by David Field
A quick perusal of the lease that Helen had taken over the Lamb Street premises disclosed that it was for a year, with the first six months of rent payable in advance in two instalments and the second full instalment payable at least a month prior to the expiry of those six months. A quick sum on a piece of paper had revealed that the half-yearly rent was due at the end of March, a month short of the date when Esther would be obliged to reside temporarily in Barking. She had no doubt that Constance would gleefully allow her to move in at the end of March, but Esther had in mind keeping the bank account going with sufficient funds in it to pay the next rental instalment. However, she also had an uncomfortable feeling that this might be dishonest. Membership subscriptions were still coming in, and increasingly so in recent weeks, but they were from unsuspecting working women who believed that they were thereby obtaining the protection and support of an ongoing viable union, not an organisation that had lost its founder and only driving force.
This also of course necessitated, if only morally, that existing members be advised that the Alliance had ceased to be and that hopeful applicants be advised that there was no longer anything to join. The first thing she should do — and it would occupy days of her time — was to write to every existing member, advising them of Helen’s death and enquiring if any of them might be interested in continuing with the great work that Helen had started. She would also need to reply to everyone who wrote seeking membership. She had checked the notepaper supply that Helen had stacked in the storage area to the rear and there was probably enough to complete the mammoth task. There was also probably enough ink and Esther had her own supply of nibbed pens. The only possible flaw in her plan was that her own writing hand might give up the ghost before the mountain she was confronting could be climbed.
She sighed, went upstairs for a cup of tea and sent a silent prayer to Isaac, the man who had never accepted defeat, even in his darkest days.
‘The chances are that Mabel Barker doesn’t know that Helen’s dead,’ Percy advised Jack as they plodded up Station Road towards the address that the local police had supplied, ‘and if she finds out, she’ll probably clam up on us. After all, it looks as if Helen may have been killed on the mere suspicion that Mabel had told her something really important regarding the identity of the person behind the sabotage of the Alliance, and Mabel may form the not unreasonable fear that she’ll be next if she gives us that same information.’
‘But how can we ask the questions of her without revealing why we’re here?’ Jack
Percy smiled and tapped his nose.
‘Lots of women in London have been the victims of intimidating behaviour by Mathewson, have they not? Mabel wrote and told Helen that she knew who was behind the attack on her and we simply tell her that we’re after further evidence to put Mathewson away for a long time. Once she knows that he’s safely locked up, she may be more forthcoming. I’ll ask the questions and you just sit there and take notes, agreed?’
‘Agreed.’
The door was opened to them by a lady who was probably no older than thirty and whose active occupation had kept her slim enough. But the wispy, almost straw-like auburn hair with grey streaks that poked out from under her working cap and the deepening lines beneath her eyes, revealed Mabel Barker to be a woman who was about to descend into the early middle age that seemed to be the fate of all women who earned their own living in a man’s world. There was no sign of any children, so Mabel had probably opted to do so alone.
Percy raised his police badge high in the air and smiled.
‘Detective Sergeant Enright, Mrs Barker. This gentlemen and I are from Scotland Yard.
‘Miss Barker, but come in,’ she said resignedly as she opened the door wider. ‘Take a seat in the parlour there; I were gonna make a cup o’ tea anyway. It’s about Wally Mathewson, ain’t it?’
‘I take it that Miss Trenchard has been in touch?’ Percy enquired tactfully.
‘Yeah, she come last Sat’day an’ I don’t think I can tell you any more than I told ’er, ter be ’onest wi’ yer.’
Percy smiled encouragingly.
‘It was Miss Trenchard who suggested that we come and talk to you, Miss Barker. First of all, let me reassure you that we have Mr Mathewson safely locked up in the police cells in Whitechapel, so you have nothing to fear from telling us whatever you can about him, and the people he associated with.’
‘If yer’ve got ’im locked up, why d’yer need any more from me? ’E’s bin at it agin, down in London, ain’t ’e?’
‘At what, exactly?’ Percy asked.
Mabel’s face screwed up in a gesture of disgust.
‘Stealin’ ladies’ unmentionables. Off washin’ lines, like mine, or else out of their ’ouses. Sometimes off young girls an’ all — while they was still wearin’ ’em.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid he has,’ Percy conceded. ‘But he’s also taken to frightening his victims by leaving them notes suggesting that he’ll return and do nasty things to them.’
‘That’s what ’e did ter me an’ all,’ Mabel grimaced. ‘D’yer wanna see the note?’
‘Yes please, that would be very helpful.’ Percy smiled and Mabel went to a cupboard on the far side of the room, which she opened to reveal a quantity of crockery neatly arranged on wooden shelves. From a cutlery drawer she extracted a sheet of paper, unfolded it and handed it to Percy, who read it and frowned.
‘He was threatening to come back for you?’
‘Yeah, like it says. I were wi’ ’im afore, yer see an’ when ’e come outer Bedford Gaol the last time, ’e wanted me ter go wi’ ’im down ter London, but I said no.’
‘You’re sure this is his handwriting?’
‘Dead right I’m sure. ’E used ter write me little love notes when we first met.’
‘How did you first meet?’
‘It were when I were first workin’ at the cattle yards an’ ’e were called in ter put up some fences. ’E’s a woodworker by trade, yer see, an’ ’im an’ me got talkin’ an’ larkin’ about, yer know the way it is? Then ’e started leavin’ me little notes an’ one thing led ter anovver an’ then there we was, livin’ tergevver.’
‘How long did that last?’
‘A coupla years, then one day the bobbies come an’ accused ’im o’ stealin’ some underwear from a woman down the road. It were very embarrassin’, as yer can imagine, but ’e promised me it wouldn’t ’appen again an’ I were stupid enough ter believe ’im. When it ’appened again, an’ this time ’e pushed this young girl inter a ditch an’ took off ’er undies, well that were it. I threw ’im out, but ’e kept comin’ back an’ askin’ me to forgive ’im. But I couldn’t take the worry o’ wonderin’ when it’d ’appen again an’ all the embarrassment an’ that, so I kept sayin’ no. But ’e could get violent an’ all, so I were very relieved when ’e finally got that three year stretch an’ I thought that were the end’ve it.’
‘But he came back when he was released from prison?’
‘Yeah, that were the last time I seen ’im. Musta bin three months or more now an’ I come ’ome from work an’ there ’e was, sittin’ in me little laundry place, out the back there, shelterin’ from the rain. ’E said as ’ow while ’e were in prison, this couple ’ad bin ter see ’im an’ offered ’im a job in London. ’E said it were regular work an’ we could set up again tergevver down there, but I told ’im ter sling ’is ’ook. The next thing I knew were that note pinned ter me washin’ line an’ a pair o’ me knickers gone.’
‘Did he by any chance say anything more about this man and woman who visited him in prison?’ Percy enquired, as Jack wrote furiously in his notebook.
‘Not really, just that it were a Nancy lookin’ bloke wi’ an older woman an’ that they was settin’ up some sorta woodworkin’ organisation down the East End. Wappin’, I think it were, but I could be wrong.’
‘Just one final thing, Miss Barker.’ Percy smiled again. ‘Did Mathewson have any irritating personal habits?’<
br />
‘Like what?’
‘Well, was he a heavy smoker, or did he perhaps bite his nails or something?’
‘Yer mean the snuff, don’t yer?’
‘He took snuff?’
‘All the bloody time. The filthy stuff got on me clothes, me table cloths, even me bed sheets some times.’
‘Thank you, Miss Barker, that’s helped us tremendously,’ Percy assured her as he rose to leave, and Jack followed suit after closing his notebook. As they reached the front door and were turning for one final farewell, Mabel grabbed Percy’s arm.
‘There were a woman murdered down the road there Sat’day night. Were that ... you know, whatsername?’
‘I was only here to ask you about Wally Mathewson, Miss Barker. The local police can give you any other information you need. You might want to talk to them, but rest assured that Wally’s safely locked away where you’ll never see him again.’
‘Is it good police practice to lie to witnesses?’ Jack said accusingly as they walked back towards the station.
‘I didn’t lie,’ Percy argued. ‘I just didn’t tell her the entire truth. It is good practice not to leave them scared witless.’
‘The only one she should be scared of is Mathewson and we know it can’t have been him who murdered Helen, so who was it?’
‘That’s a question to which we currently have no answer. But I suggest that first thing tomorrow morning we pay a visit to the lady in Lambeth who reported Helen’s murder to the police, and I’d bet money that it turns out to be a false address. That will be good in one sense, but not in another.’
‘How could it possibly be good?’ Jack enquired, genuinely puzzled.
‘Because it will all but confirm that whoever that woman was, she was the one who murdered Helen Trenchard. My real problem at the moment is working out how she knew that Helen was visiting Mabel Barker.’
It fell silent for a long time, but by the time they reached the ticket barrier, Jack had to ask, if only for his own peace of mind, ‘You surely don’t suspect Esther, do you?’
‘Of course not. Is that why you’ve been uncharacteristically silent for the past few minutes? I thought it might be something else.’
‘Such as?’
‘I hate to be the one to bring it to your attention, but someone knew that Helen was planning to visit Mabel Barker. Apart from Esther, there’s no-one working inside the Alliance office. So that raises the very worrying thought that someone’s been listening in to conversations there.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know yet, obviously. But after we visit Lambeth tomorrow morning, we’ll be paying your fiancée a visit.’
Esther opened the door with a big smile, which faded instantly when she saw the looks on their faces.
‘Not good news, obviously,’ she observed. ‘Come in and have a cup of tea.’
‘We confirmed that the man preying on all your members was almost certainly Wally Mathewson,’ Percy advised her as he selected a ginger biscuit and appeared to be interrogating it, ‘and that’s the good news.’
‘But you’ve got him locked up, so what’s bad about that?’ Esther asked with what she hoped was an encouraging smile.
‘It obviously wasn’t Mathewson who murdered Helen,’ Percy reminded her, ‘so we were correct in suspecting that he was acting in league with others and the finger still points at that rival union. Someone connected with them must have sent someone after Helen and we don’t know who that was. However, the chances are that it was a woman. It was a woman who reported finding the body and the address she gave in Lambeth turned out to be a tanner’s yard.’
‘So what can you do next?’
Percy looked Esther directly in the eye.
‘Forgive me, but I have to ask this. You told nobody else that Helen was taking the train up to Luton last Saturday?’
‘Of course not, why should I? Perhaps Helen did, but I certainly didn’t.’
‘When did she make that decision, can you remember?’
Esther gazed unseeingly at the far wall as she tried to recall recent events.
‘I think it was on the Monday before she went up there. We got the letter from Mabel Barker on the Monday and Helen wrote back immediately to advise her of her intention to call on her on the Saturday. Then of course she had to rearrange the landlord’s inspection, because she didn’t want me to be here alone when they did it.’ She paused briefly, then her jaw dropped. ‘Oh, dear God!’ she whispered.
‘Let me guess,’ Percy said grimly. ‘She called in at the landlords to cancel the Saturday inspection because she had another matter to attend to on that day?’
‘She went to see the landlords, certainly, but obviously I don’t know what she said to them. And why would she need to give them that much detail?’
‘Did the inspection occur on another day?’
‘Yes, the day before — that would have been the Friday. It had to be that week, according to the landlords, because the first three month period was up and the terms of the lease required an inspection of any alterations that we’d carried out during that period. As you can see downstairs, they were substantial.’
‘Who actually carried out the inspection?’
‘Mr Bowden, from the property firm. He’s the man in charge of leases, apparently.’
‘Anyone else?’
‘I’ve no idea, since I was out doing some shopping. When I got back, Helen told me that Bowden had been and gone.’
‘Did Helen remain with him all the time during the inspection, do you know?’ Percy queried.
‘I don’t know,’ Esther replied. ‘Helen preferred to work up here in the kitchen, so I imagine that she just left him to wander around the place.’
‘Where do you keep your correspondence?’ Percy asked as he selected his third ginger biscuit.
‘Everywhere,’ Esther replied, her hands outstretched to indicate the extent of ‘everywhere’. ‘If the letters needed to be answered, they’d remain here in the kitchen until Helen had done that. Then the original letter would go downstairs into my office for filing and quite frankly it’s a bit of a mess down there at the moment. I’m in the process of writing to all members and potential members to advise them of Helen’s death.’
‘But,’ Percy thought out loud as he followed what she was telling them, ‘if Helen got the letter from Mabel Barker on the Monday and replied to it the same day, or even the day after, the original letter from Mabel would be lying somewhere in your office on the Friday — the day of the inspection — where it could be seen by this Bowden bloke and read, while he was hidden from sight inside your office, and Helen was here in the kitchen?’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Esther conceded, ‘but he wouldn’t have seen Helen’s reply, would he?’
‘Follow my line of reasoning,’ Percy requested. ‘Helen goes into the offices of Hemmingsworth and advises them that she has an appointment somewhere on the Saturday. Even if she didn’t tell them precisely where, they knew that she would be somewhere on the Saturday, away from the office. On the day before that, Bowden comes in here, on the pretence of conducting an inspection, but looking for some clue as to where Helen might be heading. He reads Mabel’s letter, which tells him that Mabel can identify the man who’s been scaring off all your members. It also gives him a strong clue as to where Helen might be going on the Saturday, and he — or somebody — follows her. They wait until she’s on her way back to the station, probably in the dark, and do the deed.’
‘But why would Bowden, and for that matter the company he works for, want Helen not to find out what Mabel could tell her?’
‘I didn’t tell you all that we learned from Mabel,’ Percy advised her. ‘It seems that Mathewson was visited in prison by somebody offering him a job in London with some sort of woodworking association. Mabel didn’t call it a union, because presumably Mathewson didn’t tell her that and possibly didn’t know anyway. All he did tell her was that he’d been visited by what she called
“a Nancy looking bloke”.’
‘Helen told me all about that union!’ Esther proclaimed excitedly. ‘It was run by an admirer of hers who gave her advice when she was setting up the Alliance. She wasn’t keen on him, because apparently he was a bit effeminate and prone to wearing perfume, but it was some sort of woodworker’s union. I think I can find the name for you, if you give me a while.’
Percy smiled triumphantly, opened his notebook, flipped it back a few pages, and announced, ‘“The Union of Allied Woodworkers and Turners”, General Secretary a Mr George Manners.’
‘That sounds like the man Helen was telling me about,’ Esther confirmed. ‘But how does he tie in, if at all, with Hemmingsworths?’
‘His union is a major shareholder in Hemmingsworths.’
‘So you’re suggesting that it was someone from Hemmingsworths who killed Helen?’ Jack interrupted, thoroughly confused.
‘Hemmingsworths, or someone hired by Hemmingsworths, like they perhaps hired Mathewson.’
Esther grimaced, then shivered. ‘But would Mabel Barker’s knowledge of the link between Mathewson and the union be enough to kill Helen for?’
‘And for that matter,’ Jack chimed in, ‘how was the union, or Hemmingsworths if we add them to the suspect list, to know that Mathewson wouldn’t reveal that link anyway, when you had him down in the cells?’
Percy smiled grimly.
‘Mathewson made it very clear to me, during our very unpleasant, but brief, conversation, that he was more scared of whoever gave him his orders than he was of anything I could threaten him with.’
‘There’s still something missing in all this,’ Jack objected after further thought. ‘If we assume that Helen didn’t reveal to anyone at Hemmingsworths that Mabel could tell her something important — and why would she? — why did they find it necessary to follow her up there and silence her? Is it not possible that it was Helen herself who was the real target?’