"And she is singularly indiscreet," said Lawrence.
"Yes. I asked Mary not to say anything about the award." Violet was intentionally curt, hoping that her faux outrage would distract Louisa from further questions. She did not want her to guess their real purpose. In the event, it did not matter.
"Well, now we've got that out of the way, what do you want to know? I won't ask why you are enquiring. Be as nosy as you like. My brother has already spoken about you, Miss Smith and a friend of his is a friend of mine."
"Thank you." Violet smiled weakly. She had feared a hostile reception from Louisa. "You already know that I've spoken to Fanny's mother. She mentioned you briefly, but I didn't realise your close involvement until I read it in the newspaper."
"Yes. It was an unsettling experience," said Louisa. "And one that I shared with my sister. We were home together that night, but Alice heard the cries first. Perhaps it's best if I fetch her."
Louisa unlatched the stable door and disappeared out of sight.
"Well recovered," said Lawrence grinning.
Violet shook her head. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"
"I don't think I have ever seen you lost for words."
"I have some choice words for you," she hissed as the door re-opened.
"This is Alice," said Louisa Aldrich presenting an identically clad and similar-looking woman, also in her late forties. It was only Alice's slighter stature and a large silver cross that she wore on a chain, that differentiated one sister from another. "Alice has agreed to tell you everything she heard. Please, take a seat."
Violet murmured her thanks and moved towards a small table tucked away in the back corner of the store. The three women sat down on the only three seats available, and Lawrence loitered by the counter feeling awkward. Louisa was about to speak when the door opened, and an elderly man, hunched painfully over a walking stick, hobbled into the shop.
He approached Lawrence and looked him up and down. "New boy, are you?" he asked.
Lawrence forced a smile as Louisa Aldrich glided towards the counter.
"Mr Seeley, how are you today?"
"Middling," he said. "My poor old bones are playing up."
"I'm sorry to hear that. What can I do for you?"
"You sent this," he said accusingly, producing a crumpled piece of paper. "It says I owe fifteen pounds."
"That is correct."
"I don't have fifteen pounds."
"You do surprise me," said Louisa, with the air of a woman facing a regular problem.
"So I can't pay you." The man propped his stick against the counter and crossed his arms.
"Can you pay any of it?"
"I might manage five pounds, at a push," he said, pursing his lips.
"Then give me five pounds today and another five pounds for the next two months."
"That's more like it," he said, reaching into his pocket. "Fancy sending me a bill for the whole amount. I don't know what your father would say."
"I've written it in the book," said Louisa, ignoring the slight. "Look. Five pounds paid, ten pounds due. I'll see you again next month."
The old man grunted and retreated towards the doorway.
"Let's try again," said Louisa, taking a seat.
"My sister says you have been asking about Fanny Nunn," said Alice. Her voice was quiet with a distinctive lisp.
"Yes," said Violet. "It would be helpful if you could tell us everything you remember about Fanny."
Alice gazed into her lap. She seemed less confident than her sister and struggled to make eye contact. "I remember a great deal," she said. "It is not the sort of night easily forgotten. It was late, getting on for midnight, I think, when Harry called me to the window and asked if I could hear noises. I opened the latch and listened." She paused and transferred her glance from her lap to the window pane.
"Go on," said Violet.
Alice blinked and continued, still staring into the distance. "I distinctly heard a cry," she said. "A female voice was wailing in distress."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'Don't' and she said it several times. The words were unmistakable."
"What did you do?" Violet leaned forward and looked into Alice's eyes. She did not return her gaze.
"I went to Louisa's room to seek her opinion."
"Yes," said Louisa. "So I opened my window and heard the same shrill cries. 'Oh, don't, save me, help me,' the voice moaned, and then there was a dreadful silence followed by a long shriek."
Violet shuddered. "How awful."
"It was," said Alice, turning to her sister.
Louisa reached for her hand and squeezed it. "It affected us all in different ways. Harry will not speak of it at all and Alice still has nightmares, even after all these years."
"Did you hear anything else?"
"Yes. Gurgling sounds which were coming from the direction of the mere near Park Fields. I heard this immediately after the cries."
"Many believe that Fanny took her own life," said Violet.
Alice shook her head, vigorously. "She did not."
"Are you certain?"
"Positive. The cries were quite distinctive. Fanny was screaming for her life."
"Did you hear anyone else?"
"No. Only Fanny's voice."
"What happened next?" Lawrence spoke from his vantage point midway along the counter. Both sisters jumped at the sound of his voice.
"My father and brother went to look for her," said Louisa. They thought she must be in the area of the mere near Mr Muskett's garden. They met a police constable in the street, and he joined them in their search. They followed the sounds until, by the light of their lanterns, they saw a young girl struggling in the water . She was about twenty feet from the bank. By then, she was no longer crying, and all they could hear were a series of groans. They called out to her, but she did not reply."
"Did they try to save her?"
"Of course." Louisa's voice rose in indignation. "There were two boats moored nearby. My father and brother attempted to push off, trying first one boat, then the other. But both boats were in a state of disrepair and utterly useless. My father called to a passer-by to fetch a length of rope. By the time it arrived, it was already too late, and the poor girl had disappeared into the water. There was no moon that night. It was pitch black and too cold to make any further progress, so they abandoned the search until dawn."
"Poor Fanny." Violet sighed as she imagined the terror of the drowning girl.
"Next day," Louisa continued," they dragged the mere and recovered Fanny's body. You know the rest."
The sisters fell silent. Violet tried to find something comforting to say, but nothing came to mind.
"Thank you for your help," she said finally. "We understand better now."
"Do you?" said Alice. She met Violet's eyes for the first time.
"I think so," said Violet, slowly.
"There's something I haven't told you yet. I don't believe I mentioned it to you, Louisa. It didn't seem important at the time. Fanny was in the shop on the day she died. I happened to be there with my father when she came in looking for straps for her suitcase. She was in good spirits and told me that she was going away to Norwich, but would be back the following week."
"Curious," said Violet. "I have heard that she was in low spirits and upset."
Alice cocked her head. "Not upset. Nervous would be a better description. She didn't express any concern or upset about the journey she was about to undertake. Her only reservation was a meeting later that day."
"Meeting?" Louisa appeared surprised by her sister's statement.
"Yes. Fanny had arranged to meet someone before leaving for Norwich and anticipated a difficult conversation."
"You didn't mention this at the inquest?"
"Didn't I? I haven't thought about it for nearly twenty years. I can't remember if I said anything at the time or not. I don't suppose it's of any importance."
Lawrence and Violet exchanged gl
ances. "It could be, if Fanny was murdered," he said.
"But the meeting could have been with a friend," protested Alice. "The comment about the meeting didn't sound sinister, and the fact that she purchased the straps for her case has more relevance. It proves that she intended to leave Diss."
"Your recollections have been most interesting. Thank you again," said Violet rising from her chair. "I cannot tell you how much we appreciate your time."
They emerged from the ironmongery and into Market Hill. "That changes things," said Lawrence.
Violet nodded. "Possibly. But she could have been referring to a meeting with her sweetheart, Alfred."
"I thought you said she spent the evening with him."
"She did."
"Then it wasn't that. We need to find out who else Fanny met that night. And why she was so nervous."
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE
The Cupboard
"Didn't you like it?" asked Lawrence as Violet pushed her dinner plate away, almost untouched.
"I liked it well enough," said Violet. But I've lost my appetite recently. Hardly surprising with all the worry."
"Haven't I apologised enough?" Lawrence gave a half-smile as he leaned across the table and looked into Violet's eyes. "I shouldn't have left you on your own. I don't know what I would have done if your injuries had been any worse. It won't happen again."
"I wasn't asking for another apology," said Violet. "There is no need. Can we forget all about it and please stop monitoring how much I eat? It's annoying."
"Shall we retire to the lounge?"
"We may as well." Violet was still angry. Her relief at having Lawrence safely back was waning, and his insistence at clucking around her like an old hen was taking its toll.
They walked into the front room of The Crown. There was nobody around, and they took their choice of seating to the side of the fireplace. Violet sat by the window and Lawrence drew up a chair to face her.
"Where is everybody?" asked Lawrence.
"In the market room, I suppose," said Violet. "There's enough noise coming from it." She stared distractedly towards the fireplace and sighed. "I want to go home," she said suddenly.
Lawrence raised his head in surprise. "But we haven't finished," he exclaimed.
"We may never finish. This investigation lurches on and on. I want to sleep in my own bed, for once."
"We shouldn't be here much longer."
"How do you know? Do you think that a confession will magically materialise in front of you? It's not going to happen, Lawrence."
He opened his mouth, but she continued in full flow. "It's not been the same for you, swanning off to Liverpool for days on end. You've left me here alone, feeling ill much of the time and to what purpose?"
Violet looked as if she was about to cry. Lawrence took her hand. "Come on, old thing. It's not like you to complain."
She flashed him a withering look. "I want to go back to Bury. You stay here if you must."
"Very well. If that's what you want."
She nodded her head.
"Then I'll take you to the station tomorrow, but let's talk about what we have learned while we are still together. Give me the benefit of your wisdom so I can manage without you." Lawrence was downcast as he spoke.
"Where shall I start?"
"With your opinion on the whole affair."
She nodded. "There is some evidence of a crime," she said. "For once, it's worth investigating. Somebody pushed Fanny into the water, and her depressed behaviour leading up her death caused doubt over the guilty verdict. Some think she was suicidal, but the evidence suggests otherwise."
"I agree," said Lawrence.
"And Alice Aldrich thinks that she was meeting someone. I spoke to Alfred Wylie and he did not mention a meeting. Neither did Mary Nunn, but she told me that Fanny was loitering as if she was waiting for something."
"Interesting."
"And Alfred said that Fanny told him she would be leaving thirty pounds in the pocket of her Ulster under the willow."
"Which wasn't there."
The arrival of a large group of young men carrying tankards interrupted their musings. The men weaved towards the other window seat, too close for comfort.
Lawrence raised his eyes and grimaced. "Great," he said. "Just when we were making progress."
"Oy, Barney." One of the men stood and held up his half-empty tankard. He waved it in the direction of a man coming through the doorway. The other man waved a hand towards him and retreated.
"You were saying," continued Lawrence.
"I said, the money wasn't there." Violet lowered her voice as she moved closer to Lawrence.
"Do you think she intended to leave it?"
"She had nothing to give him. Unless..."
Violet put her hand to her mouth. "Oh."
She turned away, distracted, as a roar came from the group of men. They'd clinked glasses together and were starting to sing.
"We're leaving," said Lawrence. "Come on."
"Wait. I've had a thought. What if Fanny had a means of getting money, but it was risky."
"I don't understand." Lawrence moved from the table and sat next to Violet.
"She could have met someone with the expectation of procuring money."
"You mean blackmail?"
"Yes."
"That would explain why she was nervous."
The singing petered out as Minnie Panks bustled into the room. "Keep it down," she snapped. "Go in the market room if you want to behave like that". She glanced sympathetically towards Violet.
"Get me another one, Min," said a hang-toothed, wiry man.
"I'll serve you in the market room."
"Oh, go on."
"Don't do it," said another man. "Ratty has nothing left except his burial club money, and his missus will do for him if he spends that."
They all laughed.
"That's it," exclaimed Lawrence, grabbing Violet by the hand. He pulled her into the hallway and peered into the dining room. It was empty. "This way."
They sat down at a table in the corner. "What do you know about burial clubs?"
"Only that they are the salvation of the poor. Two young children died last week, and their parents were only able to give them a decent funeral because of The Oddfellows money."
"Edward Bowden paid burial dues," said Lawrence.
"And Mary Nunn. What are you suggesting?"
Lawrence thought for a moment. "Only that it is very convenient."
"But it's not a large amount of money. Only enough to cover funeral costs with a little over."
"The little over could mean a lot in a poor household. And even more, if there was an insurance policy."
"Really?" Violet seemed doubtful.
"Don't you remember the Liverpool scandal? Perhaps not. You were in the wrong part of the country. It was all my uncle spoke of for weeks. A chap called Higgins died. His mother-in-law poisoned him and collected something in the region of a hundred pounds in burial club payments."
"That's a lot of money."
"And worth a thirty-pound bribe if someone found out."
"You mean Fanny?"
Lawrence nodded.
"You don't think the Oddfellows are involved?"
"Not directly. But we might be able to find out who benefited from the payments by checking their records."
"They won't agree to that."
"I know, and I wouldn't ask them. Where do the Oddfellows keep their paraphernalia?"
"Here, of course. That's one of the reasons they meet at The Crown. They have no premises of their own. There's a large cupboard out the back where they store banners, regalia and the like. I suppose they might keep documents too."
"Good," said Lawrence, stroking his chin. "Well, there's only one way to find out."
There was a stark contrast between The Crown in the evening and during the early hours of the morning. The busy public house had quietened into a silent creaking menace ready to waken any of the occup
ants with the slightest misstep. Lawrence inwardly cursed for the third time as he tiptoed down the passageway to the groan of floorboards. He passed Violet's room, hoping that she had followed his request to get some sleep, ignoring the temptation to check. As he reached the top of the stairs, he glanced towards the landing windows. They were both open, and the curtains billowed in the light breeze. Lawrence covered the stump of his candle which he'd concealed in a tin top to protect it from draughts. He could ill-afford to lose his only source of illumination.
Every tread of the stairs produced another moan from the ancient wood until Lawrence finally reached the bottom. Holding his makeshift lamp aloft, he surveyed the area to the right by the reception area. Light glinted off the gun cabinet opposite the wooden counter housing the room keys. Lawrence edged through the small gap in the counter facing a wall containing several rows of hooks. Bunches of keys were hanging there, each affixed to rough-hewn wooden tags etched with room numbers. The end hooks held two chunky keys, probably for the external doors and the other, a bunch of varying sized keys of indeterminate purpose. Lawrence grabbed the latter and made for the rear of the building.
Moonlight illuminated the sizeable rear room revealing a double-doored recess with twin brass fingerplates and a lock set below. Lawrence crept past the room and almost tripped over the Panks' elderly cat which lay prone on the rug by the fireplace. It's yowl pierced the silence and Lawrence grimaced as it stared balefully towards him, hackles raised and spitting in fury. He waited with bated breath, for the proprietor to descend, but silence reigned, and he continued in his task. Lawrence tried one key after another from the enormous bunch and was beginning to lose hope when a tarnished brass key turned in the lock. He opened the double doors and entered a storage cupboard large enough to be a separate room, but for the lack of natural light. The commodious closet could easily have held a double bed and furniture. Instead, it contained shelving stacked with various items of Oddfellows equipment.
The cupboard hid a treasure trove of regalia. Large banners leaned against the side wall and items of apparel adorned the rear shelving. Lawrence set his paltry candle on a round table in the centre of the space. He advanced towards the shelves and picked up a black-trimmed apron from a shelf marked 'mourning' and examined it. The words 'memento finis' lay between a depiction of the sun and stars. He shivered as the candlelight picked out crossed keys above a skull and returned the item to its place next to a set of black sashes. Lawrence checked the shelving and noted a dozen sets of ceramic mugs beneath which were dusty tomes of records coated in a thick layer of dust. They looked as if they had lain unused for years.
The Lawrence Harpham Boxset Page 68