Messenger of Truth

bedroom, the five of us are in the other, and it’s like sardines, it is. Jim still ’asn’t got work, Doreen’s all but ’ad to build a wall around ’er sewin’ machine to do the dressmaking she’s still got comin’ in, and, to tell you the truth, Miss, it’s a stretch, puttin’ food on the table for nine people every day. Not that Jim’s idle, no, the man’s wearing out what shoe leather’s left on ’is feet walking round all day tryin’ to get work.” Billy shook his head, then moved toward the door.

“No, don’t make tea just yet. Let’s sit down and talk about this.” Maisie nodded toward the table by the window where the case map was laid out. “Come on.”

Billy slumped into the chair alongside Maisie, who was, in fact, somewhat relieved. Only the year before, brought down by the constant lingering pain from his war wounds, Billy’s behavior had become unpredictable, and further investigation had revealed abuse of narcotics—not uncommon among men who had once been inadvertently overdosed on morphine in the dressing stations and casualty clearing stations of the Great War. At least he had not lapsed.

“Are you managing? Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes, Miss, I’m managing, it’s just tight, that’s all. My Doreen can make food for five go round ’undred and five, if needs be. It’ll just be better when Jim gets on ’is feet.” He paused. “Poor man fought for ’is country, and now look at what ’e’s bein’ treated like—it’s not good enough, Miss.”

“Billy, have you been in touch with the nurse, to come in to see Lizzie?” asked Maisie. It was common for a local nurse, instead of a doctor, to be summoned to see the sick, simply because of the greater cost of a physician.

“No. Fool’s choice, really, Miss. We thought she’d be over it by now, but I don’t know…”

Maisie checked her watch. “Look, I’m driving down to Dungeness later this morning—at least, I will be if I hear from Miss B-H—so I’ll detour and go to the house first, just to have a look at Lizzie. How does that sound?”

Billy shook his head. “Nah, Miss, don’t you go out of your way—we’ll get the nurse round later if Lizzie’s not any better by this evening.”

Maisie took several pencils of different colors from a jar on the table. She knew Billy’s pride and did not want to push. “All right, but the offer’s there, you know. You only have to say—and if things get any more troublesome…”

Billy simply nodded, so Maisie moved on to the Bassington-Hope case.

“Right then, let’s look at where we are. Per our conversation yesterday, it’s your job to find out more from Levitt about the gallery, Nick B-H and that mysterious lock-up of his. See what you can sniff out. And also see if you can uncover more about the younger brother and the credibility of that story about liaisons with a criminal element.” She paused. “In the meantime, I’ll be having a quick cup of coffee with Stratton this morning before I set off—I’m curious to know why he was so keen to support Georgina’s decision to seek my help. If he thought the case merited more investigation, why didn’t he do it himself?” Reaching out onto the case map, she began to link several notes, creating circles that she joined with arrows. “On Monday I’ll be doing some background research on Miss B-H and her family, and of course, I’ll have some impressions from my visit to the house.” Maisie consulted her watch. “The morning post should be here soon and I am expecting to hear from her.”

“Won’t she use the old dog ’n’ bone?”

“Perhaps, but I need a key, a map and some specific directions from her.”

Billy nodded. “And when’re you going to see the family?”

“I am to join her at Bassington Place on Saturday.”

“Bassington Place. Very posh, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so. And this is where you meet the rest of the cuckoos, eh, Miss?”

Maisie was glad to hear Billy joking, though he still looked drawn. “Yes, it appears so. I don’t think it’s over- egging the pudding to call the Bassington-Hopes eccentric, given Georgina’s description —and what did she call her sister, Nolly? I must admit, I—”

The doorbell rang. “Probably be that letter now.” Billy left the room, returning to the office less than three minutes later. “Messenger turned up at the same time as the postman, so you’ve got one thick envelope”—he passed a bulky package to Maisie—“and a few letters from the postie.”

Maisie placed the letters on the table and reached for an opener to slit the seal securing the envelope delivered by messenger. As she pulled out the letter, a second envelope in heavy cream vellum fell onto the table along with a key.

“Hmmm, looks like I will definitely be going alone to Dungeness, much as I suspected. Interesting…” Maisie allowed her words to fade as she began to read the accompanying letter aloud.

Dear Miss Dobbs,

Maisie noticed that, though Georgina had taken the early liberty of using Christian names, in her written correspondence she was rather more formal.

I must beg your pardon for the swift communique. I am attending a banquet this evening and have much to do. The attached map and directions will see you safely to Nick’s carriage-cum-cottage in Dungeness. Do prepare yourself; it is really quite simple, though he adored the place. Should you encounter a problem with the key or lock, Mr. Amos White lives in the old cottage to the right of Nick’s carriage as you are facing it, and I am sure he will help. Amos is a fisherman, so will probably be in his shed mending nets in the afternoon. Duncan and Quentin returned to Dungeness this morning, so do look out for them. I believe they will only be there for a day or so.

I will meet you outside Tenterden station at three o’clock on Saturday afternoon, as we agreed. If you are traveling from Chelstone, you will probably come from the direction of Rolvenden, thus you will find the station signposted from the middle of the High Street as you come into town, a sharp turn to the left. It’s best that we meet there and then go together to the house.

You will also find enclosed an invitation to a party at my flat on Sunday evening. It’s just a few friends. I thought it might give you a chance to meet some of Nick’s pals. Do come.

“Gosh…” Maisie shook her head.

“What’s up, Miss?”

“An invitation to a party at Georgina B-H’s flat on Sunday evening,” Maisie was rereading the invitation.

“That’ll be nice, you know, to get out.”