Marble Arch Murder: A Piccadilly Ladies Club Mystery
Page 7
“Where is she, Peterson?”
“Not until the nuns read the list.”
“There are more than just names on the list, Jacob. Something about the old Newcastle prison.”
“Is that where you are keeping the Reverend Mother, Peter?” Jacob asked.
Peter refused to answer.
“Did you kill Beatrice Cooper, Peter?”
Again no answer.
“Inspector Gibbs?”
Jacob looked around for who had called his name.
“Mr. Abernathy. Good to see you.”
Mr. Abernathy was Jacob’s assistant, and he held a handcuffed William Cooper by the elbows.
“Your shooter, Inspector.”
“Mr. Cooper. Explain yourself.”
The hunched Mr. Cooper looked at Jacob.
“This animal killed Beatrice.”
“How do you know that, William?”
“She was meeting with him last night. They had an arrangement. She was going to see him but never came back.”
“You said you hadn’t seen her since she’d left the convent. Why did you lie to me, Mr. Cooper?” Jacob pressed. “You were at the convent early this morning. Why?”
“Beatrice told me she was going to warn the sisters of Peter’s scheme. She knew it was over, their arrangement, since the memorial is today. Peter told her yesterday that he wouldn’t supply her anymore. When she didn’t come back, I was worried, so I went looking for her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of that this morning?”
“When you told me Beatrice was dead, I guess I wasn’t thinking straight. I knew this animal would be here, so I came to avenge my niece.”
“Peter,” Jacob asked, “were you Beatrice’s source for heroin?”
Peter blanched. “What do you mean? How could you accuse me of that?”
It was William, appearing to be overwhelmed with emotion, who elaborated.
“Beatrice was trying to help me. She was getting the drugs from Peter for me, for my back pain. That’s why she joined the convent. He wanted a woman on the inside so he could pull off this little upset of the memorial. She agreed to do his bidding and entered the convent in exchange for the drugs. It’s my fault she’s dead.”
“When did she pick up the habit herself, Mr. Cooper?”
“Sometime after she got here. Peter made her. He said he wouldn’t continue to supply her with what I needed if she wouldn’t prove that she wasn’t a rat. She’s not been the same since the first time she put that in her body. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I told her not to, that I’d find another way, but she said she could handle it.”
“You killed her, you killed her!” William yelled at Peter Peterson.
William Cooper broke down in sobs.
Jacob continued his interrogation of the injured man.
“Peter, did Beatrice accidentally overdose last night? Or did you kill her?”
“You don’t know what you are talking about, copper.”
“I’m through playing games with you. Tell me where Mother Marie Garnier is and tell me what happened to Beatrice, Peter.”
Julia continued to study the paper that Peter had been holding. The mention of the Newcastle Prison seemed significant, tickling the back of her mind, but she couldn’t connect the dots.
“Julia!”
Frankie’s voice reached her as he approached them through the crowd.
“There you are. I was looking everywhere for you. Figures you’d be right in the center of the madness.”
She was thrilled to see him. “Frankie. I’m glad to see you. What does Newcastle Prison have to do Tyburn Tree?”
“They dragged the prisoners to Tyburn Tree from Newcastle Prison. It wasn’t an enjoyable ride.”
Jacob spoke this time. “That must be where he’s holding Mother Marie. Abernathy, get Peterson down to the station. I’m going to Newcastle. See what you can get out of this animal.”
12
11:00 am
February 22, 1921
Newcastle Prison
London
Julia went with Jacob to Newcastle Prison where they found a very tired, very frail, but very much alive Mother Marie Adele Garnier.
It took a little bit of searching, but Peter Peterson wasn’t the smartest criminal. The paper that he’d had in his possession had a map of Newcastle with a specific section circled. That’s where he’d hidden Reverend Mother.
In addition to finding the Reverend Mother, they found a significant amount of heroin.
“Mother Marie, are you all right?”
“Well, it depends. What happened to the memorial?”
“It started as planned. Sister Marta knew you’d want it to go on even in your absence, but unfortunately, Beatrice’s Uncle William arrived and shot Peter.”
“I don’t know what’s so unfortunate about that. Getting shot is the least that that animal should get as a punishment.”
Julia was amused by Mother Marie’s irreverent attitude, although she supposed if anyone deserved to bad mouth him it was his prisoner.
“Reverend Mother,” Jacob asked, “can you tell us what happened?”
“Certainly. Beatrice came to the convent to warn me that Peter was planning on disrupting memorial, that he was planning something violent. I tried to convince her to stay with us, that she’d be safe there, but she insisted she’d be fine. She said her uncle needed her. He broke in, though, I’m not sure how, but he found her when she was talking to me. He knocked me down, and then he killed her right in front of me. He knocked her down and sat on her and put that poison right into her arm. She was just gone. It didn’t take much time at all. He’s truly an animal. God will have no mercy on him.”
Julia tried to keep all the details straight and put together a picture in her mind of what happened.
“What happened after that?” Jacob asked.
“He blindfolded me and bound my hands together, then he brought me here.”
“Where were you when Peter killed Beatrice?”
“We were in my quarters. Have you found Beatrice, then? The poor dear?”
“He strung her body up from the gallows at the memorial site.”
“A mockery,” Mother Marie said. Her eyes filled with, tears but she swallowed them back. “Can you please take me back to Tyburn? It’s not often that I leave the walls of our convent.”
“Certainly,” Jacob said. They rode in silence back to the convent, and Julia’s mind kept turning over the details.
If she understood the chain of events, it went like this. William needed heroin for his back pain. Beatrice found a way to get it for him, via her boyfriend Peter. According to William, Beatrice joined the convent in order to get the drugs. Julia still didn’t understand why Peter wanted a person inside the convent. She knew he had a bone to pick with the Catholics and that he wanted his own ancestor recognized for having also been executed at Tyburn Tree. William had said he wanted Beatrice there so she could feed Peter information that would help him plan his outburst better.
Something else was bothering Julia. First, they’d already determined that it would have taken two people to hang Beatrice from the gallows. Second, how did Peter get into the convent? Marta said he’d arrived, looking for her, but they hadn’t let him in. Not only did he get in and get all the way to Mother Marie’s quarters, he also had time to dispose of Beatrice’s body. Beatrice had been killed inside the convent and then dragged outside and to the site of the gallows.
He had to have help.
“He couldn’t have done it alone, Jacob.”
“I agree. How did he get into the convent in the first place when it was only him, and then how did he manage to get her out of the convent? He had help and as much as I don’t want to trouble you with this, Mother Marie, I do believe he had help from inside the convent.”
“If that’s true, we need to determine who it is immediately. I won’t have a murderer roaming the sacred halls of my convent.”
&
nbsp; Once back at the convent, Sister Marta helped to get the Reverend Mother settled into her quarters. She refused to see a doctor, saying she only needed rest and she’d be good as new.
“Sister Marta, prepare tea for the detective and his assistant. I’m afraid they still have more work to do.”
“Yes, Reverence Mother.”
A few minutes later, Julia and Jacob sat in the midday sun in the courtyard with Sisters Marta and Prudence.
“Thank you for the tea, Sisters. And for your time. We just have a few more questions.”
Julia had an inclination about who had helped Peter from the inside, but she needed to be sure.
“Sister Marta,” Julia said, hoping Jacob wouldn’t mind her taking the lead. “How long have you know Peter Peterson, and why did you decide to help him hang Beatrice’s body from the gallows?”
Both sisters gasped while Jacob watched both their expressions, and Julia continued.
“Sister Prudence was in shock when she first saw Beatrice. You, on the other hand, were entirely too calm. You were the only one at the scene who wasn’t utterly surprised to see a dead woman hanging from the gallows.”
“How dare you make such accusations toward me, Miss Barlow?”
“You made a habit of lying to me on several occasions today, such as about Peter and William coming to the convent. Peter couldn’t have gotten in or out of the convent, especially with a dead body in tow, without help, and you were the one operating the door. What I can’t figure out is why. Why would you help someone like Peter?”
Sister Marta didn’t speak, but Sister Prudence did. “She hates Beatrice. Always has. The Reverend Mother bonded quite strongly and I think she was jealous. She pretended to befriend Beatrice, but I know she always hated her.”
“She was a fraud,” Sister Marta finally spoke. “She didn’t belong here and she was making a mockery of what we do here.”
“What precisely is it that you do here? Murder young girls, aid predatory men in their search for more victims? If anyone is a fraud, it’s you.”
Jacob stood and arrested Marta right there in the middle of the convent.
“Julia, will you please notify Mother Marie that the traitor has been caught and is being arrested?”
“Yes, Inspector, I will.”
13
Feb 28, 1921
Charing Cross Investigations
London
Frankie and Julia stood in the lobby of the Charing Cross building that Julia was now the proud owner of. She had big plans for this space.
“Can you believe we got our very first paying client before we even had a building? Penelope paid me this morning. I tried to refuse her money, but she insisted.”
“I can’t wait, Julia. This is so exciting. Oh, I nearly forgot. I have a present for you.”
He handed her a rectangle-shaped box that was wrapped in pretty paper and a bow.
“My, my, Frankie. This is quite a wrapping job.”
She opened it slowly.
“Hurry up and open it already!”
She tore off the packaging and read the words on the cover of the book she held in her hands.
“On Duty with Inspector Field by Charles Dickens. Well, isn’t this a wonderful surprise.”
“Did you know that Dickens would tag along with beat cops and then incorporate what he learned into his fictional writing? There’s something else even more significant, though. Charles Dickens was original editor of the paper you work at.”
“Ah, yes, I did actually know that. Charles Dickens is a legend. It’s one of the reasons I chose to work for this paper.”
“This book is a symbol of your two worlds colliding and a reminder that you are finding your stride and your place in this world. I can’t wait for our adventures together, Julia. Thank you for including me in this.”
“You are quite welcome. You’ve really outdone yourself with this gift, Frankie. Charing Cross Investigations is lucky to have you. I can’t wait for this next phase of our lives to begin. I wouldn’t want to do this without you.”
About the Author
Bettie Jane's story is one about the love between a young girl and her grandmother. When I was a young teen, my grandmother and I would sit in her living room and over a cuppa tea in the desert of northern Arizona, she'd tell me wild tales of her and my grandfather's families. I took copious notes about who immigrated from where and what the dynamics were like in different generations. From those many hours and days of those precious conversations, love for my own family history and my fascination with world history forever became part of my DNA.
I wanted to be an author since I was nine years old. I couldn't think of anything more worthy of aspiration than to write books. Like what happens with a lot of young girl dreams, it took nearly 30 years for me to realize the title of published author. Since 2012, I've published 27 different titles under three different pen names.
Writing cozy historical mysteries under Bettie Jane (an iteration of my beloved grandmother's name) is both the realization of my childhood dreams and a loving tribute to my grandmother who I said goodbye to in 2006.
I've felt the void from her absence since she passed on, and writing these books feels like I'm back in her living room with her. In the last conversation I had with her she said, "I'm just really sad". She knew she was dying and that her days were few.
Every time I create these stories, I send a silent wish that wherever she is, she finds just a bit of joy knowing that she lives on in my memory. She didn't live long enough to see me realize my dreams, but I hope she knows somehow.
Every time you read one of Bettie Jane's books, take a moment to think of a grandmother sharing stories with her granddaughter; stories that would sustain the latter long after the former bid her final farewell.
Among the pictures on this author profile is one from my wedding day with my grandma, the real Bette Jane.
Also by Bettie Jane
Piccadilly Ladies Club Mysteries
Hyde Park Heist
Suffragette Sabotage
Fleet Street Felony
Marble Arch Murder
Covent Garden Caper
Short Stories
New Year’s Madness
Valentine’s Madness
April Fool’s Madness
About Auburn Seal
If you enjoyed Bettie Jane’s cozy mysteries, you might also enjoy some titles from her alter-ego, Auburn Seal.
Under this moniker, Auburn writes historical suspense, paranormal romance, psychological thrillers, paranormal cozies (with co-author Amanda A. Allen), and even a bit of science fiction.
Also by Auburn Seal
Historical Suspense
Roanoke Vanishing
Maya Vanishing
Paranormal Romance
The Immortals: A Vampire Fairytale
Goodbye Love: A Kendawyn Paranormal Regency
Psychological Thriller
The Scent of Death
The Strong One
Paranormal Cozy Mystery
Inept Witches Mysteries