A Death for a Cause (19 page)

‘That would such an evil thing to do,' said Jasmine faintly.

‘Murderers are not generally known for being pleasant,' said Angela. ‘It goes with the occupation.'

‘Are you seriously suggesting,' said Mary, ‘that one of us sent Aggie Phelps to her death simply to kill Wilks? Why Wilks?'

‘That is the question, isn't it?' I answered. ‘There are many possible motives. I have managed to track down Wilks's closest associates. They range from bankers to civil servants to men in high ranking public service.'

‘Public school,' said Angela. ‘Oxford too?'

‘Yes,' I said.

‘So this has nothing to do with the Sisterhood,' asked Eunice.

‘Except to use it as a scapegoat,' said Angela bitterly.

‘And Aggie, who we already know was prepared to work with the more militant side probably felt she was being given a secret and special assignment,' I said.

‘Which is why she did not question the letter. Nor tell anyone,' said Bertram. ‘She thought it was a test of her loyalty.'

‘When in reality she was being used by someone unscrupulous,' said Eunice.

‘And someone who was in contact with the Sisterhood. Someone who knew how to put out feelers to a would-be militant, one who would obey without question.'

‘How terrible,' said Jasmine. ‘To think that a fellow sister would be able to do such a thing.'

‘Except we have no more proof of this than we do that she was not killed by the over-zealous Sergeant Givens,' said Mary. ‘We may be attempting to use logic, but we are building castles in the air. Everything we have outlined is based on assumption and not fact.'

‘It is however a fact that you are the illegitimate daughter of a senior personage, isn't it?' I asked Mary.

Mary flushed. ‘I do not believe that my heritage has any bearing on this issue,' said Mary shaken.

‘Unless Wilks was your father,' said Abigail.

‘Or knew who your father was, and was about to expose him,' I added.

‘Interesting idea,' Abigail acknowledged.

‘That you could think me capable of such a crime is an insult beyond bearing,' said Mary rising from the table. ‘Whatever you think of me, I could not possibly have set the firebomb or whatever it is they do. Ask her.' She nodded at Angela. To me she said, ‘And to think I thought we might be friends.'

Angela shrugged. ‘We were side by side in the March all the way.'

‘Why on earth didn't you say anything?' asked Abigail.

‘No one asked me,' said Angela. ‘Besides, I have a rule never to answer to any man.'

The sound of a door slamming signified Mary had left us. I looked at Abigail. We both looked at the Pettigrew sisters. Angela began to laugh. Constance shifted uncomfortably in her seat but continued to hold her peace.

Chapter Twenty-seven

I accuse…

‘That certainly narrows down your options,' said Abigail. ‘Perhaps it was a two-person job? That would make more sense.' She gave the Pettigrew sisters a hard look.

‘Us?' gasped Eunice and Jasmine in uncanny unison.

‘It is no more likely than Angela and Mary working together,' said Abigail.

‘Except these two have known each other all their lives and we have no evidence that Angela and Mary were even friends,' I answered.

‘True,' said Abigail.

‘But why would we harm a soul?' asked Eunice.

‘Perhaps if we looked into the demise of your father's business we would discover that Wilks or one of his associates had something to do with its failure?' suggested Bertram.

‘I am afraid Father suffered from both poor health and poor judgement,' said Eunice.

‘Eunice, you must not say such things about our sainted Papa,' said Jasmine.

‘The man was a fool,' said Eunice. ‘Face it, Jasmine, it was our work that kept the family afloat and denied us the chance to spend our lives as we might have wished.'

‘Oh, no!'

‘Would you not have loved to have had children?' said Eunice. I saw tears well up in her sister's eyes. ‘Father's foolishness and selfishness denied us the lives we should have lived.' She turned to the rest of us. ‘That is why I am so in favour of female emancipation. No woman should have her life dictated to her by a man – especially a foolish one.'

Jasmine accepted Bertram's handkerchief and began to weep uncontrollably. Bertram bravely patted her hand.

‘If Wilks had been our father,' said Eunice angrily, ‘we might have had cause to kill him, but sadly it was not until Father's death that the reality of the situation came home to me.'

‘Oh, you mean when Mr Walker died so unexpectedly?' said Jasmine, reaching out a hand to her sister. ‘I am so sorry.'

‘Who the hell is Mr Walker?' snapped Abigail.

‘He was the suitor Father forbade me to marry. Shortly after Father's death he applied to me again for my hand in marriage. I accepted him and the next day he was run down by a horse and cart. He died with my name on his lips.'

I felt a terrible impulse to laugh. Her story sounded so melodramatic, but then I saw the very real pain on each of the sisters' faces and I knew they were telling the truth.

‘I do notice that none of you have suggested I had anything to do with it,' said Constance suddenly. ‘For which I am very grateful. Yet, if it would help clear the air, I am willing to swear on the Bible that I did not kill Maisie, nor have I any connection to Mr Wilks's death. I am sure the hotel staff could obtain a Bible if we were to ring for one.'

Bertram looked at me. I shrugged. ‘I am sure that will not be necessary, Mrs Woodley,' he said gently. ‘You have not figured in our investigations in any way.'

‘But we did!' said Eunice angrily.

‘I think we should leave, sister,' said Jasmine.

‘It has been a most interesting tea party,' said Angela, rising from her chair. ‘But I think we have come to a natural end. It appears to have been established that none of us present could have killed Wilks and by extension none of us had any reason to kill Maisie. Thank you for an entertaining afternoon, Miss St John, but I do believe I have had my fill.' And will that she left the room. Eunice and Jasmine hugged each other, wept on each other's shoulders and then gathered their possessions and also left the room. Eunice cast me one final look of sheer loathing.

‘If I might go?' asked Constance. ‘I would like to be home before the children go to sleep.' Bertram held the door open for her.

Abigail Stokes sat back in her seat and picked up her teacup. ‘That was a spectacular mess,' she said.

‘At least we established none of the women present were guilty,' said Bertram.

‘Do you not believe women are capable of deception, Mr Stapleford?' asked Abigail.

‘She's one of Fitzroy's,' I said. ‘I thought it was Angela.'

Bertram, who had started at the sound of his real name, said in astonished accents, ‘He uses women?'

‘What precisely do you think I am, Bertram,' I snapped. ‘A camel?'
⁴⁶

‘But… but… but,' said Bertram.

‘But she is an amateur,' said Abigail. ‘Whereas I am the real thing, and as such I will shortly be leaving the country on the King's work. It must therefore fall to you to finish the case. I hope Fitzroy's trust in you was not misplaced. I cannot say I have yet seen anything that inspires my confidence.'

‘All the avenues are closed,' said Bertram.

‘Not all,' said Abigail. ‘I must go. I have a boat to catch.'

As the door closed behind her, Bertram said, ‘I suppose this means Martha Lake is our murderer, but even Fitzroy could not discover who she was.'

‘Perhaps it was Givens,' I said thoughtfully. ‘At least I know what we need to do next.'

Bertram eyed me with alarm.

‘We have overlooked something, Bertram. We must go to the boarding house and retrieve the letter sent to Aggie Phelps. I doubt it will be signed, but it will be somewhere to start.'

The better part of the day had passed, and besides both Bertram and I were mentally exhausted. Bertram went for a smoke and a drink in the bar, and as the day was fair and mild, I decided to go for a short stroll. I left Bertram a note in the suite. I felt certain if I told him he would attempt to stop me, but in this genteel part of the metropolis I felt it was unlikely I would come to harm. I also had a strong desire for a new pair of gloves. It had not escaped my attention either that I was missing now not one but three outfits.
⁴⁷
There would certainly not be time for a fitting, but perhaps I might get some ideas of the latest fashions on show and describe them to the Mullers' seamstress.

It was with such innocent schemes in mind that I set foot outside the hotel. I wandered down a few streets, taking care not to stray too far from the hotel. I purchased some delightful lilac gloves, took good note of the finery on display, and was about to return to the hotel when disaster struck.

⁴⁶
This was a particularly sore point, as I had promised myself I could go and see a real camel at the Zoological Gardens while in town with Richenda. It now seemed very unlikely this would happen.

⁴⁷
The suffragette one bought by Richenda, which I would never wear again, the one spoilt in the prison cell, and the one I had discarded at the Gilded Lily.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I am exposed (again)

I could not hide nor pretend I had not seen her. My mother sat in the window of a respectable coffee shop and glared at me. Then she raised one imperious finger and beckoned. I entered the coffee shop in a state of extreme shock. I was unclear whether it was the sight of my mother sitting by a window (on public display!) or whether it was the sight of my mother at all that shocked me most. The last I had heard she was still living in the country, tending her subdued livestock and tyrannising the local population with piano lessons.

‘Is something wrong with little Joe?' I exclaimed as I reached her table.

‘Good afternoon, Euphemia. Yes, I am quite well thank you. Allow me to present my dear friend Lady Blake. We were in the Primrose League together. Celia, this is my daughter, Euphemia Martins, who I certainly raised to behave in a much better style than this.'

Words failed me as I turned to offer my hand to Lady Blake. I recognised her at once. Her eyes met mine and she gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of her head. ‘Charmed to meet you, Euphemia,' said Lady Blake. ‘I can assure you your little brother is quite well. I understand he is staying with your mother's local squire and learning how to shoot.'

I could only surmise that she had never met Joe, she gave out the potentially lethal information in such a casual manner. ‘He will be fine, Euphemia,' interrupted my mother. ‘He is only to be allowed to shoot rabbits and squirrels.'

My brother is a lovely boy of infinite charm, which he needs as he frequently gets himself into mischief. I knew my brother would never deliberately harm anyone or any livestock, but I also knew he was not very good at listening or obeying instructions. It seemed the height of folly to place a lethal weapon in his hands.

‘Are you in town long?' enquired my mother. ‘Would you care to join us for a cup of tea or would you prefer to stand there looking like a waitress?'

‘I am so sorry, Mama,' I said contritely. ‘I have recently had a great deal on my mind. I believe I will shortly be living London to return to the Mullers' estate, but I am uncertain as to the date of my departure.'

‘And as to whether it is significantly far in the future to allow you to consume a cup of tea?' asked my mother.

A waiter appeared behind me and set a chair. I sat down automatically. ‘I do not wish to intrude,' I said, casting a worried look in Lady Blake's direction.

‘Very well,' said my mother, as soon as I was seated, ‘I can see you are eager to be about your concerns. I will be writing to you shortly about a matter of import.'

‘I see,' I said numbly.

‘Indeed, it is very good news,' said Lady Blake. ‘Your mother and I are shortly to become related. Or have I said too much?'

‘My daughter has yet to meet your cousin, the Bishop. She has been living in the country for some time with friends.'

‘Bishop?' I asked, confused. I was ignored.

‘But there is nowhere like one's home, is there?' said Lady Blake.

‘Are you going to work for a Bishop, Mother?' I asked. She gave me a hard stare.

‘Don't be ridiculous, Euphemia. People of our station do not work. I am going to marry him.'

‘I am so delighted for you, my dearest. It seems both our fortunes are on the turn,' said Lady Blake.

I rose, mumbling my excuses, and left. I wandered back to the hotel in a daze. Bertram met me in the lobby. ‘Ah, good, I was beginning to think about dinner,' he said. ‘Shall we dine in the restaurant tonight?'

‘No, I need to speak to you in private,' I said.

Bertram cocked an eyebrow. ‘Have you been out solving things without me? I thought you were only going to buy gloves. How much trouble can you get into buying gloves?' His voice rose slightly. ‘I should have known. Something dire has happened, hasn't it?'

Indeed,' I said, ‘I met my mother and she told Martha Lake exactly who I really am.'

With this parting shot I headed towards the lift. There was an audible pause behind me. Then I heard Bertram's positively hoofing it towards me. In the lift cage his face was a veritable picture, as he struggling not to demand answers in from of the bellboy.

Once inside our suite, he exploded, ‘So will you finally tell me your real name?'

‘Martins,' I said quietly.

‘I mean if your mother is going around spreading it all over London, surely you can be bothered to tell me,' Bertram continued at volume.