‘Are we ready?’ she asked as Ethel joined her.
‘As ready as we’ll ever be.’
Ethel grasped the knocker dangling from the brass lion’s mouth and thumped it against the door. After a few moments, when there was no response, she thumped again.
Kirsty heaved a sigh of exasperation and grabbed the doorknob. The door swung open. She exchanged a glance with Ethel and then stepped into the hallway.
‘Everyone will be at the funeral,’ she whispered.
Several cabin trunks were piled up, to the left of the door.
‘It looks as if Archie is ready to leave in a hurry afterwards. But it’s strange the door is unlocked.’ Kirsty advanced further into the hall.
‘Anyone home?’ Ethel’s voice reverberated around the spacious hall and up the staircase.
Kirsty’s heart pounded. She’d never entered a house unless she had been invited, and the intrusion felt wrong. But they had to find Martha.
‘Come on,’ Ethel said. ‘Let’s explore, while we have the chance. Archie won’t return from the funeral for a few hours.’
They had only taken a couple steps when a young woman appeared at the top of the stairs.
‘What are you doing in my house?’ She lifted the edge of her skirt and ran down to confront them.
Kirsty gasped, struggling to find a response.
‘Your house?’ Ethel stepped forward, staring at Gloria. ‘I thought this was Mr Drysdale’s house, now that his wife is deceased. Not unless Constance bequeathed it to you?’
‘Archie’s not at home at the moment. He left me in charge, so I must ask you to leave.’ She waved a dismissive hand at Ethel.
Fear replaced Kirsty’s anxiety when she spotted the ring on Gloria’s finger.
‘Where did you acquire that ring?’
‘It’s mine. Archie gave it to me.’
‘Close the door, Ethel. She’s wearing Martha’s ring, and I intend to find out how she came by it.’
Ethel slammed the door shut, turned the key in the lock, and pocketed it.
‘Where is Martha?’
The colour drained from Gloria’s face, confirming Kirsty’s suspicions. Martha was here; she knew it. She just hoped they were in time. Kirsty gasped for air as she fought to control the pounding in her chest. She took several deep breaths to regain her self-control, clenching her hands to stop herself from reaching out and trying to shake the information from the woman in front of her.
‘If anything’s happened to Martha, I swear I will kill you.’ Ethel grabbed Gloria’s arm. ‘She may be a lady –’ she nodded her head in Kirsty’s direction ‘– but I am not.’ She twisted the arm up the woman’s back, giving it an extra pull upwards in response to her squeal.
‘It’s nothing to do with me.’ Tears streamed down Gloria’s face.
‘I’m not going to ask again.’ Ethel increased the pressure, making Gloria yelp. ‘Where’s Martha? Has Archie harmed her?’
‘I don’t know, I swear! And when Archie finds out you’ve hurt me, he won’t be pleased.’
‘We know Martha is here.’ Ethel gave the woman’s arm another twist, ignoring her scream and avoiding the hand that flailed towards her.
‘Grab her other arm, Kirsty. We’ll make this bitch talk even if we’ve to half-kill her.’
Kirsty’s heart thumped, but she didn’t hesitate. She seized the arm trying to reach Ethel and forced it up Gloria’s back. Despite never having committed a violent act in her life, Kirsty had to admit it felt good now – strong and powerful, when so often she had felt weak and helpless.
‘What now?’ She forced the arm further up, preventing Gloria from wriggling in their grasp.
‘One of these doors must lead to the kitchen – it’ll be the best place to find something to persuade her to tell us what we want to know. Maybe a carving knife to her throat will force her to talk.’
‘You wouldn’t?’ Kirsty couldn’t keep the horror out of her voice.
‘Oh, but I would.’
‘I don’t know anything.’ Tears rolled down Gloria’s cheeks.
‘We’ll see about that.’ Ethel pushed the woman in front of her, roughly, while they walked down the hall, looking for the kitchen.
The kitchen was behind the third door they tried. A large cooking range took up most of one wall; the others were lined with cupboards. Brass pans hung from hooks in the ceiling and a long, wooden table stretched down the middle of the room.
‘This’ll do nicely.’ Ethel forced Gloria against the table. ‘Grab her feet, Kirsty, and we’ll hoist her on to the table, where I’ll be able to carve her up proper.’
Gloria kicked and struggled against them until they were forced to push her on to her back on the floor.
‘Never mind,’ Ethel said, placing her knee in the woman’s midriff. ‘I would have preferred the table, but this’ll do. Have a look around for a carving knife and I’ll start.’
‘You won’t get away with this.’ Gloria’s voice came in gasps.
Ethel hitched her skirt up to her knees and straddled the woman, pinning her arms to the floor so she couldn’t fight back.
‘I don’t see anyone stopping me. If there were any servants left in the house, they’d have appeared by now. There’s only us here, and that means I can do anything I like.’ Ethel smiled grimly, holding Gloria’s gaze.
Kirsty’s hand tightened around the shaft of the knife she’d taken from the wooden block on the sideboard. The conversational tone of Ethel’s voice sounded more chilling than her earlier threats, and she wondered whether it was wise to give her the knife. Would she really use it? But, however she felt about what might be about to happen, Martha’s safety had to take precedence. She handed Ethel the knife.
Ethel leaned forward and placed the flat side to Gloria’s cheek.
‘This carver’s very sharp. It wouldn’t take any strength to cut your throat. But I’m not going to do that – yet.’ She emphasised the last word. ‘You’re going to tell me what Archie’s done with Martha.’ She slid the knife down the woman’s cheek until it reached her chin, her tone low and steely. ‘And she had better still be alive. If she’s not, I’d advise you to confess your sins to your maker, because you will join her.’
Kirsty shivered. The menace in Ethel’s voice chilled her. She hoped it was having the same effect on Gloria.
Fear distorted the woman’s face.
‘The wine cellar – Archie only locked her up to give us time to leave. He wouldn’t have harmed her.’
‘You may believe that, but I don’t,’ Ethel said. She turned to Kirsty. ‘I’ll stay here with her while you check the cellar. There’s bound to be a door near the kitchen.’
It didn’t take long for Kirsty to find the door but when she opened it, she faced a set of stairs leading downwards into complete darkness. She returned to the kitchen.
‘I need a lamp.’ She checked out the shelves and found what she was looking for – a small paraffin lamp and a box of matches. She removed the glass funnel and shook the base to be sure it contained paraffin. The swishing sound inside satisfied her; she struck a match and lit the wick, waiting until it flickered to life before replacing the funnel.
She sped back to the cellar door and descended the stairs, only to be faced with another door at the bottom. This one was locked. If she’d been a man, she would have cursed, but what good would that do? Kirsty closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear the jumble of thoughts clouding her head. Would she have to return to the kitchen to search for a key? Would Archie have it with him? If it was a wine cellar, surely it must be nearby, because it wouldn’t always be the same person who brought the wine up to the main house. Think, think, think! There must be a key somewhere.
Kirsty held the lamp up, inspecting the area to the left and right of the door, but there was nowhere to place a key. She raised the lamp higher and spotted it, hanging from a hook at the top of the door frame. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up and prodded it until it
fell off the hook and landed on the floor with a clang.
It only took a moment to unlock the door. She held the lamp up, but all she could see were the vague outlines of wine racks stretching back into a dark, cavernous space.
‘Martha,’ she shouted. ‘Are you here?’
‘Over here.’ The answering voice was faint and lacked its usual confidence. For a moment, Kirsty wasn’t sure it was Martha.
She swung the oil lamp in the direction of the voice and walked towards it. The light flickered over the shadowy interior, with its rows of racks stacked with wine bottles. Kirsty directed the light down each aisle, advancing further into the cellar. A scurrying noise off to her left caused her heart to race, but she ignored the flutters and continued her search. How many more rows did this cellar contain? And where was Martha?
‘Martha,’ she called again.
‘I’m here.’ The answering voice came from the next aisle.
Kirsty rushed forward, holding the lamp up in front of her. Illuminated in its glow was Martha, bound to a chair.
‘I thought it was Archie coming back. I couldn’t believe it when I heard your voice – I thought I must be imagining it.’
‘I’m here now. I’ll soon have you free.’ Untying the knots wasn’t as easy as Kirsty had thought it would be. Her hands grew slippery with sweat as she pulled at the rope; she gasped as she broke a fingernail. But at last, the knots loosened, and Martha was freed.
‘Ethel’s upstairs in the kitchen, sitting on Gloria.’ Kirsty put an arm around Martha to steady her.
‘Actually, sitting on her?’
‘That’s how we found you.’ Kirsty grinned, relief threatening to overwhelm her. ‘Ethel persuaded her to talk.’
‘I’m not sure I want to know what persuasion she used.’
‘Let me just say that I now see Ethel in a whole new light. I wouldn’t want to get on her wrong side.’
* * *
Martha stumbled up the stairs, her legs unsteady. Lack of food and too long in the same position had taken its toll. Emerging from the dimly lit corridor into the full brightness of the kitchen made her blink, and it was a few moments before she could focus on Ethel sitting astride Gloria. She pulled a chair over and sat beside the two women.
‘I see you’ve met my friends,’ she said, her tone conversational.
‘Get this banshee off me.’ Gloria glared at her.
Ethel leaned forward and placed the knife at her throat.
‘Hush, now. We wouldn’t want this knife to slip.’
A look of panic flitted across Gloria’s face as her eyes moved between Ethel and Martha.
‘I told you what you wanted to know. I helped you find Martha.’
‘That’s true,’ Ethel said. ‘But you don’t imagine that’s the end of it, do you?’
Martha leaned forward.
‘My friend Constance is dead, and Archie is responsible. But it’s not too late to save yourself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. Archie is a murderer.’
‘I don’t know anything of the sort,’ Gloria said. ‘Archie wouldn’t do something like that.’
‘Archie told me everything before he locked me in the cellar. He confessed to killing Constance and the other suffragettes, and he intended to kill me.’ Martha stared into Gloria’s widening eyes. ‘And how long do you think it would be before he disposed of you? You’re only alive because of the alibi you gave him.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Whether you believe me or not,’ Martha shrugged ‘we’ll be handing you over to the police while they investigate. And you will find Archie’s guilt will be proved beyond doubt.’
The fight left Gloria’s body and she went limp.
‘I suggest you confess everything to the police unless you want to risk the hangman’s noose alongside Archie.’ There was no response from Gloria, but her expression told Martha what she wanted to know. She turned to Ethel. ‘I think she has seen sense. You can get off her now.’
‘Don’t think of doing anything you’ll regret. I still have the knife.’ Ethel hoisted herself up and stood next to Martha.
‘What happens now?’ Gloria stumbled to her feet, keeping a wary eye on the knife in Ethel’s hand.
‘The first thing we do is find my skirt and blouse,’ Martha said. ‘I rather think I might shock the police if I turn up in my shift. Then we take you to meet Inspector Hammond, and you will provide him with a full confession.’
‘But I haven’t done anything. I can’t be held responsible for Archie’s actions.’
‘In that case, I’m sure the inspector will make the right decision.’ Martha gave Gloria a push. ‘My clothes, if you please.’
Martha glanced at herself in a mirror after she dressed. Her hair was messy, her skirt and blouse were crumpled, and she knew that her under-garments were far from fresh, but there was no time to do anything about any of that. They had to get Gloria to the police station before Archie returned and made his escape from Dundee.
‘We have a problem,’ Martha said as they left the house. ‘Four of us won’t fit into the cab.’
‘There needs to be two of us to make sure Gloria doesn’t run.’
‘It’s no problem,’ Kirsty said. ‘I’ll walk back.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Hansom cabs were built for two passengers and with three on board, there was little room for manoeuvre. Martha and Ethel shared a smile as Gloria, pinned between them, struggled to move her arms. Martha leaned in closer and nodded to Ethel to do the same.
The cabby’s whip snaked over the top of their compartment to flick the horse’s rear; the cab picked up speed as it rolled along Perth Road. Kirsty raised an arm and waved as they passed her walking towards the Nethergate.
Martha hadn’t wanted to leave Kirsty to walk back alone, but there had been no other option. It needed two of them to make sure Gloria reached the police station, and there was no room for a fourth person in the cab. They could have drawn lots to see who travelled and who walked but the choice was obvious. Gloria was afraid of Ethel, while Martha was the one who had been imprisoned and would be making the complaint. Nevertheless, Martha worried for Kirsty’s safety.
‘Do you think Kirsty will be all right?’ Ethel gave voice to Martha’s concerns.
‘I think so.’ Martha lacked conviction. ‘She has grown stronger since I first met her.’ She recalled the innocence she had sensed in Kirsty. Her lack of understanding that women could make their own decisions and were not held in thrall to their fathers. ‘I knew from the beginning that once she understood our purpose, she could be an asset to our cause.’
Beside them, Gloria wriggled to find more space.
‘I can’t breathe.’
‘You’ll breathe less if they hang you.’
Gloria lapsed into silence and stopped struggling and the horse continued clopping through the town until they turned and entered the police quadrangle through the archway.
‘We’ve arrived,’ Martha said.
Ethel dismounted first and waited for them to follow. Martha could see her poised to tackle Gloria if she attempted to escape.
‘Don’t even think about trying to run for it,’ Martha whispered in Gloria’s ear as she prodded her along the seat. ‘Don’t forget, she still has the knife and I rather think she might enjoy using it.’
* * *
Kirsty pushed away her disappointment as she watched the hansom cab speed along Perth Road. She had craved to be there when they confronted Inspector Hammond with Gloria, but it was not to be. She knew it made more sense for Martha and Ethel to be there, but that didn’t prevent her from feeling left out.
The morning’s events had been terrifying and exhilarating, making her heart thump harder than it ever had before; the drop in her spirits invoked by the normality of walking to the town ushered in, once again, her dissatisfaction with her life. With Martha and Ethel by her side, she felt like a different person.
When they weren’t with her, she was reminded of the reality. Her role as a dutiful daughter; the family ties that dictated how she should act; and the subservience her father expected. But above all, it was the lack of independence and the ability to make her own decisions which frustrated her the most. Martha had introduced her to a new world in the short time they’d known each other – a world she had never imagined existed.
Reaching the Nethergate, she walked past the row of hansom cabs. The WFL office across the road was closed as a mark of respect for Constance, and Martha was at the police station. That only left Aunt Bea. Her steps quickened as she turned the corner into Reform Street. Thoughts bounced around inside her head. She didn’t want to return home to a continued existence as a submissive daughter. She wanted changes in her life, but how was she going to achieve them? Her parents would never understand. Sometimes she thought Aunt Bea understood but was she just seeing what she wanted to?
Kirsty opened the door and climbed the stairs, took a deep breath, and entered the sitting-room, expecting to see Aunt Bea in her usual spot. Instead, her mother’s voice greeted her, stopping her in her tracks.
‘Ah, there you are at last, Kirsty,’ she said. ‘I was just saying to Bea that it’s time you returned home.’
* * *
Chief Constable Dewar glared at Inspector Hammond.
‘What progress have you made in this investigation? It’s time we had this killer off the streets of Dundee.’
Sweat beaded on Hammond’s brow and he resisted the temptation to run a finger around his collar. Dewar was Dundee’s procurator fiscal as well as chief constable, and he was responsible for the investigation. Hammond couldn’t remember a time when his boss had sought active involvement in a case, so the man’s fury at the failure to find the perpetrator of these murders puzzled him. Either there was a personal interest, or it must be because the last victim was more important than the others.
‘It’s been a difficult case to resolve, sir. We have three suspects but no evidence.’
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