The Insanity of Murder (17 page)

Without a word to Eva or to each other, Beamish and Florence set to work like a well-practised team. Florence pummelled Mary on the back as Dody had taught her and Beamish began to rhythmically pump her arms until water gushed from her mouth. Every now and then he stopped to feel for the pulse in her neck.

It wasn’t long before he exclaimed, ‘It’s going, and it’s strong.’ He positioned Mary on her side then rested on his haunches, wiping the sweat from his brow. Florence sank back into the mud, delighting at the sight of the steady rise and fall of Mary’s chest. When they had both regained some strength Beamish climbed to his feet and patted Florence on the back. Her eyes met his. She smiled back at him.

‘Well done, Miss McCleland. It’s touch and go, but she is at least still alive. I’d best get the boat.’

He took a running dive into the lake and swam over to the boat, dragging it into the shallow water with Eva still unceremoniously clinging to its side.

Florence and Eva helped Beamish right the boat. Then they carried the old lady from the shore and gently lay her across the boards, head cushioned in Eva’s lap.

Beamish shoved the boat off into the lake and rowed as if the devil were after them.

The three of them made light work of carrying Lady Mary up the hill and into the carpark. By that time Mary was wriggling like a worm and insisting they let her go so she could walk herself. Beamish and Florence settled her on the roomy back seat of Fogarty’s car and Eva was dispatched to fetch the good doctor.

‘I’ll wait here if you’d like to change, Miss McCleland,’ Beamish said, blocking off the car’s open door to prevent Mary’s escape.

‘It’s all right, I’m not cold.’

Beamish said nothing, dropping his eyes to Florence’s midriff. It was only then that her predicament hit home — she was in her drawers!

She gasped, covered her hand with her mouth and rushed up the front stairs, the sound of Beamish’s laughter echoing in her ears.

Florence changed and hastened back to the carpark to find Fogarty and Beamish in deep conversation. Both of the car’s back doors were locked and Mary was tapping on the window, feebly attempting to turn the handle.

Fogarty smiled as Florence approached. ‘Beamish told me what happened. You are to be highly commended, young lady.’

‘It’s nothing anyone wouldn’t have done.’

‘Eva didn’t do much,’ Beamish cut in.

‘Eva can’t swim.’ Florence looked around. ‘Where is she?’

‘She’s been sent upstairs to change,’ Fogarty said. ‘How’d you like to help Mr Beamish take Lady Mary to hospital? I’m almost certain that she will be all right, but I want her watched there overnight to make sure she has had no untoward effects.’

Much as she had enjoyed the home thus far, Florence leaped at the chance of a break from it. Fogarty opened the door for her and she slid across the seat and into Lady Mary’s outstretched arms.

She held Mary all the way to the Epsom Cottage Hospital while Beamish drove. At the Hospital entrance Mary was bundled into a wheelchair and taken away to be examined. It was agreed that she should stay the night.

While Beamish was talking to the doctor, Florence noticed a newspaper on the vacant seat next to her. The headlines said something about a suffragette and the Derby. She didn’t dare read more with Beamish standing so close by so she shoved it under her apron to read later. Florence felt rotten about being allowed to escort Mary while Eva had been sent upstairs. Eva deserved a break from the home far more than she did, and the newspaper would help cheer her up.

The sound of a sudden cry caused Florence to jump to her feet. ‘Was that Mary, is she all right?’ she asked Beamish.

Before he could answer, a group of men with the desperate looks and shabby suits of the press appeared as if from nowhere. A middle-age woman, vaguely familiar to Florence, ran from the ward in tears and broke through the group. One of the men took a photograph of her and the flash burned Florence’s eyes.

‘That must be the mother,’ the man said.

Another woman ran the gauntlet through the crowd, a suffragette Florence knew.

‘Martha, Martha, what’s the matter?’ Florence gripped her arm and tried to shield her from the shoving men.

The woman dashed a tear from her eye. ‘Oh, Florence, is that you?’

‘Yes, yes, it’s me. Tell me what the devil’s going on?’

A man pushed Martha from behind, shoving her against Florence.

‘It’s Emily Davison,’ the woman sobbed into Florence’s shoulder.

‘What about Emily?’

‘She’s dead!’

When Dody met Pike off the train at the Elysium village station they collapsed into each other’s arms, saying little. For appearance’s sake, Dody had booked Pike a separate room at the hotel. As soon as he had dropped off his bag he joined her in her bedroom.

Never before had their lovemaking been so desperate and intense. It was as if both hoped the union of their bodies might act as an advance absolution of things later confessed. Dody knew full well how much confessing she needed to do, but what of Pike, what had he done or seen that had distressed him so? Once they had finished, he lay on top of her, still and exhausted.

‘What is it?’ she whispered, running her fingers through his hair, the sheen of perspiration on his neck.

He rolled off her, and stared up at the ceiling.

‘You didn’t see the paper today?’ he asked, scrubbing a hand over his eyes and down his face.

Dody shook her head.

‘A suffragette, Miss Emily Davison, threw herself under the King’s horse at yesterday’s Derby. Violet and I witnessed it.’

Dody drew a sharp breath. This was Florence’s friend, the woman she’d spoken to at the townhouse only the other day. ‘She is dead?’ she managed.

His hand crept under the covers to clasp hers. ‘Yes. Gravely injured, she was taken from the track by ambulance to the Epsom Cottage Hospital, not too far from here. I received word of her death just before I boarded the train. I expect Violet would know now also. She saw everything; she was very upset.’

‘I’m not surprised. It must have been traumatic. For both of you.’

Pike said nothing for a while. Dody sensed he was struggling to articulate his thoughts. ‘These women are desperate,’ he said after a measured pause. ‘Until that moment on the racetrack I had no idea how desperate.’

‘The powerlessness one feels is hard to put into words, Matthew,’ Dody said softly. ‘Was it attempted suicide, you think, or a horrible accident?’

‘I have no idea what her intentions were, whether to merely stop the horse and unfurl her flags, or to kill herself. She had in her purse a return ticket to Victoria, so one assumes she had meant to use it — unless it was a blind. Or she had a spur of the moment change of heart. Whatever the intent, she must have been extremely disturbed.’

Dody thought about what Emily had said after she’d launched herself from the prison balcony:
One big tragedy may save many others
. ‘Yes, I think she was disturbed, Matthew.’ Dody said. ‘But there was still a reason for it.’

Pike turned onto his side and faced her, looking deeply into her eyes, his voice rough with emotion. ‘Is it really that bad for women?’

She caressed his cheek. ‘For the deeper thinkers, yes, it is.’

‘And you?’

‘I do not need to throw myself under a horse to state my case. I can show by example through my work. Others are not so fortunate.’

Pike said nothing for a moment. Then he sighed, rolled off the bed and reached for his clothes.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked.

‘Where’s the hotel telephone?’

‘Downstairs in the hall. I’ve been on it myself to Doctor Lamb for much of the day. Why? Who are you ringing?’

‘Violet’s grandmother. I want her to cancel the booking for the finishing school. Violet can commence nurse’s training — if she still wants to — with my blessing, just as soon as arrangements can be made.’

Although Pike’s spirits had revived somewhat since he’d spoken to Violet’s grandmother, Dody chose the busy hotel dining room as the venue of her confession in case it should cause him a relapse. It was also wise to ensure Pike was well fortified with wine before she broached the subject of her nocturnal adventures.

‘You climbed in through the window?’ he repeated, aghast. ‘Why, that’s breaking and entering!’

‘Hush, Matthew,’ she soothed, indicating a man and women at the table next to them. ‘The window wasn’t locked and I didn’t break anything,’ Dody said, shamefully aware of the weakness of her defence.

‘Nothing you saw under those circumstances can be used as evidence against the institution,’ he shot back. ‘There has to be a better, a
legal
way for getting the place investigated.’

‘Well, you weren’t here, were you? I had to find out what Florence was letting herself in for and now I know — and it’s not at all pleasant.’

She went on to tell him about the preserved organs she’d found in the specimen jars.

‘Oh, I see what you mean,’ he said with forced calm, as if trying to compensate for his outburst. After swallowing a mouthful of smoked salmon on brown bread, he said, ‘It must have been one of those jars that Lady Mary stole and sent to me.’

‘Yes, because she wants you to know what’s going on in the home.’ Dody paused, saying almost to herself, ‘But is she capable of such a thing? It was challenge enough for me to get into that storeroom.’ Though if she had entered through the door, Lady Mary would not have had to tackle the roses, Dody thought. Just as well Pike had not noticed the state of her legs during their lovemaking.

‘Perhaps someone helped Lady Mary steal the specimen?’ Pike suggested.

They fell silent pondering this, and considering their best course of action. The couple next to them vacated their table and left the dining room. The waiter removed Dody and Pike’s empty entree plates, presented them with plates of steaming roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and vegetables and topped up their glasses.

‘My aim in the office was to find the key to the treatment building,’ Dody said once the waiter had left. ‘In that I failed, but I did find Mrs Cynthia Hislop’s file, which I took with me.’

Pike rubbed his chin in thought. ‘Have you looked through it?’

‘I’ve only had the chance to glance at it. I’d like to look through it with you,’ she said. ‘What did Constable Singh find out?’

‘Virtually nothing from the porter, Ponsomby, who was one of the first on the murder scene. I got more from Mrs Smart, the cleaner,’ said Pike. ‘And Hislop’s wife, Gloria, verified he was with her all night and during the early morning of Cynthia’s death. He’s hiding something, though, we are both sure of it. I’ll call Singh again in the morning when we’ve looked at the file. It might help us find out what’s going on in the place. We can’t use it as evidence because it was obtained illegally.’ He shot Dody his stern-father look. ‘It will have to be put back, you know.’

The thought of climbing back through that window caused Dody’s legs to sting anew.

‘But I’ll take care of that,’ he added, to her relief.

They cleaned their plates but declined the waiter’s offer of jam roly-poly.

Pike removed his silver cigarette case, offered it to Dody, and they both lit up. Plumes of smoke twisted and entwined towards the hotel’s beamed ceiling.

Pike leaned back in his chair. ‘Dody,’ he said as he exhaled, ‘we have another problem.’

She cast her eyes upward. ‘For the love of … whoever.’

‘Yes,’ Pike paused. ‘We’ve …’ He hesitated. ‘We’ve been found out.’

Dody covered her hand with her mouth and waited for him to continue.

‘That new sergeant who was foisted upon me, Hensman.’

Dody nodded in recognition of the name. Pike had mentioned him in passing and so had Florence, who’d referred to him as the ‘pig of a policeman’ who had interrogated her.

‘He’s Shepherd’s cousin. He’s also walking out with your maid, Annie. I think Shepherd put him up to it.’

Dody froze as the information sank in. Their secret had to be discovered sooner or later, she was expecting that — but why now, of all times? Did Annie really understand the dangerous position she had put them in? Dody hoped not. In her book, ignorance was preferable to malice, and if her motivation were the latter she would be dismissed, no matter what argument Florence offered in her defence.

‘Annie told him. About us? She told us she was walking out with a teacher,’ Dody said, aware of the audible shake to her voice.

‘She must have.’ Pike reached for her hand and clasped it across the table.

‘What can be done?’

‘We continue as we are until they make their move. I think I have enough in my arsenal for a counter-offensive.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Leave it to me,’ he said with a poor attempt at a reassuring smile. He let go of her hand and added sugar to his cooling coffee, stirring it far more than was necessary.

With all that was going on — Florence, Emily Davison, poor Mrs Hislop and the other abused women like her — it was amazing how this last piece of news could still strike Dody with such debilitating force. Perhaps her armour had taken such an onslaught recently it was at last beginning to crack.

What would Doctor Spilsbury’s reaction be when he discovered she was intimately involved with a policeman? Or had he already guessed and chosen to ignore it? To his credit, that might be the case, but could he continue to ignore it if their liaison were publicly declared, snickered about and mocked? Understandably, he would consider such gossip as a blight upon the medical profession and validate his initial reluctance at hiring a female assistant. Dody had only got the job due to the lack of suitably qualified men.

Public knowledge of her conduct would lead to her dismissal. At best she would end up as a shilling doctor — provided her tarnished reputation allowed her to get that far. At worst she would be struck off the register for behaviour unbecoming.

While Pike would not suffer the same social disgrace as she, their fraternisation would be regarded as most unprofessional, and the cases they had worked on together would be scrutinised for signs of bias or pillow talk. It would also add another brick to the barriers between females and the male-dominated professions, barriers she had made her life’s mission to tear down through impeccable example.

‘Dody, Dody, are you all right?’ Pike asked, his question cutting through the misery of her thoughts. ‘A penny for them?’

‘I won’t take your money to tell you things you already know.’

He nodded and finished his coffee in one swallow. ‘You know,’ he began, ‘there are alternatives …’

‘Yes?’

He said no more, rubbed his eyes. With the heaviness of one near exhaustion, he pushed his chair back and moved to help her with hers. ‘Shall we retire to your room to examine the file you borrowed?’

Dody found herself exhaling a breath she’d not known she was holding. What had he been about to say?

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Let’s.’