03 - Murder in Mink (9 page)

The inspector studied the card at length.

“A female private detective?”

“Is it so surprising inspector? There have been female
police officers since 1914.”

“That there have.” The inspector nodded, “But you are
jumping the gun, you don’t know yet if this woman is connected to the
Campbells.”

“Call it a dreadful hunch.” Clara replied, “That and I
have a very cynical view of the way the world works. Meaning if the worst can
happen, it shall.”

The inspector gave a little smile and slipped the card
into his coat pocket.

“Perhaps you best come this way Miss Fitzgerald.”

The body was sprawled on the tarmac. The woman was
staring up at the sky, like she was looking doggedly for something or someone.
She was very pale and very dead.

“So, is your hunch confirmed?” The inspector asked.

Clara looked at the worn shoes, the red dress, crumpled
up over her stocking-less knees, the forlorn black hat, twisted forever out of
shape and the hard-lined face.

“Yes.” She said sadly, “My Lord, I was so hoping I was
wrong.”

The inspector crouched by the body and studied it a
while.

“Is the doctor here yet?”

“Coming!” Shouted a voice, and a fat balding man ambled
up the racetrack.

He dumped a black medical bag by the side of the woman
and wiped at his flushed face with a handkerchief.

“I fear we are in for a hot summer inspector.” He
muttered.

“Could you confine yourself to the body for a moment.”

The balding doctor knelt down and felt for a pulse,
rather superfluous since the body was stone cold. He gave a cursory look at the
clothing, and then carefully lifted the woman’s head. There was a very small
patch of blood and a smeared stain in her hair.

“She landed on her head.” The doctor mused, “But she was
already dead. No bleeding, you see.”

His hands strayed to her face, then down to her neck. He
pulled at the collar of the dress and then gave a satisfied huff.

“Strangled. Clear as day.”

The inspector leaned forward, Clara found herself doing
the same.

“So she was strangled then dumped here?”

“Looks like it.”

The inspector turned his attention on Clara.

“Who is she then?”

“I don’t know her by name, only by sight.”

The inspector’s expression was not nice.

“You persuaded me to let you through here for a woman you
had only ever glanced at?”

“It is not so simple.” Clara said quickly, aware the
inspector’s patience would not last long, “Yesterday was the occasion of Andrew
Campbell’s wedding to Laura Pettibone, and yesterday this woman marched into
the church and declared herself Andrew Campbell’s wife. The ceremony was
ruined, the bride-to-be humiliated. And now the culprit of the drama is lying
dead. Do you see why I was so concerned?”

“Where is Andrew Campbell now?”

Clara gave a small sigh.

“Garage 10, working on his Napier. Inspector, the obvious
assumption is to think Andrew did this.”

“Is it now?”

“I know where this will all lead, the family are in a
state as it is. Andrew bolted after the wedding, we only just found him a few
minutes before the discovery of the body and he is refusing to talk to us.”

“Then maybe he will talk to me. Sergeant, go fetch Mr
Campbell.”

The sergeant hurried away.

“I’m very worried inspector.” Clara said, “There seems an
awful lot wrong with the Campbell household, not least this poor woman’s
presence.”

“Good job I’m here then.” The inspector grinned.

Clara refused to rise to the bait.

“Miss Fitzgerald, that rings a bell? Weren’t you involved
in a case with that pilot who was trying for a flying world record?”

“Captain O’Harris.” Clara felt the usual sadness as she
spoke his name, “I discovered what had happened to his late uncle.”

“That’s right, it was in all the papers. The dead uncle
whose corpse vanished.” The inspector paused a moment, “I showed that to some
of the new lads, had them work on it as a sort of theoretical case. So tell me,
did the solution come to you as another hunch?”

Clara gave him a long look.

“Sadly inspector that was indeed the case, though as it
happens I had a number of clues to assist me, including some threatening
messages which implied I was on the right track.”

“Really? Some people take you quite seriously then?”

Clara was about to rebuke the policeman when she spotted
the wry grin on his face.

“Inspector, are you trying to tease me?”

“Miss Fitzgerald I would never even think of doing such a
thing.” The inspector’s smile belied his statement.

Clara suspected they would get along just fine.

“Well, I don’t intend to get involved in this case if I
can help it. I would much rather go home to Brighton.”

“That would be a shame.” The inspector said, “Since I
have a feeling the Campbells are going to need all the help they can get in
this matter.”

“I know.” Clara answered, “Oh, I know.”

“The name’s Jennings, by the way.” The inspector held out
a hand. Clara shook it.

At that moment the sergeant came into sight escorting a
truculent Andrew Campbell. He had a stormy look on his face and chaffed at
being ushered by the sergeant along the track.

“He has an unpleasant manner and a gruff temper, but that
does not make him a killer.” Clara said quickly.

“Miss Fitzgerald, just as I must not imply you are any
less suited for detective work since you are a woman, please do me the same
honour and not regard me as lacking in common sense or intelligence because I
happen to work for the police.”

“I do apologise.” Clara replied, “You do just so look a
typical policeman.”

It was her turn to give a smile and mock the inspector.
He went to speak and then noted her look.

“Yes, we will get along just fine.” She said aloud,
trying to avoid laughing.

Andrew Campbell appeared in front of them. His first look
was a harsh one at Clara.

“What is she doing here?”

“Never mind that.” The inspector’s tone hardened, “I need
you to come this way and see if you recognise this woman.”

“I don’t want my business being known by everyone.”
Andrew baulked.

“Then perhaps you should have considered divorcing your
first wife before attempting to marry your second?” Clara told him sweetly.

The jibe hit home. Andrew bit his tongue and followed the
inspector. It was not long before the body was fully in view. Clara waited for
the natural emotion that must now arise from Andrew. He hesitated. For a second
he disbelieved his eyes. Then he starting to sway ever so faintly and his face
flushed.

“You know her?” The inspector asked.

“Yes.”

“May I ask how?”

Andrew pulled a face, he was warring between relief and
rage at the sight before him.

“She is my wife.”

Clara gave an unconscious sigh. She had known it, but she
hadn’t been certain. A part of her had hoped that the woman was a fraud. Clearly
not.

“Can you tell me her name?” The inspector continued.

“Shirley Cox.” Andrew spoke quietly, “If you need to know
more than that I can’t help you. We have been estranged some time.”

“Here, Sir.” The sergeant had been examining the body
again and had found Shirley’s handbag half tucked under her, “It’s empty except
for this.”

The wedding certificate emerged once more from the
handbag, a little more crumpled and rubbed around the edges, but still
declaring its accusation.

“You married in 1915?” The inspector read the paper,
“What of the witnesses?”

“One was the subaltern in my unit, he died six months
later. The other was a friend of Shirley’s.” Andrew was solemn, “What happened
to her? Did Francke hit her?”

“No.” The inspector folded up the certificate and placed
it in his pocket with Clara’s card, “She was strangled.”

The shock Clara had been expecting finally came over
Andrew. It was like he had been jolted by a spark of electricity. His face, as
far as emotions ever registered upon it, seemed to indicate he was genuinely
surprised.

“Strangled? By who?”

“That is what I shall be investigating.” The inspector
said coolly, “I will ask you to keep close to home for the next few days so I
can contact you easily.”

Andrew’s temper kicked.

“I didn’t do it!”

“Andrew,” Clara came alongside him and gently took his
arm, “The police will have to ask questions of you, that is what they do.
Perhaps we should go home.”

“Will you get off me?” Andrew snatched away his arm and
stormed off, back in the direction of the garages.

“Delightful man.” The inspector huffed.

“I would try to defend him because he is in shock, but I
really don’t like him enough.” Clara was thinking she should get back to
Brighton sooner rather than later, and yet knowing full well she was stuck here,
“Good day inspector, do give Park-Coombs a call. I suspect I shall see you
again.”

“Good day Miss Fitzgerald.”
                Clara collected Peg as she left behind the murder scene. Peg
was upset and trembling, she wouldn’t say a word as they went back to fetch
Tommy. Clara wondered how long it would be before the Campbells realised how bad
this situation could get.

Clara would have preferred avoiding a cocktail session
with the Campbell family that evening, but it had been made clear to her that
refusing the invitation was out of the question. The family had gathered in the
drawing room, a very unhappy arrangement. No one was talking, despite them all
being summoned under the pretence that they must ‘discuss’ things. Glorianna
was heading the conference, but she was as quiet as the rest. Peg had found
some old magazines to read and Eustace was working his way through a bottle of
whisky. Tommy gave his sister a sombre look, wishing there was some way he
could extract them both from the situation.

“Is Andrew joining us?” Eustace asked knowing precisely
that he wasn’t.

“He refuses to speak to anyone.” Glorianna rubbed over
one eye as a headache crept on.

“He’s a silly lad. What is all this wife business about
anyway?”

“Eustace, it’s not your business.” Hogarth told his
brother gruffly.

“Then why are we all here?” Eustace poured himself
another dram, “Unless this is a little charade until you can work up the
courage to ask Clara to investigate this nonsense?”

Clara closed her eyes, her stomach sinking. She had the
same suspicion. Glorianna coughed politely.

“Now Eustace has mentioned it, have you given the matter
any thought Clara?”

Clara opened her eyes. She didn’t drink much but right
now she could do with a large sherry.

“Only as the rest of you have. It is not my place to
interfere.”

“Oh but Clara, you must. We insist! This whole scandal is
too much to bear. If it gets out Andrew will be ruined and what about poor Peg
and Susan, what reputation will they have left? What prospect for marriage?”

“I can’t change the fact Andrew was married to this
woman.” Clara answered.

“No, I don’t say you can. But you must find who murdered
her. I know it was none of us, but until the real culprit is caught people will
look at us askance. I don’t trust the police, I never have.”

“The inspector seemed competent.” Clara was trying to
think of a way to turn the topic in a different direction.

“I do not care for the police. No, I think it best if
Clara investigates this matter on our behalf, don’t you agree Hogarth?”

Hogarth suddenly came alert, his sharp brown eyes caught
Clara’s and she felt the plea behind them as he said,

“Yes, you must Clara, you really must.”

Clara tried to think of an excuse, but there was really
none.

“I shall look into this, but if I find something
detrimental to Andrew or anyone else I shall hand it over to the police, unless
I consider it of no importance to them.”

“We fully understand.” Glorianna pressed her hands
together and smiled, “I’m sure you will do a superb job. Now, cook said she had
made some biscuits? I think we all deserve one before dinner.”

Glorianna was on her feet and ringing the bell pull.

“Bet you are wishing you stayed in Brighton.” Eustace
winked at Clara.

“How is the indigestion?” She replied, looking askance at
the nearly empty whisky bottle.

“It comes and goes. Bane of my life, honest it is. But
better that, then a strumpet wife who can’t help getting herself killed.”

“Oh Eustace you are coarse!” Peg groaned.

“I didn’t marry her. I have managed to have the sense all
my life to avoid such a problem. Girl was clearly a tart anyway, why didn’t he
just throw her a few shillings and be done with it?”

“Eustace!” Hogarth rumbled.

“Come on brother, we have all thought it. Isn’t that why
you want Clara to investigate? So she can dig up the dirt before the police?
What do you expect her to find? That this Shirley Cox was a secret princess
fallen on hard times?”

“I don’t know why Andrew married her, but I give my son
some credit for being morally upstanding.” Hogarth bristled at his brother,
“Aren’t you due back in London soon Eustace?”

“Not until Friday night. Have an appointment with a card
table.” Eustace gave a wicked grin as his brother snorted in disgust, “I’ll
give Andrew’s regards to the local ladies.”

“Eustace!” Hogarth jumped to his feet, “If you weren’t my
brother…”

“Yes?”

Hogarth rumbled something under his breath, then he spun
on his heel and left the room.

“Satisfied Eustace?” Peg said coolly.

“I only say what others think.” Eustace shrugged.

One of the maid servants made a fortuitous arrival at
that moment with fresh-baked shortbread biscuits. Clara took one, relieved that
for the moment everyone was distracted. Eustace took three, naturally.

Susan was sitting to the far right of her uncle. She was
looking pale and morose. She had only joined the group downstairs because
Glorianna had insisted. It seemed her stepmother was aiming for a united front,
better for withstanding the slings and arrows destined to come in their
direction. When Susan took a biscuit it was out of politeness rather than real
desire. Clara was more worried about her than any of them.

“Are you feeling a little better Susan?” She asked.

“A little.” Susan forced a smile.

“You must be so bored up in your room alone.”

“It does get a little tedious, but I hardly mind.”

“I shall come and read to you, or just talk.” Clara
offered.

“That is kind. You needn’t worry.”

But Clara did worry. She wasn’t as convinced as the rest
of the family that Susan’s suicide attempt was completely forgotten. That sort
of emotion did not evaporate so fast. She wanted to talk with Susan alone. Until
she did she would find it hard to convince herself the girl was not at risk of
trying anything again. Of all the Campbells it was Susan who Clara was really
anxious for. Andrew could hold his own, so could Peg, and Hogarth and Glorianna
were old enough to weather any storm, but Susan seemed suddenly so fragile.

Eustace started to splutter on a biscuit. He banged a
fist on his chest.

“You eat too fast, that is why you always have
indigestion.” Peg told him.

“Nonsense! I only get my indigestion badly when I eat
here. I put it down to the miserable atmosphere in this house, tension over the
dinner table does no one any favours.”

Clara had had enough and now it seemed Peg was about to
resume battle with Eustace she was inclined to escape. She gave a wink to Tommy
and then excused herself.

“I must really write another note to my maid if I am to
stay on, I shall want her here.”

No one paid her much notice except Susan who had suddenly
realised she was to be left behind in the room with Eustace and Peg. Clara gave
her a wink too.

“Susan, would you mind finding me some more stationary, I
am very short of envelopes.”

Susan almost leapt from her place, she excused herself
with Clara, and Tommy made his exit shortly after.

“Thank heavens!” Susan breathed as they left.

“Is Eustace always this way?”

“Always, thank you for getting me out of there. I think I
shall go lie down again.” Susan gave a tight cough and released herself from
Clara before heading upstairs.

As she went away Clara still had that overriding feeling
that something was just not right with her.