Chapter 15 #2
“I was informed of the results of the inquest and the list of those who testified. It seems clear that lady was Lady Cordelia Redmayne.”
Gideon did not confirm the man’s supposition. “What of the women from the Rosebud Club? I believe there was one he fixed on for a time. Do you know her name?”
Beecham narrowed his eyes at Gideon. “I cannot determine whether that is a question or a test, Inspector. My investigator did discover several ladies’ names. But one he continued an association with was a widow called Demeter Devlin.”
Beecham clicked his tongue. “A disgrace to see a woman fall so low, desperate for a protector. But as I understand it, Mr. Pennington proved a faithless candidate. He wished to sample while providing very little in return.”
“You met Mrs. Devlin,” Electra couldn’t help but put in. “Did you not?”
“I did, Miss Poole.” He frowned, clearly surprised she knew that detail.
“Why?” she asked.
Gideon remained quiet, tilting his head curiously at the exchange.
“Initially, with my knowledge of her existence and relationship to Pennington, I thought I might employ her to my own ends. As a mean of persuading him to keep his word.”
He had described the man with such loathing. Why not be pleased the man withdrew as his daughter’s suitor?
“Despite your poor opinion of the man, you still wished for him to marry your daughter?” she asked.
Beecham lifted a finger as if to clarify.
“I said, 'at first,' but the more I learned, the more I realized I didn’t want to convince him.” He glanced at Gideon.
“I wanted to ruin him.” Beecham managed to look slightly chagrined.
“I'm not proud of it. My daughter would be appalled to hear me say it. But, again, if you had a daughter, you would understand.”
“And Aurora’s feelings?” Electra realized she’d referred to the young lady too familiarly, but Beecham didn’t seem to notice.
“She has recovered and will tell you that she no longer had feelings for Mr. Pennington, but I know my daughter. She had fallen quite hard and the rejection stung. To be rejected so publicly. No man wants to see their daughter humiliated.”
Gideon squared his notepad on his thigh and tapped his pencil against the page. “So you wished to ruin Pennington?”
“Yes. The prospect of it was quite pleasing.”
“And now he’s dead,” Gideon said in a cool tone. “Where were you on the evening of the twenty-eighth of July, Mr. Beecham?”
The gentleman pressed his lips together in an almost-smile and waved a hand toward his wall of swords and knives. “Yes, I see. The equation seems quite simple. I have confessed my loathing for Pennington, and you see blades on my wall.”
He fell silent and Electra could feel the tension in Gideon’s posture without even casting a glance his way.
“I did not kill him, Inspector. I shouldn't say this, but if I were going to end the man's life, I wouldn't have dirtied my own hands.”
“Are you saying you hired someone to kill Percival Pennington?”
Beecham huffed and shook his head “Absolutely not. I didn't want the man dead. I was contemplating ruining him, Inspector. I was looking forward to his ruination. Why would I wish to release him to death? Why spare him the shame that I was planning to make him suffer?”
There was a chilling logic in the man’s description.
“Do you have an alibi, sir?” Gideon asked.
“I do. I dined with a longtime friend, Caldwell Eames. I can provide his address if you like, and you may speak to him to confirm that we spent the evening conversing and playing billiards.”
“I will do that.”
Beecham took a moment to take up a pen and jot down the man’s address, then passed it across his desk to Gideon.
“I did not kill Pennington, but from what I know of the man’s dealings, it would not surprise me if many found him odious.”
“Finding a man unlikable is usually not sufficient motive for murder.” Gideon observed the man quietly.
“When was the last time you spoke to Mrs. Devlin?” Electra asked.
Beecham seemed surprised by the question, but then lifted a maroon ledger from the corner of his desk. “Allow me to consult my diary.” The man pored through a few pages, then looked up. “I spoke to her on the twenty-fourth of July. A brief interaction.”
“At Hyde Park.”
Beecham regarded Electra as if he suddenly found her fascinating. “How would you know such a thing? Did Mrs. Devlin tell you?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“My investigator knew her habits,” Beecham said. “She walked in Hyde Park at a certain time each day. I wanted to meet her, talk with her, but she wouldn't speak to me. I don't know if it was out of loyalty for Pennington or fear.”
“What did you say to her?” Gideon asked.
“Merely what I've said to you. That I wanted to speak to her about Pennington.”
Electra didn’t think that was all he had said. “Whatever you said seemed to disturb her, frighten her. She strode away quickly.”
Again, he pinned her with a penetrating stare. “I allowed her to do so, Miss Poole. I would never accost a lady.”
“Do you know Mrs. Devlin’s current location?” Gideon asked.
Beecham rapped his fingers on the blotter again. “She resides at Regent Square, but I suspect that is not news to you.”
“And you only sought her out on that single occasion?” Electra asked.
“Once, yes. One foiled attempt at speaking to the lady. I know nothing more except for a bit of her history collected by my investigator.”
“What were the details of that history?” Gideon interjected.
“She was a widow and was brought low by his death, forced to seek a means of livelihood that would—”
The study door behind them swung open. “Father!”
Miss Beecham rushed into the room and looked stricken at the sight of Electra. “Miss Poole. What are you doing here? You promised me your discretion.”
“I’ve said nothing, Miss Beecham,” Electra said quietly. “I assure you.”
“Then why are you here? And why is Detective Inspector Pierce here?” Her cheeks were flushed, blue eyes bright with tears. “I told you nothing that would require you to speak to him.”
Beecham had come around from his desk to comfort his daughter. He wrapped an arm around her. “Calm yourself, my girl.”
“I promise I've said nothing,” Electra insisted. She wanted to reach for the young woman and offer comfort herself. Miss Beecham vibrated with fear and anxiety.
“What is the meaning of this, Aurora?” Beecham asked gently. “Why are you so upset, dove?”
“I'm sorry, Father.”
“And for what do you apologize? You may interrupt me at any time, as you well know. Now what has unsettled you?”
Aurora Beecham all but collapsed in her father’s arms and sobbed. “I was frightened,” she said, then sniffed and lifted her head. “Afraid perhaps you had done some harm to Mr. Pennington. I know you would do anything to protect me. And you hated him for what he had done to me.”
She swiped at her tears and tipped a look back at Electra.
“Maybe I hated him a bit too,” the young lady admitted, “but I needed assurance that there was no danger of you being taken away from me.”
Beecham cupped her cheek and tilted her head until she looked up at him. “Listen to me, dove. I did no harm to Pennington.”
Aurora nodded eagerly. “I knew. In my heart of hearts, I knew. When I met Miss Poole… I had read about her ability to see what others cannot. To see the truth. But the moment I went to her, though she was very kind, I knew it was wrong to seek her out.”
She sniffed and smiled. “You are many things, Father, but never that. Can you forgive me for doubting you?”
Beecham nodded and wrapped her in his arms. “It is all right, Aurora.”
After a moment, Electra felt she needed to interrupt. “Miss Beecham,” she said softly, “you may wish to tell Inspector Pierce what you told me about your friend. The daughter of Mr. Eames.”
“Oh! Yes. Forgive me again, Father. But you did teach me that one should always have precise information. I checked with Junia about whether you’d dined at their home.”
Electra nodded at the girl encouragingly.
“And she confirmed that you were at their home dining with her father that night.” Miss Beecham cast an imploring look at Gideon. “He could not have done this, Inspector.”
Gideon dipped his head. “I still need to speak to Mr. Eames, but I appreciate you providing that detail, Miss Beecham.”
Electra gave Gideon a questioning look and his expression told her that he believed the interview was at an end.
“We appreciate your time. Mr. Beecham,” Electra said. “And Miss Beecham, it was a pleasure to meet you today.”
“And you, Miss Poole.”
They left the house, guided by the same footman who’d admitted them. The rain had started again, and Gideon shed his overcoat and held it above Electra's head to keep her dry.
“I should have brought an umbrella,” she said.