Penny Green series Box Set 2

by Emily Organ

  “Good grief. Are you all right?” she asked as I opened the door.

  “Of course,” I replied with as much cheer as I could muster. But my voice cracked and the look of concern on her face gave rise to an enormous sob.

  “You’re certainly not all right.”

  My landlady took my arm, led me over to my bed and made me sit down.

  “You need some rest; you’ve exhausted yourself. I’ll be back in a moment with Dr Cobbold’s Remedy.”

  “There’s no need, Mrs Garnett!” I called out after her, but she was gone.

  I wiped my eyes again and turned my attention to the envelope my landlady had placed next to me on the bed. Opening it, I saw that the telegram was from Mr Sherman.

  Another unpleasant incident at office. Best to stay away for few days.

  Had another brick been thrown through the window? Or something worse? Why hadn’t he given any further detail about the unpleasant incident?

  “Oh no! You look even worse now, Miss Green,” said Mrs Garnett as she returned to the room. “Did the telegram bring bad news?”

  “I have been advised not to go to my office,” I said weakly.

  “That’s a good thing. You need a few days of rest,” replied Mrs Garnett as she poured out a spoonful of the thick brown syrup.

  “I don’t need any rest,” I protested. “I need to find Tiger!”

  “She’ll come back. She’s a cat.”

  “She won’t. They’ve taken her!”

  “Who’s taken her?”

  “The woman who wrote on the door.”

  “I find that hard to believe.” The spoon of remedy was poised by my mouth. “Open wide.”

  “I don’t like this medicine, Mrs Garnett, and I’m not convinced that it does anything of use.”

  “Open!”

  I felt my face crumple as I swallowed the syrup.

  “Now you must sleep.”

  “What will happen if they don’t want me to go back at all?”

  “Who?”

  “The newspaper. What if Mr Sherman decides he doesn’t want me to write for him any more? You saw what it was like when it happened before.”

  “I remember that all right. What does the telegram say?”

  I showed it to her.

  “This doesn’t imply that you’re to lose your job; it only asks you to stay away for a few days. What could the unpleasant incident have been?”

  “I have no idea. I only wish that I knew.”

  “What was the previous one?”

  “What previous one?”

  “It says here another unpleasant incident. Which suggests to me that there was one before it.”

  “Someone threw a brick through the newsroom window.”

  “That is indeed unpleasant. But why does it mean that you must stay away?”

  “Because the brick was intended for me. It had my name attached to it.”

  Mrs Garnett gasped. “Whatever have you landed yourself in this time, Miss Green?”

  “I don’t know, but all of this has happened since I started taking an interest in the cases of Simon Borthwick and Richard Geller.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Two people who appear to have died unnecessarily. I shouldn’t have become involved.”

  “It certainly sounds like you shouldn’t have if people are throwing bricks at you through the window. They’d better not throw bricks through my windows!”

  “I hope they won’t, Mrs Garnett.”

  “You hope they won’t? Is that all the reassurance you can give me? That woman wrote on my door, didn’t she?”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Garnett. Please don’t ask me to stay away from my home as well!”

  “I don’t understand exactly what it is you do, Miss Green, but I can see that it has involved you in a whole host of troubles. I don’t really know how you manage it. As the good book says: He that passeth by, and meddleth with strife belonging not to him, is like one that taketh a dog by the ears.”

  “But I’m a news reporter, Mrs Garnett. It’s my job to meddle with strife!”

  “You’ll meddle yourself into an early grave if you’re not careful.”

  “If I don’t find out who caused the deaths of Simon Borthwick and Richard Geller the people responsible will get away with it. And they could do the same to someone else.”

  “Perhaps they’ll do the same to you!”

  I stared at Mrs Garnett and a shiver ran down my back. “Please don’t say that.”

  “Whoever is responsible must be an evil person. Did you ever find out who wrote that letter to me?”

  “Not yet.”

  “And what is your police officer friend doing about all this?”

  “He’s a detective. And he’s doing his best, but it’s difficult to prove anything against these people.”

  “That’s because they’re clever. They know what they’re doing. You, on the other hand, do not. You need to stop this investigative work. Look what happened to the two unfortunate chaps who crossed these people.”

  “I’m not going to die, Mrs Garnett.”

  “How do you know that?”

  The truth was that I couldn’t be certain. The sickening sensation returned as I realised that Simon Borthwick had taken his own life because doing so had been preferable to living in purgatory.

  “I wonder…” I found myself murmuring.

  “Wonder what?”

  “Was Richard murdered to punish Simon?”

  “How would I know?”

  “It was a rhetorical question, Mrs Garnett, but it has certainly made me think.”

  “You need to stop thinking, go back to bed and get some sleep. You saw your editor’s telegram, and it was clearly written on my door. Stay away. How long will it take for you to heed the advice you’ve been given?”

  Chapter 45

  Miss Green

  I was both distressed and saddened to learn of the despicable letters penned by Mr Maynell and Mr Copeland. I am writing to inform you that I have dismissed both men from the employment of Repton, Borthwick and Company, and wish to offer my sincere apologies for the distress they have caused you.

  Respectfully,

  Mr Donald Repton

  I smiled as I read the letter. Despite the men’s denials it seemed Mr Repton was convinced of their guilt. It was an honourable move and rather a brave one. Surely Jack Copeland had an important job to do at the Kensington Court development. Could he be easily replaced? I folded the letter and felt pleased to have gained Mr Repton’s support.

  This was the second day I had stayed at home, having received no further word from Mr Sherman about the latest incident at the office. For the remainder of the morning I sat at my writing desk and watched the sun’s passage over the rooftops of London. I couldn’t remember the last time I had spent such a long time doing so little. All the while I hoped that I would hear a miaow and see Tiger jump into view on the roof tiles in front of me. But she never came.

  I spent some time writing about my father’s travels in Colombia. The words were beginning to come a little more easily and I found myself warming to the idea that Mr Fox-Stirling might undertake another search for him. It seemed preferable to taking no action at all.

  My conversation with James on Blackfriars Bridge kept returning to my mind. What exactly had Charlotte said to him about me? How had she guessed that we harboured feelings for one another?

  I tried to imagine how James felt about the situation. Was he saddened that his fiancée sought to put an end to our friendship? Or was he prepared to accept it? Perhaps I would never understand how he felt about it. I had to tell myself that one thing was clear. James had been forced to choose between me and his fiancée.

  My little room grew hotter as the heat of the day intensified. I became restless and felt the need to venture outside. I wanted to talk to someone. I couldn’t bear to sit around waiting for Tiger when I felt sure she would not return.

  Mr Sherman didn’t want me to attend
the office but there was another place I could visit.

  “Miss Green!” whispered Mr Edwards with a grin. “It’s been a little while since I last saw you. How are you? You look rather tired if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  “I am. My cat is still missing.”

  “Still? I didn’t realise she had been missing.”

  “Yes, it’s been three days now. I don’t think she’ll ever come back now.”

  He held out his hand as if to pat me on the shoulder, but seemed to think better of it.

  “I’m sure she will come back, Miss Green. Cats often do this sort of thing.”

  “That’s what everyone has said, but she has never done anything of the kind before.”

  “Perhaps it’s the weather. We’ve had an unusually long spell of high pressure. Animals can react in strange ways to the weather.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Having taken a seat in the reading room I realised how hot the air was inside. Once again, I felt the need to move about.

  “It’s no good. I can’t concentrate in here,” I said.

  I suddenly felt tearful again. Perhaps it would have been better to remain in my room.

  “Miss Green, you don’t look very well. Perhaps a short walk would do you good.”

  “I think it would.”

  “If you can bear with me for a few moments I could accompany you.”

  Mr Edwards and I walked around Russell Square. Birdsong rang out from the trees and two young children played on the grass with their nanny.

  There was something rather calming about Mr Edwards’ company. He had a soft, pleasant voice and seemed relaxed in my company. I no longer spent all our time together worrying that he might propose marriage to me at any moment.

  We passed the Duke of Bedford statue and continued on our way.

  “Has there been any progress with regard to all this malicious letter business?” he asked.

  I told him about James’ conversations with Mr Maynell and Mr Copeland.

  “They most certainly wrote the letters,” I said. “And yet they deny everything!”

  “Unpleasant men indeed,” said Mr Edwards. “I should like to have a word with them myself. Fancy writing such unkind things about a lady!”

  “I don’t care about the letters,” I replied. “I just want Tiger to come home.”

  “She will; I feel sure of it, Miss Green. She is probably engaged in asserting her territorial rights, as is common among the Felidae.”

  “Felidae?”

  “The cat family. Subdivided into the Pantherinae and Felinae groups. Your Tiger is one of the latter, though her name is synonymous with the former!”

  “Is that so?”

  We walked around the perimeter of the square once and then began a second lap. A child’s nurse passed us pushing a perambulator, and behind her walked a woman in a plain grey dress. A large black hat partly shielded her face.

  I glanced at her as we walked past and thought it unusual that she was looking so directly at me. All the while Mr Edwards was talking about cats. It was only once we had passed her that I felt a sickening lurch in my stomach. I stopped.

  “It’s her!” I said.

  “Who?” asked Mr Edwards.

  I spun around to see the woman running away from us. She had removed her hat and was holding it in one hand as she sprinted off.

  “The woman in grey! I think she took Tiger!”

  “She took her? Are you sure?”

  “She keeps following me!”

  I began to run after her.

  “Miss Green!” Mr Edwards cried out from behind me.

  “I need to catch her this time!” I called back.

  But as I ran after the retreating figure I knew that, as before, I had no hope of catching her. My legs felt heavy and my breathing was constricted by my corset. As I slowed to a walk a figure ran past me at a great pace.

  “Hold this!” came the instruction as he flung a bowler hat over his shoulder for me to catch.

  Mr Edwards’ arms and legs moved like pistons as he sprinted along the path. People dodged and dived out of his way, appearing as surprised by his speed as I was.

  The woman in grey was at the far end of the park. She must have heard the pounding of Mr Edwards’ feet, for she turned and saw him closing in on her. Apparently unfazed, she darted toward the edge of the park and vaulted over the wrought iron fence in one swift move.

  I blinked, not wholly convinced that I had just seen a woman perform such a manoeuvre while wearing skirts. But the vault did nothing to deter Mr Edwards. He performed the same action and the pair vanished from my view.

  I ran to catch up, but there was no sign of them by the time I reached the fence. I dropped my carpet bag and Mr Edwards’ hat onto the other side of the fence and managed to slowly clamber over it, feeling rather foolish and conspicuous as I did so.

  I crossed the road and peered along the stretch of large houses which lined Upper Bedford Place. There was no sign of Mr Edwards there.

  I continued on to the next street, Woburn Place, which was busy with traffic. I felt sure that I saw a running figure up ahead. Then I saw the woman’s black hat lying on the ground, so I picked it up. It was made from black silk and had a bow wrapped around it.

  I ran as best as I could with my bag and two hats, but as I reached the junction with Great Coram Street I could see no one running on ahead of me. Unless Mr Edwards and the woman in grey had run exceptionally fast, they must have turned off somewhere. The only other turning I could see was a small lane between the large terraced homes which led to the mews.

  I ran through the entrance to the mews and along the uneven cobbles.

  “Help!” I heard a woman’s voice call out.

  I turned into the mews on my left, where horses were hanging their heads over stable doors and chickens pecked at the gaps between the cobblestones. At the far end of the mews I saw Mr Edwards clinging to the arm of the woman in grey. She was trying to pull herself away.

  “Robbery!” she shouted.

  A stable lad appeared, followed by another. They immediately set themselves upon Mr Edwards.

  “No!” I called out, running up to them. “It’s not a robbery! He is not harming her. Leave him alone!”

  Mr Edwards tried to duck the stable boys’ blows while still clinging steadfastly to the woman’s arm.

  “Stop hitting him!” I shouted. “Everybody stop!”

  The stable lads paused to stare at me and I held out the woman’s hat. She snatched it and glared at me with dark eyes. She looked twenty-five or so in my estimation.

  “Get him off me,” she ordered as if Mr Edwards were a dog and I were his owner.

  “You’ll run away again if he lets go,” I replied. “Who are you?”

  She ignored my question.

  “What’s goin’ on ’ere?” asked one of the stable lads.

  “Fetch a police officer,” I replied.

  “I ain’t fetchin’ no one till yer tell us what’s goin’ on,” he said.

  “Ow!” said the woman as Mr Edwards held tightly to her arm.

  “Who are you?” he asked her.

  “Let go. Yer hurtin’ ’er!” said the stable lads, who looked as though they were about to start beating Mr Edwards again.

  “Hold on, Mr Edwards!” I called to him. “I’ll go and fetch a police officer to place her under arrest.”

  I turned to summon help but was confronted by a small crowd wearing quizzical expressions. As I did my best to run around them I stumbled upon a police constable.

  Chapter 46

  “She’s been following me for several days!” I explained to the dour police constable in the small, airless room at the police station. “And I think she’s stolen my cat.”

  “Do you know who she is?” he asked.

  “No! That’s why Mr Edwards chased after her, so we could find out! She runs too swiftly for me to catch her. Has she told you who she is?”

  “Not me personally.�
��

  I sighed. “Can I ask you again to please send a telegram to Inspector James Blakely at Scotland Yard. He will be able to deal with this matter. He knows this woman has been following me.”

  “I’ll have to let Inspector Rigby decide whether that’s a good idea or not.”

  “Tell him to do it!” I demanded. “And then this whole mess will be sorted out for good!”

  An hour later I was permitted to sit at a table with Mr Edwards. The dour police constable sat with us, as did Inspector Rigby: a large man with heavy jowls, black whiskers and unblinking eyes. He scribbled copious notes onto several sheets of paper.

  James had also joined us, though there wasn’t a chair available for him to sit on. He paced the room and I tried to pretend that he didn’t look handsome in his smart grey suit. Our conversation on Blackfriars Bridge weighed heavily on my mind. I knew I had to accept that he had chosen Charlotte instead of me, but I felt a twinge of sadness whenever I looked at him.

  “I have never been arrested before,” said Mr Edwards. “Do I need to find myself a lawyer?”

  “There will be no need for that,” said James. “We’ll have the charges dropped and get you out of here as soon as possible.”

  “We’ll see about that,” retorted Inspector Rigby.

  “Mr Edwards was merely helping Miss Green,” said James. “That woman has been pestering her for a number of days now. When will you allow me to question her?”

  “There is no need for you to do so.”

  “I’m afraid there is, Inspector Rigby. There is a connection here with the murder of Richard Geller at St Bartholomew’s Hospital and I am currently investigating that case.”

  “Doesn’t St Bartholomew’s fall under the jurisdiction of the City of London police?”

  “It does, but the commissioner was personally asked by the victim’s father, an important Rabbi, to have the case investigated by the Yard.”

  “You mention a connection between that murder and Mr Edwards’ attack on an innocent woman. What is the connection?”

  “I shall be extremely happy to sit down with you later today to explain the situation to you, Inspector Rigby,” replied James. “But in the meantime, I must ask that you allow my good friends here to leave and grant me fifteen minutes with the woman in question.”