A Death for a Cause Page 14

‘Seeing as he jilted me, I do not think you have cause for concern.’

  ‘Did he? I always thought it had to be the other way round?’ asked Bertram looking very surprised. ‘Odd fellow.’

  I felt the blush rush into my face. ‘Anyway, now we are safe and recovered we must discuss what we will do next.’

  ‘I am not going back to that place,’ said Bertram mulishly.

  ‘Neither am I. I assume your comment about seeing Mr …’ Bertram held up his hand in alarm. ‘About seeing a senior public figure there,’ I amended, ‘means you think that any gossip about our escapade will be curtailed?’

  ‘God, I hope so,’ said Bertram fervently.

  ‘Good, then we have no reason for our killer to believe we are on their tail.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Bertram warily. ‘What are you thinking?’

  I gave him my most innocent smile. ‘Why, simply that we invite some people for tea.’

  43 In many ways men remain at heart boys.

  44 Bertram had no idea I was an Earl’s granddaughter and thus far above him on the social scale.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  I send out polite invitations

  Using Fitzroy’s list I had sent invitations to the Pettigrew sisters, Angela Blackwood, Mary Hill, Constance Woodley and Abigail Stokes to come to tea at the hotel prior to my departure to the countryside. Martha Lake was not invited as no one had yet discovered who she really was. I gave the ladies twenty-four hours warning. It would have been polite to wait longer, but I was afraid the killer might leave the city. Declining my invitation so shortly after our incarceration would throw up further suspicions. Bertram disagreed with me. The next day, after I sent off the notices, we sat together in our suit arguing agreeably over a private lunch.

  ‘You have told me you looked into the names that Hans gave me and nothing particular struck you,’ I said.

  ‘I had a few chats around the clubs,’ admitted Bertram. ‘It seems Wilks and Blake were in some clubs together at Oxford. Firm friends and all that. No falling out that I can hear of. The banker chap, is well, a banker chap.’

  ‘Like your brother?’

  ‘Half-brother,’ said Bertram, ‘but I see your point. To be honest, if anything I imagine Hans will have warned anyone off gossiping with his asking around. I mean, he might think his chap is going to keep it to himself, but a German asking around about you at this time? No one is going to keep that quiet.’

  ‘He’s half-German.’

  ‘He might only have German toes,’ said Bertram, ‘but it would be enough to raise attention. I know he belongs to a few of the clubs, but he’s noticed more than most. Not that I don’t think he is a decent fellow and all that, but …’

  ‘He may have done more harm than good with his questioning?’

  ‘I am afraid so.’

  ‘Then that is exactly why we need to get my cellmates gathered together. I do not discount that one or any of the men Hans named may have been involved in these murders, but we know without a shadow of a doubt that one of these women murdered Maisie and that is our way forward.’

  ‘Unless it was that nasty sergeant you told me about.’

  ‘Don’t,’ I said holding up my hand. ‘That would make this far too complicated. If the police are involved …’

  ‘Corrupt policemen trying to make the suffragettes look guilty?’ suggested Bertram.

  ‘That has to be a flight of fancy too far,’ I said.

  Bertram shrugged. ‘We have been involved in stranger things. Spies and pigs. That will be all I will say on the matter.’

  ‘If we get all the ladies together,’ I explained, ‘we can stir things up a bit and see if we can get a response. I have a number of suspicions and this is a perfect way to voice them. No lady will abandon afternoon tea mid-teapot.’

  ‘From what you have told me they are hardly all ladies.’

  ‘With the exception of Abigail Stokes, who does indeed strike me as the rougher type, I believe the others with conform to the hotel environment.’

  ‘What about Martha Lake?’

  ‘I never seriously considered her. Undoubtedly a gently bred woman well into her middle years. I have no doubt that Fitzroy was right and she was merely attempting to protect her husband by not disclosing her real name.’

  ‘Yes, well, I suppose the more ladylike the person the less likely they are to be prone to see violence as a solution,’ agreed Bertram. ‘Remind me of the possible motives of this lot as you see it.’

  I ran through each of the women in turn. ‘Hmm,’ said Bertram. ‘It’s all a bit weak, and bringing in that stuff the chap told you at the brothel is really stretching it.’

  ‘Do you not think it possible Wilks may have had an illegitimate child?’

  ‘Of course it’s possible. We know he wasn’t a backgammon player.’

  ‘What have games got to do with anything?’

  Bertram gave a little cough. ‘Forget I said anything. I am agreeing with you. It’s possible, but even if it were so why should she murder him now?’

  ‘Well, someone must have had a reason,’ I said waspishly. ‘We know Aggie Phelps was no one of any account.’

  Bertram raised his eyebrows at me. ‘Fitzroy said she might have been involved in the more militant side of the Sisterhood. Wilks might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

  ‘And Aggie might have been too careless?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Bertram. ‘So much of this may be coincidence.’

  I wanted to deny it, but in my heart of hearts I knew he had a point. ‘Where we stand is this was either a suffragette attack that went wrong or it was someone out to murder Wilks and blame it on the suffragettes.’

  ‘Kind of thing Fitzroy would do,’ said Bertram.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘He wouldn’t do that. He believes in the cause.’

  ‘I think you romanticise the fellow,’ said Bertram sharply. ‘He is not a gentleman.’

  I laughed out loud. ‘Gentleman is certainly not the first word I would use to describe him,’ I said, ‘but I believe him to have the best interests of King and Country at heart.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Bertram and speared a potato with unnecessary force. ‘I do not think you know the half of it.’

  ‘Probably not,’ I agreed equitably. ‘But I also do not think Fitzroy would have made such a song and dance about investigating this affair if he or his people had had anything to do with this. In fact,’ I said, tilting my head on one side to consider the matter properly, ‘I do believe he would have arranged matters much more neatly had he wanted Wilks dead.’

  ‘Good grief, Euphemia! Such things should never enter a lady’s head. She should have no knowledge …’

  ‘I am hardly of the norm,’ I countered.

  ‘No,’ said Bertram with feeling. ‘Though I agree if Fitzroy was investigating this and using you, he did not know the killer and wanted to know as soon as possible. He was even prepared to endanger you to get at the truth, if you will remember!’

  I let this pass. ‘Other than inviting the women to a private tea,’ I said. ‘I cannot think of what to do next.’

  ‘No, I suppose not. There does not appear to be anything else to investigate.’

  ‘Let’s hope that their reaction to the hotel’s delicious biscuits puts them off their guard,’ I said.

  Bertram sighed and reached for another portion of peas.

  The ladies arrived promptly the next day and were shown into a private room that Bertram had hired. None of them had declined my invitation, which had disappointed me slightly. I realised as I wrote my introductions that I had completely missed Constance out from my musings. Was it through some nefarious skill that she had left so little an impression on me? I introduced Bertram to them all as my cousin and chaperon.45

  The Pettigrew sisters wore enormous hats with rather tattered dead birds on them. They both chirped away rather like their deceased headwear once must have. The hotel was ‘so lovely’. ‘Father woul
d have approved so much.’ ‘Bertram St John’ was ‘so handsome’. Bertram did not correct him on his name, but he pulled a face at me behind their backs. I shrugged apologetically. I should have thought of that. Angela Blackwood made magnificent inroads on the cake and Mary Hill showed her breeding with every sip of tea. Constance chattered about her children. Abigail Stokes had barely spoken since she had arrived, but now we were beyond the bread and butter stage, and the little repast was in full flow, she suddenly piped up, ‘So who do you think did it, Euphemia?’

  Eunice and Jasmine twittered in distress. Angela Blackwood choked on a piece of cake had to be slapped on the back, before she gave way to hearty laughter. Mary, I noticed, paled slightly. ‘You mean who do I think killed Maisie?’ I asked directly.

  ‘Why else would you invite us all here?’ responded Abigail. ‘You know as well as the rest know – or should know,’ she added glancing over at the Pettigrew sisters, ‘that until this murderer is found that we shall all be under suspicion for the rest of our lives.’

  ‘What an unpleasant thought,’ said Mary softly.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Angela, ‘a bit of rumour and gossip can add spice to a character.’

  ‘We are firmly against spice,’ said Eunice.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Jasmine, ‘Father would never have any in the house. He said it inflamed passions.’ Her voice sank to an almost inaudible level at the end of her sentence.

  ‘It would not surprise me if it was the horrible sergeant,’ said Eunice.

  ‘You may not know, ladies, but when we handed in our stockings in they were one too few in number,’ I said opening the topic carefully.

  ‘No mystery there,’ said Angela. ‘Can’t abide the things. I like the free flow of air around my nether regions.’ At this remarkable announcement both Jasmine and Bertram looked close to fainting.

  ‘Well, that suggests it could not have been you. Unless you managed to stuff the stockings somewhere else,’ said Abigail.

  ‘The cell was too small for anything to be hidden, in my opinion,’ said Mary.

  ‘I had my reasons for believing Angela innocent,’ I said grandly.

  ‘What were those, dear?’ asked Eunice.

  ‘I am afraid I am not at liberty to say,’ I responded, ‘but I am afraid a small deception was practiced on you. Angela and I are on the same side. That is all I can say.’

  ‘What?’ said Angela. ‘You’re a …’ Whatever she was going to say was rudely cut off by Abigail.

  ‘Why you flaming idiot!’ she exploded. ‘I was the one looking out for you! That’s why I had the shank. I’m F’s woman!’

  And with this outburst she destroyed my carefully reasoned argument to Bertram as to why, of all them, the militant Abigail Stokes was most likely to be the killer.

  45 It had been either this or my fiancé, and I really had no desire to be engaged again. Besides, it might have given Bertram ideas.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Logic is applied

  Bertram gaped at me. ‘Is that true?’ he mouthed at me. I did not know what to say. By calling herself ‘F’s woman’, Abigail had proved to me that she knew about Fitzroy.

  ‘Not sure what you are talking about,’ Angela said, ‘but if the looks you’ve been giving your cousin are anything to go by I don’t think we are in the same hockey team, as it were.’

  Before I could ask what games had to do with it, Bertram interrupted. ‘No, she is not. However, as you were not wearing stockings, madam, and Miss Hill is convinced there was nowhere to conceal them, it would appear that you cannot be the murderer.’

  ‘Have you given any thought to motive?’ asked Abigail sarcastically.

  ‘Of course,’ I responded. ‘The woman who died with Wilks …’

  ‘Wait a minute … you are assuming this is all connected with the firebombing?’ said Angela.

  ‘But it has to be,’ I said startled.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because Maisie was scared. She knew something and she was afraid of admitting it.’

  ‘She told you this?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘More or less,’ I hedged.

  ‘Could it not have been that she recognised someone in the cell and thought they were likely to kill her?’

  ‘That would be true whether or not Wilks was involved,’ said Mary. ‘The logical question to ask is that if she thought she was in danger of her life, why did she not tell the police?’

  ‘They were not very nice,’ said Jasmine. ‘Could she have been as afraid of them too? We had children at school, didn’t we, Eunice, who were afraid because we were teachers and they had heard all teachers beat children.’

  ‘You mean in the same way that all policemen beat suffragettes?’ asked Abigail.

  ‘Or perhaps she was simply thought that no one had seen her witness whatever she saw,’ said Mary.

  ‘You mean she did not want to get herself in any deeper?’ asked Bertram.

  ‘Unfortunately that does make sense,’ said Abigail, whom I could not help but notice was far better spoken now she had revealed her true allegiances. ‘She would worry the police might think she was involved.’

  ‘But if she was innocent,’ said Bertram.

  Abigail gave him a scathing look. ‘She was a young girl of no family and no position. I doubt whether her innocence would have mattered much. They would have wanted her information and also suspected her.’

  ‘Was she wily enough to know that?’ I asked.

  ‘I think you will find that someone who has had a hard life learns to be very cautious,’ said Abigail. ‘If she thought she could get away with it then she would have kept her silence.’

  ‘But whatever do we think she had seen?’

  ‘If this line of reasoning is sound,’ said Mary, ‘and that is far from clear, the only thing that makes sense is that she saw something of the firebombing of the carriage that killed two people.’

  ‘Did anyone know Aggie Phelps?’ I asked.

  ‘I did,’ said Abigail. ‘She was being watched. She’d been involved in vandalising a telephone exchange. No one was sure how far she would go.’

  ‘So she could have set the bomb herself and accidentally been immolated?’ asked Mary.

  Jasmine gave a little moan and Eunice produced a lavender-scented handkerchief to dab at her sister’s brow. ‘This is not at all the friendly meeting I thought we were coming to,’ she said with a hideous regard for grammar.

  ‘If that were the case,’ Abigail answered, ignoring Eunice, ‘why would Maisie have been scared by what she had seen? And Euphemia is right. The girl was terrified. I tried to talk to her, but she was almost out of her wits with fear.’

  ‘None this makes any sense,’ said Mary. ‘No one knows why Aggie was in a First Class carriage and it is likely now that they never will.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. As one the ladies turned towards me. ‘She received a letter on the morning of the march and changed her long arranged plans at the last minute. Someone asked her to go.’

  ‘At last we get somewhere,’ said Abigail. ‘Who sent the letter?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.

  ‘So you do not have it?’

  ‘No, but I have two witnesses who can testify to its existence.’

  ‘I suppose that’s something,’ conceded Abigail.

  ‘But why send her there?’ piped up Bertram. I could tell by the look on his face he was feeling a little left out.

  ‘The only logical assumption is she was there to ensure Mr Wilks did not leave the carriage,’ said Mary.

  ‘Oh my heavens,’ said Eunice, quicker on the uptake than I had imagined. ‘Does that mean she knew she was going to die?’

  ‘A suicide mission?’ asked Abigail, frowning.

  ‘What if she was simply told that for the sake of the March she needed to keep Wilks away?’

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

  ‘Murderers are not generally known for bein
g 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.’