Cater Street Hangman

a hint of tragedy, even anger, in his voice. “There is little pleasure in it for anyone, but it must be done.”

“I have already told you what little I know,” she said exasperatedly. “Several times. If you cannot solve it, then perhaps you had better give up, and pass it over to someone who can.”

He ignored her rudeness.

“Was she a pretty girl, Lily Mitchell?”

“Didn’t you see her?” she said in surprise. It seemed a most elementary thing to have omitted.

His smile was sad, as if he were sorry for her, as well as patient.

“Yes, Miss Ellison, I saw her, but she was not pretty then. Her face was swollen and blue, her features distorted, her tongue-”

“Stop it! Stop it!” Charlotte heard her own voice shouting at him.

“Then will you be good enough to step off your dignity,” he said quite calmly, “and help me to find out who did that to her, before he does it to someone else?”

She felt angry and hurt and ashamed.

“Yes, of course,” she said quickly, turning away so he could not see her face, and even more, so she could not see him. “Yes, Lily was quite pretty. She had very nice skin.” She shivered and felt a little sick as she tried to picture that skin bloated and marked by violent death. She forced it out of her mind. “She never had spots or looked sallow. And she had a very soft voice. I think she came from somewhere in the country.”

“Derbyshire.”

“Oh.”

“Was she friendly with the other servants?”

“Yes, I think so. We never heard of any trouble.”

“With Maddock?”

She swung round to face him, her thoughts coming too quickly to disguise.

“You mean. .?”

“Precisely. Did Maddock admire her, fancy her?”

She had never before considered the possibility of Maddock having such feelings. Possessiveness over his servants perhaps, but desire, jealousy? Maddock was the butler, in formal clothes, polite, in charge of the house. But he was a man, and now that she thought about it, probably not more than thirty-five or so, not much older than Dominic. What a preposterous thought! To think of him in the same breath as Dominic.

Pitt was waiting, watching her face.

“I see the thought is a new one to you, but not unlikely, when you weigh it.”

There was no point in lying to him.

“No. I remember someone saying something. Mrs. Dunphy-the night Lily-disappeared. She said Maddock-liked Lily, that he would be bound to disapprove of Jack Brody because he took Lily out, whatever he was like. But that could mean no more than that he was afraid of losing a good girl. It takes a long time to train a new one, you know.” She did not want to get Maddock into trouble. She could not really imagine he had followed Lily out and done that to her. Could she?

“But Maddock went out that evening, into the streets?” Pitt went on.

“Yes, of course! You already knew that. He went to look for her, because she was late. Any good butler would do that!”

“What time?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you ask him?” She was aware as soon as she said it that it was foolish. If Maddock were guilty of anything, not that he was of course, but if he were he would hardly be likely to tell Pitt the truth about it. “I’m sorry.” Why should she apologize to this policeman? “Ask Mrs. Dunphy,” she went on stiffly. “I believe it was a little after ten, but naturally I was not in the kitchen to know for myself.”

“I have already asked Mrs. Dunphy,” he replied, “but I like to get corroboration from as many sources as possible. And her memory, on her own admission, is not very reliable. She was very upset by the whole business.”

“And you think I’m not? Just because I don’t weep all over the place?” The intimation that she had not cared as much as she should have.

“I would hardly expect you to be as fond of a servant girl as the cook might be,” Pitt said with his mouth twitching slightly, as if there were a smile inside him. “And I would think your nature excites to anger rather more readily than to tears.”

“You think I am ill-tempered?” she said, then immediately wished she had not. It implied she cared what he thought of her, which was absurd.

“I think you are quick-tempered and take little trouble to hide your feelings,” he smiled. “A not unattractive quality and uncommon in women, especially of gentle birth.”

She found herself blushing hotly.

“You are impertinent!” she snapped.

His smile broadened; he was looking straight at her.

“If you didn’t wish to know what I thought of you, why did you ask?”

She could think of no answer to that. Instead she summoned all the dignity she could and faced him squarely.

“I believe it is quite possible Maddock was fond of Lily, but you surely cannot imagine he held the same regard for the Hiltons’ maid, and still less for Chloe Abernathy. Therefore, to suppose that he might have killed them all is faulty reasoning in the extreme, if you attribute his motive to fondness. If not, then you have no motive at all. I think perhaps you had better begin again, on a more promising line of enquiry.” She intended it as a dismissal.

He did not move.

“You were the only one here at the time?” he asked.

“Apart from Mrs. Dunphy, and Dora, of course. Why?”

“Your mother and sisters were at some church function. Where were your father and Mr. Corde?”

“Ask them.”

“You don’t know?”

“No, I don’t.”

“But they came home passing close to Cater Street, if not actually through it?”

“If they had seen anything, I’m sure they would have told you.”

“Possibly.”

“Of course they would! Whyever not?” A terrible thought hit her like a blow. “You can’t-you can’t imagine that one of them would-”

“I imagine everything, Miss Ellison, and believe nothing until there is proof. But I admit, there is no cause to suppose-,” he left it hanging a second. “But someone did. I would like to have another talk with Maddock- undisturbed.”

That evening everyone was at home, even Emily. They sat with the French windows open onto the lawn and the late sun in the garden, but instead of the balmy air of evening, filled with the scents of the day, it seemed only heavy with oppression.

It was Sarah who said what they were all thinking, or something close to it.

“Well, I’m not worried,” she lifted her chin a little. “Inspector Pitt seems a sensible man to me. He’ll soon discover that Maddock is as innocent as the rest of us. I dare say he’ll even decide so tomorrow.”

Charlotte spoke her thoughts, as usual, before she considered.

“I have no faith at all in his good sense. He is not like us.”

“We all know he is a different class of person,” Sarah said quickly. “But he is used to dealing with criminals. He must know the difference between a perfectly respectable servant like Maddock, and the kind of ruffian who goes around strangling girls.”

“Garotting,” Charlotte corrected. “And there is a lot of difference between ruffians, as you put it, who attack and rob people, and the sort of person who garottes women, especially servant girls who have nothing worth stealing.”

Dominic smiled widely.

“And how would you know, Charlotte? Have you become an expert on crimes of passion?”

“She doesn’t know!” Edward said very sharply. “She is being contrary, as usual.”