CHAPTER 6

“You must be Mr Tollman!” said Victoria brightly, as she opened the door. “I’m afraid I’m the only one here, at the moment, but Peter told me to fill you in on what’s happening.”

“Peter?” enquired Arthur, as he stepped into the house.

“Oh sorry!” Victoria smiled. “I mean Chief Inspector Beech, of course.”

“Ah,” replied Arthur, “And you are, Miss?”

“Oh, sorry again!” Victoria extended her hand. “Victoria Ellingham, part of your new team. Would you like a cup of tea, Mr Tollman?”

“That would be most welcome, Miss Ellingham,” replied Arthur affably, “then perhaps you would tell me a little bit more about this ‘team’ I’m supposed to be part of ?”

“Yes, of course.” Victoria led the way down to the kitchen. “I’m afraid we don’t have any staff at the moment—not until my mother arrives. She’s due this evening sometime and she’s bringing Cook and Mary with her.”

Arthur looked bemused. “Would you like me to make the tea, Miss?”

“Good Lord, no! I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of tea, Mr Tollman and, by the way, it’s Mrs. I’m Mrs Ellingham. But, in fact, I’d much rather you called me Victoria.”

Arthur sucked air through his teeth. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Mrs Ellingham. I’d prefer to keep it professional.”

Victoria smiled at such old-fashioned propriety, while she lit the stove and filled the kettle.

“So … about the team …”

Arthur Tollman sat patiently, occasionally raising an eyebrow, as Victoria explained Beech’s vision for the dealing of crime cases in the female population. When she had finished, he smiled and shook his head in disbelief.

“Well, Mrs Ellingham, I think I’ve heard it all now. In my whole, very long career as a policeman, I don’t believe I have heard anything like it—and that includes a spell in Special Branch, where all kinds of strange things happen!” He seemed to find the whole thing amusing.

“You don’t dislike the idea, Mr Tollman?” Victoria felt a little anxious.

“No, no, madam. Far from it. As the father of three grown-up unmarried daughters, I know only too well how the fairer sex can run rings around the menfolk! And a policeman is not immune from female trickery, I can assure you. Dear me. So, this team is to be the Chief Inspector, yourself, a lady doctor, me, and The Greek?”

“The Greek?” Victoria was confused.

“Yes, Billy Rigsby—aka The Greek,” and he explained to her about Billy’s past life as a young boxing champion.

“Good Lord! Well, that explains the physique then!” Victoria was greatly amused. “Caroline will love to hear all about Billy the Greek’s boxing prowess!”

“So, I understand that the lady doctor will have her uses but may I ask, without wishing to cause offence, Mrs Ellingham, what equips you for this job?”

“No offence taken, Mr Tollman. My specialty is the law—I studied it for three years at London University—and your Chief Inspector is fond of saying that I have a deductive brain. Tit for tat now, Mr Tollman, tell me why Mr Beech chose you.”

“Well, Mrs Ellingham, I suppose you might say that I have an unusual brain, a bit like yours, except that my specialty is that I never forget anything. I store it up here—” he tapped his temple with his fingers “—like a squirrel storing away nuts and, in almost forty years of policing, that represents a lot of nuts! Also, I’m a bit of a ferret too. I like delving into records and the like, doing research.”

“A squirrel and a ferret! Goodness! You are going to be useful! I don’t suppose you play cribbage as well?”

“As a matter of fact I play exceedingly well. Why do you ask?”

Victoria laughed as she poured the boiling water into the teapot. “My mother is going to find you a delightful companion! Just don’t ever play her for money. She’s a fiend!”

“I shall store that piece of information away for future use, Mrs Ellingham,” Arthur replied with pleasure.

“I have some biscuits too. Would you care for one, Mr Tollman?”

“I never say no to a biscuit with a cup of tea, Mrs Ellingham.”

So they sat on either side of the kitchen table, with their tea and biscuits, while Victoria explained the details, so far, of the Murcheson case.

*   *   *

Beech and Billy stood silently over the eviscerated body of Lord Murcheson while the pathologist, Bernard Spilsbury, explained his findings.

“The murder victim died after being pierced through the heart with a pair of scissors, obviously, but I doubt he would have been long for this world anyway. His liver and kidneys were shot to pieces by whatever drugs he was taking. His brain had started to deteriorate. The white matter of the brain was degraded and there were other signs of damage—the sort I would expect in the brain of an eighty-year old man who had had several small strokes. There are various lacerations on the body consistent with someone constantly scratching at severe skin irritation and yet there is no sign of any dermatological reason for the itching which obviously plagued him. The lungs showed signs of early pneumonia, which I have seen before in opiate addicts because the drug persistently makes the breathing shallow and therefore allows bacteria to sit in the lungs. The septum of his nose is beginning to decay, which leads me to believe that he was sniffing some drug. Oh, and he also had syphilis.”

“Good God!” Beech was appalled. “He was only twenty-five years old!”

“Yes,” Spilsbury continued, “like most of the other young men fighting in the war. Here,” he said, unceremoniously turning the body on to its side, displaying a puckered scar of about eight inches, running alongside the spine, “is the reason for this young man’s deterioration. There are pieces of metal in there—I cannot tell whether they are bullets or shrapnel—that are dangerously close to the spine. I assume that the field surgeons decided it was too risky to remove them and no one in London had the courage to do so either. He must have been in tremendous pain—hence the drug regime. The presence of a canker on his male member, a sore near his mouth and swollen lymph glands, is what makes me assume that he was in the primary stage of syphilis. Probably contracted it sometime within the last three months.”

“Poor bugger,” said Billy with feeling.

Spilsbury gave a wry smile. “Yes. Well, it’s possible, though I have not found any physical evidence of sodomy. He was a maimed and dying, syphilitic drug addict—that I know for sure.”

“Thank you, Mr Spilsbury,” said Beech, staring at the terrible body on the slab and feeling the dull ache in his leg start up again.

“I’ll send you my written report during the week, but now, if you’ll excuse me, I must wash up and go home for dinner. I won’t shake your hands—for your sake.”

Beech smiled briefly and nodded. When they got outside, he stood for a moment and took several deep breaths of air.

“How does that bloke go home and eat dinner every night?” wondered Billy, still in a state of shock. “I mean I’ve seen my share of shattered bodies on the battlefield but to look at a body laid out like that and tell us what a pitiful and awful existence he had—well, it beggars belief!”

“It does indeed, Rigsby,” agreed Beech, “it does indeed. Just goes to show that being a member of the British aristocracy means nothing when you come back from France in an ambulance train.”

“So who gave him all the drugs, sir?” Billy sounded angry. “Was it his doctor?”

“I don’t know,” said Beech, looking at the leather hatbox in his hand. “Some of the bottles I’ve got in here appear to be patent medicines one would buy at any chemist shop. We need to go to the house and show the contents of this bag to Doctor Allardyce. She may be able to give us an opinion.”

*   *   *

Lady Maud had arrived, with so many suitcases, wicker baskets, and boxes that it took two taxi cabs to ferry her and her servants from the station. Arthur Tollman and the two cab drivers unloaded everything into the hallway, and the drivers were paid handsomely.

“What a journey!” Maud announced. “We all need a stiff brandy! Victoria, find the decanter and give Cook and Mary a good glassful!”

“Mother,” Victoria said, shaking her head in disbelief, “why on earth did you bring all this stuff ?”

“Cook and I were not going to leave behind all her preserves and all the other delights she’s been preparing over the winter months,” Maud replied with gusto. “There’s a large ham in that basket by the way. Isn’t that right, Mrs Beddowes?”

“Oh yes, Your Ladyship,” said Mrs Beddowes, unbuttoning her coat and fanning herself with her hand. “There’s a big jar of pickled eggs, some pickled cucumbers, relishes, jams, cured ham, sausages, bacon—oh, and there will be a basket of vegetables coming down on the train every week.”

“We do have food shops in London, you know,” murmured Victoria, by way of protest.

“Yes, but at what price, Miss Victoria?! At what price?”

Victoria could think of no riposte to Mrs Beddowes’ observation and she suddenly noticed Arthur Tollman grinning broadly.

“Ah, Mother, Mrs Beddowes, Mary, this is Detective Sergeant Arthur Tollman, he’s going to be staying here with us.”

“Er … begging your pardon, Mrs Ellingham,” Arthur interrupted, “I shan’t be sleeping over. I’ve got my daughters to get home to. Don’t like to leave them alone at night. Besides, I only live in Clapham. The omnibus comes right to Park Lane. It’s no bother.” He suddenly realized that he had interrupted the introductions. “Begging your pardon, ladies, I am very pleased to meet you all.”

“Ma,” Victoria said mischievously, “Mr Tollman plays a mean game of cribbage.”

Lady Maud’s eyes lit up and she offered her hand immediately. “I’m exceedingly pleased to meet you, Mr Tollman! We shall get along famously.”

“I have no doubt we will, Your Ladyship,” said Arthur, winking at Victoria.

“But first, brandy!” pronounced Maud. “To revive the spirits and then we shall get this house organized and shipshape!”

*   *   *

Lady Harriet was exhausted. Despite her pain and the tightening grip of the infection, she had summoned her iron will and dealt with her solicitor and said prayers with her vicar. Now she could sleep and Caroline could tell that the fragile young woman did not care whether she woke again or not.

“You must rest, Lady Harriet,” she said firmly to her patient. “We shall give you some more pain relief and nurse will feed you some nourishing soup. Your body needs to fight this infection.”

Lady Harriet nodded. “You have all been most kind. But I needed to get my affairs in order. If it is God’s will to take me, he will, and it will be no reflection on the care you have given me.”

Caroline left her and issued instructions for the patient to be fed before the morphine was administered. It was all she could do. Earlier, she and another female doctor had been called into Lady Harriet’s room to witness her signing the amendments to her will. Sir Arnold had been careful to fold the paper so that none of the contents of the new will were visible to those signing it. Caroline had lingered outside the door so that she could speak to Arnold as he left.

“Sir, are you aware that your client has given a written confession to the police stating that she murdered her husband in self-defense?”

Sir Arnold had looked grave. “I am aware of this, doctor, and I shall be contesting the matter. I do not believe that Lady Harriet, even severely provoked, would be capable of such a thing. I have known her since she became a ward of the court at the age of eleven. Besides, I am somewhat dismayed that such a confession was taken from her without her legal representation being present.”

“The confession was not taken under duress,” Caroline had assured him, “Lady Harriet insisted upon it. However, I am in accord with your feelings on this matter. As a physician, I do not believe that her injuries would have allowed her to perform the act of killing her husband and I would be prepared to state that fact in the courts, should it come to it.”

Sir Arnold had nodded in satisfaction.

“One more thing,” Caroline continued, “because of the nature of the case, I should warn you that the police will probably want to know about the changes that Lady Harriet has made to her will.”

Sir Arnold had looked grim. “The police must do what they see fit. I shall protect my client’s private wishes by whatever means possible. Good day, young lady.”

Now Caroline could do nothing further. Lady Harriet would be fed and given pain relief. A nurse would sponge her down with cold water every two hours, in an attempt to bring down her fever, and they would continue to apply antiseptic to her surgical wound, in the hope that it would filter through to the infection beneath. Caroline left instructions with Matron to be called if Lady Harriet deteriorated, then signed off from her shift.

When she arrived at the house, Billy opened the door, which lifted her spirits, and he protectively cupped her elbow in his good hand to guide her through the maze of opened boxes and baskets in the hallway.

“It’s like Christmas here, miss!” he said gleefully as they arrived at the drawing room. “I’ve been unpacking a feast, I have!”

Caroline laughed as he opened a box and showed her some beautifully labeled jars of honey. He picked up the box as though it were filled with feathers and said, “Everyone’s down in the kitchen helping out. Cook’s giving us all instructions and even Lady Maud is putting stuff on shelves in the larder. It’s a right do!”

“That I have to see!” Caroline felt the cares of the hospital drop away as she followed Billy down the stairs.

“Caroline, my darling!” called Lady Maud from the larder doorway. “Come and give me a big hug!”

Caroline duly obliged and Maud surveyed her at arm’s length.

“Mm. A little thin, I think. All you modern girls are the same! I think we shall have to put you on the same feeding regime as Victoria! Lots of steamed puddings, Cook!” she called over her shoulder to the beaming Mrs Beddowes who was busily unpacking what looked like green beans in glass jars.

“Well, you’ve certainly come prepared to feed an army, Maud! Look at all these provisions!”

“Well, of course I have, Caroline! We may not be quite an army but we have three hungry policemen—I mean look at this young man!” She pointed to Billy, who grinned. “He looks as though he eats his own weight every day! And then we have two working young ladies, who are far too thin and need to be fattened up and, finally, myself, Cook and Mary, and our ample girths signify that we are rather fond of our food.”

Mary giggled and Cook tutted with mock disapproval.

Arthur Tollman appeared from the butler’s quarters with an armful of dust sheets. “Where shall I put these, milady?” he enquired.

Maud thought for a moment. “I think that all the dust sheets can be put in the servants’ quarters at the top of the house, because we shan’t be using those. Mary and Cook are sleeping down here. We’re going to turn my husband’s old study into a bedroom for PC Rigsby here, and Victoria, Caroline and myself will sleep in the bedrooms on the first floor.”

“Very well, milady.” Arthur walked over to Billy and dumped the dust-sheets into his arms. “You can run up the stairs with those, lad. I’m a bit long in the tooth to be doing that.”

“Righto,” said Billy obligingly and bounded off up the kitchen stairs, two at a time.

Arthur extended his hand to Caroline. “You must be Doctor Allardyce, Miss; I’m Detective Sergeant Arthur Tollman. I’ve heard a lot about you from Mrs E.”

“Mrs E? Oh, you mean Mrs Ellingham! Pleased to meet you, Mr Tollman.”

Caroline shook hands and smiled. “Well, isn’t this jolly?” she said, to no one in particular. “Where’s the rest of ‘the team?’ ”

“Ah,” said Lady Maud, “Peter is rearranging the study so that PC Rigsby can bring down two of the camp beds to sleep on. There is a sofa in there but when he laid down on it, it was a good two feet too small! He’s such a giant, bless him! And Victoria is removing all the dust sheets in the bedrooms and airing the beds before Mary goes round and lays fires for everyone. Would you like to go and give them both a hand, Caroline? The sooner we all get sorted out, the sooner we can have supper. It will only be cold ham and pickles, I’m afraid. We can’t expect Mrs Beddowes to start cooking tonight.”

“No, ma-am,” said Cook, “this range will need cleaning out and a fire laid. I shall let it burn all night, then it will be nice and warm for bread baking in the morning.”

“This is all such fun!” Lady Maud said conspiratorially to Caroline. “It reminds me of my youth, camping on Lady Marchmont’s lawn in the summer with my cousins!” She turned back to the larder with a satisfied chortle and resumed her shelf stacking.