The Welfare of the Dead (32 page)

‘We'll do our best to be brief, sir. I take it, from what you've said, you don't know the man in question, sir, the dead man?'

‘How could I?' says Jasper Woodrow.

‘Never seen him before?'

Woodrow blinks. ‘Never. Do you know who he was, Inspector?'

‘Oh yes, sir. But I won't burden you with the unsavoury particulars.'

‘I
S THIS ALL REALLY
necessary?' asks Sergeant Bartleby, in a whisper, as Susan Jacobs, having ended her account of the previous evening, departs the Woodrows' drawing-room. Bartleby looks down at his note-book, almost full with the household's accumulated memories of the incident upon the canal. ‘I mean to say, we already know what they saw, don't we?'

‘I was hoping the little girl might be more forthcoming,' says Webb.

‘If she doesn't remember anything, sir, then she doesn't.'

‘But why did she wander out there, in particular?' asks Webb. ‘And do you imagine it is merely a coincidence she found Brown's corpse there?'

‘Well, sir – of course there's a connection—'

‘Hush, Sergeant. The American cousin is next, and we are nearly done. You can speculate later.'

Annabel Krout knocks and enters the room. The two policemen stand; she offers them a rather nervous smile.

‘Miss Krout, do take a seat,' says Webb, guiding her to a chair at the drawing-room table. ‘Now, my name is Webb and this is Sergeant Bartleby. You understand we are obliged to ask a few questions? I gather you are Mrs. Woodrow's cousin, visiting from Boston?'

Annabel Krout sits down. ‘Yes, sir, I am.'

‘Well,' says Webb, ‘I will not ask you what you make of London. I suspect last night would have been rather an ordeal for any young woman.'

‘Well, I am a little tired, sir. I did not sleep too well.'

‘I am sorry to hear it. I will not keep you long, Miss. Susan Jacobs tells us she alerted you first to young Miss Lucinda's absence. Can you tell me what happened then?'

‘Of course. I told Jacobs I would help look for her. But then the front door was open, and I could see Lucy had got outside.'

‘You knew all about the little girl's condition?'

‘She had wandered into my room a couple of nights before, Inspector. So, yes, I knew she had these attacks.'

‘And what did you do, when you saw the door was open?'

‘Naturally I went to look for her. And I told Jacobs to wake up the family.'

‘You went out on your own? That was rather foolish, Miss, going out alone at night,' says Bartleby, ‘for a young lady, such as yourself.'

‘I expect it was, Officer,' says Annabel. ‘But I did not think there was any time to waste.'

‘And how did you find her?'

‘I saw her go down to the canal, or at least I caught a glimpse of her.'

‘And what was she doing there?'

Annabel Krout frowns. ‘I don't know. But when I found her she was just standing there, pointing at the . . .'

‘Body, Miss?'

Annabel nods. ‘But she was quite in a trance, Inspector. I can't explain it.'

Webb smiles sympathetically. ‘No need, Miss. And,
I'm sorry to mention it, but, tell me, did you by any chance see the man when they pulled him clear of the water?'

‘Well yes, I did. I insisted upon it, I am afraid. I should have gone back inside, but I had to make sure.'

‘Make sure?' asks Webb.

Annabel Krout looks puzzled. ‘Did my cousin not say anything, Inspector?'

‘No, Miss,' says Webb. ‘I am a little lost, I confess. What do you mean?'

‘I'd seen the man before, Inspector. Twice. Even, well, in those circumstances, I knew I recognised him.'

‘Twice?'

‘Once outside the house, and once he spoke to me, in a café on Regent Street.'

Webb frowns. ‘The same man, you are quite sure?'

‘I'd know him anywhere, Inspector.'

Jasper Woodrow paces around the morning-room. His wife sits in the window-seat, overlooking the garden at the back of Duncan Terrace.

‘What is keeping the man? We might as well be prisoners. It's damned impertinence.'

‘Woodrow, please. I am sure he means nothing by it. They have to make their inquiries.'

‘I cannot imagine what he hopes to learn,' says Woodrow.

‘Annabel said she was sure she knew him; the fellow who accosted her in Regent Street. She thinks she saw him loitering outside the house last week.'

‘We can hardly be blamed if she attracts such followers.'

‘Woodrow!'

‘Well, damn it, Melissa, is it my fault?'

Mrs. Woodrow bites her lip, and turns to stare into
the garden, gazing at the old elm that marks the end of the family's plot.

‘Woodrow – tell me the truth. This man was not one of our creditors? Was it him who sent those awful notes?'

Woodrow turns round abruptly, walking up to his wife, kneeling down beside her. ‘Good Lord! You did not tell them about our affairs?'

‘Of course not. But was it him?'

Woodrow shakes his head. ‘No, of course not. You do not imagine that I could . . .'

Mrs. Woodrow smiles weakly, taking her husband's hand in hers.

‘No, of course not.'

Decimus Webb enters the Woodrows' morning-room some five minutes later, accompanied by his sergeant and Annabel Krout.

‘Well, sir, I believe we are done for the moment. Miss Krout, I hope we did not try your patience over much.'

‘No, Inspector. I was glad to help,' replies Annabel.

‘I trust we will hear no more of this awful business, Inspector,' says Woodrow. ‘My family have been put to enough trouble.'

‘Yes, well you see, sir,' says Webb slowly, as if choosing his words with some deliberation, ‘it rather appears the dead man had some interest in your family. Apparently he spoke to Miss Krout here, only a few days ago. It might rather aid our investigation to determine what that interest was, don't you think?'

‘I don't care a whit about your investigation, Inspector. I do not expect to be harassed in my own home.'

‘Woodrow,' says Mrs. Woodrow, a chiding note of caution in her voice.

‘Well, really, Melissa. It is a bit much.'

‘I'm sorry if we've caused any difficulty, sir. But a murder is a murder. It demands close attention.'

‘Murder? I've never heard such nonsense. The fellow drowned. Most likely drunk.'

‘No, sir. I fear I must speak plainly, since you raise the matter. He was killed; someone propelled his head into a wall, I think. Quite deliberately.'

Mrs. Woodrow blanches a little. ‘Garotters?'

‘No, not robbers, ma'am. I'm afraid it probably was someone who knew the man. Who took him down to the canal, for whatever reason. Probably thought it was a nice quiet spot.'

‘Well,' interjects Woodrow, ‘I think we have heard enough.'

‘Oh, I expect so, sir,' says Webb. ‘You must forgive me. Well, we can see ourselves out, no need to call your man. Ah, no wait, there is one thing. I understand there was a dinner party last night, earlier in the evening?'

‘Not a grand affair, Inspector. Just a couple of acquaintances,' says Mrs. Woodrow.

‘Perhaps you might give me their names and addresses, ma'am, all the same. I would like a quick word with them too.'

‘What good can that do?' asks Woodrow.

Webb shrugs. ‘It is possible they saw the fellow outside; one never knows.'

‘Very well,' says Woodrow. ‘I can tell you now, if you like. Mr. Joshua Siddons, of Salisbury Square, Fleet Street, and Mr. Richard Langley, 4 Alpha Road, St. John's Wood.'

‘Ah, really?'

‘Yes, Inspector, really. Is something the matter?'

‘No, sir. Just another curious coincidence. We happen to have had some dealings with Mr. Siddons
recently. Bartleby, did you get the other gentleman's name?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Well, then we are finished here. Again, I thank you for your time. Good day.'

‘Good day, Inspector,' says Woodrow.

As Webb and Bartleby depart from Duncan Terrace, their attention is caught by a shout from the canal.

‘Inspector!'

‘Ah, Hanson,' says Webb, walking briskly over to the City policeman. ‘It rather seems we have found your Mr. Brown. A little the worse for wear, though.'

‘So I see. You've just been speaking to the people that found him. An odd business?'

‘More than you know, Hanson,' says Webb, briskly ushering Hanson to one side. ‘Come, walk with us a while.'

‘You seem in a hurry, sir?'

‘I would rather you were not observed, Inspector,' says Webb, ‘by certain parties. Certain parties whom we may need to keep an eye upon presently.'

‘I had hoped to speak with the family, Inspector,' says Hanson, sounding a little aggrieved.

Webb shakes his head. ‘We have already been quite thorough in that regard. Now, I trust you are better at shadowing a man than the fellow you employed to watch Brown?'

‘I should hope so.'

‘Then, whilst we make further inquiries, I have a suggestion.'