The Shadowcutter (26 page)

“Which is what has happened in this case. She is with her late husband’s political ally. He will wish to keep her close if, as is reported, she has the hearts of the common people. I suppose he will want to go back at some point and take back the Presidency for himself. I don’t imagine trailing about provincial spa towns is much in his line, even though he did seem to be enjoying himself at the dog-fight. Talking to our dead man. What an extraordinary coincidence – if it is one. I have just remembered something. Someone I spoke to at the dog fight reckoned that he had bought some stolen pistols for gold pieces – foreign gold. It was all hedged about with hearsay, but one never knows. I am glad you showed me these, Mr Carswell.”

“I felt I should. She was so fearful. And if she has enemies, perhaps those enemies have followed her here.” He drained his tankard. “And is that why Don Xavier wanted to speak to her so desperately? To warn her of something? She told me he loved her. That would be enough to make him take such a risk, when he knew he was dying, when it might kill him to get there. Which it did.” He gave a grimace. “He kept repeating her name to me: ‘tell Dona Blanca.’ That is what he said, but he never managed to finish his message.”

“You have done the best you could in the circumstances.”

Carswell nodded and said, “The oddest thing about it was that when I did see her first – on the night he died – when I went to the hotel, when I mentioned my name, she seemed shocked, as if she knew it very well already. How would she know my name? And then, there was a moment, on the second occasion that I remembered something – well, to tell you the truth, I remembered her. I knew I had met her before somewhere.”

“Are you sure?” Giles said.

“Yes, quite. It was a most distinct feeling. I felt had known her as a child, perhaps in Paris. Before I ever came to Scotland. Her voice, her manner, her scent... but, that is impossible.”

Giles began to fold up the letters.

“We will go and see them when we are done in Swalecliffe. When we know more about Edgar and his business. But first, let us get some sleep. I cannot function a moment longer.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Swalecliffe was set on a headland between two great bays.

“The Brighton of the North,” said Major Vernon.

“It looks thrown up in the last five minutes,” said Felix.

“In the last five years. Since they got the railway.”

“Since that quack published his book on the virtues of sea-bathing,” said Felix.

“So you think there is nothing in it?”

“In some cases it can help, but to tout it as a cure-all is ridiculous and thoroughly dishonest.”

Dominating one bay was a vast hotel, so new that one could almost smell the fresh paint, and on the other bay, terraces of equally modern houses, were jostling for position to claim the vital sea view. Trapped in the middle was the old town and harbour, cowering like an old retainer astonished by the fashionable whims of an employer.

It was here that they found the shadowcutter’s shop, in a narrow lane of dusty houses. No gilded signboard advertised that it was a shop, but a solitary silhouette of a girl playing with a hoop hung in the little bay window, between the drawn down blinds and the glass.

A woman opened the door. She was clad in a gaudy pink and gold silk wrapper, with curling papers still in her hair.

“What do you want?” she said with a scowl.

“Mrs Edgar?”

She eyed Major Vernon with great suspicion.

“Who’s asking?”

“I am Major Vernon of the Northminster Constabulary. I need to speak to you about your husband.”

“He’s not here,” she said, and was about to slam the door in their face, but Major Vernon stopped it with his foot.

“You will need to hear what I have to say, Mrs Edgar,” he said. “Will you please let us in?”

She considered it, and then opened the door.

“All right. If you must.”

She let them into the narrow hall, but stood, defensively, arms folded, leaning against the closed door which presumably led to the living quarters beyond. To the right of her, the little shop lay hidden in shadow, determined to reveal nothing unnecessary.

“Might we go and sit somewhere? I am afraid I have unpleasant news, Mrs Edgar.”

“What? What’s happened?”

“Do you have anyone with you? A servant?”

“My aunt is upstairs in the parlour.”

“Then let us go up, shall we?” He was gentle but insistent.

“Just tell me here,” she said. “Whatever it is, just tell me!”

“Very well. I am sorry to have to tell you that your husband is dead.”

“Dead?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She turned away, uttering an obscenity. Then she tore open the door, which revealed a staircase and began to stomp upstairs. They followed and went into the sitting room of the house which was papered with an eye-watering pattern of giant bouquets and ribbons. She went straight to a side table and poured herself a generous measure of gin from the bottle that sat waiting. The old woman in black who sat by the window with her sewing, rose in surprise.

“Gin at this time in the morning, dearie?”

“Johnny is dead!” Mrs Edgar said. “And these are policemen.” She took a gulp of gin. “I am taking it he didn’t die in his bed, then?”

“No, ma’am, I am afraid not. We think he was murdered.”

She downed her gin and gave a great groan. She refilled her glass.

“Where?” she said. “In Northminster? That’s where you’re from, didn’t you say?”

“No, he was found dead in the gardens at Holbroke, Lord Rothborough’s house. You knew he had gone there, I take it?”

“Did I? I don’t know. He never says where or when he is going. Oh gawd. Murdered. Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Major Vernon indicated Felix should speak.

“We think he was violently set upon and died as a result of injuries.”

She swore again, shaking her head. Then, glass in hand, she went and flopped in one of the armchairs.

“And have you got the bugger?”

“No, not yet. That is why we are here,” said the Major.

“Why?” she said. “Do you think I had something to do with it?”

It was said carelessly enough but there was a touch of fear in it.

“Did you?” Major Vernon said mildly.

“No,” she said. “Not that there haven’t been moments when –”

“And yet you haven’t been married long, I understand.”

She gave a snort of amusement.

“Johnny and I have been together five years. It took my first husband a long time to die. I knew well enough what I was getting when I married him.” She gave another great sigh, got up and topped up her glass. “And there you were, Auntie, telling me all the time not to do it, and I would go and do it, after all, and here we are!” She toasted her Aunt with her glass.

“Nellie dearie,” said the Aunt. “You shouldn’t be talking like this in front of the gentlemen.”

“I’ve got nothing to hide!” she said. “I made a bad bargain, I know that, but how could I resist him? When he took it into his head to be sweet to me, well it was the sweetest thing in the world, and that was worth all the bother of him. But now there won’t be any more bother, will there?” She looked down at her glass and her bravado seemed to crumble. “Oh God.”

“Perhaps you should sit down, Mrs Edgar,” said Felix. “You have had a great shock.”

She allowed him to help her to her chair, but she would not relinquish her glass. She nursed it.

“Did you know if your husband had any enemies, Mrs Edgar?” Major Vernon said.

“We all have enemies,” said Mrs Edgar. “Bet you have quite a few.”

“Undoubtedly – a hazard of my profession. May we sit down?”

“Please yourself,” said Mrs Edgar.

“I wonder if Mr Edgar was in some profession that made him enemies, other than his silhouette-making business, that is?” Major Vernon said, taking a chair and placing it where she could not escape his gaze. “This room is very elegantly furnished, and your earrings – well, I couldn’t help but notice them – they are certainly not paste.”

She fingered one of them, a slight smile passing across her face at the compliment. Then she remembered herself.

“I don’t know what you mean. There is plenty of money in the shadowcutting – always surprises me, in fact, how much he could make from it. And of course, I let three rooms in the house which gives quite a tidy sum. High-class lodgers, only, of course,” she added.

“Yes, I see, but I don’t think that would quite cover it,” said Major Vernon, glancing around him. “I am simply wondering if he didn’t have another line of business. The sort of business that you would be obliged to mention to me or be complicit in. Do you get my gist?”

She took a mouthful of gin and leaned back in her chair. She gave a little laugh and then said, “Would you believe it! That’s one of the reasons he said I should marry him. He said, if I was his wife I couldn’t be asked to speak against him court.”

“Well, you are a widow now, Mrs Edgar. And you are obliged,” said Major Vernon.

She frowned.

“All right, he may have bought things from certain types and found homes for them.”

“He was a fence?”

She nodded and finished her drink

“I think I might need one of those,” said the aunt getting up and crossing the room. “Did he really do that, Nellie? Oh my Lord –”

“Yes, didn’t you guess, Auntie?”

“I am glad you didn’t, ma’am,” said Major Vernon.

“So am I!” exclaimed the aunt. “Oh Lord in heaven, that piece of lace he gave me when you wed – that wasn’t stolen, was it?”

“I couldn’t say,” said Mrs Edgar with a shrug.

“And you still married him!” the old woman exclaimed. “You silly, silly –! And all that was going on downstairs – those men coming in – that was what all that was about! A common fence!”

“Not at all common,” said Mrs Edgar. “He only dealt in the valuable stuff.” It was said almost with pride. “Taken from people who wouldn’t miss it, to tell you the truth.”

“It’s still thieving!” said the aunt. ”And you could hang for knowing that. We all could, I dare say.” She threw a wild, frightened glance at Major Vernon. “Or transported. Which is just as bad. If not worse. I think I would rather be hanged than that.” She broke off, and poured herself a steadying glass of gin.

“The more information you give us now,” Major Vernon said, “the more favourably you will be looked on, ma’am. When you say ‘taken from people who wouldn’t miss it’ do you recall if your husband mentioned any names in particular? Of houses, perhaps?”

Mrs Edgar frowned, looking down at her ring bedecked fingers. There was a long silence and then she spoke:

“I don’t know where the stuff came from. But he said it wouldn’t be missed. That I wasn’t to worry about it. You see, Auntie, I did worry – of course I did.” Her voice broke into a sob. “And I suppose you will be telling me I should be glad that he is dead, which I suppose I ought to be! After all, I knew exactly what he was like, and I knew he was never going to be faithful, and that he was mixed up in some shady stuff, but I loved him, and I can’t stop myself from feeling what I feel, even if it does make me look like – like goodness-knows what!”

With which she jumped up from her seat and ran weeping from the room, followed quickly by her aunt.

Major Vernon wandered over to the mantelpiece and picked up a tiny silver-gilt box.

“This is a charming piece of work,” he said, turning it in his hands. “I think it is a patch box, from the days when ladies and gentlemen wore velvet beauty spots. My mother inherited one from her grandmother – but not so grand as this one. But it did have its owner’s name engraved on it. Now I wonder –” He flicked it open and smiled. “A coat of arms no less. Very readily identified, I should say. Of course,” he went on, “It might have been acquired quite legitimately, as might all these expensive bibelots.”

“You think these were all stolen?” said Felix, examining a green and gold enamel egg which lay in a gilt lattice basket. When he flicked it open it contained a tiny golden duck, with jewels for eyes. He could not help giving a little gasp of pleasure at the ingenuity of it and at the absurd, whimsical expression that the maker had given the duck.

“That, I should say, is a rare thing,” said Major Vernon. “It would make a fine present for a sweetheart.”

Felix imagined pressing such an object into Sukey’s hand, and watching her face as she opened the lid and saw the duck. Her smile would be worth seeing. “Or for a guilty husband to offer a forgiving wife?” Major Vernon went on. “Mrs Edgar did just say she had no expectations of his being faithful. And I saw him with a pair of gay girls at the dog fight the other night. There were probably other women who distracted him. I wonder if Eliza Jones might not be one of them.”

“But she was dead before he arrived, I thought.”

“Yes.”

“And there is no evidence that they knew each other,” Felix said.

“Not that I have found yet, that’s true. But my instincts tell me she was a thief. She is the best candidate I can find at Holbroke for the theft and concealment of the parure. What if she has been travelling about picking up things like this from the great houses where her mistress is asked to stay out of charity? And passing them onto Edgar in return for cash and kisses? We need to know exactly where Lady Warde has been staying.”

The door opened and the aunt came in. She closed the door carefully behind her.

“She’s having a lie down. She’s a bit upset.”

“Of course. We will have to talk to her again. And I should like to look through Mr Edgar’s shop, if I may?”

“You may do as you please!” said the aunt. “Anything to keep my poor Nell from trouble. She’s a silly girl. I knew she shouldn’t have married him, I knew he was a bad’un. I’ve always known. Too slick by half, and always bringing her expensive presents, even when her first husband was alive. I knew he was no good, I’ve always had my suspicious!”

“Any suspicions in particular, ma’am?”

“If you want the plain truth, and now he’s dead, I can speak my mind, but it is my opinion he did for him!”

“Mr Edgar did for whom?” said Major Vernon.

“Jack Baker, Nellie’s first husband, God rest his poor tortured soul. He wasn’t much of a looker but he loved her like a man should love his wife. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for her. He left her all this and I told her that should be enough for her. It was independence, but she would go and marry that wretch Edgar!”