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The edge of the wooden bench dug into the back of Ethel’s legs. No matter how much she wriggled, she was unable to find a comfortable position. She wrinkled her nose. Maybe it was her imagination, but she was sure the smell of death hung over them.
Martha, slumped on her left, had lost her normal sparkle; Kirsty moved restlessly on the bench to her right. Over by the door, Paul stood staring out into the courtyard, a cigarette between his fingers. Every few moments he puffed it, sending a cloud of smoke whirling around him.
Ethel reached out and gripped Kirsty’s hand.
‘Will we have to wait much longer?’ Kirsty whispered.
Ethel shrugged.
‘Depends how long it takes the inspector to get here, I suppose.’
‘My aunt will wonder where I am.’ Kirsty’s eyebrows drew together in a worried frown.
‘They’re coming.’ Paul nipped the glowing end of his cigarette between his finger and thumb and dropped the stub on the floor.
‘It’s about time,’ Martha muttered. She stood up and faced the door.
The man who thrust his way into the room wore a black suit which reminded Ethel of the one her father had hanging in his wardrobe for special occasions. His eyes reflected a meanness of spirit and he didn’t bother removing his bowler hat when he entered. Ethel pursed her lips, not convinced this man would waste any energy on finding Victoria’s killer.
A policeman followed the inspector, and Ethel’s eyes widened as she recognised him. It was the constable who had rescued her from her father yesterday.
* * *
HAMMOND STAMPED INTO the charge-room, ignoring everyone apart from the duty sergeant.
‘You sent for me, Sergeant Edwards?’ He kept his voice abrupt. He liked to keep his officers in their place and knew the sergeant would recognise the implicit threat behind his question.
‘Yes, sir. These women –’ he looked at them with a contemptuous glance ‘– and this, here, reporter, reckon they’ve found the body of a woman in the Howff.’
‘I would expect there to be bodies in a graveyard, sergeant.’
‘Yes, sir. But they maintain this is foul play, sir, and I reckoned I should inform you.’
Hammond recognised the smaller blonde woman. She was one of those damned suffragettes. He’d seen her when he was investigating the death of that other woman. And now, here she was again. He supposed all three of them were suffragettes. Bad enough he had to interview the reporter, without having to deal with these harridans, as well. He glared at them for a moment before turning back to address the sergeant.
‘Has anyone gone to check the Howff to determine if their claim has any substance?’
‘I thought you’d want to do that yourself, sir. But I sent Constable McDonald to stand guard at the gate.’
‘I see.’ Hammond drummed his fingers on the countertop. He ignored the restless movements and muttering behind him. He’d talk to them when he was good and ready.
‘Are we going to stay here forever, waiting for you to take our statements?’
Hammond’s face tightened into a frown, his body stiffened, and he swivelled around to face the reporter
‘Ah, Mr Anderson, I believe. You seem to have an unfortunate habit of finding dead bodies.’
The reporter moved closer. Hammond stepped back to escape the smell of stale cigarettes on the man’s breath.
‘If you did your job better, then I wouldn’t have to do it for you.’ Annoyance radiated from the reporter’s face and voice.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake.’ The blonde suffragette pushed the reporter out of the way. ‘I informed you on Wednesday that Victoria was missing, and you did nothing. And all this time she’s been lying in the Howff where her killer left her. If you had been doing your job, you would have found her instead of leaving it to us. And that’s not all. She is the second suffragette to have been killed this week. You need to do something before there are more deaths.’
‘Madam, I think I know how to do my job.’ Hammond didn’t bother to keep the annoyance from his tone.
The woman snorted with disgust, confirming Hammond’s belief that suffragettes were harridans, not fit to be called women.
‘Sit down,’ he growled. ‘When I want to talk to you, I will let you know.’
He turned to face the reporter.
‘If you follow me, Mr Anderson, I will take your statement.’ He led the way through a door to the inner corridor of the police station. ‘You, too,’ he called to Buchan. ‘You can act as note-taker.’
* * *
‘WHAT A HORRIBLE MAN,’ Martha said, as they left the police station.
‘I may wish to talk to you again,’ Inspector Hammond had said, dismissing them after his interrogation.
‘You certainly couldn’t accuse him of being polite.’ The reporter stopped under the archway to light a cigarette. He threw the spent match on the ground and inhaled. ‘I needed that.’
Martha smiled at him.
‘Thank you for your support, but I think we can manage now.’
She was anxious for him to leave them because she wanted to visit Victoria’s sister, Elizabeth, and she didn’t want a reporter present. The news about Victoria’s death would be better to come from her than from the police.
‘It’s no trouble. I can accompany you as far as the Courier building – it’s on my way.’
‘That’s very kind.’ It was the opposite direction to the one in which Martha wanted to go, but she walked alongside him rather than risk him following her.
They parted company with Paul at the Courier building, and the three young women crossed the road to the top of Reform Street.
‘I can see my aunt at the window.’ Kirsty looked up to the first-floor window which curved around the corner of the building. ‘I’d best leave you here.’
‘I am so sorry we subjected you to such a distressing experience,’ Martha said, grasping Kirsty’s hand within her own. ‘I hope it hasn’t dissuaded you from joining the Women’s Freedom League.’
‘On the contrary, it’s made me more determined. It’s opened my eyes to how women are treated, and if I can help change that, I will.’
Martha reached into her reticule and drew out a calling card. She thrust it into Kirsty’s hand.
‘The address of the Women’s Freedom League office is on the front and I have put my home address on the back. I hope we see you soon.’
‘I’ll call in tomorrow,’ Kirsty said.
Once the door on the corner of the building closed behind Kirsty, the two women continued along the street.
‘I’m going to visit Victoria’s sister,’ Martha said as they reached the end of the street. ‘Someone needs to tell her what happened, and I don’t trust the police to do it.’
‘Would you like me to come with you?’
‘I think it best if I go alone.’
After she left Ethel at the Nethergate, Martha’s pace didn’t slacken. Her task was not a pleasant one, but it had to be done.