “drowned at birth”. When he was found drowned it rankled with me. Either a coincidence or you were having a quiet laugh at my expense. Besides, the crimes themselves, they were too haphazard, too unplanned. There was no consistency of thought behind them. A poisoning, a drowning and a stabbing? People – even criminals – are consistent, they prefer to follow one route. You were all over the place.’

  He didn’t add that it was also a sign of the madness that was surely tightening its grip on her mind.

  Silence now. Only the rhythmic rattle of wheels on the tracks beneath them.

  ‘One final question, Emily.’

  She looked at him through tear-filled eyes.

  ‘Why didn’t you silence young Billy Kelly when you locked him up?’

  She thought for a while before replying. ‘He’d done nothin’ wrong, had he?’

  ‘You could say the same for your victims.’

  She shook her head. ‘They knew what they were doin’. All of ’em wanted to do some harm to a good man. Billy didn’t. All he’d done was see me wi’ Miss Gadsworth. Heard us talkin’. I caught him after I’d locked her in the classroom. So I couldn’t risk him tellin’ anyone. Besides, you’ve seen the bruises on the lad. Reminded me of the life I led when little – so no. I couldn’t do Billy any mischief. Just wanted him out of the way.’

  ‘But why go to Seaforth to see him?’

  ‘Miss Rodley told me where she’d took him. Said he’d be emigratin’ soon. I just wanted to see the boy, tell him how sorry I were, wish him well. When I found out he weren’t there, I just … I’m so tired, you see?’

  There was a sad simplicity about the girl, Brennan thought. That, and a growing insanity.

  As they walked down King Street, the light was fading fast, and there was a chill in the evening air. He felt none of the elation he normally felt when a case was solved. Somehow, he told himself with a furtive glance in Emily Mason’s direction, a silly and immoral act by two foolish lovers fifteen years ago had begun a sequence of events that brought devastation to a number of people. And for this girl, the suffering wasn’t over, not by a long way. The only one who’d deserved to die was the bastard Mason.

  As she was led down into the cells below, he caught sight of Constable Jaggery emerging from the canteen.

  ‘Howdo, Sergeant!’ he hailed as he approached. ‘I see you’ve got the little bitch then?’

  Brennan didn’t reply, but turned on his heel, walked out of the station and headed for home, where his family would be waiting for him.

  George Street Elementary School, Wigan Extracts from school logbook December 1894 [Completed by Miss E. Ryan, Acting Headmistress]

  Monday 10th December

  Very cold day. Many children absent because of thick snow. Lessons continued notwithstanding. Albert Parkinson brought to my office for swearing at Joe Marshall and breaking a slate over his head. He was strapped six times on each hand. Letter sent home warning of the consequences of any repeated behaviour. I took the opportunity to speak with the temporary assistant teacher of Standard 6, Mr Boland, to ensure he maintains the strictest of discipline with a most unsatisfactory class.

  The girls in Standard 3 produce far superior dictation work than the boys. Reports have also reached my office of the appalling behaviour of those same boys during the dinner hour, many refusing to go home and loiter in the street outside. I have spoken with Miss Walsh and demanded the issues be addressed as a matter of urgency. While promising to do so, she has also told me that the children are not her responsibility once they leave through the school gates. She intends to make a complaint to the school board concerning my running of the school in general and my ‘vindictiveness’ towards her in particular. It will be for the board to make a judgement as to the evidence.

  Tuesday 11th December

  The pupils have begun the decoration of their classrooms for the Christmas festivities, apart from Standard 6, whose continued misbehaviour has convinced me to withhold permission for the classroom to be decorated. It will be a salutary reminder to them of what the holy season is all about.

  Several of the children have colds and I have received a number of requests to allow them to sit nearer to the classroom stove. This has been granted within reason.

  Wednesday 12th December

  A most distressing morning. Reverend Pearl addressed the entire school and informed them of the death of Emily Mason through an unspecified illness. Naturally, I objected to such an announcement, almost sanctifying a foul and evil murderess. Miss Rodley, who has been assisting with Standard 5 since Mr Edgar’s absence, leapt to her fiancé’s defence and caused a most unseemly scene in the staffroom, supported, one must say inevitably, by Miss Walsh.

  Thursday 13th December

  Miss Walsh came to see me and said she would petition the school board for my removal as headmistress. I wished her good fortune in such a futile endeavour.

  Friday 14th December

  Reverend Pearl gave the children much joy when he brought in a lantern slide show which included a presentation of Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol, and a set of Christmas scenes.
The children were genuinely afraid when presented with the image of Scrooge at his own graveside with the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come hovering over him. As Reverend Pearl commented, it was a salutary reminder of our own misdeeds and the punishment we shall all receive unless we take steps to mend our ways. I gave a strong speech in front of almost the entire school – and those members of the school board who came along in support – praising the excellent manner in which Reverend Pearl had brought such edifying material into the pupils’ lives. A great pity that Standard 6 were not allowed to see the slide show, for with hindsight I feel they would be the ones who would most benefit from its lessons.

  A letter arrived this afternoon informing me that, as our most recent inspection ended so tragically, with the concomitant lack of reporting so necessary for the machinery of education and its monitoring, a new HMI has been assigned to our school and he will be visiting next Wednesday. This will enable our 1894 annual report to be completed. I have called an extraordinary staff meeting for Monday evening.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  George Street Elementary School is of course a fictitious establishment, and for those interested in the geography of Wigan, George Street is not to be confused with Great George Street off Wallgate.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Once again I have people to thank. My agent, Sara Keane, of the Keane Kataria Literary Agency, is always supportive and unfailingly cheerful! Sophie Robinson, Editor at Allison & Busby, has once again helped me avoid embarrassing errors and made insightful comments. Any mistakes are therefore her fault – sorry, I meant to put my fault!

  Finally, I should like to thank all those teachers who taught me at both primary and secondary school. Admittedly some of them wouldn’t have felt out of place at George Street Elementary, especially where good old-fashioned discipline is concerned! Yet they taught me well, inspired me to follow in their footsteps and prepared me admirably for when I started at the chalk-face!