Death and the Black Pyramid (11 page)

That late afternoon brought a surprise visitor to Elizabeth's house, none other than the Constable of Exeter himself. An hour before the time to dine John was sitting in the red salon, perusing the newspaper, when the head footman entered.

‘There is a personage here to see you, Sir. He says that he is Constable Tobias Miller. He also says that he is from Exeter.'

John looked up. ‘Send him in, Perkins. I can assure you that he is perfectly genuine.'

Toby came into the room walking solemnly behind the footman, his bright eyes darting round the room and all its magnificent furnishings.

‘Good evening Mr Rawlings,' he said, and gave a bow of the head.

John stood up. ‘My dear Mr Miller, this is an unexpected surprise.'

‘Forgive me calling without an appointment, Sir, but I just wanted to inform you that I have now seen most of the people who travelled on the coach that night.'

John motioned the man to sit down and poured a dry sherry which he handed to him. Tobias sipped it like a connoisseur.

‘And how were they?'

‘All very charming, Sir. I must say I took to Mr Simms.'

‘When did you see him?'

‘I called at Lady Sidmouth's this afternoon. Mr Simms had had a day off and had just come in from a ride.'

‘Really?' said John thoughtfully.

‘Yes. We talked awhile. A very polite gentleman, he was.' Tobias leant forward confidentially. ‘Now, about that business we were discussing the other day, Sir.'

‘Yes?'

‘Believe me, if I had the time and the resources I would investigate that. But here I am, a professional Constable, and as busy as a bee as a result.'

‘You really think the answer might lie there?'

‘God's boddikins, Sir. We have nothing else to go on at all. I think Mr Gorringe's past is the only hope we have.'

‘That's something Sir John Fielding always says.'

‘Well, I never,' said the Constable, and made a pleased mouth.

‘So you want me to look into it?' John asked.

‘If you do, Sir, it would be greatly appreciated.'

‘Then I will. But not just yet.'

‘I don't know how to express my thanks.'

‘Think nothing of it,' John said, taking Tobias's glass and refilling it. ‘Changing the subject, did you by any chance manage to locate the German woman, Fraulein Schmitt?'

The Constable sighed and shook his head. ‘Now that is the one person I cannot find at all.'

‘Then tomorrow I'll go and search for her,' the Apothecary answered, and even as he said it felt that he had set himself some monumental tasks of which Elizabeth might not altogether approve.

That night the Apothecary slept by himself and dreamed that he was alone in Wildtor Grange, climbing that enormous staircase, terrified out of his mind. A figure stood motionless at the top and John approached it with a feeling of dread, a pounding of his heart and a feeling of sickness in his throat. The figure had its back to him and the Apothecary longed to turn and run but, in the way of dreams, his legs were powerless and refused to move.

‘Who are you?' he called – and his voice came out as a mere whisper.

The figure stood there, silent and unmoving, and then it turned. John gazed in horror at the face of William Gorringe, hideously maimed by his appalling injuries. Behind him a voice said, ‘Can't catch me,' and the Apothecary woke drenched with sweat and wondering what meaning the dream could possibly have.

Ten

Proceeding into town early the next morning, John left Elizabeth's carriage at the habit makers – where she was being fitted for several new gowns to see her through to the end of her pregnancy – before she went to dine with Lady Sedgewick and her family. Then he went on foot to the market place. For there he knew he would find a man selling caged birds who might just remember selling one to a German woman several days before.

The market thronged with life. Glove makers jostled fishermen, who had brought their latest catch in to be sold, including live lobsters and crabs. Stalls selling haberdashery stood beside those selling farming implements. A gypsy fortune-teller had erected a small tent and was giving bashful young maidens advice on their love lives. And next to her, with canaries and linnets chirruping in cages which John considered too small, was a dark, swarthy pedlar plying his trade. John went up to him and pretended to examine the birds.

‘May I interest you in a songbird, Sir? A pretty canary for your pretty lady?'

John looked pensive. ‘Alas my lady is a keeper of cats. I do not fancy the bird's chances greatly. But perhaps you could furnish me with some information.'

The man's eyes grew wary. ‘Oh, and what might that be, Sir?'

John produced a coin and held it beneath the pedlar's nose. ‘I wondered if you could give me some tidings of a customer I believe you had recently.'

‘I have many customers, Sir. How would I know this particular one?'

‘I don't think you would forget her. She was a German woman, large and loud-voiced. She would have come to your stall several days ago.'

‘Oh yes, I do recall someone. She argued with me over the price.'

John handed over the coin. ‘Yes, that would be her. Do you know where she comes from by any chance?'

The man scratched his stubbly chin. ‘Said she was buying the bird as a gift for her sister.'

John winced at the thought of there being two such women.

‘Have you any idea where her sister lives?'

‘Sorry to be unhelpful, Sir, but I don't. It's not the sort of thing I discuss with my customers. Why do you ask? Has she done something wrong?'

‘I'm not sure,' John answered enigmatically, and gave the man another coin.

He walked away, thinking what a bore everything was. And then he had another idea. Fraulein Schmitt had taken a hackney coach from the stand opposite the apothecary's shop. With quickening footsteps John made his way there.

As luck would have it the coach she had taken was just pulling in to the place reserved, John recognizing it by its faded woodwork. He immediately went up to it and the driver looked pleased.

‘Where to, Sir?'

John put on his authoritative face. ‘Tell me, my good man, do you remember a fare you took the other day? It was a large German woman who had mislaid her canary bird and got into your hackney to take her back to the market.'

‘Yes, I remember her, indeed I do.'

Yet again John produced a coin. ‘Did she ask you to drive her home once she had rescued the bird?'

‘Yes. And I took her. She's staying with her sister in Porch House in Sidford, not far from the bridge.'

‘Take me there,' said John, ‘and you'll get double this.' And he threw the coin to the driver as he leapt into the coach and rumbled out of Exeter's cobbled streets.

On his honeymoon and during his earlier adventures in Sidmouth, John had never visited Sidford. Now as he drove along its narrow – and only – street he found himself staring at it with a certain admiration for its rural aspect. Heavily lined with trees, the dust-covered way wound downwards, culminating in a rustic packhorse bridge which spanned the River Sid. A sheep and a cow, quite unattended, were making a slow way across it, the only living creatures in sight.

John called up to the driver. ‘Porch House, you said?'

‘Aye, Sir. That's it there.'

The Apothecary followed the line of his pointing whip and saw a Tudor building, standing in its own well laid-out gardens. At that moment he wondered what on earth he was going to say to the German woman and to her sister, who, he imagined, would be equally formidable.

A maid, dressed in mob-cap and apron, answered the front door. ‘Yes, Sir?' she asked anxiously.

John gave her a kindly smile. ‘Would it be possible to speak to Miss Schmitt?' he said.

‘The ladies are in the garden, Sir. I don't like to disturb them.'

‘You may tell them that an old friend wishes to have a brief word with them. I have come all the way from Exeter especially.'

He gave her the most winsome smile of which he was capable. She looked confused.

‘I'll go and see, Sir. Would you like to step inside.'

John did so and was overwhelmed by the general comfort of the place. From where he stood a central flagstoned floor led straight through the house to the back door, down which the maid was running in a frantic sort of way. Off this led low-ceilinged pannelled rooms with a fire blazing in an inglenook despite the warmth of the day, and a cat dozing sleepily in front of it. A profusion of autumnal flowers stood in brightly polished copper jugs and from the kitchen area came a smell of good, plain, country fare. John almost wished they would invite him to dinner until he remembered the Marchesa and his promise to join her later.

The garden door, which the maid had closed behind her, opened again and there, entirely at odds with the genial atmosphere of the house, stood Fraulein Schmitt. She glared at John ferociously.

‘Vot is the meaning of zis intrusion? Vye have you come here?'

John bowed. ‘I have come to inform you, Madam, that Mr William Gorringe has been murdered most foully,' he boomed in theatrical tones. ‘Furthermore, the Constable of Exeter is seeking your whereabouts and wishes to ask you questions.'

She flew into a rage though John could not help but notice that her face had completely drained of colour.

‘How dare you come here and threaten me,' she shouted, waving her arms in the air.

‘Madam, I . . .' he began, and then the garden door opened again and a little fat woman, no more that four foot eleven and round as a hoop, entered.

‘Augusta,' she shouted, ‘why are you making so much noise? Be silent I pray you and allow the young man to speak.'

Fraulein Schmitt turned to her. ‘But he is trying to threaten me.'

‘Nonsense, dear. He looks far too pleasant to do any such thing.'

John gave the newcomer a beatific smile and inched a step forward. ‘Madam, I come only to give your sister a warning that the Constable of Exeter is looking for her.'

‘I see. Now would you like to take a seat and tell me the whole story.'

‘Vait a moment . . .' protested Augusta, but her sister made a silencing motion and indicated that the Apothecary should sit down in a chair opposite hers. He gratefully accepted.

‘Let me just explain that I am English by marriage,' the little woman said. ‘Years ago, long before the Seven Years War, my husband, John Mitchell, came to Dusseldorf on business. We married within a few months and I returned to Devon with him. Our parents being dead my sister Augusta left home some while later and went to work in Sussex as a teacher of French and German. But she always visited me from time to time and that is what she is doing at this very moment. So I suppose it is about the unfortunate murder of the man she travelled with that the Constable wants to question her. Yes?'

She put her head on one side and looked at John with bright eyes, reminding him vividly of a robin, even to her shape.

‘Yes, Mrs Mitchell, you are quite right. You see indications are that the murdered man knew his killer and that it was more than likely somebody who was travelling on the same coach.'

‘I must protest,' Augusta said loudly, ‘vye should the Constable think it is me?'

‘I don't know that he does,' John answered mildly. ‘He just wishes to talk to you, that is all.'

Fraulein Schmitt burst into a noisy and showy fit of weeping. ‘I am being persecuted,' she sobbed. ‘It is not fair. It is cruel. Ach, Matilda, vot have I done to deserve such treatment?'

Her sister had obviously learned long ago how to control such outbursts.

‘Now hush Augusta, do. Mr . . .?' She gave John a docile smile.

‘Rawlings, Madam. John Rawlings.'

‘. . . Rawlings might think you are guilty of something if you continue.'

Augusta turned a horrible colour, a cross between putty and curds, but stopped moaning. ‘Of vot could I be accused?' she asked.

John merely smiled, thinking that the draining of colour was probably caused by panic. Yet for all that his instinctive dislike of Augusta Schmitt made him rule nothing out. He turned to the woman.

‘If I were you, Madam, I would come to Exeter tomorrow and go to see the Constable voluntarily. I am sure he would appreciate it.'

‘That is a very good idea,' said Matilda Mitchell firmly. ‘I could drive you there in the trap.'

John stood up, addressing himself to his hostess. ‘Madam, if you will forgive me. My hackney is waiting outside and I fear the fare will be enormous. I must make haste.'

‘Of course. It was nice of you to call, Mr Rawlings.'

The Apothecary bowed. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Ma'am.' He made another, more formal, bow in the direction of the Fraulein. ‘Good day, Miss Schmitt.'

She growled something inaudible in return and John made his way out thinking how different the two sisters were not only in looks but also in personality.

Elizabeth, as usual, had not realized how long he had been and was happily dining with Lady Sedgewick and her family. Milady had a large modern house built close to the cathedral but standing in its own pleasant grounds. John, feeling that he looked like a tramp, made his way on foot to the imposing front door and was greeted by a black footman standing well over six feet in height.

‘I've come to collect the Marchesa di Lorenzi,' John said, staring up at him. ‘She is expecting me.'

‘Very good, Sah. If you wouldn't mind waiting.'