“It was and, believe it or not, it gets worse,” Blimpey said. “Anne Bremmer is a good ten years older than Stephen, and as she’s aged, she’s gotten as mean and nasty as he is. My sources told me she torments him by keeping him on a short leash financially, and when she really wants to embarrass the fellow, she’ll deliberately not pay his bills. Despite his ancient lineage, he’s been tossed out of several men’s establishments for not paying the subscriptions. But—and this is the important bit—it turns out Stephen Bremmer has a source of income that’s apart from her. He’s actually managed to pay his way back into one of the best clubs in London.”
“What do ya mean? Is there some family money that’s come to ’im?”
Blimpey looked doubtful. “I don’t think so, but I suppose it’s possible. The Bremmers were once one of the wealthiest families in England, but that’s long gone and I’ve not heard of any other rich relations poppin’ out of the woodwork.”
“Do ya know how long Bremmer’s had this second source of income?” Smythe had an idea of what it might be, but he’d keep his opinion to himself until he had some facts.
“Not yet, but I’ve got my people workin’ on findin’ out, and I should be able to give ya more details in a day or so.”
He nodded. “Right, if you could find out about the other people who were sitting at the table when he was poisoned, that’d be good, too.” He started to rattle off the names of the suspects, but Blimpey stopped him.
“I know who was sitting with him and I know who was sittin’ at the next table. I’ve already got my people workin’ on ’em. I also know exactly what happened at the Wrexley Hotel. One of my sources works there and she told me about the lights goin’ out but the room not stayin’ dark as long as they’d planned. So you don’t need to waste your breath goin’ over old news.”
“You found out more than just a few bits and pieces, Blimpey.” Smythe eyed him skeptically. “As soon as you ’eard about the murder, you knew I’d be coming here.”
Blimpey laughed. “’Course I did. You’re not one to waste time larkin’ about.”
“You know I can find out a few facts on me own,” Smythe said defensively.
“’Course ya can, but let’s be honest ’ere. You’re not as good at gettin’ people to chat as your lady is. She’s just like my Nell; they can both sweet-talk the devil into tellin’ his secrets.”
Smythe laughed. “And how is your good wife and your little one?”
“They’re both right as rain and I couldn’t be happier. I look forward to goin’ ’ome each night to be with ’em. I can’t imagine my life without the two of ’em. Look at Stephen Bremmer; he spent his life chasin’ nothin’ but money and he ended up livin’ in misery before bein’ murdered by someone who hated him. My money is on his wife. She was sittin’ right next to him.”
“Why didn’t Bremmer just walk out? With his family connections, he could ’ave gotten a divorce, and with a rich wife, she’d probably have given him a settlement to avoid a scandal.”
“Maybe, maybe not. People are strange, Smythe.” Blimpey gazed off into the distance. “Sometimes the most important thing in their life is hangin’ on to their hatred, and supposedly she told him the only way he’d get anything out of her was over her dead body.”
* * *
• • •
Wiggins pushed away from the lamppost as he spotted Ellen coming out of the double doors of the warehouse. He ran around an empty wagon and across the road. He was less than twenty feet away from Ellen when she caught sight of him. She gave him a huge, delighted smile, and in the flash of a second, he realized he might have made a mistake. Cor blimey, he wasn’t conceited about his looks, but he knew he wasn’t ugly. From the expression on Ellen’s face, it seemed she might be getting the wrong idea. He liked her well enough but only as a friend. Blast a Spaniard, this could be a problem. Toying with a lady’s emotions wasn’t right, not even in the cause of justice. But he was here and he wanted information.
“Did you come to see me home?” Ellen called loudly enough so that the two girls walking ahead of her would take notice.
“In a way. I was seein’ a friend off at Liverpool Street Station and I need to speak to Tommy,” he lied. “So I thought I’d walk ’ome with you, if you don’t mind.”
Her face fell. “Oh, it’s him you’re wantin’ to see, then. Right, he should be home by the time we get there.”
“And I wanted to see if you was alright.” Wiggins couldn’t stop himself; if she had the wrong idea about his intentions, he’d deal with it later. But right now she looked so miserable he felt like he’d kicked a kitten into the Thames. “Seein’ someone die like that isn’t very nice.”
She brightened and took his arm. “I’m fine, but it’s nice that you were concerned.”
Wiggins hoped she wouldn’t mention anything untoward to Tommy. That would be even harder to handle than her thinking he was sweet on her. Tommy would expect him to do right by her and Wiggins was no more interested in her than he was in one of them statues at the British Museum. “How was everyone else today at your office? Were people upset?”
“It was all anyone could talk about,” she replied. “Mind you, we’ve so much work to do there weren’t much time to chat, but no one was all that bothered it was that awful Mr. Bremmer that got killed.”
“Guess he weren’t well liked, huh.” He stopped as they reached the corner and waited for a break in the traffic.
“Not really. None of us could understand why he kept comin’ about the place but he was here all the time. Every time Mrs. Mannion came, he was like her lapdog and trotted in behind her. Malcolm, he’s the lead inbound clerk, says it was because he needed to suck up to Mr. Pierce, ’cause he really wanted the honorarium that comes with bein’ on the board and Mr. Bremmer knew that Mr. Pierce didn’t like him very much.”
“Mrs. Mannion was there a lot?” Wiggins tugged her away from the curb as a four-wheeler took the corner fast.
“Yes, she was always comin’ by to try and take him to lunch or to make certain the plans for the ball were goin’ along properly.” She giggled. “Poor Mr. Pierce didn’t stand a chance against her. She was always at him to let her take over. I know because I overheard her telling him she’d be pleased to see to the details, that he was so busy and she had plenty of free time. She about had a fit when she found out he’d gone to the Wrexley on his own and booked their premises for the Lighterman’s Ball.”
“So did he let her do it?” Wiggins looked both ways and then tugged her across the busy street.
“She finally wore him down. I think she’s sweet on him.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “A woman can always tell when someone is sweet on someone, don’t you think?”
“What else happened today?” he asked quickly, hoping to distract her.
“Truth to tell, it was a bit of a miserable day.”
“What ’appened?”
“To begin with, Phillip—he’s Mr. Pierce’s secretary—he was in a bad mood.” She grimaced. “He’s generally so good natured, but he was right put out this morning when he saw that the tea things were still dirty. I overheard him telling Malcolm that yesterday afternoon right after the board meeting here, Mr. Pierce told Phillip he and the rest of us could leave as soon as the tea things were tidied up, you know, so we could get ready for the ball. Mrs. Mannion insisted she’d take care of it and Mr. Pierce let everyone leave right then. But the only things she washed were the cups and mugs. She’d not touched the pot, and when Phillip grabbed it off the sink, he thought it was empty and he wasn’t careful and he ended up spilling cold tea all over his best shirt.”
“That’s not nice,” Wiggins replied. They rounded the corner onto a residential street lined with a row of small two-story brown brick houses. This road wasn’t as bad as some in this part of London; the pavements were cracked, but for the most part,
it was in decent repair. The houses were covered with old soot from the local factories and none of them had gardens, but there wasn’t any laundry strung across the road and most of the doors were painted and the stoops in good nick. Tommy and Ellen’s family was one of the lucky ones; their father had a decent job on the railway and their mother didn’t need to take in washing.
“The day only got worse when the police showed up,” she continued. “And that set Mr. Pierce off something fierce.”
“Your guv didn’t want to speak to the police?”
“’Course he did. He’s got nothin’ to hide,” she retorted. “He was all ready for them and had even told Phillip to bring them right in when they arrived. No, it was Mrs. Cory comin’ in that set him off.”
Wiggins had to be careful here. He couldn’t let on that he knew who she was. “Who’s she?”
Ellen wrinkled her nose in thought. “I’m not sure. I heard Mrs. Taft telling Malcolm that Mrs. Cory and Mr. Pierce used to know each other. Mrs. Taft has been with the company for ages. I think Mrs. Cory was Mr. Pierce’s late wife’s cousin or somethin’ like that.”
“So she’s a relation of Mr. Pierce’s?” He wanted to make certain he understood who was who.
Ellen shook her head. “Not really. I think Mr. Pierce was sweet on her before he married his wife, at least that’s what Mrs. Taft was sort of sayin’ to Malcolm.”
“Sort of saying?” he repeated. They were almost at the end of the block, close to Ellen’s home and he realized she had slowed down and was now walking at a snail’s pace.
“Oh, you know what I mean. Sometimes people won’t come right out and say what they mean, they just hint around. That’s what Mrs. Taft was doin’ today. She wouldn’t come out and say it properly because she didn’t want to be accused of gossipin’ in the office, but Malcolm told me that she said everyone was surprised when Mrs. Cory up and left for America because everyone thought she and Mr. Pierce were more than friends. Anyway, what I do know is all the men were staring at her like they’d never seen a woman before when she showed up and asked to speak to Mr. Pierce.”
“How come? Is she funny looking?”
“Just the opposite. She’s very pretty and Mr. Pierce told Phillip to bring her right in the minute he announced she was waitin’ to see him. The police were there but Mr. Pierce still acted like he was afraid she’d disappear.”
“What happened then?” He pulled her to one side as they came to a huge hole in the pavement.
“She went inside, and a few minutes later Mr. Pierce started talking so loud you could hear it all the way to the cashier’s counter.”
“He was shoutin’?”
“I wouldn’t call it that, but we could hear him, and Mr. Pierce never raises his voice. He was het up about something. As soon as the police were gone, he slammed his door shut. Then he and Mrs. Cory were inside the office for over an hour.”
“Was he still talking loud enough for you to ’ear him?” Wiggins asked.
“No, it went real quiet.”
“I wonder what they were chattin’ about?” They’d reached her house and Wiggins saw Tommy waving at him through the small front parlor window.
“I don’t know, but it must have been important. He didn’t even open the door when Phillip went to tell him the Tadish shipment had come in. Mr. Pierce always checks that shipment himself but this time he yelled for Phillip to take care of it.”
* * *
• • •
“Wiggins sent word that he’ll be late and for us to have the meeting without him,” Mrs. Jeffries announced as she took her seat. “I’ll bring him up to date before our morning meeting. Now, who would like to go first?”
“My report won’t take long,” Hatchet said. “Despite my best efforts, I found out very little and I’m not even certain that it has anything to do with this case.”
“What did you learn?” Mrs. Jeffries helped herself to a piece of brown bread and slathered it with butter.
“Only that Bremmer had made inquiries at his club about finding a solicitor, but that could mean anything. The other tidbit I learned was that Bremmer was frequently threatened with being sued. Tomorrow one of my best sources will be back in town so I’m hoping to find out more.”
“Don’t take it to heart, Hatchet.” Luty poked him in the ribs. “We all have bad days. I didn’t find out much, either, and I had to doctor a boil.”
“Doctor a boil?” Mrs. Goodge exclaimed. Amanda, who was sitting on her lap, giggled. “What does that mean?”
“When I was at my source’s office, I fixed this young feller’s boil. It was on his hand and just about the biggest one I’ve ever seen. But the boil ain’t that important; like I said, he was a young one so he’ll be just fine. What I did find out is that James Pierce is considered a decent, honest businessman who treats his employees well. But that’s the only thing I heard about him. I did find out a few things about Stephen Bremmer’s family and none of it was good.” She repeated what she’d heard from John Widdowes. She was sure her recitation was correct because as soon as she’d climbed into her carriage, she’d made notes. Luty knew her memory wasn’t as good as it used to be and she didn’t want any of them making a mistake on this case because she’d forgotten something that ended up being important.
“So Stephen Bremmer lived on his wife’s money and had no fortune of his own,” Hatchet murmured. “Yet he’s from one of the oldest families in England.”
“And he lets everyone who’ll stand still for ten seconds know it,” Luty said. “But that’s not all. I got a nice juicy tidbit about Montague Pettigrew.” She cast an anxious glance at her goddaughter. “How much does our baby take in? What I’m about to tell ya ain’t meant for little ears. Oh, Nell’s bells, what am I thinkin’? She’s too little to understand.” She took a deep breath and then plunged ahead, telling them about Pettigrew’s supposed love for an actor and the consequences to his inheritance prospects if his rich uncle caught wind of it.
“I heard that, too,” Mrs. Goodge said. “Not about the rich uncle, but about his er . . . uh . . . leanings, shall we say.”
“We found this out right quick,” Smythe said, “so it’s a good bet that Bremmer knew it as well. Could be that Bremmer held it over Pettigrew’s head and Pettigrew got tired of it. He was sittin’ at the same table as Bremmer; he was close enough to poison him.”
“Isn’t poison usually a woman’s weapon?” Ruth asked.
“Not necessarily,” Mrs. Jeffries said quickly. “But really, we must not speculate. We all know how that turns out. Once we get an idea fixed in our heads, we sometimes end up not seeing or understanding additional evidence that’s right in front of us.”
“I’d think that Camilla Houghton-Jones had a better reason for killing Bremmer,” Phyllis said. “She’d not want the world knowing that she and her fiancé only married so he could inherit a fortune.”
“That may be true, but really, conjecture about who may or may not have poisoned Bremmer will do more harm than good,” Mrs. Jeffries insisted. “Besides, we don’t know for certain that the man was deliberately poisoned.”
“We do, Mrs. Jeffries.” Smythe shifted uneasily. “My source found out the contents of the police surgeon’s report. He was murdered.”
“You must have a really good source,” Phyllis said.
“Luty, were you finished?” Mrs. Jeffries asked quickly. She knew exactly who Smythe’s source was.
“More or less, but tomorrow night I’m going to have dinner with someone who knows a thing or two about what goes on in this town and I plan on gettin’ an earful then.”
“You’ve found out a lot.” Betsy grinned. “I spent half the day pushing Amanda’s pram up and down the streets by the Bremmer house and not so much as a housemaid or footman stuck their noses out.”
“But I’ll bet Amanda loved it.” Luty laughed. “And
she’s got such pretty rosy cheeks to show for it.”
“So you heard nothing?” Phyllis said.
“The only person I spoke to was an elderly matron who stopped because the little one”—she jerked her chin toward her daughter—“kept waving at her.”
“I take it the elderly matron didn’t know anything about the Bremmers?” Mrs. Jeffries commented.
“She didn’t even know who they were,” Betsy replied. “But Amanda and I will be back at it tomorrow and perhaps we’ll have better luck then.”
“I’m sure you will.” Mrs. Jeffries glanced around the table. “Who’d like to go next?”
“I’ll have my turn now.” Mrs. Goodge cuddled her goddaughter closer. She told them everything she’d learned from Ida Leacock.
“So Bremmer’s father died with a string of debts,” Smythe muttered. “That sounds a lot like what I ’eard.”
“Well, at least that solves one puzzle,” Mrs. Jeffries said. “Now we know why James Pierce was so readily accepted into his circle. He’d saved Louise Lyndhurst Mannion’s brother.”
“Do you think it was James Pierce that was the unsuitable attachment the Lyndhurst family feared?” Betsy asked.
Mrs. Goodge shrugged. “My source didn’t know and I doubt that an old attachment from years ago has anything to do with Bremmer’s death. At that time, she was only eighteen or nineteen years old. That’s it for me.”
Mrs. Jeffries Delivers the Goods Page 11