Mad Hatter

the sea with Bridget, knowing it would cause the gravest offence to my husband, but believing he would never have cause to know about it.’

‘Perhaps he guessed the truth,’ said Cribb.

She shook her head. ‘Never. He would have stopped it at once. I had my instructions, but I was not equal to them. Yet that is not all that I dread. When my husband went out by afternoon and evening, sometimes returning very late, I kept telling myself that I believed his stories of visiting former patients. For peace of mind I did not seek to discover the truth, Sergeant-how many thousand neglected women have done the same? — I took my sleeping preparation and sought oblivion. But now there will be no escape from the truth. I shall hear where he was on Saturday and I do not know what I shall have to forgive. I do not know whether the removal of our illusions is the best thing. Sergeant, is it so unforgivable to have tried in our clumsy way to conceal the fact that Bridget was probably your dead woman on the beach?’

‘I’m in no position to forgive it, Ma’am,’ said Cribb, ‘but when you put it that way I can understand.’

CHAPTER 14

‘Now, Thackeray. I’ve told you about my meeting with Mrs. Prothero. I’d be obliged if you’d give me your account of the meeting you had with Miss Floyd-Whittingham.’

Thackeray took out his pocket-notebook and cleared his throat in the best police-court manner. He was now becoming accustomed to the solemn little exchanges of information in the interviewing-room at Grafton Street police station, but the first time it had happened you could have knocked him down with a police-issue pencil. It was contrary to everything he knew about Cribb’s way of conducting inquiries. Anyone assisting Cribb was expected to glean a full understanding of developments from listening for occasional utterances never more than half a dozen words in length and watching for the tell-tale tilt of an eyebrow, or the twitch of a cheek-muscle. There were rumours, of course, that after Cribb’s music hall murder investigation, criticism had been voiced in certain quarters of sergeants who ordered constables to perform manoeuvres in ignorance of their full implications, but Cribb was unlikely to be influenced by that. It was far more likely that the Brighton ozone had gone to his head.

‘In accordance with my instructions,’ Thackeray began, ‘I proceeded to Lewes Crescent, arriving there shortly after eleven o’clock. Upon knocking at the door and announcing my business I was admitted by a maidservant who informed me that Miss Floyd-Whittingham was at breakfast. I impressed upon her the seriousness of my business and she agreed to take me to her Mistress without delay. I followed in anticipation of being admitted to the breakfast-room, but found myself instead being led upstairs and shown into what-er-not to beat about the bush-I found to be Miss Floyd-Whittingham’s bedroom.’

‘Her bedroom?‘ Cribb brought down his hand noisily on his thigh. ‘Thackeray, how do you manage it? You can make a compromising situation out of anything. Where was Miss Samantha, then?’

‘In bed, Sarge. With a boiled egg on a silver tray.’ He resumed his evidence-giving manner. ‘Naturally, I apologised for the intrusion, but she did not give the appearance of being discomfited.’

‘She didn’t disappear screaming under the bedclothes, you mean? Go on.’

‘She was decently covered with a white lace garment. I sat on a chair-it was quite ten feet from the bed-and explained the reason for my visit. I handled it delicate, Sarge, as you suggested, saying we was tracing the movements of a number of people on Saturday night. She admitted quite readily that she was at the ball with Dr. Prothero-called him Gregory. They was in the Dome from nine o’clock onwards, except for half an hour when they watched the fireworks from the Steine Gardens. That was between half past nine and ten. Otherwise they was there until one in the morning. She’s got a card with his name against the dances to prove it, Lancers and Galopades and Polkas. Gregory all the way down to the Last Waltz. She’ll vouch for him, I’m sure.’

‘Hm. Did she volunteer anything else about him-where she met him, for instance?’

‘In church, Sarge. She didn’t know he was married at first. He’s always behaved very proper, she said. He’s a decent, warm-hearted man and his wife don’t understand him.’

Cribb gave the celebrated tilt of the right eyebrow. ‘That’s one view of Prothero, then. What about Samantha? What’s your opinion of her, Constable?’

Thackeray tilted both eyebrows. ‘Oh, a regular beauty, Sarge! No question of it. A face like a china doll and a show of red hair I’ve never seen the equal of. I suppose she wears it different when she goes out, but it was hanging loose down her back when I saw it. I don’t know what she’s like dressed and on her feet, Sarge, but she’s a stunner in bed, I promise you!’

Cribb winced. ‘I believe it Thackeray, but I wouldn’t bandy it about in quite those terms if I were you. People jump to wrong conclusions.’

‘What bothers me,’ said Thackeray, undaunted, ‘is what a handsome young woman like that sees in a man of Prothero’s age-even allowing that he’s a dapper little toff.’

‘Oh, it’s not so unusual,’ said Cribb.

‘You’re right, Sarge! I do believe there’s a type of young woman that finds older men difficult to resist. I observed a certain look in Miss Floyd-Whittingham’s eyes as I entered the room.’

‘Focused on a grey beard, perhaps?’ murmured Cribb. ‘It sounds as though you had a lucky escape, Thackeray. You did escape, I take it? Never mind. We’ve more important things to discuss. Between us, we’ve now interviewed everyone who would seem to be connected with this case-Miss Floyd-Whittingham, the Protheros and Mr. Moscrop. I suppose there’s still the possibility of some complete stranger having met Bridget on the beach on Saturday night and murdered her, but in my experience that sort of killer doesn’t go to a deal of trouble afterwards to get rid of the body. No, I think we’ve met our murderer already. You’ve got your notebook there, and I’ve seen you working at it on and off throughout the week. If it wasn’t the Newmarket Handicap you were considering, I hope you’ve got something useful to contribute to the investigation by now.’

Thackeray was not unprepared. He licked his forefinger in a businesslike way and turned several pages of the notebook. ‘Well, Sarge, you’ve always advised me to look for a motive in a murder case, and I’ve been weighing up the parties concerned to see what reason they would have for putting an end to Bridget.’

‘A sound procedure, Constable. What conclusions have you reached?’

‘Ah. Well, let’s dismiss the least likely one first. So far as I can tell, Miss Floyd-Whittingham has never met Bridget, and wouldn’t have any reason to kill her. The only way she might be involved is as an accomplice to Dr. Prothero.’

‘Reasonable enough,’ said Cribb. ‘And she doesn’t sound to me like the sort of woman who’s handy with a cleaver.’

‘Them’s my own sentiments exactly, Sarge. And I’ve got the same reservations about Mrs. Prothero from what you told me of her. She’s got a motive, though, in my opinion.’

‘What’s that?’

‘She didn’t like Bridget at all. She told Moscrop Prothero engaged the girl himself. If she’d had her way she would have dismissed her. Now seeing that she’s so attached to young Jason, and Bridget was apt to go off swimming with Guy and leave the child in the charge of bathing-machine attendants, it don’t seem impossible to me that Mrs. Prothero might have got desperate, knowing that her husband didn’t take no interest. You told me yourself that Mrs. P. knew about the capers in the sea with Guy, so she must have known about Jason being left with strangers, too. That’s enough to strike panic into a woman of her nervous susceptibilities.’

‘I see the point,’ said Cribb, ‘but there’s still the dismembering to account for. That’s not a woman’s work.’

Thackeray had obviously thought of this. He tucked his thumbs confidently in the pockets of his waistcoat and said, ‘A woman as charming as Mrs. Prothero might not have to look very far to find a man prepared to wield a cleaver for her.’

‘Moscrop?’ said Cribb.

Thackeray rewarded his sergeant with a broad grin. ‘But I’ll leave him for a moment, if you don’t mind. The next on the list is Guy.’

‘The boy?’