Chapter 11 #2
‘Chief Inspector Hartley – Benedict.’ Alexandra said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. ‘You are certainly a sight for sore eyes. We have much to tell you….’
‘As I suspect you do us…’ Rhys interjected drily. ‘Would you like a glass of Sherry?’
Giving a rueful laugh, Ben nodded and sat down.
‘The events of the last twenty-four hours have been nothing if not interesting. I think…’ Unfortunately, before he could say exactly what he thought, he was interrupted by a deep woof coming from the hallway.
Frowning in surprise, Benedict looked over towards the door, just in time to see a twenty-five-pound bundle of fur coming at him with the speed of a runaway carriage, followed closely by a boy who couldn’t be any older than ten.
Startled, he climbed back to his feet, just as the rest of the room erupted with, ‘Aggie, No…’
It was too late. What followed was an almost exact repetition of the dog’s first greeting to Rhys, except that this time her victim was knocked backwards into the small occasional chair on which he’d been sitting, which in turn upended, leaving Benedict flat on his back, his legs in the air with the dog sitting on him, enthusiastically slobbering over his cravat.
Suddenly finding himself in danger of asphyxiation for the first time in his life, Ben did what any sane person in the same situation would do. He screamed. Abruptly, the weight lifted.
‘I’m so sorry, Chief Inspector…’
‘She was supposed to stay in the kitchen…’
‘We thought she was having her dinner…’
‘Billy was supposed to be looking after her…’
‘You scream like a girl…’
Bending down, Rhys held out his hand for Ben to grasp. ‘Welcome to the family,’ he commented, clearly trying hard not to laugh.
Five minutes later, dishevelled, covered in dog hair and slobber, dignity in tatters, Benedict sank down into his chair, now mercifully the right way up.
The dog, who he gathered was called Agatha, sat regarding him dolefully from the other side of the room where she was being firmly held by the boy he’d seen chasing her.
‘I reckon she likes yer mister,’ the lad said earnestly with an encouraging nod. ‘If she ain’t partial, she tends to go fer the nose…’
Ben raised his eyebrows. ‘And you are…?’ he asked, not unkindly.
‘Billy,’ the boy announced proudly, along with a very creditable bow and a grin that spoke volumes.
‘Billy is a very resourceful, though occasionally challenging, member of our household who has proved his worth on many past occasions,’ Charlotte added, her tone leaving no room for argument.
‘While we are not generally in the habit of taking all who work for us into our confidence, Billy is somewhat different.’
‘Mostly because if we don’t, he just listens behind the door, so he finds out anyway.’ Daisy’s voice was pragmatic, as though the boy’s habit of eavesdropping was the most natural thing in the world.
‘It was Billy who spotted Muriel Pemberton in Paignton and who managed to… err… retrieve the address of Pembroke Domestic Agency from her pocket,’ Charlotte countered in the boy’s defence.
‘He stole it,’ Flo added helpfully.
‘I think we have more than adequately established Billy’s credentials,’ Henry stated brusquely, speaking for the first time. ‘The reason he’s here today is because he’s discovered something else pertinent to the case.’
‘Naturally, I’ll be very interested to hear what he has to say,’ Ben responded cautiously, before adding, ‘How are you feeling today, Mr Shackleford? In my opinion, your nose doesn’t look quite as swollen as it did yesterday.’
‘Henry,’ his predecessor corrected. ‘And I confess to feeling a little more human, though my nose is still exceedingly painful.’
‘It’s the prominence,’ declared Charlotte, whose sympathy evidently didn’t extend beyond one day.
‘Shall we tuck into Mrs Brown’s cold collation before we get started,’ Alexandra interrupted hurriedly after catching the glare her father directed towards his sibling. ‘I don’t believe discussing the case on an empty stomach will be at all beneficial.’
Fortunately, the mention of food put paid to the burgeoning argument, and for the next half an hour, both Alex and Rhys worked hard to ensure that the conversation remained light and inconsequential.
At length, when their plates had been cleared away and a pot of coffee left on a tray, Rhys suggested they begin the evening’s discussion. ‘I think perhaps, if you have no objection, Benedict, it would be useful for you to update us regarding Margaret Finch.’
Ben nodded, took a deep breath, and recounted everything that happened at Lower Warberry Road once they’d left. His discomfort at the thought of misleading the authorities was obvious in the tone of his voice, but there was no uncertainty, only grim determination.
‘This morning, I met Arabella at Mrs Thomas’s residence,’ he finished, ‘where it became quickly clear that there had been developments I was unaware of.’ He took a sip of his coffee, clearly waiting to be enlightened.
‘After my unfortunate accident,’ Henry began after a quick scowl at Charlotte, who pretended not to notice, ‘I decided to retire early, believing my injuries would heal much quicker with a good night’s sleep.’ Another scowl for good measure.
‘So, we continued without him,’ Charlotte confirmed bluntly.
‘We looked at the lists of names Henry and Charlotte discovered and divided them into date order, focusing primarily on the newer documents, Rhys interjected smoothly. ‘To cut a long story short, we discovered four names. They were all girls who’d apparently been taken into the households where the thefts occurred. All were employed as scullery maids.’
‘Do you think these girls have something to do with the thefts?’ Ben asked.
‘Well, that’s the thing. Their names were Eliza, Maisie, Jane… and Fanny…’ Ben’s raised eyebrows indicated he’d read the letter Henry had given him and understood the significance of the last name.
‘There was no mention of any servants possessing those names in any of the statements given by the four robbery victims,’ Rhys went on. ‘Which, naturally, we thought strange.’
‘Eliza was allegedly employed by Dorothy Thomas, but when I mentioned her name to Mrs Thomas this morning, she denied all knowledge of her.’ Arabella turned to Ben. ‘But as you no doubt noticed, Chief Inspector… Benedict… the expression on the lady’s face told a different story.’
‘She was almost certainly lying,’ Ben agreed.
‘When I left,’ Bella went on, ‘I continued on to Lavinia Pettigrew’s residence in Belgrave Road, where the list indicated Fanny was employed…’
‘She wasn’t mentioned at all when we visited the other day,’ Beatrix affirmed.
‘On this occasion, I was fortunate enough to come upon the maid, Sally, alone in the garden,’ Arabella continued.
‘When I questioned her about Fanny, she instantly closed up, and I could tell she was afraid. At first, she denied knowing the girl, but at the last minute, she said that Fanny wasn’t there anymore – a fact she’d apparently told Margaret Finch weeks earlier. ’
‘Which brings us to the other name in the letter,’ Charlotte interjected before Ben could ask any questions.
‘John Thorpe – the man Margaret Finch was writing to. He’s listed as being a guest in three of the four soirees.
’ She paused and turned her attention to Billy, who had been sitting quietly, his arm around Aggie.
‘I think you might be better to pick up the story from here, young man,’ she said, without her usual acerbic tone.
Billy hurriedly climbed to his feet, discomfort warring with delight at being the centre of attention. He gave a small cough and bowed.
‘So, I wos thinkin’ about the bloke I saw with the dodgy crystal gazer outside the Gerston,’ he started. ‘I knew I’d seen ‘im somewhere, but I’ll be blowed if I could ‘member where…?’ A natural storyteller, Billy’s voice lowered dramatically with the word where, as he got into his tale.
‘Then I ‘membered me ma worked at Cumpers Hotel fer a spell a few years ago… It’s an ‘otel in Torquay,’ He clarified to Ben. ‘I used to walk to meet ‘er when I were at a loose end, an’ one day…’ he paused for more dramatic emphasis... ‘she came out wi’ this bloke. I could tell she were upset, but she din’t tell me why.
Jus’ ‘urried us both away really quick like.
Later, she said, ‘e were the manager o’ the ‘otel, but she never gev me ‘is name, an’ she quit not long after.’
‘So, there I wos, this mornin’, collectin’ apples fer Mrs Williams, when I suddenly ‘membered where I’d seen the cove before. It were ‘im – the manager o’ Cumpers.’ Another theatrical pause, this time accompanied by several eye rolls, which Billy roundly ignored.
‘Anyways, I went to ask me ma wot ‘is name wos, an’ she tore a right strip off me -near pulled me ear off. Reckoned this bloke were evil an’ I wos to stay right away from ‘im. I tol’ ‘er it were Mr ‘Enry wot wanted the name an’… well, let’s put it this way, she said to tell Mr ‘Enry she’d be first in line to open the trapdoor an’ watch ‘im dance.’
Another pause, and this time all that was missing was the drumroll. Billy’s voice dropped to a melodramatic whisper as he delivered his pièce de résistance…
‘She said, ‘is name were John Thorpe.’
His words were followed by a spontaneous round of applause. With an irrepressible grin, Billy took a bow, and then another, and then… ‘Thank you, Billy, that will be all,’ Henry finally muttered after the third one…
‘So, there we have it,’ Alexandra declared once Billy had returned to Aggie who in fairness hadn’t moved during the entire performance. ‘I think we’ve covered every development since last evening.’
There was a short silence, then Ben gave a slow clap of his own. ‘To say I’m impressed would be an understatement,’ he said at length, his admiration clear.