Chapter 12 #2
Seconds later, Ben climbed into the carriage.
‘It will only take us about five minutes to reach Alice Graves' house,’ he said, seating himself next to Billy. ‘I hope you weren’t too bored, lad…’ He lifted his hand, intending to ruffle Billy’s hair, but one look at the boy’s face and he dropped his arm.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked shortly.
Billy needed no further urging. Feeling a lot calmer with Benedict Hartley’s reassuring presence, he proceeded to tell them the events of the last twenty minutes.
‘You’re sure it was John Thorpe?’ Billy nodded.
‘He ain’t got the kind o’ face you forget easy.’
‘Do you think he knows our family is involved?’ Arabella’s matter-of-fact tone belied the slight trembling in her voice.
‘I doubt he knows you’re assisting in the murder enquiry,’ Ben retorted.
‘He could be aware that Lavinia Pemberton employed you to investigate the theft of her necklace, but he has no reason to think you’re aware the crimes are connected.
’ He paused, thinking, then added, ‘That said, it may be prudent for you and your family to suspend your investigation for now. You could well be in danger.’
‘There is no way my father and aunt will agree to that,’ Bella scoffed. ‘Not after finally being given the opportunity to discover who the elusive Jacob is. It’s the closest any of us have come to identifying him.’
Ben sighed. In truth, he hadn’t really expected a different answer.
Seconds later she added, ‘And what is your alternative? I’ve no doubt you’ll seek to take advantage of the information Billy’s learned, but you cannot go in alone, and I don’t think taking a posse of police to storm an old derelict house on the word of a nine-year-old is the answer… ’
‘I ain’t lying,’ Billy interrupted hotly.
‘We know that, Billy, but your word is not enough to bring these people to justice.’
The boy turned to Benedict. ‘Castel is ‘aunted,’ he insisted, ‘Everyone knows that. You can’t go in on yer own.’
‘I think that’s most likely hearsay,’ Arabella told him. ‘Very often spooky tales are spread about empty houses because they are used for nefarious purposes – to keep people away.’
Billy frowned, thinking through her words. He had no idea what nefarious meant, but he did know it was his dad who’d told him Castel was haunted and everyone knew you couldn’t trust William Wiggins to tell you the truth about what he’d had for breakfast.
Benedict, meanwhile, was silent, sorting through their words.
Billy was right of course. The men in charge knew exactly who’d killed Margaret Finch, and why - and now they needed to shut that person up too…
Was it Muriel Pemberton who’d done the deed?
John Thorpe hadn’t mentioned her name, but he’d said the word bitch, so it was definitely a woman.
‘What did you find out from Mrs Blackthorne?’ Billy asked, curiosity replacing his earlier fear.
‘Nothing that we didn’t already know,’ Bella sighed. ‘Like the other two widows, she did not admit knowledge of Maisie. But I cannot imagine that John Thorpe was in her house without her being aware of it – especially as he sneaked out of the back door immediately after our arrival.’
‘We’ll continue with our plan for the day,’ Benedict decided.
‘As you so succinctly put it, we’ll need much more evidence than we’re currently in possession of if we’re to stand even the slightest chance of saving any of the victims.’ He took a deep breath and looked over at Arabella, his face sombre. ‘That has to be our highest priority.’
Cumpers Hotel was part of an elegant terrace on the Strand, close to the ongoing development of the newly christened Princess Pier and Gardens.
It had a cosy but comfortable tearoom open to the public, which enjoyed a splendid view of the harbour and the ships anchored in the bay.
Charlotte, who’d never been inside, surveyed it with the practised air of a woman who had been inside more than a few hotels and found the vast majority of them somewhat wanting.
‘Adequate, I suppose,’ she announced to nobody in particular.
She proceeded through the hotel lobby with the unhurried steps of one entirely sure of her place in the world.
Alex and Bernie knew her act to be a complete sham, but nevertheless couldn’t help being impressed with their aunt’s ability to convince the rest of the world that she was someone important.
As she followed, Alexandra reflected that in another life, Charlotte Shackleford might have made an exceptional Chief Inspector, or failing that, a general, or an admiral…
The sadness of it was that in reality she’d never be anyone other than Henry Shackleford’s formidable, best avoided, sister.
The tearoom was perhaps a third full. Charlotte chose a table near to the window and ordered tea in the tone of a woman who expects it to be nothing less than excellent.
Alexandra and Bernice sat where directed, said nothing, and attempted to look pleasant, which, in truth, was much easier for Alexandra than Bernice.
The tea arrived ten minutes later, accompanied by a menu detailing the quite delicious cakes on offer, which Bernie in particular perused with enthusiasm.
Alexandra, however, was far too anxious to eat anything, and as she conversed quietly with her aunt, her eyes constantly roamed around the room, looking for a pale-faced man with dead eyes.
She finally spotted him ten minutes later, coming through a door at the back of the room.
He was as Billy had described him . What the boy hadn’t mentioned was John Thorpe’s ability to blend into his surroundings.
As he moved between tables, hardly anyone took note of him - until he made eye contact.
He looked at Alex first, then his eyes travelled to Charlotte, who stared back for approximately two seconds, her expression unchanging. He was the first to look away before continuing his weaving path through to the lobby.
‘Well,’ Charlotte mused thoughtfully, ‘so that is John Thorpe.’
‘How can you be sure?’ Bernie muttered, raising her eyes after the event.
‘His eyes,’ the matron answered with a slight shudder. ‘He looked exactly as Billy described. I can’t imagine he’s particularly good for business. His face is enough to put anyone off their cake.’
‘It hasn’t put me off,’ Bernie countered, just as a waitress came up to take their order. ‘I believe I’ll have the Victoria sponge,’ she continued, picking up her napkin in readiness.
‘Nothing for me.’ Alexandra smiled up at the girl who offered a timid smile back. She could have been no more than thirteen. ‘Have you worked here long?’
The girl's frightened reaction to the question was unmistakable. She backed off slightly, looked around quickly, then scurried off without taking Charlotte’s order.
‘She looked terrified.’ Bernice was the one to say what they were all thinking.
‘If John Thorpe is as bad as Billy’s mother said, it’s hardly surprising,’ Alex agreed, watching the girl as she disappeared into the kitchen. ‘It’s looking more and more likely that the mudsill is a part of this. A predator hiding in plain sight.’
‘Perhaps tomorrow either you or Arabella can visit Mrs Wiggins to find out what she knows.’
‘Why wait until tomorrow?’ Alex retorted. ‘Once we’ve finished here, Albert can drop me off in town. I know where Mrs Wiggins lives.’
Charlotte nodded slowly as a different, older waitress came back with a large slice of Victoria sponge. ‘
‘Is your young colleague unwell?’ Alex questioned the woman as she placed the cake on the table. ‘Only she ran off without taking my aunt’s order, looking very pale.’
The waitress shook her head with a grimace. ‘She’s new, is all. Come straight from the workhouse, poor love, and she’s a bit out of ‘er depth.’ She looked at Charlotte, adding, ‘Can I bring you anythin’ madam?’
After a second, Charlotte shook her head. ‘Alas, we are short of time and will be leaving as soon as my niece has finished.’
‘Why are we in such a hurry?’ Bernie asked, taking a sip of her tea.
‘Now we have identified John Thorpe, I do not see any advantage to lingering. The last thing I wish to do is draw his attention to us, so it’s best if we take our leave while he’s not in the room.
Now, do eat up, Bernice. Anyone would think you’d never had a piece of cake before, the way you’re gazing at it.
’ Reaching inside her reticule, Charlotte pulled out her purse, counted the coins onto the table.
Then she stood up and pulled on her gloves, before sweeping from the room in the same manner she’d entered it, her nieces hurrying behind.
The only difference on this occasion was that, unseen behind her back, Bernie was stuffing the rest of her cake into her mouth with unladylike abandon.
They finally caught up with her outside the front of the hotel. ‘I told Albert to take the carriage over to the Royal Hotel Yard,’ the matron stated, pulling on her gloves. ‘Do be a dear, Bernice, and pop over to tell him we are ready.’
Bernie sighed, but knew better than to argue. Instead, she stomped off in the direction of the yard, muttering, ‘Why me?’ as she went, while taking care to ensure her complaints were well out of earshot.
‘Do you think the young waitress is in trouble?’ Alexandra asked her aunt as they stood waiting.
Charlotte sighed. ‘If she’s only recently come from the workhouse, she could well be terrified of her own shadow, but since we already have concerns about the man responsible for her employment, there could be more to it.
I would feel happier if we’d had the opportunity to speak with the chit further. ’
‘We could have a quick look around the back of the hotel while we wait,’ Alexandra suggested. ‘She went into the kitchens, so there’s a possibility she could be in the yard.’
Charlotte looked at her thoughtfully for a second, then rummaged in the pocket of her coat, eventually pulling out a crumpled calling card.
‘Wait here in case Albert arrives before I get back,’ she muttered before determinedly marching towards the rear of the hotel, leaving Alexandra standing alone.
Five minutes later, she spotted Albert driving the carriage towards her and looked anxiously back in the direction her aunt had taken.
To her relief, however, just as Ned and Max pulled up, Charlotte suddenly appeared around the corner, holding up her skirts and walking as fast as she could without running.
As she approached the carriage, she waved Alex to get in, her sharp movements clearly indicating a need for speed.
Hurriedly, Alex climbed in, and seconds later, Charlotte was telling Albert to leave immediately, even as she was stepping onto the climbing stone in front of the hotel.
By the time she slammed the door, the carriage had already started to roll forward slightly, and taking a ragged breath, the matron flattened herself against the seat. ‘Can you see John Thorpe?’ she asked.
Frowning, Alex and Bernie looked out of the window and shook their heads. ‘What happened, Aunt?’ Bernice asked, leaning forward.
‘I’m very much hoping I just put a bit of a rub in the way of that turd in a teapot’s plans,’ was the triumphant reply.
‘I managed to slip a card to the young waitress and told her to come to Cliff House.’ With a faint but no less satisfied smile, Charlotte relaxed back into her seat and closed her eyes - only to open one of them a few seconds later to mutter, ‘And don’t call me Aunt. ’