A Fatal Freedom (40 page)

After Billy had taken an order for two coffees, Thomas said, ‘So, let’s see.’

‘You’ve already mentioned Rachel, but how about Millie?’ Thomas recognised a hint of challenge in Ursula’s voice.

‘Ah, you want me to tell you I don’t believe she could have done it. I shall certainly consider the possibility that Millie fed Joshua Peters and Albert Pond cyanide. Let’s look at the three important questions that have to be asked in connection with any suspect for a crime: motive, means and opportunity.’

‘Millie certainly had motive: revenge for the way Joshua Peters had treated her. She also had opportunity. Means? How easy is it to get hold of cyanide?’

‘Quite easy. Potassium cyanide and sodium cyanide have a host of uses, pesticides being one. Any good chemist could provide you with the means to kill your rats; you’d have to sign the poison register but the name you give need not be your own, or the address anywhere near where you live – and, of course, you would approach a chemist some distance from your residence.’

Ursula looked fascinated and appalled at the same time. ‘So, we have to include Millie in our list of suspects,’ she said. ‘Do you think Albert could have been blackmailing her, that he had some evidence she had sent those poisoned chocolates?’

Thomas opened his notebook, took out a pencil and wrote down the name of Rachel Fentiman. ‘It is certainly possible. Though if she did poison him, why give us his address?’

‘She said she didn’t know the number,’ Ursula reminded him. ‘She could have thought giving you Dorset Square was being helpful and removing suspicion from her and that we wouldn’t be able to locate the right building. ’

Thomas wrote Millie’s name down under Rachel’s then tapped the notebook with his pencil. ‘Any other female candidates?’ He suddenly remembered his search through Joshua Peters’ desk drawer. ‘What about your Madame Rose? Maybe it wasn’t your count who was the target, maybe it was his business partner. Peters had a jar of
Maison Rose
beauty cream in his desk drawer. Could he have discovered that there was something injurious in the creams they were peddling?’

‘Good heavens! What an idea!’ Ursula ran a hand over her face. ’I’ve been rubbing
Maison Rose
preparations into my skin every day. And, as I told you, I truly believe they have done some good.’

Thomas couldn’t see that there was any difference in the way she looked now from before. However, ‘Do they import ingredients for the beauty preparations?’

Ursula nodded. ‘An order was placed only the other day.’

‘Hmm. Something to be looked into. Are the accounts being fiddled? Or could they be making use of details extracted from their clients. Didn’t you tell me a great many society ladies patronise the clinic?’

Ursula nodded. ‘I suppose that’s possible, but I think it more likely the count was the blackmail target. After all, if he is ruined, so is she.’

‘So she might have decided to protect them both?’

‘I suppose it’s possible. She’s certainly a powerful personality,’ Ursula said thoughtfully. ‘And her training must have given her a scientific background, so she probably knows about cyanide.’

‘Do you know if she had the opportunity? Sending chocolates through the post is easy enough to do; visiting Albert more difficult.’

‘It would be quite easy for me to find out what she was doing yesterday.’

‘Good.’ Thomas added Madame Rose’s name to his little list. ‘That’s three possibilities.’

‘But mightn’t it be someone we know nothing about?’

Thomas threw his little pencil on the table in a moment of frustration. ‘Somewhere there has to be a stash of evidence the two of them had gathered for their blackmail attempts. Peters’s firm was going bust; no doubt because he had cheated so many of his customers. He needed another source of income. Albert was the perfect partner. Resourceful, able to carry out a wide range of duties, as criminally minded as his master. He would have known exactly where the evidence was kept and removed it as soon as he could after Peters died. And, yes, there could well be female targets we know nothing about who took matters into their own hands.’

Billy brought a pot of coffee and placed it on the table together with cups, milk and sugar.

‘Madam would like to pour?’

‘Certainly,’ said Ursula, picking up the pot.

‘I shall try and talk to Drummond and see where he’s going with Pond’s death. Mrs Duggan will have told him we were visiting Pond, he won’t waste much time getting in touch. But I don’t have any confidence he will be looking at the wider picture.’

‘At least he knows it can’t have been Alice.’ Ursula handed Thomas a cup of coffee.

He helped himself to three spoonfuls of sugar and stirred the liquid thoughtfully. ‘No, even he can’t see her escaping from Holloway, doing the deed, and then returning to prison without being missed. But he will undoubtedly consider the sister.’ He looked at Ursula. ‘Next step is to see what Miss Rachel was up to yesterday. Are you up to taking that on?’

‘With you or on my own?’

‘I think you’ll get more out of her if I’m not there. I’ll see if I can have another word with the Peters’ cook. I want to see if Peters left an address book.’

‘So, I get another chance at being an investigator,’ said Ursula.

‘Do you mind?’

‘I always like a challenge. However, I shall find it difficult to suspect Rachel.’

‘Just find out where she was yesterday,’ said Thomas.

‘And, of course,’ said Ursula, ‘after all our consideration of the women who could be administering cyanide, is there any reason why it should not, after all, have been a man? Didn’t you admit to Doctor Barnes that you have known male poisoners?’

Thomas added two spoons of sugar to his cup of coffee.

‘We mustn’t lose sight of that possibility,’ he said, stirring slowly. ‘There is also the faintest of chances that Peters put evidence in a safe at Montagu Place. I shall go there and ask Mrs Firestone if she can open it. If I tell her about Pond’s death, she could be co-operative. There could even be a notebook containing names and addresses. With both of them dead, paper evidence is our only remaining chance to find out who their victims were.’

‘Do you have the time?’ Ursula asked.

Jackman retrieved a hunter watch from his waistcoat pocket. ‘Any particular reason you want to know?’ he said, clicking its gold cover.

‘All you English seem to stop around four o’clock for, what do Mrs Crumble and Meg call it? A cuppa? That would be the best time for a chat.’

‘You should be able to time it just right.’

Jackman called for the bill and Ursula’s coat.

Outside they could see an omnibus coming. ‘That’ll take you to Victoria station,’ he said.

Ursula broke into a run. There were other passengers waiting and she was able to jump on to the back platform just as the vehicle started to move. Jackman stuffed money into her pocket. ‘For expenses’, he called. ‘Remember, you’re my assistant now!’

Sitting down, she found the silver coins added up to ten shillings. It seemed a ridiculously large sum. She decided she would, like the investigator, keep meticulous note of any sums she spent in pursuit of this investigation.

Settled on the vehicle next to a thin lady who snuffled and muttered to herself, Ursula tried to work out how she was going to approach her task. It seemed inevitable that the rescue of Millie would have to be at least touched upon. How else was she to account for her and Thomas knowing where Albert Pond was living? But she would not tell Rachel where the girl was. Thomas had been adamant about that.

‘The fewer people know where she is, the less possibility that Sir Hector Rutland will find out,’ he’d said.

‘Do you really think he would kidnap her or injure her in some way?’

‘He gives the impression of being a powerful man and powerful men do not like being crossed. If he finds out where Millie is, he will take some action. It could mean unfortunate consequences for the circus and the menagerie.’

Ursula could believe him. She could not forget the angry eyes of Millie’s seducer; the contemptuous way he had spoken. This was a man of status and easy authority, one used to having his own way. She had grown up with men like that, knew how they behaved: expecting and getting their own way and instituting an easy vengeance when they didn’t. A cold shudder ran through her.

‘I’m getting out here,’ the woman next to her suddenly said and rose from the bench.

The omnibus proceeded in stops and starts, making its way towards the Thames. The random nature of so many of the areas of London fascinated Ursula. New York, after a similar start at the tip of Manhattan Island, was now growing in a workmanlike grid pattern, avenues running north to south, streets east to west, from the sea to the Hudson River, apart from the odd maverick like Broadway. Nothing so planned and regular about London. There were squares, crescents and streets of every size, connected one to another by roads that seemed to dart in any direction. Even the main highways that contained shops and offices didn’t seem to conform to any particular pattern.

Ursula forced her mind back to the matter in hand: she had taken on the task of finding out what Rachel’s movements had been the previous day. She wondered how the girl would react to hearing about Albert Pond’s death. She would have known him well; with her sister in prison, it was important she was put in possession of all the facts surrounding his demise as soon as possible.

Martha opened the door, her expression mulish. It lightened a trifle when she saw Ursula. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. ‘You’d better come in.’ Ursula wondered what had upset her.

In front of a cosy fire in her large and untidy living room, Rachel was sitting next to a young man on the sofa, and appeared to be deep in conversation. ‘You know I’d do anything for you,’ he was saying with an odd emphasis as Martha announced Ursula.

‘Miss Grandison,’ she said loudly.

Rachel turned abruptly, as if to deny she was at home, then rose and smiled in what seemed genuine welcome.

‘Ursula, how nice to see you! Come in. Do you remember John Pitney? This is Ursula Grandison, John.’ The young man was already on his feet. ‘Perhaps you remember me persuading you to drive Alice and her to their lodgings a little time ago? Martha, do you think you could bring us some fresh tea? And please take Miss Grandison’s coat.’

Martha disappeared with it, muttering something that sounded like, ‘infernal machine’. Ursula wondered if tea would be forthcoming and, if so, how long it would take. What had upset her? Was it the presence of the young man?

She had no trouble recognising Rachel’s friend. ‘Of course I remember you, Lord John,’ she said, offering him her hand. ‘I very much admired your automobile and the way you were so kind to Alice and myself that day.’

He shook her hand warmly, smiling with a straightforward but somewhat awkward charm that distinguished him from many of the well-born young men Ursula had met since arriving in England; unlike them, he didn’t seem to believe that acceptance was his right.

‘Come and sit down,’ said Rachel

Ursula took a chair; the young man hovered for a moment.

‘Perhaps,’ he said, ‘it is time I left.’

‘No, John,’ Rachel said quickly. Then, more smoothly, ‘You haven’t anything you must get back to, have you?’

‘Not at all.’ He sounded relieved.

Rachel waved at a chair. The two of them settled again on the sofa, Rachel slipping her hand down and finding John’s.

‘Now, Ursula, what brings you here? Not that I am anything but delighted to see you.’

‘I’m sorry to turn up without warning but there’s something I think you need to know.’

Instantly, the girl released John’s hand. ‘Is it something to do with Alice?’

‘In a way.’ Ursula gave a quick account of how she and Thomas found the body of the valet.

‘Pond? Dead?’ said Rachel, incredulous. ‘How?’ Then, almost immediately, ‘Are you saying he died the same way as Joshua did?’

‘Mr Jackman isn’t sure, but the doctor who came to certify the body said that he appears to have been poisoned by cyanide,’ Ursula said carefully.

John Pitney closed his eyes for a brief moment. ‘Not a pleasant death.’

Ursula looked at him. ‘You are acquainted with cyanide poisoning?’

‘I wouldn’t say acquainted,’ he said carefully.

‘But you know how the poison behaves?’ Ursula pressed politely.

He shifted a little uncomfortably on the sofa. ‘A friend of mine is a doctor. He told me a little of the effect of various poisons one day.’ He rose and prowled round the room.

Rachel broke in abruptly. ‘It sounds dreadful. Where did you say Pond was living?’

‘It’s an apartment house not far from Marylebone station. I understand it is quite near to Montagu Place.’

‘I suppose Mr Jackman discovered the address. You say you found him this morning; do you know when he died?’

Ursula was grateful not to have to explain Millie’s involvement. ‘Difficult to say for certain but the doctor thought probably yesterday afternoon.’ Ursula paused for a moment, then added, ‘Nobody seems to have seen anything. Mr Jackman has spoken to most of the other inhabitants there but nearly all were out during the daytime.’ She played with her gloves. ‘No doubt, Rachel, you were handing out some of your leaflets for women’s suffrage?’ Then she held her breath.

‘Me?’ It was almost a squeak. ‘Good heavens, I … I don’t think so.’

‘Don’t you remember, Rachel? You were with me all afternoon,’ John said urgently.

‘Of course! It must be the shock of hearing what happened to poor Pond. How could I forget our time together?’ Rachel gave a half-hearted laugh and they exchanged a long look.

Ursula was immediately convinced that Rachel and John had not spent yesterday afternoon together and also that they were closely involved with each other. She had seen passion in the glances John had been giving Rachel, and there was something different about the girl. It was as though, like an onion, a layer had been peeled away, leaving her more vulnerable. In other circumstances, she would have been delighted for her. This young man seemed attractive and extremely suitable. Rachel was perhaps the more intelligent of the couple – but that need not necessarily be an impediment.