Chapter 14
Ifound Mr. Armitage putting on a second coat of paint on the walls in his office. The cold air coming through the open window diluted the fumes, but it made the room feel like ice. I kept my coat on as I greeted him.
He descended the ladder and set down the paint tin and brush. “It seems you can’t stay away, Miss Fox.”
“Perhaps you should put another desk in here for me.”
“And add your name to the door?”
“What an excellent idea.”
He grunted and wiped his hands on the paint-splattered cloth slung over his shoulder. “What can I do for you?”
“I want to request your company to speak to a suspect.”
He frowned. “A violent suspect?”
“He might turn violent when I accuse him of murder.”
“If you’re worried, perhaps you shouldn’t go. Tell my father what you know and let the police handle it.”
“You said I needed more evidence or there was no point going to the police.”
He began removing his overalls, which I took as a sign he’d already made up his mind to join me. “And I assume you found that evidence.”
“It’s still just speculation.” I told him about seeing Mr. Culpepper’s name on Millie’s birth certificate and how he’d lied to me about knowing of her existence. “I don’t have any proof that he lied, but I do have a strong suspicion. And if he lied about that, what else has he lied about?”
“It’s quite a leap to go from lying to murder.”
“That’s why I want to confront him. I need answers, and, quite frankly, I can think of no one else who will provide them at this juncture.
I’ve ruled out Lady Wrexham and am also quite sure Lord Wrexham didn’t do it.
She has an alibi and he was most likely elsewhere at the time of the murder too.
Culpepper is my only suspect. So will you come with me? ”
“I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I ignored the request of a lady.”
I tried to think of a retort but got distracted by his forearms again. They really were quite muscular. And the way his shirt fitted across his shoulders was also something of a revelation. I knew they were broad but without a waistcoat or jacket, I was able to see just how broad.
He suddenly looked up and I had to pretend to be studying something on the desk. Unfortunately, there was nothing on the desk within easy reach except a pencil. I picked it up, gave it the once over, and put it down again.
He plucked his waistcoat and tie off the stand then grabbed his jacket. Before putting it on, he removed a leather holster and gun from the bottom desk drawer.
I gasped.
“Why the surprise?” he asked as he strapped the holster on. “You’ve asked me along because you suspect Culpepper could pose a threat.” He picked up the gun and loaded bullets into the barrel. “This is just in case you’re right.”
“I assumed you’d use your fists against him.”
“I’m not super-human, Miss Fox. If he pulls a gun on us, my fists won’t be of use.”
He was right, but that didn’t ease my mind. “Do you have another for me?”
“Thankfully no.”
“’Thankfully?’ I’d be very responsible, and only use it if absolutely necessary.”
“Have you ever fired a gun before?” At the shake of my head, he thrust the gun into the holster. “Then let’s leave the shooting to me.”
“Does your father know you have that?”
He led the way outside and locked the door. “Who do you think gave it to me when I started this business?”
“Does your mother know?”
“Do you think I’m mad?” He followed me down the stairs, but instead of opening the front door, he reached past me and put his hand to the doorknob to stop me from grabbing it. “Don’t tell her.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
A short walk later, we found Mr. Culpepper at his desk at the Playhouse.
He looked up from the ledger he was studying then, seeing me, quickly closed it.
I introduced Mr. Armitage and Mr. Culpepper invited us both to sit.
I did, but Mr. Armitage remained standing by my side.
I was very aware of the gun in his holster.
He’d left his jacket unbuttoned so he could access it quickly, but I was rather relieved to see Mr. Culpepper’s hands remain where I could see them, on the desk.
“How may I help you, Miss Fox?” he asked.
“You lied to me.” It was a gamble to accuse him when I wasn’t absolutely certain, but the gamble paid off when he did not look surprised.
“What about?” he asked rather calmly.
“You knew Millie was your daughter all along.”
He sat back, lowering his hands to his lap, out of sight. I hoped Mr. Armitage could see them from his higher vantage point.
“Why did you lie to me?”
“Because I panicked and fell back on instinct,” he said. “I’ve been lying about being a father for years, and it comes naturally now. I knew how it would look if you knew that I knew about Millie, and that you’d accuse me of killing Pearl for keeping my daughter from me.”
“So Pearl came to you around Christmas and asked for money to support Millie. Why then? Did she plan on taking Millie back and raising her as her own?”
He shook his head and sat forward again. “She never asked me, nor did she tell me about her plans for the girl. As far as I am aware, she was content to leave her with the Larsens.”
“Did you never offer to marry Pearl and raise Millie together?”
He scoffed. “Of course I offered, when I found out she was with child. But Pearl wasn’t interested in either marriage or motherhood.
That’s why I don’t believe she wanted the girl back to raise her.
Pearl and I would have made terrible parents.
We’re both too selfish and, to be quite honest, disinterested in children. ”
I wasn’t sure whether that made me feel better about him or worse.
On the one hand, it was good that a person could identify selfishness within themselves and give their child to a couple better suited to the task of parenting, but on the other hand, how did he know he’d be a terrible parent until he tried?
He might have fallen in love with his daughter if he’d spent some time with her.
“If Pearl wasn’t planning to raise Millie as her own, why did she need money?” I asked.
“I don’t know. As I said, she didn’t come to me. I wasn’t lying about that.”
“She knew you were in financial trouble, didn’t she?”
Mr. Culpepper glanced at Mr. Armitage. He gave a small nod.
“So she went to Lord Wrexham and thought if she told him Millie was his, he’d be inclined to give her money.” I was talking through my thoughts, now, hoping inspiration would strike. I didn’t expect answers. “But he didn’t care and refused. The question is, why did she need money now?”
“Her sister blamed Pearl for forgetting about the child.”
I blinked back at him. “How could she forget about her own child?”
He heaved a sigh and rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want you thinking badly of Pearl. It’s not that she deliberately didn’t think about Millie, but…” He shrugged. “She just wasn’t part of her world. Out of sight, out of mind, as the saying goes.”
“How do you know Mrs. Larsen blamed Pearl for forgetting about Millie? Did Pearl tell you that?”
He shook his head. “I overheard them arguing. I couldn’t hear much, but I did hear that before they moved out of earshot. I know Pearl sent a little money to her sister each month for Millie’s upkeep, so she probably just forgot that month.”
“But they saw each other on Christmas Day. She would have confronted Pearl then about non-payment.” I rubbed my forehead, annoyed by my mistake in assuming this man had killed the woman he loved.
“When did they argue?” Mr. Armitage asked.
Mr. Culpepper twisted his mouth to the side as he thought. “I can’t quite recall. Mrs. Larsen came to the theater one day—”
“What?” I lowered my hand and stared at him. “Are you sure she came here?”
“Yes. She’d never been before and seemed in awe of the place. She asked Pearl to give her a tour.”
When I first met Mrs. Larsen, she told me she’d never been to the Playhouse. She’d lied. And the only reason for her to lie was because her presence at the theater implicated her in the murder.
“What day did Mrs. Larsen visit?” I asked.
“I told you, I can’t recall.”
“Was it the day of Pearl’s death?”
He shrugged. “It might have been.” He clicked his fingers. “Perry might know. He has a good memory for these things. He’s excellent at remembering everyone’s lines, not just his own.”
He led the way out of his office and down the corridor where we found Perry Alcott helping Dotty Clare’s understudy with her lines.
When Mr. Armitage realized we’d walked into the actresses’ dressing room, he stepped back out again, although the understudy was the only woman present and she was fully clothed.
Mr. Alcott confirmed that he’d seen Mrs. Larsen in the theater, being shown around by Pearl. “It was the day before Pearl died.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “Not the day of?”
“Definitely the day before.”
“Do you know what they argued about?”
He shook his head. “I was on stage and could see them in the dress circle, but I couldn’t hear them. It seemed heated, but Mrs. Larsen appeared to be doing all of the talking. Poor Pearl just stood there and allowed her sister to bully her.”
We thanked them and left the theater. Mr. Armitage hailed a hansom and I gave the driver directions to the Larsens’ residence.
The more I thought about it, the more I knew Mrs. Larsen had lied to throw me off course.
She’d told me she’d never been to the Playhouse.
She’d never admitted that Millie was Pearl’s daughter.
And she’d tried to blame Pearl’s murder on a jealous lover.
We alighted at the entrance to the courtyard, but Mr. Armitage caught my arm and held me back.
He nodded at the abandoned cart where Mr. Larsen stood beside Millie, his back to us.
Millie sat on the cart, her little legs swinging in the air.
He seemed to be talking to her while she simply stared straight ahead.
It was impossible to tell if she was listening or not.