‘It’s the right thing to do, that’s why,’ she replied. ‘Show me where the telephone is, please.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Louisa put down the telephone to Guy. Luke had been standing in the hallway, listening to her side of the conversation, his foot tapping.
‘What do you think?’ he asked.
‘I think we had better get to Mrs Mulloney’s house before the police do, and give her the diary.’
‘What? They’re going to go and fetch her this evening?’
‘I think there’s every chance.’
Luke balled his hands up into fists. ‘Didn’t they interview her for the second time this afternoon?’
‘Yes, it’s not long since they sent her home. That was as much as Guy could tell me.’
‘There’s been no confession then.’
‘We don’t actually know that there’s anything for her to confess, Luke.’
‘Perhaps we should make sure of it.’ A muscle was twitching in Luke’s jaw.
A grandfather clock struck eight o’clock and the sound of the echoing bell, together with the tension between them, the gloominess of the hallway and the seriousness of what they were saying made Louisa jump out of her shoes. ‘I didn’t realize how late it was. Diana will be wondering where I am.’
‘Let her wonder,’ said Luke. ‘This is much more important.’
‘You don’t want to do this by yourself is what you really mean.’ Why had she been dragged into this? Guy had been confused by her telephone call, quite naturally, particularly as she wouldn’t explain on what grounds she knew, only that if the police went to Mrs Mulloney’s house shortly, they would find proof that she had known that her late husband and the late Miss Fischer had been having an affair and she had been distraught and angry. ‘Enough to kill?’ Guy had asked but Louisa had demurred. She knew nothing for certain but she wanted him to think she knew something that was worth his while. The rest of the conversation had been stilted and awkward. She had made her rather melodramatic farewell earlier – as it seemed now – only to telephone him a few hours later.
‘Will the police telephone Kate, to let her know they are returning?’ asked Luke. He was holding the diary now as if it were burning hot.
‘I don’t know,’ said Louisa. ‘How should I know what the procedure is?’ She was almost shouting.
‘But what if we see the police there?’ Luke cried out. ‘We should have made an anonymous telephone call. You’ve made a terrible mistake.’
Louisa felt cold, she wanted to rub her hands for warmth but they were too clammy. She didn’t know what Luke was so afraid of but she needed to bring him down. She deliberately slowed her breathing, talking slowly and quietly. ‘Keep calm. The worst you are going to be accused of is stealing the diary. The police are concentrating on solving a murder.’
Luke was agitated. ‘I need another drink but there’s never any in the house.’
Louisa needed to get out of there; she put her hat on, but when she turned to Luke he was standing still in the shadows, looking straight at her. Her mind scrambled, confused by the different signals from Luke, the oppressive tension, the need to get out. But just as she decided she was going to leave, whether or not Luke came with her, she heard a key turning in the lock.
Louisa saw Luke frantically put the diary in his jacket pocket as the front door opened.
Lady Boyd came in as they were both standing there, in the near dark; her entrance rooting them to the spot. Louisa’s knees almost buckled with the relief.
‘You’re here?’ Luke’s aunt looked as if she had seen a ghost.
‘Yes,’ said Luke uncertainly.
She stepped into the hall and Louisa could see she was trying hard to recover herself. ‘There were no lights on. I thought you must still be at the police station. I was terribly frightened that—’ Lady Boyd abruptly stopped herself.
Luke attempted a jovial laugh that didn’t quite come off. ‘What?’ he joshed. ‘Did you think I’d been arrested for Clara’s murder?’
His aunt looked at him, her eyes not quite focused. ‘Well, I … I don’t know what I thought.’ She took a breath and smiled at him. ‘Of course not. You’re here and you’re fine.’ Then she happened to look over his shoulder and saw Louisa.
‘Miss Cannon,’ she said, the displeasure in her voice leaving no room for doubt. She returned her gaze to Luke’s. ‘Is there something I should know?’
‘We came in for five minutes. I’d forgotten something. My cigarettes. Sorry, Aunt. I know you don’t like me smoking.’
‘I loathe it,’ said his aunt with feeling. ‘Filthy habit.’
Luke pretended to look bashful. ‘I know. I promise I will give it up.’ He tried to change the tone though Louisa could hear the tremor in his voice. ‘Anyhow, we had better get a push on. We’re late.’
‘Late for what? I wasn’t aware you had plans for this evening.’
‘I have to attend to Mrs Guinness,’ said Louisa. She felt it might be better not to remain silent.
‘Yes, Miss Cannon is returning to work and I am out for dinner. It’s rather last minute. With Mrs Mulloney, and others.’ Luke obviously believed that a half-truth made the better lie.
Lady Boyd clicked the front door shut, which had been open and sending a cold wind through the hall. She slowly started to take the pins out of her hat and removed it, gently patting her hair back into shape. ‘Is that wise, dear? It’s been a shocking business the last few days. I don’t know that I would like you to spend any more time with those people.’ She looked at Louisa again, still hovering uncertainly behind Luke. ‘Not, of course, your Mrs Guinness,’ she said with a thin smile.
‘Sorry, Aunt, we really must leave now.’
Lady Boyd had removed her coat and as she stepped closer to Luke, under the light that was hanging in the hall, she said, ‘Luke, please won’t you stay with me for dinner? I should so much like to talk to you about today.’ Louisa saw there was no getting out of it for him.
‘Yes, Aunt,’ Luke said, his shoulders dropping. ‘I’ll just walk Miss Cannon out while you change.’
‘Good boy,’ said Lady Boyd approvingly. ‘Goodbye, Miss Cannon.’ That was her final word. She went past them and up the stairs.
Luke took the diary out of his pocket and gave it to Louisa. ‘I’m so sorry. You’re going to have to do this alone.’
‘Guy will be there. Perhaps it’s better you’re not there anyway – seeing as it was you who stole this.’ She watched his response carefully but he was hard to read.
‘I didn’t … ’ He gave up. ‘Thank you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Luke had given Louisa the address for Mrs Mulloney’s house, as well as the fare for a taxi, and fifteen minutes later she pulled up outside a narrow house in Knightsbridge with a sky-blue door. All the windows were dark but for a single upstairs room. Standing on the top step, Louisa had just summoned the necessary courage to ring the doorbell when a police car drew up and parked close by. A young uniformed policeman and Guy got out of the car and walked towards her.
‘Miss Cannon.’ Guy sounded grim. He did not look pleased to see her. In fact, her appearance seemed to be a disappointment.
‘DS Sullivan.’
‘Have you got this evidence with you?’
‘Yes, I have.’
It was dark on the step with the nearest street light at least thirty yards away. Louisa took the diary out of her pocket and handed it to Guy. ‘It’s the entry on the second of January that we thought might interest you.’
‘We?’
‘Luke Meyer and I.’
‘And how did either you or Luke Meyer come to obtain this diary?’
Louisa saw the uniform go back down two steps and cast his eye along the street. No one was there. It was still early evening but this was a quiet road.
‘I don’t know.’
Guy put the diary in his pocket and rang the doorbell. Louisa turned and started to walk away but G
uy stopped her. ‘Stay here, please.’ The softness had returned to his eyes, though he remained unsmiling.
Nobody answered the door. Guy pressed the bell again. A car drove slowly down the street. There was no movement to be heard inside the house.
‘Did you telephone Mrs Mulloney to let her know you were on your way?’
‘No,’ said Guy. ‘We thought, given what you had said, that the element of surprise was needed.’
‘Perhaps she’s out.’
‘But why would that one light be on?’ Guy looked up at the window though it revealed nothing but the cream-coloured lining of the curtains. ‘And it seems strange that there are no servants here.’
‘I believe this is only somewhere she comes to stay occasionally,’ said Louisa. ‘Her main house is in Ireland. She might not have anyone living in.’
‘I hope she hasn’t left the country,’ said Guy. ‘It will mean an international warrant if we want to question her. Which we do.’
The uniform gave a cough. ‘Excuse me, sir. But I wonder if it might be worth looking under the mat for a key?’
‘That would mean entering a residence without permission or a warrant, Constable,’ said Guy severely.
‘Absolutely, sir. Sorry, sir. Just a suggestion.’ He resumed his position of scanning the pavement.
Guy and Louisa exchanged a glance. ‘It couldn’t hurt just to check though, could it?’
They looked under the mat and there was no key. But then Louisa looked at the stone urns that were placed on either side of the doorway and sure enough, there was a key under the one on the left.
For the third time, Guy rang the doorbell and for the third time there was no answer. He took the key from Louisa and opened the door.
Inside was dark. Guy took a torch from his pocket, as did the uniform behind him. Louisa came in last. They moved swiftly up the stairs and on the second floor was a closed door with light coming through the gap at the bottom. Guy knocked. ‘Mrs Mulloney? It’s the police, we’re coming in.’
There was no reply. The silence rang in Louisa’s ears.
Guy turned the handle and pushed the door open, almost jumping into the room. As soon as he did he put his arm out to the side as if to stop Louisa from seeing what was inside. But it was too late.
Lying on her bed was Kate Mulloney. Beside her was a note with a few short lines written in navy ink, in her right hand was the pearl-inlaid revolver Louisa had seen before in her vanity case. Staining her cream satin dressing gown, a trickle of congealed blood trailed from her heart.
THE DAILY SKETCH
14 APRIL 1930
SOCIETY WOMAN’S SUICIDE
NOTE CONFESSES TO DOUBLE MURDER
BY DIARY CORRESPONDENT LUKE MEYER
The deputy coroner for Westminster (Dr Hinchley) held an inquest on Friday, on the death of Mrs Katherine Niamh Mulloney (27), 19 Basil Street, Knightsbridge, who was found shot through the heart on Monday evening.
Mrs Mulloney, whose main residence is in Castleknock, Dublin, was widowed a little over a year ago when her husband, Shaun Mulloney, died in Paris, apparently from a fatal allergic reaction to sesame. They leave no children.
The inquest was held at Paddington Coroner’s Court and the Deputy Coroner sat without a jury.
DS Sullivan of Knightsbridge station found the deceased in her own home at approximately 8.30 p.m.; she was alone in the house. The detective sergeant entered the premises in the company of a witness, Miss Louisa Cannon, who was known to Mrs Mulloney.
The coroner: Can you tell the court for what reason you entered the premises?
DS Sullivan: There were a number of ongoing inquiries for a separate case and the witness believed that Mrs Mulloney would be able to assist further. I hoped to approach her for further questioning.
The coroner summed up the findings made by DS Sullivan and the witness: Mrs Mulloney was on her bed, dressed in her nightclothes and a dressing gown, still holding a revolver, with a shot through her heart. She was already deceased on their arrival.
A LETTER
Further inquiries by the police found that a maid, a Miss Gloria Holmes (29), worked regularly for Mrs Mulloney when she was in residence in London. Miss Holmes stated that she had arrived on the Monday morning at seven o’clock as usual and taken up a breakfast tray at half past nine; Mrs Mulloney had left the house for a luncheon appointment at midday and returned in the late afternoon. The coroner asked Miss Holmes what state of mind Mrs Mulloney had been in, to which Miss Holmes replied she had noticed nothing unusual. She had been asked by her employer to prepare a simple supper tray and lay the fires in the bedroom and drawing room before departing at six o’clock.
Dr Stuart Burton of St George’s Hospital said there was a gunshot wound through the heart, which had caused instant death. The revolver was found nearby and it was clear the deceased had shot with her own hand.
DS Sullivan was then returned to the stand. He was asked if he had been able to corroborate Miss Holmes’s version of events, to which he replied that Mrs Mulloney’s appointment book had been discovered, which recorded a luncheon with ‘R’ at Chez Franco’s at one o’clock but nothing else for the day. It appeared from the same appointment book that she had delayed a return to Ireland, following the earlier questioning by the police at the weekend, and was due to travel on the Tuesday. He had corroborated a change to her ferry tickets.
The coroner: She left a letter addressed ‘to whom it may concern’, in which she confessed to the killing of her husband and a Miss Clara Fischer. She also wrote that this explained her desire ‘to go to God’. Is that correct?
DS Sullivan: Yes. It was the inquiry into Miss Fischer’s death with which we had hoped Mrs Mulloney would assist us.
The coroner, who did not disclose the exact contents of the note, said that from its contents there was every indication that Mrs Mulloney had taken her life during a fit of temporary insanity. There was no evidence of foul play and the coroner delivered a verdict of suicide.
1932
CHAPTER FORTY
At one o’clock in the morning, Diana returned home to the house in Buckingham Street. Louisa was waiting up in the kitchen, drinking warm milk and talking to the parlourmaid, May. The household had grown a little now that there was Jonathan, almost two years old and adorable with it, plus Desmond, a perfectly plump six-month-old baby. Bryan had brought in his own Nanny Higgs to look after the boys. She was old and old-fashioned, approving of Diana’s preference to clothe the boys in dresses (‘so much prettier,’ said Diana) and marching them around Kensington Gardens on strictly timed outings in a vast Silver Cross perambulator. However, she did not allow Diana to spend much time with the babies – ‘she seems to think they should be admired from a distance,’ Diana said plaintively. Nanny Higgs and Louisa did not see eye to eye, and Louisa had learned that any suggestions about what the boys might want or need had to be done with tact. Being not overly fond of the nanny either, Diana liked Louisa to be her spy, and so Louisa had taken on some of her former nursery maid duties again.
But even without a cosy companionship with Nanny Higgs, Louisa had the company of May, and they both enjoyed their late-night talks, having become friendly, particularly when the family were at Diana and Bryan’s country house, Biddesden in Wiltshire, bought the year before. There, Louisa had immersed herself happily in the landscape, in the quiet beyond the city where the evenings consisted of little more than helping Nanny put the boys to bed then reading by the nursery fire. Even the days frequently left plenty of time to contemplate the miracles of the garden, where Louisa could pretend she no longer cared about the hustle of London. She was encouraged in this by her renewed friendship with Pamela Mitford, too. After Pam’s engagement to Oliver Watney had been broken off, not long after Kate Mulloney’s suicide, Pamela had been invited by Bryan to come and live at Biddesden and run the dairy farm for them, overseeing the herd of four hundred and fifty Jerseys. Louisa had never seen the young woman as happy as she was when
she chatted to the cows in the daisy fields or when she oversaw the skimming of the milk for the yellow cream and the churning of the butter that would both later make their way to the Guinness dining table. All these things had made Louisa’s dislike of Diana a little more bearable.
Her equilibrium was only disturbed by the arrival of Diana and Bryan’s regular house parties. These groups were noisy, extravagant and, to Louisa’s mind, stiff with unbearable show-offs. That some of them were genuine talents could not be denied. Louisa had read Evelyn Waugh’s Vile Bodies almost undercover, so darkly true was it of the life that her mistress led. She told herself she should not be so damning. Diana was still only twenty-one years old, with two small children, and naturally had a youthful desire to indulge in the things good fortune had sent her way: money, fashion, the attention of the newspaper diarists and grand society hostesses. Bryan seemed to see it differently. He had all these things at his disposal too, but was most content when he dined alone with his wife or went on long walks with his dogs and a gun. Though he was infinitely more gentle, and possessed no temper, Louisa did wonder at the irony that in her bid to escape her parents, Diana appeared to have married her father.
The shadow that fell across their green and pleasant lands was the Depression that had bloomed in America and spread over Europe like mould. Louisa had had letters from her mother detailing the ever-increasingly poor fortunes of some of their relatives. (Another good reason Louisa did not dare to quit her job.) On the radio, she heard news programmes about the long lines of starving men and women queuing for bread from Chicago to Seville. But although there were many long nights in the dining room at Biddesden, when the port was drunk dry by the men arguing about what the solution might be – Bryan and Tom had visited Austria together the year before and there was general agreement that the Nazi party had transformed the country’s economy for the better, though no one could see them attaining any real power (‘a murderous gang of pests,’ Lord Redesdale called them) – there was little change to be detected in the general behaviour of the rich and their friends.
[Mitford Murders 03] - The Mitford Scandal Page 18