A Fatal Freedom (36 page)

On arrival in Dorset Square, Thomas helped Ursula down from the cab then paid off the driver and made a note of the amount in a small notebook he carried. ‘Important to keep expenses straight,’ he murmured.

Ursula appeared not to hear him, she was studying the houses that lined the square. She pointed across from where they were standing. ‘They look as though they could be apartments,’ she said.

Together they approached. Sure enough, the first building Ursula had picked out had the sort of double door favoured by up-market apartment houses.

‘It looks too smart for a rat like Albert, however on the make he is,’ said Ursula.

‘We’ll check it out though.’

‘What did you say Albert’s other name was?’

‘Pond, Albert Pond. I obtained all the full names of the Peters’ servants at the start of my investigation.’ He led the way inside. A small porter’s lodge was on the left of the hallway, occupied by an elderly man in a sober uniform reading a newspaper. Immediately he noted the newcomers, the paper was put down.

‘Ex-army, I would take a bet on it,’ Thomas whispered, then, ‘I wonder if you can help us, we have come to visit a Mr Pond, I believe he is resident here?’

‘Mr Pond, sir? No, sir, no one of that name here.’ The porter had the air of a man who knew whereof he spoke.

‘We must have the number wrong,’ Thomas said apologetically. He took Ursula’s arm and exited the building, conscious of the porter’s gaze as they went.

The next building produced the same response.

The third one they looked at had a locked front door with a panel of bells beside it together with a list of names. ‘Look,’ said Ursula excitedly. Sure enough, at the top, in a copperplate hand there the name was: A. Pond.

Thomas pressed the bell and they waited.

‘If he has rooms on the top floor, it will take time to descend,’ said Ursula.

After several more minutes Thomas pressed the bell again. It was impossible to tell if it was in working order or not.

Still no one came. ‘If Albert’s not in, I’d like to gain access to his apartment,’ said Thomas. ‘We could surely find some clue as to what he’s up to.’

‘The bell at the bottom says Caretaker,’ Ursula pointed out and pressed it.

A door in the basement opened and a voice shouted up: ‘What you want, then?’

She was a middle-aged woman dressed in a soiled apron over a faded cotton dress, her hair roughly gathered into a mob cap, her face worn and set in depressed lines.

Thomas watched as, unprompted, Ursula dropped down the basement steps. ‘We’ve come to visit a friend, Albert Pond,’ she said, ‘but he doesn’t seem to be home. Would you know his whereabouts? Or is it that his bell doesn’t work?’

The woman hesitated for a moment then shrugged and said, ‘Wouldn’t know. Though he’d be sharp enough to tell me if it wasn’t.’

‘Then would you be aware if he has gone out?’

‘It’s not my place to keep tabs on the residents.’

‘I expect, though, said Ursula, ‘that they rely on you in all sorts of ways, doing their cleaning and such? Mr Pond was expecting us and it’s not like him not to be there when he says he will be.’ She smiled at the woman. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to tell us your name?’

The woman unbent slightly. ‘Ivy Duggan, Madam, and I does his cleaning on a Tuesday, and take up any deliveries and such like.’

Thomas joined Ursula, a hand in his trouser pocket jingling some coin. ‘Then, Mrs Duggan, I expect that you’ll have a key to his apartment.’

‘I might have,’ the caretaker said slowly, flicking a glance at the pocket with its coins.

‘It’s just that Miss Grandison and I have become worried about our friend. It really is very unlike Mr Pond not to be on the doorstep looking out for us, let alone not answering his bell. At the time we made this arrangement, he did mention that he was worried about a return of his old trouble – heart you know. I wonder, would you be willing to take us to his apartment and check that he hasn’t collapsed?’ He withdrew his hand, a sovereign held between thumb and forefinger. ‘Such assistance would deserve recognition,’ he added tellingly.

The caretaker’s gaze latched on to the sovereign. Her hands twitched, then she snatched it out of Thomas’s hand. ‘Stan,’ she shouted back through her open door. ‘Stan, I’m going upstairs, you’re to mind the place.’

A shrunken man, older than the woman, with watery eyes and trembling hands, mean clothing hanging on his frame, appeared behind Mrs Duggan, who immediately spirited the sovereign away into a pocket. ‘Upstairs, you say? Where’s me tea?’

‘I’ll not be long. These people need to check on Mr Pond.’

Sam shuffled back into the apartment. The caretaker took a couple of keys from a board by the door, ‘Well, you’d better come up,’ she said and pushed past them up the steps.

Thomas and Ursula followed her as she opened the front door to the house, then led the way up to the third floor. Thomas noted the poor decorative condition of the hall and stairs, which sported a wide band of white paint in place of carpet. The higher up they went, the narrower the stairs and more dilapidated the doors that gave off each landing. On the mezzanine floors as they climbed Thomas noted first a lavatory, then a bathroom. At the very top, where the ceiling sloped attic-like, the caretaker stopped in front of a door and banged on it. ‘Mr Pond, folks to see yer,’ she shouted.

There was no response.

Thomas said nothing, nor did Ursula. The three of them were uncomfortably crowded on to the small landing. In the silence the sound of a train entering or exiting Marylebone station could be heard.

‘He could ’ave gorn out,’ said Mrs Duggan slowly.

‘If he’s not there, we’ll leave; you can lock up and Mr Pond will be no more the wiser,’ Thomas said soothingly, he was damned if he was going to ante up more money, a sovereign was more than enough, perhaps more than had been wise. He’d think of some way to be left in the apartment once they were inside.

With a quick sigh, the caretaker inserted the key and opened the door. As they stepped into a small living room, a stale scent compounded of dirty clothes, unwashed body odour and unaired rooms greeted them.

If Albert reckoned moving into Dorset Square meant he’d gone up in the world, it could only be because of the number of stairs he had to climb to reach his accommodation. Maybe the lower floors offered apartments with more style. Here a rapid glance revealed a threadbare carpet, dirty walls that were ignorant of any pictures, a few unassuming items of furniture, a small fireplace with an aged wing chair before it, and on the floor, face down, with his head resting on the fender, Albert Pond.

Ursula gasped. Thomas held out a hand to her but she swallowed hard and straightened her back. ‘I’m fine,’ she said quietly.

‘Gawd save us!’ The caretaker brought a hand to her mouth. ‘Yer was right! ‘Is ’eart must’ve given out. ’Ere, I got to sit down.’

She swayed and Thomas moved the armchair a little distance from the body and helped her sit.

‘Would you like some water?’ Ursula asked.

Mrs Duggan shook her head. ‘Nah, but ’e keeps brandy in that cupboard …’

Ursula opened the doors of a wooden cabinet and revealed a few items of crockery, a couple of glasses and a half-empty bottle of fine cognac. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘Albert Pond is not going to need it,’ poured some out and gave it to the caretaker, who downed the drink in one, coughed slightly, wiped her mouth with her sleeve and gave the empty glass back to Ursula. ‘Better ’ave one yerself,’ Mrs Duggan said.

Ursula looked across at Thomas but he shook his head and she returned the bottle to the cupboard.

Thomas bent and carefully turned the body over. One look at the contorted face and the way the hands clutched at the throat convinced him that heart attack was not the most likely diagnosis.

‘When did you last see Mr Pond?’ Thomas asked.

She looked vacantly at him until he repeated the question. ‘I dunno.’

‘Think, woman,’ he said urgently, then caught himself; they’d not get anywhere by upsetting her. ‘A doctor may well order a post-mortem examination to establish exactly how he died. It may even be possible that the police need to be informed.’

‘Police!’ Mrs Duggan looked stricken.

‘They could well ask you the same question, so you might as well establish the answer now,’ he said slowly and calmly.

She took a deep breath and considered his words. Then, ‘It would be Tuesday, that was the day I did ’is rooms.’

Looking round, Thomas thought that ‘doing the rooms’ couldn’t take very long. ‘’E was going out as I came up. ’E was in an ’urry, said ’e’d left me money on the table and ran down the stairs. Didn’t seem no difficulty with ’is ’eart then.’ She carefully avoided looking at the body.

‘And you haven’t seen him since?’

‘Not until I opened that door.’

‘Did you see him return that day?’

She shook her head.

‘Or see anyone visit him between then and now?’

Another shake of the head. ‘But I doesn’t ’ave the time to winder gaze.’

‘Do you clean rooms for anyone else in the building?’ Ursula asked.

‘I looks after most of them. And they got more furniture and stuff in them than ’ere.’ She shot a glance at the sparse furnishings. ‘Respectable, they are, them that stays ’ere. What they’re going to say about this, I don’t know.’

‘So you would be in and out of the apartments, up and down the stairs?’ Thomas said.

A nod.

‘Which would mean that, without window gazing, you might well see a visitor paying a call?’

‘That’s as may be, but I didn’t see anyone that didn’t ’ave any right to be ’ere. Nor anyone to see Mr Pond.’

‘We shall need a doctor to examine him,’ Thomas said. ‘Please send for one, Mrs Duggan.’

‘Me? I ain’t got no one to send. Stan’s no use and I can’t leave the building.’ She looked at him almost pleadingly.

Thomas sighed and brought out another sovereign. ‘If I write a note, I’m sure you can persuade Stan to go, or you can leave him looking after the building and go yourself.’ He held up the coin.

The woman looked greedily at it and finally gave a little nod. ‘Suppose I could.’

Thomas took out his notebook, extracted a page, wrote a quick request and handed it to Mrs Duggan together with the money.

‘Could take me a little time. Stan’ll not understand.’

‘The dead can wait and Miss Grandison and I will keep him company. You’ll need us as witnesses.’

‘Witnesses?’

‘That you didn’t do him in.’

‘’Ere, what you suggesting?’

‘Nothing, Mrs Duggan; I’m suggesting nothing. But you need us to declare that you opened that door in all innocence and were as horrified at what you saw as we were.’ Thomas looked at Ursula.

‘You have had a very nasty shock,’ she said in a calm voice. ‘We all have. But I’m sure you can understand that Mr Jackman is giving you very good advice. When the doctor calls, he can examine Mr Pond’s body, and we can state exactly what has happened this morning. Then you should have nothing to worry about as far as police are concerned.’

Mrs Duggan looked from her to Thomas and back again. ‘Well, yer seems to know yer fingers from yer toes, which is more than wot I can at the moment.’ She levered herself out of the chair and plucked coin and note out of Thomas’s hand. ‘I’ll get Stan to go along to Dr Morrison’s, ’e knows where it is, been there often enough.’ She cast another glance at the body on the floor; her face seemed to have grown older since they’d entered the apartment. ‘’E wasn’t a bad old sod, which is more than I can say for everyone in this building; stuck-up lot some o’ them.’ She sniffed hard and left.

‘Sure you don’t want a drop of that brandy yourself?’ Thomas said to Ursula as the door closed behind Mrs Duggan.

‘Thank you, no. One of the benefits of living in a California mining camp is that you are no stranger to unexpected death and I prefer to keep a clear head.’ She gave a quick look at the body. ‘Is your verdict a heart attack?’

Thomas was profoundly grateful for the hardening effects of rough living, the last thing he needed at this moment was an hysterical woman, or one prone to swooning. He undid Albert’s waistcoat, tie and shirt and pushed the material back to reveal his chest. ‘No, it looks more like a case of cyanide poisoning to me, the same cause of death as Joshua Peters.’

‘But wasn’t he killed with prussic acid?’

‘Another name for cyanide.’

Ursula forced herself to look at Albert Pond’s body. ‘What tells you he was killed with prussic acid, or cyanide?’

‘I can’t be certain but look at those livid spots and discolourations; they are more likely to be caused by cyanide than a heart attack.’

Ursula looked at Albert’s mottled chest and thought about the awful result of swallowing poison. She drew a sudden breath. ‘Could it have been in the brandy? Mrs Duggan drank some!’

Jackman unstoppered the bottle and smelled the contents. ‘No trace of almonds and I think if she had ingested any cyanide, she would have collapsed. It’s not quite instantaneous but doesn’t take long to take effect.’

‘What a relief! But if not the brandy, what? There doesn’t seem anything here to eat.’

‘The killer could have removed the means when he left,’ said Jackman.

Ursula tried not to show how shocked she felt. The dead body, with its twisted limbs and contorted features, looked horrible. Had Joshua Peters looked like that when he’d been found? No matter how unpleasant or even evil both men were, it was a terrible end.

She went into the other room and returned with a bedcover which she spread over Albert’s body. ‘I can’t help remembering the way he was ejected from
Maison Rose
the other day,’ she said. ‘How he stood on the pavement and shook his fist at the closed door. He was a very angry man.’

‘We should try and find something that will tell us why he was there,’ said Thomas. He opened the doors to the little cupboard, and placed the pieces of crockery and glass on the top beside the brandy bottle. Then he knelt and ran his hands over the interior.

Ursula went back into the bedroom. Sun shining through a dormer window that matched one in the other room revealed that Albert had not yet managed to surround himself with the trappings of a genteel lifestyle. There was a night cabinet beside the bed but the china pot it should house was beneath the iron bedstead. Ursula wrinkled her nose at the odour of its contents. She opened the cabinet’s door but found only empty space inside. Nor was anything in the drawer. She checked that nothing had been fixed to its underside.