An Appetite for Murder (24 page)

‘Where did she get the brandy?’ asked Sarah. ‘That’s a fancy drink for a poor woman.’

‘It is, and I think Inspector Sharrock was right, the visitor brought it with him.’

‘So she’d be sure to let him in,’ said Sarah.

‘Yes, so it was either a stranger or someone she knew and didn’t trust. Whatever the motive, I think this murder was done on the spur of the moment. They drank, they talked, perhaps they quarrelled, and then she was killed. If we could discover when the murder took place I could find out the location of the people who I know were acquainted with her, if only to eliminate them as suspects, but at present everyone and no one has an alibi.’

The Cooper’s Arms, where Frances went to meet Mr Minster once more, was as salubrious as she remembered it, and so discomfited was she by the surroundings that she even imagined for a moment that a thin dark figure hunched over a glass of ale and a hunk of bread in one corner was the Filleter, come back to Bayswater to do whatever distasteful things he did there. She turned away in case he should see her, then steadied herself and looked back again, but when she did, the man had gone. She was not, she told herself, afraid of him, rather he represented something that was unpleasant and beyond any redemption other than that of the scaffold and the hereafter.

Mrs Minster, who was at the door to meet her and conduct her upstairs, wore a scowl, and there was an angry red mark on her cheek. There was a glowing pinkness about her knuckles too. She conducted Frances to the door of the parlour and walked away with a quick and overly heavy stride. Mr Minster wore a similar scowl and a purple eyelid. Frances was curious about the topic of their discussion, but thought it best not to enquire or mention the external signs.

‘Well then, where’s the guinea?’ said Minster, stretching his legs under the parlour table and tapping its scrubbed surface with his fingernails.

‘I won’t know until the end of our conversation whether what you say is worth a whole guinea,’ said Frances.

‘Oh, well, we’ll say good day, then,’ he said, but made no move to show her out. He had the superior look of a man with something to sell that he knew his buyer very much wanted.

Frances took a half guinea from her purse and laid it on the table. ‘This is yours in any case,’ she said, ‘and I will see about the rest.’

He snatched up the coin with a sweep of his fist. ‘Go on.’

‘After Mr Sweetman was arrested, did Mr Finn senior appoint another manager to take his place? I mean immediately afterwards?’

Minster chewed his lip and winced. It looked like the eyelid was not the only part of his face to receive the benefits of Mrs Minster’s reprimand. ‘No,’ he said, ‘not straight off. I remember he said that he believed Sweetman was innocent and would be set free, and then he could come back to his old position, so he took on some of Sweetman’s duties and Whibley attended to the rest.’

‘Was Mr Whibley mainly concerned with finance?’

‘Yes, he was. Arranging contracts, seeing to payments, issuing bills, chasing debts and so on.’

‘And you were a copy clerk, so I suppose you were not involved in that area of work?’

‘No, that wasn’t my line.’

‘But old Mr Finn lost some of his faith in Mr Sweetman, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, after the trial.’

‘Not before?’

‘No. Should he have done?’

‘Do you know whether before the trial, while Mr Sweetman was in custody, old Mr Finn found anything on the premises – documents, or financial records – that suggested something other than the robbery was a matter of concern? I’m not necessarily saying that Mr Sweetman was involved, but what with the arrest he might have been suspected if anything else was found amiss.’

‘There was nothing of that sort that I know of. But Finn and Whibley used to talk in his office a lot. Who knows what they talked about?
I
didn’t. Why, what do you know?’

‘Not nearly enough, I’m afraid. After Mr Sweetman was convicted was a new manager appointed?’

‘Whibley took over right up until he left to work for his uncle. I don’t know what happened after that because I left at about the same time.’

‘And you heard no gossip or whispers?’

‘I’m not one for gossip. That’s women’s business, wasting time talking about nothing. What’s all this about then?’

‘All I can say is that Mr Sweetman is fretting because he thinks he may have made some mistakes in the books, which might have been found after his arrest and added to the suspicion against him. But if, as it seems, all was calm in the office, it may have been that he had not made any mistakes at all, or that they were found by Mr Whibley and corrected.’ Frances paused. ‘On another subject – please do not misunderstand me, but I need to ask this – do you think Mrs Sweetman to have been a woman of great personal attraction?’

Minster threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh, she was that! Not a young woman by any means, but tasty as plum cake. I don’t think Sweetman knew how lucky he was.’

‘I know she used to come to the office sometimes when her husband worked there but did she ever visit after he was arrested?’

‘No, as far as I know she never set foot there again.’

‘Did Mr Whibley admire her?’

‘She was a pretty woman, of course he did. We all knew what he was like.’

‘But could there have been more than just a visual appreciation? What I am asking is whether, after Mr Sweetman was arrested, Mrs Sweetman and Mr Whibley commenced an inappropriate association.’

Minster pretended to be shocked. ‘I’d like to know where you was brought up, Miss Doughty, to have thoughts like that and say such things,’ he said.

‘Please answer the question,’ said Frances.

‘Well, I think he would have, given a chance, or even half of a chance, and she was on her own, and so there might have been a good chance, but if he did he kept it quiet.’

‘I know that Mr Whibley had a number of female friends, and these friends had children, and they were all provided for in his will, but Mrs Sweetman was not mentioned. So either there was no association, or they quarrelled, or else she was omitted in error.’

Minster smiled. ‘Oh, Whibley wasn’t a man to make a mistake about a will, he knew all about wills and what they could do.’

‘Did he? Oh, you mean about his inheriting the business of Anderson and Walsh from his uncle?’

Minster leaned forward. ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘that Whibley killed his uncle?’

‘I know that there was a railway accident,’ said Frances, ‘and surely Mr Anderson’s death was unintentional, or Mr Whibley could never have inherited from him.’

‘Well, as to that, I suppose so,’ said Minster grudgingly, sitting back in his chair again. ‘Funny things wills, though, you never know what might happen.’ He paused meaningfully and glanced at Frances’ purse.

‘It would not cost me a guinea or even half a guinea to discover that,’ said Frances.

‘Well, I’ll tell you, and
you
judge what it’s worth. Some of it was in the papers and some of it I heard later. Old Mr Walsh, who died in the accident, he was the original founder of the business, and Anderson joined as a junior and worked his way up. Got taken on as a partner with a small share, and then later Whibley came along, and he worked his way up and then he became a partner too, also with a small share. I don’t know how much, but I doubt it was more than about ten per cent apiece, perhaps less. Mr Walsh might have been an old man, but he kept charge of everything and he had the biggest piece of the business. So Mr Walsh and Mr Anderson both made wills. Mr Walsh was a single man, with a sister in her dotage and a few distant relatives. So what does he do? He leaves the family enough to keep them happy and he leaves the business to Mr Anderson.’

‘That seems fair,’ said Frances.

‘Now Mr Anderson has a nice new little wife so he wants to see her comfortable. She’s Mrs Elliott now, I suppose you know that. Elliott saw his chance and took it, and I don’t blame him. Anderson leaves his house and movables and an annuity to Mrs Anderson, and all the rest of his property, which includes his little bit of the business, to his nephew Mr Whibley.’

‘What were the ages of the gentlemen?’ asked Frances.

‘Mr Walsh was well over seventy and Mr Anderson not much more than fifty.’

‘So in the usual course of events,’ Frances reflected, ‘one would expect that Mr Walsh would pass away first and then the bulk of the business would pass from Mr Walsh to Mr Anderson, who would probably still be alive today had it not been for the accident.’

‘Normally, yes, except that Mr Walsh was one of these old gents who look like they’ve been dried like a herring, and will last forever, while Mr Anderson had a weak chest. He almost croaked the previous winter and wasn’t expected to last through the next. No, if it hadn’t been for the accident, Anderson would have gone first.’

Frances frowned with thought, then drew some diagrams in her notebook. ‘Supposing Mr Anderson
had
died before the accident, then under his will Mr Whibley would only have got his uncle’s small share of the business. But if that had happened, Mr Walsh, who sounds like a prudent man, would surely have changed his will.’

‘Even if he hadn’t,’ said Minster, ‘with Anderson not alive to inherit, if Mr Walsh had died the very next day, the business would have been divided between his relatives. If he
had
changed the will, though, I don’t think he’d had left the business to Whibley; he was making plans to bring a cousin into the business and train him up to replace Mr Anderson.’ Minster chuckled. ‘You know that old chief clerk Mr Richardson?’

‘I have met him,’ said Frances, recalling the oyster-mouthed gentleman she had interviewed.

‘Well, I heard that he was
very
unhappy about that. Seems that he had his own candidate for that position – his son. No, if Anderson had died before Mr Walsh, Whibley would stayed very small, so to speak. But what they couldn’t have guessed was that they would both die at once. And that was where the law came in. The law is a funny thing and it doesn’t take any note of some things and too much note of others. It turned out that no doctor could say whether it was Walsh or Anderson who had died first. So the law had to rule and it said that it should be taken that Mr Walsh died first because he was older. So the business went to Mr Anderson, who, for the last few moments of his life owned all except Whibley’s share.’

‘And then it passed straight to Mr Whibley, who found he owned it all,’ said Frances. ‘He could hardly have expected such a thing.’

‘He didn’t,’ said Minster.

Frances had no idea whether this curious turn of events was of any importance, but it was at any rate very interesting. She took another half guinea out of her purse and laid it on the table.

On her way out, Mrs Minster avoided her gaze and made only those remarks that were absolutely necessary, but at the door, she suddenly paused. ‘Miss Doughty,’ she said, and then stopped.

‘Yes,’ said Frances hopefully.

Mrs Minster shook her head. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Good day.’

Frances gave her one of her little business cards. ‘If that nothing should ever become something, let me know,’ she said.

Mrs Minster thrust the card quickly into the pocket of her apron and hurried away.

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

O
n the way to Mr Elliott’s office Frances tried the puzzle in her mind from every possible angle. It could not be doubted that the railway accident was anything other than a wholly unforeseen tragedy, but supposing it had offered a valuable opportunity to a quick-thinking person? Had someone in the carriage that day hurried Mr Walsh to his death? Whatever way she looked at it, however, there was only one person present who had stood to gain from the situation and that was Mr Whibley, who was unconscious and immobile from injury. Perhaps, she thought, she was developing the kind of mind that saw evil everywhere, and expected that anyone exposed to temptation would fall.

Mr Elliott looked like a man who could not be troubled by very much for long. He was constantly optimistic, and sociable without being overly familiar. He had been in conference with old Mrs Outram again, and looked well pleased with the new business she had brought him. Mrs Outram, finding the flattery of a man of forty rather pleasanter than the company of her husband of ninety-two, was like a giggling girl with a new suitor. She departed reluctantly, patting her grey hair which Frances felt sure would darken in time.

Frances’ questions about the books of J. Finn Insurance only made Mr Elliott smile. ‘Number work was never my strong point, Miss Doughty. Clerking was better as I have a neat and steady hand, but my best work is done with people, buying and selling. Bookkeeping has always been a mystery I have never attempted to solve. It’s like watching a conjuror putting a silk scarf up one sleeve and then pulling it out of his hat. It’s the same scarf but you can’t for the life of you see how it got from one place to the other. At least, I never could.’

‘Do you remember anything being said in the office shortly after Mr Sweetman’s arrest about problems with the ledgers?’