‘Sydney, what are you doing here?’ Lord Redesdale, tall and elegant, if somehow always a fish out of water, or rather a countryman out of the country, when in London, looked pale and defeated. ‘I told you not to come.’
‘Things changed,’ said his wife, briskly.
Their group caused something of a commotion in the station and it was only a minute before Guy stepped into the waiting area from the office behind. He couldn’t have been back there long – there were traces of dampness on his collar from the rain – but he held a sheaf of papers in his hand. He greeted Lord and Lady Redesdale, who needed no prompting on who he was: he had solved the murder at their house five years before. As Guy was talking to them, Louisa walked over to Luke, who was standing outside the group. She was surprised to see he was shaking from head to foot.
‘Louisa, why has Diana asked me to come here?’ He lit a cigarette on the third match.
Louisa felt alarmed by this. ‘I can explain.’ She watched him inhale deeply. ‘There’s nothing for you to worry about. Why are you shaking?’
‘I don’t know,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t like police stations. Please, just tell me what’s going on.’
‘There was an autopsy on Clara’s body back in America and it appears she died of an opium overdose. Of course she didn’t have any, so someone must have given it to her.’
Luke turned the colour of paper. ‘I thought they were Jewish.’
‘What? What’s that got to do with it?’
‘The Jewish bury their dead quickly. I thought the parents wouldn’t want an autopsy.’
Louisa couldn’t make sense of this. ‘I shouldn’t think anybody wants an autopsy, but they weren’t satisfied with the doctor’s certificate stating natural causes. And they were right.’
Luke looked around for an ashtray, found one and stubbed out his Player’s. ‘What’s Nancy got to do with it? They surely don’t think she gave opium to Clara?’
‘Mrs Mulloney has told the police that Nancy was left alone with Clara, and that she had the opportunity to do it.’
‘What would the motive be?’
Louisa remembered Nancy’s angry reaction when she had first suggested that Clara might have been murdered. Had she been hiding something then? ‘I don’t know. But Luke, you need to tell the police what you overheard at the dinner that night.’
Before he could respond to this, Diana came over to them. ‘I’ve told Mr Sullivan that he needs to talk to you,’ she began, then cried out in pain. Clutching her extended stomach, she bent down quickly, one hand holding on to Louisa’s arm.
Lady Redesdale rushed over and helped Diana stand up straight. ‘I’m taking you home. We should never have come here. This is no good for the baby.’ Giving the assembled company dark looks, Lady Redesdale escorted her daughter outside where Turner and the car would be still be waiting. Lord Redesdale sat down heavily on a wooden bench. ‘I’ll stay here for Nancy,’ he said, as tired as a balloon with all the air gone out of it.
‘I’ll ask someone to fetch you some tea,’ said Guy kindly but Lord Redesdale could do no more than raise his hand in a gesture of thanks. ‘Come with me, please,’ Guy added to Louisa and Luke, and the two of them followed him out of the waiting room to a long corridor, where they walked past several closed doors. What sounded like someone shouting and banging on metal could be heard in the not-too-far distance. It gave Louisa the shivers. At last Guy turned a handle and they were let into a small room with only one high window. There was a wooden table and four chairs. Guy gestured for them to sit. ‘I’ll be back soon, I need you to wait here.’ He left the room and closed the door.
‘What’s happening, Louisa?’ said Luke.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.
‘I don’t like it in here. It’s filthy, and cold.’
‘I don’t think it’s designed to be warm and inviting.’
‘Ha bloody ha.’ Luke stood up and stuck his hands in his pocket, fishing for his cigarettes and matches again but before he could light them, another man came into the room, with Guy behind him. This man was dressed in a brown suit that looked too big, as if he had recently lost a great deal of weight and not yet managed to buy new clothes to fit. He had a rather feeble moustache under his nose and two bushy eyebrows, as if they had come out of a costume kit and been stuck on in the wrong places.
‘Right, Mr Meyer. I’m Detective Sergeant Stroud. You’re staying here with me and we’re going to have a chat. I understand you’ve got something important to tell me?’
Guy hovered in the doorway. ‘Miss Cannon, can you come with me, please?’
Louisa turned back to see Luke looking as if he had been asked to sit in the executioner’s chair.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Guy led Louisa into another room, with two chairs on either side of an identical table to the one they had just left Luke sitting by. ‘For obvious reasons, I cannot interview you,’ said Guy. ‘Someone else will be along in a moment.’
‘Fine,’ said Louisa. She so desperately wanted to talk to him about everything that was happening, to ask him if he had married, if he had thought of her at all in the last year. But she would not.
They sat awkwardly in silence with Guy shuffling through the papers he had in his hand and Louisa fiddling with a button on her coat until a man in a beautifully tailored pin-striped suit with a lemon-coloured tie came in. ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘you must be Miss Cannon.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Guy. He left the room but not before he’d cast a backward glance at Louisa. She did not return it, but not because she was still trying to punish Guy: she was afraid. She knew, of course, that she was blameless, at least of Clara’s murder. However, she also knew that her sort were often suspects. She had to assume she’d be treated as guilty until proven innocent.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Stiles and I’ll be conducting this interview.’ He sat down and pulled out a notebook and fountain pen, and as he did so he flashed Louisa a brief smile as if to say she had nothing to worry about. But would this be true?
‘Can you please confirm for me your name and place of residence.’
‘Louisa Cannon, 10 Buckingham Street, London.’
‘Occupation?’
‘Lady’s maid to Mrs Guinness.’
‘Hmm.’ Stiles scratched these details down, as well as making a note of the date and time of the interview. ‘Can you confirm for me where you were at five o’clock in the morning on the twenty-seventh of January this year.’
‘Yes, I was in my room, number 236, at the Hotel Excelsior on the Lido, Venice.’
‘Were you alone?’
‘No, sir.’ Louisa’s head started to swim. She hadn’t eaten anything since her mother had given her bread and butter and sweet tea that morning shortly before her train journey back to London. ‘I was with the late Miss Clara Fischer.’
‘Why was Miss Fischer in the room with you?’
Louisa knew there was nothing she must hide. ‘The day before, she’d had her bag stolen while near St Mark’s Square. Mrs Guinness suggested that I go with her when she left the group to try and find it. As we walked together, she admitted to me that her bag had contained opium.’ Louisa paused as Stiles wrote quickly in his notepad. ‘She said she had left the Basilica earlier, which the group had been visiting, in order to go and have a smoke. She thought that while she was, well, unaware, sir, that someone must have taken the bag from her. She was desperate to find it, or get some more opium. I persuaded her to return to the hotel and said she could rest in my room.’
‘Did you tell anyone else?’
‘Yes, I told Luke Meyer. Mr Meyer asked me what had happened and although Miss Fischer had asked me not to tell anyone I was very worried about her. Quite soon after we had arrived back at the hotel, she seemed to suffer badly from opium withdrawal.’
‘That seems very quick.’ Stiles was watching Louisa’s face carefully but not, she thought, unsympathetically.
‘Yes, sir. I thought
perhaps there was a psychological effect, as well as a physical one. Knowing that she was somewhere she could not get hold of any more opium.’
‘Hmmm. You looked after Miss Fischer, you say. How did you do this?’
‘She was quite delirious and very sick. I tried to help her drink water, although that mostly made her vomit again. I kept pressing a cool cloth on her forehead, and I tried to say soothing things to her.’
Stiles smiled at that. ‘Was anyone else left alone with Miss Fischer at any point?’
‘At around midnight I had to go and attend to Mrs Guinness, to prepare her for bed. I was away for an hour or so. I understood that Miss Nancy Mitford was going to visit her at that point, too.’
‘How did you understand that?’
‘I had seen Miss Nancy when I left Miss Fischer to attend to Mrs Guinness. I told her something of what had happened and she was concerned for her friend. She said she would look in on her while I was away.’ She paused and thought about the man in reception and what he had asked of her. ‘There was one other person, sir.’
‘Who was that?’
‘A maid at the hotel delivered a pot of tea at my request. I think Clara drank some of it.’
Stiles put his pen down and pushed his chair back from the table. He crossed his arms and looked at Louisa. At once, she saw his demeanour had changed completely.
‘You have a history of law-breaking, Miss Cannon.’
She felt as if he had slapped her across the cheek. She tried to regulate her breathing and not be made to feel scared. Yes, she had a history of law-breaking but this had nothing to do with the crime that had happened. ‘It was a long time ago, sir. I was a child.’
‘Nevertheless. It makes your character somewhat questionable, shall we say?’
Louisa said nothing to this.
‘Was this the first time you had met Miss Fischer?’
‘No, sir. I met her some years ago, when I was working for Lady Redesdale, as chaperone for her daughter Miss Pamela Mitford. Miss Fischer was in the group of friends that my charge knew.’
‘Did you become friendly with Miss Fischer?’
‘No, sir. That is, we were not unfriendly, but I was a servant, sir.’
‘Yes, yes. I do see that. But I’m intrigued, why should she have confided in you when her bag was stolen?’
‘I think she was desperate.’
‘Did you steal her bag?’
‘What, sir? No, I did not!’
Stiles stood up and started to pace around the room. ‘I think you saw the perfect opportunity. You have the means, you know how to steal. We know that from your past. You saw her smoke opium, you knew that she would be desperate – that she would do anything to get it back.’
‘No!’ Where was Guy? Louisa felt panic rise in her chest. Would no one else witness this? Would no one else vouch for her character?
‘When she realized it was you, you had to kill her. And you had once more, the perfect opportunity. She was alone in your room, delirious. Desperate. Offered a smoke, she’d have taken it greedily.’
‘No, no, no. It wasn’t me. Where is Mr Sullivan?’
‘Detective Sergeant Sullivan to you. He can’t help you.’
‘He can, he – he can vouch for my good character.’
‘What good character? You have broken the law before, you’ll do it again. I know your type well enough.’
Rage now overcame the panic. Her type?
‘DI Stiles. I did not commit this crime.’ Her voice was amazingly calm.
‘Perhaps you didn’t steal the bag.’ Louisa’s heart rate slowed down but then he started again. ‘In which case, tell me where you bought the opium. Was it in England, or was it in Venice? It’s not hard to buy, after all.’
‘I have never bought opium.’
‘You’d know how to though, wouldn’t you?’ Stiles sat back down in his chair, pulled it in and leaned forward so his face, now hard and set, was only inches from her own. ‘I think it’s something you keep in your bag. Just in case. We could have a look in your bag now, or in your room. Would we find some there?’
Louisa said nothing; she tried to remove herself somehow and concentrated on breathing as regularly as she could.
‘I think we would. You supply some to the people you work for? What could be a better cover than you? No one would notice, no one would know. And your job is safe.’
‘No,’ she said simply. ‘None of that is true.’
Stiles sat back and looked at her. He smiled.
‘No,’ he said. ‘None of that is true.’
If there had been a signal, Louisa didn’t see it but at that moment Guy came in without knocking. Stiles stood up.
‘She didn’t do it,’ he said and left the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Outside the room, Louisa stopped Guy. ‘Tell me what’s going on.’
But Guy said nothing. He carried on walking a few more doors down and opened another. Inside was a uniformed policeman standing in the corner, and Nancy. She flew to Louisa. ‘Lou-Lou, thank God you’re here. It’s been hell.’ She was wearing an elegant navy coat and skirt but the curls in her hair had gone awry and she looked as if she hadn’t slept for a week. All her make-up had rubbed off and there was just a faint outline of dark red on her lips.
‘When did this happen?’ asked Louisa. She felt, strangely, as if she were in a position of power in this room, though she knew it not to be true. But having been accused then exonerated while Nancy had been arrested and held, meant that Louisa, for once, held the cards.
‘This morning. Oh, it’s been simply ghastly. Awful. The only good thing about it is I can probably use it in my next book. How is Farve? He’s been such a darling, waiting for me. No sign of Muv, of course. Mr Sullivan, have you got a cigarette?’
Guy took one out of his pocket and gave it to her. Louisa looked at him in surprise. ‘Useful for favours,’ he said quietly.
‘Lady Redesdale did come, just now,’ said Louisa. ‘With Mrs Guinness, but they’ve had to go back home. They’re worried it’s not good for the baby.’
‘But fine for me?’
Louisa decided to take the Nanny Blor line of not dignifying this sort of remark with a response. Even now it was as if Nancy had never left the nursery.
‘Mr Sullivan.’ Louisa turned to Guy with the formality that always arose between them when a third person was in the room. She was grateful for it today. ‘Can you please explain what’s happened?’
‘Yes. Please, take a seat.’ Nancy and Louisa sat down on one side of the table in the room – it was another identical space in the police station – and Guy dismissed the uniform before taking a chair opposite. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Cannon. I had to wait until your interview was over to clarify.’
Louisa nodded, and Nancy looked mystified but now wasn’t the time to explain it. She did understand, sort of, though she felt as if she were in shock from the interrogation she had just had. For the moment it was a relief to sit and listen.
Guy continued. ‘I’m late to all this myself as much of it happened at the weekend and I wasn’t on shift. But Stiles and Thorne filled me in when they discovered I was a friend of the family.’ He paused there and Louisa knew it was because he was worried he’d overstepped the mark by describing himself as a friend but Nancy was either too distracted, or actually agreed, to say anything. ‘As you know, Miss Fischer’s parents paid privately for an autopsy. The report came back that she had died from an opium overdose. As her parents were unaware of their daughter’s addiction, they contacted the police in Venice to say they suspected foul play. But the Italian police said that as Miss Fischer and all of the group had been living in England, that side of the investigation was best handled by the British police, so it was sent to us in CID. The Italians are questioning the staff at the hotel, as I understand it. Our priority, of course, was to talk to those who had been with her in those final hours. Initially, we assumed that Miss Fischer must have taken the drug hersel
f, and this was confirmed by other witness statements from Miss Nancy Mitford and Mrs Mulloney over the weekend. But Louisa’s note changed our inquiry.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Nancy. ‘Clara had no more opium. It wasn’t possible that she had taken it herself. I saw her: she was extremely sick without it.’
Louisa thought she had better explain. ‘Exactly. Someone else had to have given it to her deliberately. And there were only a few people in that room.’
‘One of whom was me,’ sighed Nancy.
‘Yes,’ agreed Louisa apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea you would be treated as a suspect.’
Nancy took up the story at this point. ‘Yes, well. From my side, I was called into the police station on Saturday morning, which I can assure you I was not thrilled about but I was assured that everything was perfectly routine. I gave them the names of everybody at the party that weekend, told them that you had taken Clara to your room, and that Mrs Mulloney and I had been to visit her, too.’
‘Did you tell the police about what happened to Clara and her bag?’
‘Yes, and what was in it. That was it and I was dismissed. The next I knew, this morning they were at Rutland Gate to arrest me. Darling Farve, I thought he was going to die of a heart attack.’
Louisa turned to Guy. ‘Why was Miss Nancy arrested?’
‘In her interview on Sunday, Mrs Mulloney told Stiles that when she and Miss Mitford visited Miss Fischer, Miss Mitford was left alone with the victim for several minutes. Miss Mitford, in short, had the means and the motive.’
‘What motive?’ Nancy and Louisa cried this out in unison.
‘Embarrassment. Miss Fischer was a drug addict, she was suffering withdrawal and the assumption was that Miss Mitford would not want to be exposed as her ally. She claimed that Miss Mitford was also an opium addict.’
‘Talk about clutching at straws,’ said Nancy. She waved the cigarette in her fingers though she had not yet lit it.
[Mitford Murders 03] - The Mitford Scandal Page 16