A Case of Doubtful Death (24 page)

The next morning, Frances, having learned all that she could from the newspapers about the unclaimed body in the canal, which was little enough, set out for Dr Bonner’s house. When she had first entered into the detective business, which she had done as a matter of personal and urgent necessity, she had begun with no idea as to how persons in that profession went about their daily tasks. It had seemed to her to be the height of rudeness to call upon someone she wished to question without first submitting a letter of introduction and a card requesting an interview at their convenience. How she had envied Inspector Sharrock of Paddington Green, who, with not the slightest pretence at observing any of the proprieties, was often so bold as to demand entry to people’s homes by the front door without a moment’s notice of his intentions. How she had shuddered at the idea that she might do so herself and yet she had done it, and not only that, she had, to her shame, enjoyed it. Now that she was better known in Bayswater – largely because of Mr Gillan, who never allowed humble truths to inconvenience him in his search for a tale to entertain readers of the
Chronicle
– it often sufficed to present her card at the door and then walk in for all the world as if she had been invited. She was a detective and people expected her to be impolite. It was not, she thought regretfully, a good outcome to her endeavours, but she had to earn her bread and this was the opportunity that had presented itself.

Dr Bonner’s starchy maid was even crisper than usual. She held herself stiffly erect as if any movement of her wrists against the knife-like edges of her cuffs might have unfortunate consequences. ‘Do you have an appointment, Miss?’ she asked, knowing full well that Frances did not.

‘Dr Bonner has made it clear to me that in view of the unusual circumstances, he will not hinder me in my investigations,’ replied Frances. The maid looked at Frances as if she was attempting to sell her bad meat.

‘He is too busy to see visitors.’

‘The consequences of the recent inquest on Dr Mackenzie, I suppose,’ said Frances. ‘In that case, it is more than ever imperative that I see him at once. It is a matter of life or death, but chiefly I think, of death.’

‘You may wait in the parlour,’ said the maid reluctantly, ‘I will tell him that you are here.’

‘Thank you,’ said Frances, ‘I will wait for ten minutes and then if he has not appeared, I will go up to his consulting room. You needn’t trouble yourself, I know the way.’

As she entered the hallway, sensing the maid’s glance of displeasure settle on the back of her neck like an angry wasp, she was surprised to see Mr Darscot coming down the stairs.

‘Good afternoon Mr Darscot, I hope you are well?’ she enquired, wondering what business the young man had there.

‘Oh, I could be better, Miss Doughty,’ he said, shaking his head with a mournful expression that was almost comic. ‘I am such a poor fellow with my nerves and this business with Mackenzie coming out of his grave has quite unsettled me. Dr Bonner has been kind enough to prescribe a remedy, which I hope will be a complete cure. I assume – indeed I very much hope – that you are here in your professional capacity and not as a patient?’

‘That is the case,’ Frances reassured him.

‘I expect you know that all of Bayswater is abuzz with the news that you have been called in on the case of the missing man – we expect good tidings very soon! And if there should be anything I can do to assist you, please do not hesitate to ask, as long as it doesn’t involve any actual – well, danger.’

‘I shall bear your kind offer in mind,’ said Frances, ‘and please do not concern yourself about danger; my assistant, Miss Smith, takes care of all matters of that nature.’

When Mr Darscot had departed, Frances settled herself in the parlour with a glance at the mantel clock, but was obliged to wait only a few minutes before the door opened to admit Mr Fairbrother.

‘I am afraid Dr Bonner had quite forgotten any arrangement he may have made to see you and is in any case too exhausted by events to submit to any questioning,’ he said. ‘His foot, which as you know is afflicted with gout, is troubling him sorely. He cannot see you today. I hope that will not be an inconvenience.’

‘Not at all,’ said Frances. ‘Had it been essential to speak with him immediately I would have intruded upon his presence whatever excuse he supplied. I will question you in his place.’

‘Ah,’ said Fairbrother, and Frances gathered from his manner that he had been deputed by Bonner to see her to the door and not submit to questioning himself.

‘If Dr Bonner thinks I am deflected so easily he has not been reading the
Bayswater
Chronicle
,’ said Frances. ‘My adventures are a regular feature in its columns and I can assure you that it does not publish the whole story.’

Reluctantly, Fairbrother closed the door behind him and sat down. ‘Shall I ring for some refreshments?’

‘No, let us to business at once. I just saw Mr Darscot here, can you advise me of the reason for his visit?’

‘Oh, that is quite impossible – firstly because he received a private consultation with Dr Bonner, and even had I been present, which I was not, the confidences of the patient are always honoured. And I am afraid I cannot assist you regarding the examination of Dr Mackenzie’s remains. The Home Office has sent for Professor Stevenson of Guy’s Hospital and he is a very busy man and has not yet commenced his work. Even if he had, I would be obliged to remain silent until evidence is given at the inquest.’

‘Professor Stevenson is an expert on poisons,’ recalled Frances.

‘Oh yes, one of the most respected men in the country.’

‘Then I await his findings with especial interest. But I have not come here to ask about Dr Mackenzie, I am here on another matter with which you were directly concerned.’

‘Oh?’

Frances handed him her copy of the
Bayswater
Chronicle
and pointed to the short item about the inquest on the unknown woman. ‘I don’t understand,’ said Fairbrother when he had glanced at the piece, ‘I remember it of course, but what possible bearing can it have on Dr Mackenzie or Mr Palmer?’

‘Perhaps none,’ Frances admitted, declining to mention that she was clutching at a very slender straw, ‘but there is a theory that I am pursuing which requires me to know more about this case. Since it has been reported on and concluded I assume that you are free to discuss it.’

‘I – yes – I will help you of course – but might I ask —’

‘My reasons? No. Am I correct in assuming that the identity of the woman has never been established?’

‘That is correct, yes.’

‘Can you describe her? Her age, her height, any distinguishing features?’

‘As to her age, that can be hard to establish with any precision where there is significant decomposition and the person is poorly nourished. She was a fully developed adult; that much is certain, but not very aged. We thought between twenty and twenty-five. She was about five feet four inches in height, no injuries or birthmarks. She had borne at least one child. I believe she may have suffered with her teeth as her incisors were growing crookedly and impacting the gum, which must have caused her some pain. But it is most unlikely that she was a class of person who would have consulted a dentist.’

‘What was her state of health prior to her death? Poorly nourished, you say?’

‘Yes, decidedly so. The stomach was empty and she had not eaten solid food in quite some time.’

‘But she did not die of starvation?’

‘No, the state of the lungs demonstrated that the cause of death was drowning. We formed the hypothesis that she had become destitute and took a desperate course of action.’

‘How was she dressed?’

There was an awkward pause. ‘She – was not fully clothed.’

‘I beg your pardon? What was she wearing?’

‘Undergarments only, no shoes.’

France stared at him. ‘That is very extraordinary. Surely if she had been wandering the street in that state someone would have noticed.’

‘Dr Bonner, who has more experience than I, informed me that he has seen many cases of suicide by drowning where the individual removes their outer clothing before entering the water. We thought that the woman in question had done so, leaving her gown and shoes on the canal bank, where they were stolen.’

‘I see. No jewellery of any kind, I assume.’

‘No, but there were signs that she had once worn a wedding band and earrings. Pawned, I imagine.’

‘And the garments she was wearing were of a poor kind?’

‘As a matter of fact, they were not.’

‘No?’

‘Well, I am no – er – expert on such things of course,’ Fairbrother said with some embarrassment, ‘and I was obliged to accept the advice of Dr Bonner – who – ah – being a married gentleman —’

‘I understand. What
can
you tell me of the garments?’

‘They were of good quality and undamaged.’

‘Then they had a monetary value,’ said Frances. ‘The lady might have been able to pawn them, change them for some ragged ones. Instead of which she chose to jump to her death wearing clothes that might have fed her for some little time.’

‘It does seem so, yes.’ Fairbrother shifted in his seat and looked as though he would have very much welcomed some liquid refreshment at that moment. ‘We did talk about it, I recall, and I think the conclusion was that she had once been a very – er —’ he drummed his fingers on his knees, ‘sought after – er – person who might once have enjoyed valuable gifts, but she had fallen on hard times due to ill health and saw no point in extending her unhappy life.’

Frances thought that the medical gentlemen had been too hasty in concluding that the deceased was an immoral woman, but that, she had observed, always seemed to be the first thought of gentlemen in any walk of life. The dead woman might equally well have been a maidservant who had been given her mistress’s cast-off clothing, or stolen some coveted garments.

‘Was any attempt made to identify her through these clothes? You might have taken them to Whiteley’s or any other Westbourne Grove drapers.’

‘We might, I suppose, but we did not.’

‘Why not?’

He seemed puzzled. ‘I am not sure. I never thought to do so.’

‘Were they retained against the possibility that someone might come forward and identify her?’

‘No, she was buried in them.’

‘In a pauper’s grave, I assume?’

‘Yes. A common grave in All Souls.’

Frances consulted the
Chronicle
again. ‘According to this report, the body was displayed before burial in a nearby stable and persons invited to view it for identification.’

‘Yes, but only briefly as we thought it might be a hazard to the public health. Quite a number of persons whose relatives were missing came to see it and there were one or two names suggested, as is so often the way in these cases, but no one felt certain enough of the identity to claim the body and pay for the funeral.’

‘Do you have a record of the names?’

‘No. Dr Bonner asked me to pass them on to the police, which I did.’

‘In a case such as this, even if they had identified the woman it might not have been reported in the newspapers,’ Frances said. ‘I must go back to Kilburn police station and enquire there.’

Fairbrother appeared to be about to make an observation.

‘What is it you have to say, Mr Fairbrother?’

‘It is only – have you considered, Miss Doughty, that your undertaking is quite an unsuitable one for your age and sex? I have heard that there are lady detectives, but their enquiries are on matters more suited to their sensibilities. The behaviour of female servants, for example. Surely it is not appropriate for you to be examining into such horrid deaths as many men would find themselves unable to contemplate.’

‘And yet women are employed to lay out bodies,’ she reminded him.

‘But they are a quite different class of women, not delicate ladies,’ he protested.

‘Are we not all the same creatures?’

‘Well, I – I think —’

‘Then think again, Mr Fairbrother.’ Frances rose. ‘And now I must go and speak to Inspector Gostelow. If you recall anything about the death of the unhappy woman found in the canal which you have not yet mentioned, please let me know at once.’

Frances was a little disgruntled with Mr Fairbrother, but as she walked up to Kilburn she reflected that he was very young both in age and experience, and had the tendency to adopt without question the attitudes of those he saw as wiser than himself. He was eager to learn at the feet of men such as Dr Bonner, who she felt sure could have found a host of reasons why women should not become detectives, or be permitted to exercise the vote or undertake medical training. Mr Fairbrother was not yet his own man, and might never become so without proper encouragement, but he was not, she thought, a lost cause.