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Charlie rushed out of the kitchen, leaving behind a half-eaten bowl of crumble and shocked silence. Despite the heat from the coal range, the room felt as cold as a tomb without him.
Grace emptied his bowl into the scrap bin for the chickens with unnecessary vigour, ignoring the clash of metal on porcelain. Her great-aunt would normally make a joke about scraping the pattern off the plate about now, but instead she came up behind Grace and kissed her cheek. Anne left the room without saying a word.
“Come and have a cup of tea with me, Grace,” Lily said.
Grace sat down at the table, wondering whether it would be a breach of his confidence to ask Lily about the relationship between Charlie and Amelia and why he would be blamed for her disappearance.
Lily read her mind. “It’s not what you think, Grace. Amelia was like a sister to Charlie. Unfortunately, her mother saw it in an entirely different light. Her daughter was no longer a little girl, but a pretty and vulnerable woman of seventeen. She didn’t want their childhood friendship to turn into something deeper.”
“She couldn’t ask for a better man than Charlie. Although, I suppose I can see why Mrs Lawrence would think any young man might be tempted by a pretty girl who leaned on him for support.”
Lily let out a delicate snort. “Charlie would never have been good enough for Mrs Lawrence. She wanted Amelia to marry someone with good prospects, like a banker, or a respectable man, like the local vicar. Certainly not the son of a half-Chinese woman and a policeman. She saw him as a man on the make, trying to lure a rich girl into a bad marriage.”
“Charlie said he wasn’t in Clyde when she disappeared.”
“He was in Dunedin, applying to join the police force. I suppose I can see why Mrs Lawrence wouldn’t want her dear, fragile daughter to marry a lowly police recruit, who would no doubt be assigned to a station far away from her family. Worse, I suspect she worried that Charlie would take advantage of Amelia’s vulnerability without marrying her.” Lily reached out for Grace’s hand. “I meant what I said, Grace. The truth is, Charlie and Amelia were only ever friends. Mrs Lawrence was blinded by her prejudice.”
“Amelia’s mother must be an appalling judge of character.”
“Her father was a moderating force. I know Mr Lawrence offered Charlie a position at the bank where he was the manager. He was always welcoming to the whole Pyke family. As you can imagine, Charlie was grateful for the gesture of support, but not interested in sitting behind a desk counting money.”
“You say Charlie saw her as no more than a friend. But what about Amelia?”
“I honestly don’t know, Grace. I was married and living in Dunedin at the time, so I hadn’t seen them together since they were children. My sister Jasmine, Charlie’s mother, said Amelia was behaving very oddly in the weeks leading up to her disappearance, on the few times her mother let her out of the house. Rumour had it that she was ill.”
“Charlie must have known what was wrong with her.”
“Jasmine said they wouldn’t let him see Amelia. When she wrote a note to him asking him to leave her alone, he left for Dunedin early. The only thing I can say with absolute certainty is that Charlie would never have done anything to hurt her. For them to blame him for her illness was pure spite.”
“But it still hurts him to be reminded of it, of course.”
“No matter how blameless he is, Charlie will always feel guilt at her disappearance, if only because he wasn’t in Clyde to stop it. I don’t need to tell you how relieved he would be if she was still alive.”
“Then I need to do whatever it takes to follow up this rumour and lay it to rest, one way or another.”
“He would never ask for help, but I know your support means a great deal to him, Grace. Anne and I are committed to working at Lavender House today, but I’m sure we can find time to do whatever we can to assist.”
“Thank you, Lily. Charlie and I can manage, at least until we know more about Stillwaters Sanctuary.” Grace pushed her chair back with more force than she intended. “I should leave, or I’ll be late for my meeting with the police.”
––––––––
By the time Grace had answered a few trivial questions and signed her witness statement at the police station, Charlie had returned from sending the telegram to his father, looking more composed than he had been earlier.
They found Detective Inspector Stewart with his local counterpart, chewing the fat over the successes and failures of their long careers. Grace felt her cheeks flush at being referred to as an up-and-coming assistant to the police surgeon and was even more thrilled to hear Stewart tell DI Wallace that Charlie was “the young man I was telling you about”. Perhaps his hints about wanting a transfer to Dunedin were taking root at last.
“Might I ask why the three of you have such an interest in these deaths on the train?” DI Wallace asked.
“Only that Miss Penrose was a witness to it and has some concerns about the victim’s state of mind,” Stewart replied. “I would not have looked twice at it under ordinary circumstances, but Miss Penrose has an annoying tendency to be right.”
“I would not wish to waste your time, Detective Inspector Wallace, or that of your men, based only on my strong impression that Miss Forsyth was frightened rather than suicidal. I have said so in my statement, for the record. My intention is to talk to an expert on local asylums, to reassure myself that all is well at the asylum from which Miss Forsyth escaped. After that, I am happy to leave well alone.”
The local inspector stepped out of the room for a moment. They could hear a rapid bark of orders, then he returned. “I have asked Kelly to bring you up to date with developments.” He slapped Stewart on the back. “Good to see you, old man. I hope you will find time to dine with me at my club while you are here. Tonight perhaps?”
“That would be splendid, Robbie, though I have other plans tonight. I’ll keep you informed of any developments.”
Constable Kelly, the man who had interviewed Grace yesterday and taken her statement this morning, appeared in the doorway, standing ramrod straight and perspiring freely. “Sir? You wished to see me?”
“Kelly, I want you to update Detective Inspector Stewart and his team on the train tragedy. Render any assistance they need, including full access to police files. He’ll give you the details. I have already asked Peters to look up any past complaints against the lunatic asylum she escaped from.”
Their meeting with Kelly was brief and uninformative. Doctor Samuel Wilson’s body had been recovered and would arrive in Dunedin this morning. Isabelle’s body had not been found and was presumed to have been washed out to sea on the high tide. “She’ll be half way to South America by now,” as Kelly put it. The only additional information he had was that a pair of women’s shoes had been spotted on the cliff face.
“Was there much distance between the man’s body and the shoes?” Charlie asked.
Kelly seemed stumped by the question. “His body was down a bank, near the tracks. The shoes were way down towards the bottom of the cliff, near the beach.”
“Horizontal distance, I mean.” Charlie gave Kelly a moment to respond before explaining. “If the doctor attempted to save her and they fell together in a struggle, then the bodies should have fallen off the train at the same time. If he pushed her off, then jumped when he realised the guard had seen him, they would be further apart.”
“Oh, I see what you mean. I understand the doctor’s body was further along the track. Perhaps he clung on a bit longer before he toppled off. The guard’s evidence would suggest a gap.”
“We are just trying to verify his account, Constable Kelly,” Stewart said. “What else is being done?”
“Er, nothing, sir. The case is closed, unless the police surgeon finds new evidence during the autopsy. Accidental death for both victims. We suspect the girl committed suicide, of course, but her father is a highly respected member of the community, so we will give her the benefit of the doubt for the family’s peace of mind.”
Charlie studied his nails. “I believe the guard suggested that the doctor might have taken his own life?”
“Oh no, sir. A respected doctor is not the sort of man to throw himself off a train in a momentary pang of guilt. Unlike the woman, who was certifiably insane.”
Annoyance surged within her, but Grace kept it suppressed. “In fact, I believe she was admitted to the facility for a rest cure during pregnancy. Bearing a child can be a challenging time, but it does not predispose a woman to insanity.”
“I’m afraid I cannot agree, Miss. The woman’s identity has been confirmed as Miss Isabelle Forsyth, a committed patient at Stillwaters Sanctuary. The asylum had already notified the police that she was missing. I communicated with them this morning and was told the woman was considered highly unstable due to deep-seated melancholia and episodes of hysteria and fantastical storytelling. They confirm she was pregnant and unmarried, which goes a long way towards explaining her suicidal behaviour.”
Grace glared at him, but she could see his point of view, based on the evidence available to him. Besides, there was no point in arguing. “I stand corrected, Constable Kelly.”
“I’d like to see the doctor’s luggage, Constable Kelly,” Charlie said.
“Luggage?”
“Doctor Wilson must have had some type of luggage with him. A doctor’s bag or small valise.”
Kelly’s gaze swept the room, as if the bag might suddenly appear. “If there was such a bag, it was not found on the train. I understand that he was only at Stillwaters for the day. But, of course, I shall inquire at the station to be sure.”
“And Miss Forsyth’s bag?” Stewart asked.
Grace put Kelly out of his misery. “She was carrying only a reticule, which I have with me. There is nothing in it apart from a picture of an older woman, presumably her mother, along with a handkerchief and two pounds. She left Stillwaters without even an overcoat or hat, poor thing. I expect it would have been difficult for her to have escaped over the wall with any more.”
“Do you have any background on either of the two victims?” Stewart clearly didn’t expect an enlightening answer, but he was a man who never stopped questioning until he was sure he had squeezed out the last drop of evidence.
Kelly reached for a file and flicked through the few sheets of paper, most of which they recognised as the statements made by the train guard and Grace. “Doctor Samuel Wilson was the Visiting Medical Officer at Stillwaters Sanctuary, where he had worked for many years. He was on his way home, as he did not live on site and maintained another practice in town. The girl was the daughter of Mr Edward Forsyth, of Forsyth’s Emporium.”
An elderly man in spectacles entered the room and stopped a respectful five paces away. He waited for the end of Kelly’s short summary before speaking. “I was asked to report back to you on any prior history of complaints pertaining to the Stillwaters Sanctuary or Doctor Samuel Wilson. Fortuitously, I have cross-referenced every complaint from all medical facilities and institutions in our region into individual folders for ease of access.”
“Yes, Peters, very commendable,” Kelly interrupted. “Any complaints?”
Peters held up a sheet of paper, which shook slightly in his aged hand. “Both the doctor and the asylum are duly registered as required under the relevant Act of Parliament. That would be the 1882 Lunatics Act, which encompasses all facilities admitting patients with disorders of the mind as certified by a registered practitioner. Annual inspections have been lodged as required under section–”
“Yes, yes, all very good. Just get to the complaints, will you, Peters.”
“No actionable complaints. That is, nothing requiring the notification of a suspected offence to the police. I expect the local inspector of asylums would hold a long list of minor complaints about conditions – treatment, food, and suchlike.”
Grace had a sudden vision of a golden-haired girl complaining about the porridge being too cold and the bed too hard, like the nursery story. She hoped, for Charlie’s sake that they were not chasing a fairy tale.
“Excellent work, thank you, Mr Peters,” Stewart said. “Efficient investigation relies on meticulous record keeping. It brings joy to my heart to have such ready access to information.”
Peters glowed at the compliment, his hunched back becoming a little straighter as he snapped his heels together. “Thank you, Detective Inspector Stewart. I am honoured to be of service.”
Charlie leaned across and whispered in Stewart’s ear. Stewart called out after the retreating records clerk. “Mr Peters, might I request some additional information, please? Anything you have on Josiah Cowper would be most appreciated.”
“He may be listed under his alias, Doctor Josiah, itinerant purveyor of patent medicines in the Otago region,” Charlie added. “Age probably between thirty and forty.”
Peters scribbled a note. “I’ll find the rogue, don’t you worry. Anything else, Detective Inspector Stewart?”
“It would be most helpful to know if there have ever been any criminal charges laid against the present staff of Stillwaters Sanctuary, especially those in charge of the asylum.”
“It would be my pleasure, sir. As it happens, I have created an extensive indexing system cross-referenced by name, date and location.” The records clerk romped out of the room like a terrier on a particularly delicious scent.
Stewart watched him go with paternal pride, even though the man had to be at least a decade older. “Unless you have any more questions for Miss Penrose, we will leave you to your duties, Constable Kelly. Thank you for your time.”
Charlie paused at the door. “I take it that Miss Forsyth’s parents have been informed?”
“Not yet. We had been hoping to find a body, so we could confirm her identity.”
“Nevertheless, in the circumstances, perhaps sooner would be better than later,” Stewart said. “Perhaps you might take Miss Penrose and DC Pyke with you. It may give her mother some comfort to hear about her daughter’s final moments.”
Kelly shuffled the papers back into the file with nervous fingers. “No disrespect to Miss Penrose, but would it be appropriate to allow a member of the public to attend while I notify the next of kin?”
“As you think best, of course. Although, I should note that Miss Penrose has a formal relationship to the police, given her current status as an assistant to the police surgeon. Do you wish to see her accreditation?”
Stewart might as well have said she was a performing elephant in a circus for the disbelief his statement generated. Kelly closed his gaping jaw. “I’ll take your word for it, sir. It will have to be this afternoon, as Doctor Wilson’s body is arriving at the train station soon.”