A Donation of Murder (13 page)

Pike took a sip of wine and looked at Callan levelly. ‘By something, I sense you mean corruption.'

Callan shrugged. ‘That was an easy guess.'

‘Shepherd,' Pike said, the dry white suddenly stinging the back of his throat.

Callan nodded. ‘While he was away on sick leave, certain anomalies in his department's books cropped up.'

‘I saw a few myself when I was standing in for him,' Pike said. ‘Also the occasional informant who turned tail and ran when he realised I was at the helm and not Shepherd. His office safe is especially well stocked with cash.'

‘We've had some anonymous tip-offs.'

Pike raised his eyebrows.

‘The long and the short of it,' Callan said, ‘is that we need you to keep a good eye on him, especially his handling of the La Peregrina case. If he's going to be in anyone's pocket, it's Giblett's.'

‘My pleasure.' Pike smiled and raised his glass. At last, he was being sanctioned to prove Shepherd's corruption, his suspicions now vindicated. It was something that had been niggling at him since he had first started working with the man. But given Pike's transfer straight from the army to the higher ranks of the police force he had been regarded with suspicion himself by many of his colleagues. At the time there was no point in his stirring the waters with nothing more than a hunch. Now he had much more than that.

Pike's sense of relief was short-lived, however. He reminded himself not to underestimate Shepherd. To all intents and purposes, the man was a buffoon, but when cornered, even a buffoon could be dangerous.

‘What's the matter, I thought you'd be pleased?' Callan asked.

Pike realised he had been frowning and shook his head. ‘Nothing's the matter, I am pleased,' he said. ‘Oh, good, here comes the soup.'

Florence's driving to the clinic made Mr Toad's quite funereal in comparison. Dody alighted from the Benz on wobbling legs, her fingers raw from gripping the upholstery in the back of the car. Fletcher, who had been instructing Florence from the front passenger seat, looked as pale as she felt. His colour improved when Florence announced she would be staying for a while to help celebrate the clinic's good fortune. But it bleached out again when she told him to find a café and grab himself a cup of tea and wait for the lesson to resume.

At the clinic, selections of fine cakes had been purchased and shared with those patients capable of eating. No one except Dody had thought to question the origin of the money, or if they had, they kept their scruples to themselves. Around the kitchen table, the women planned how they would put the donation to use. The first thing Lucinda would do, she said when they'd finished their tea, was visit Mr Coppins and pay off the rental debt. The change from the large anonymous donation combined with the money already raised would mean that then they could afford an extra six months of supplies, and even some of the new linen that Daphne had been championing.

Once the immediate affairs of the clinic had been seen to, the conversation became more general. Florence and Daphne sat at one end of the table and caught up on their news. After Daphne had summarised one of Sylvia Pankhurst's recent speeches, ending it with the quote, ‘We will make the cabinet ministers shake in their shoes until they are afraid for their very lives' Dody could listen no longer. She dreaded to think what Florence might get involved with next, and turned her attention to the other end of the table where an earnest conversation about hats and shoes was taking place. Dody stifled a sigh, feigned interest and nodded her head. She liked beautiful clothes as much as the next woman, but found the small talk about them inane. How much more interesting would the conversation be if it have been about current events, the worrying situation in the Balkans for example, or jewellery even! Probably just as well it wasn't about jewellery — it would have taken all her willpower to resist the urge to reveal that she had actually held La Peregrina necklace in her hands.

When the celebrations concluded, the driving lesson resumed. Florence insisted they pick up extra supplies for their little New Year's Eve party and jolted the car to a stop outside Fortnum and Mason's. She bought a hamper of goodies and some champagne to add to the modest but ample supply Dody and Cook had already organised.

But when Florence suggested they pick Violet up from St Thomas' Hospital, Dody put her foot down. Her life was one thing, but she would never dream of exposing Pike's daughter to the dangers of a drive with Florence. Pike could escort Violet to the McCleland's Bloomsbury residence via the underground railway that evening as already planned.

They drove home through a green, sulphurous fog. Twice Fletcher asked Florence to stop the car so he could clean the front window and the headlamps. On the second occasion he also decided to tinker with something under the bonnet. Dody wondered if it was some kind of a ruse. Perhaps he would lay claim to mechanical failure and insist that they take a taxi home. She rather hoped that would be the case. Her wish was not granted, but they returned home in one piece, nevertheless.

After they'd bathed, Annie helped Florence with her hair and her clothes. Dody, who preferred to attend to her personal needs herself, changed into a gown of beige silk tulle over which cascaded classical folds of rose pink silk chiffon. She did her hair as best she could. She'd long ago given up on the pompadour that Florence still favoured, not because she didn't like the look, it was just too impractical for her work and needed far too long to arrange. She styled her hair into a simple chignon and secured it with a silver clasp.

As she sat at her dressing table her hands wandered to her ears. She imagined the effect of pendant earrings, like those Margaret owned. The ruby colour would go well with her dark brown hair and eyes, and complement the simple silver clasp. She smiled. Silly goose, she chided as she reached for her understated rosebuds and screwed them into place. How impractical such baubles would be, not suited to her lifestyle at all. And what a waste of money when, unlike the sociable Florence, Dody had little opportunity to dress up.

One could still dream, though.

She met Florence in the drawing room. The sisters had already decided that the occasion demanded the use of the formal room, rather than the morning room where they usually received guests.

‘We need to spoil Violet,' Florence had declared earlier, ‘seeing she is rarely let out of that prison of a nurses' home.'

‘Indeed, they are Spartan places and the training is tough. I'm proud that Violet is still so determined to see the course through,' Dody said. Then again, as her father's daughter, she would expect no less.

Florence looked stunning in an embroidered Japanese-style dress with wide blue and black satin sleeves, the colours bringing out the startling violet of her eyes. ‘I'm not sure how suitable this dress will be for the tango, Dody,' she said, as she propped the music on the grand piano. ‘Ought I to change?'

‘There's no time, our guests will be here any minute,' Dody replied, noting an unusual lack of confidence in her sister's tone. She put it down to the horrendous year Florence had suffered, some of it resident in a mental institution. She moved to the piano and put her arm around Florence's delicate shoulders. ‘Soon it will be 1914. I expect you're very much looking forward to putting the old year to bed, aren't you?'

‘Yes, preferably with a pillow over its head,' Florence replied. ‘I fear I am destined to remain a spinster, Dody.'

‘Is that such a bad thing?' Dody asked. Only a few years ago Florence had declared that she would remain a spinster for life and devote herself solely to her cause.

‘It's not a bad thing if one has a career, as you do. I'd hoped to make flying mine. Perhaps if the world changes enough, I still will,' she said with a sigh.

Did Florence think Dody was destined to be a spinster too? A few years ago she had also believed that she was, and had been proud of the notion. But that was before she had met Matthew Pike. What would the New Year bring for her and Pike — for all of them — she wondered.

Fletcher, doing his best imitation of a butler, opened the double doors and announced the arrival of Chief Inspector Pike and his daughter, Miss Violet. It didn't take long for Florence's whoop of joy and Violet's tumbling embraces to shatter their chauffeur-cum-yardman-cum-butler's charade of sombre formality, a smile cracking his weatherbeaten face as he closed the doors.

Dody had not seen Violet since she had started her nurses' training. The nurses weren't often allowed out, and when they were it was under a strict curfew. It was hard to imagine the young woman who hugged her tight as the shy and awkward fourteen year old she had met for the first time a few years ago. The girl still had the
willowy shape of adolescence and was a touch too thin, which Dody attributed to the strange diet devised by an American doctor that she still followed. But now she wore her hair up — not a ribbon in sight — and the new style caused quite a transformation, making her look sophisticated beyond her years. She wore a slightly outdated gown of teal with pale lace trim at the throat, that Dody recognised as once having belonged to Florence, and she looked wonderful in it.

Pike took Dody's hand and kissed her on the cheek. He smelled of the damp night air. After he'd greeted Florence with a kiss also, and welcomed her home, he allowed Dody to lead him by the hand to the fireplace. Dody's mood was buoyant. The family town house was one of the few places she and Pike could drop their guard and be truly themselves. They had ceased trying to hide their physical affection from Violet. Not only was she old enough to understand the birds and the bees, but she had also been blessed with a generous heart when it came to her father's happiness.

They stood near the fire and nibbled the canapés served by Annie wearing her best black dress, white frilly apron and linen cap. Florence did most of the talking, followed by Violet. Once could tell the girl was dying to match some of Florence's spicy airfield stories with a few of her own from the hospital, visibly holding herself back whenever she met her father's censorious eye.

‘Florence, why don't you take Violet upstairs and show her your flying costume?' Dody suggested. ‘We won't be dining for another half an hour at least.'

‘What a jolly good idea,' Florence enthused as if understanding Dody's tactics. ‘I have some photographs too.' As she took Violet by the hand, she turned to Dody and gave her an unladylike wink. Must have been something else she'd picked up from the Americans, Dody thought with a smile.

She and Pike settled on the couch vacated by the girls. Pike nuzzled her neck, sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

‘I have a lot to tell you,' he said. ‘I hope the girls can keep themselves occupied for a while.'

‘As do I,' Dody said, thinking it was about time she broached the subject of the anonymous donation. ‘You first. But remember our agreement for tonight: no talk of death, murder or mayhem.'

He reached for her hand and shook it. ‘Pact.'

And then, to her amazement, still holding her hand, he dropped to the floor and positioned himself on one knee. Reaching into his jacket pocket he produced a small velvet box.

Dody's heart almost stopped beating as he flicked the catch and held the box open before her. Embedded in a bed of blue velvet sat a ring, a small solitary pearl surrounded by tiny diamond chips.

Now Dody's heart beat like a drum in her chest. She tried to speak, but the words would not form.

‘Will you do me the honour of accepting this ring, this offering of love, on the premise that soon you will become my wife?' Pike said, a slight tremor in his voice.

‘It's beautiful,' she managed to whisper, and it was, in all its understated simplicity, just like the man who offered it to her. This pearl made La Peregrina seem quite vulgar in comparison.

‘Answer me, dearest Dody, I can't maintain this position for much longer,' he said, wincing.

Had he forgotten her own proposal? Or being a traditionalist, was it something he felt he needed to do himself? Whatever the reasons, she could forgive him for it.

She threw her arms around his neck. ‘Get up before you do yourself a mischief, you silly man!'

Pike clambered back onto the couch and slipped the ring on her finger. ‘It's a little big, it belonged to my mother. I'll have to get it altered.'

‘There's no hurry, darling. I'm not sure when I'll be able to wear it in public.'

‘Sooner than you think. In the meantime, I thought you might like to hang it on this.' He produced another box from his pocket and pulled from it a fine silver chain. ‘The pearl's set in platinum, but this silver chain will do the trick for the short term.' With deft fingers he threaded the chain through the ring and fastened the clasp behind Dody's neck. His touch shot tingles of electricity down her spine. The tingles intensified when he tucked the ring into her décolletage.

He placed his hand on her cheek. She drank in the deepness of his antique-blue eyes and moved her lips towards his, running her fingers through the soft hair on the back of his head.

When they drew apart they were both breathing deeply.

‘You haven't answered my question, but I take that to mean a yes?' he said.

‘Yes, yes, yes!' Dody laughed, overtaken by a lightness of being that threatened to float her up to the ceiling. ‘I don't know how we'll ever manage marriage itself, but to wear your ring around my neck is almost as good.'

‘It won't be long, I promise you. Once the necklace case is solved I intend on resigning from the police force and we can become officially engaged. Then we can shout our news to the world.'

The unexpected, casual announcement threw her. She wondered if she had heard correctly. ‘Resignation?'

Pike paused. ‘Why so stunned?'

She shrugged. ‘It's hard to imagine you not being in the force. I knew you weren't particularly happy in it — mainly because of Shepherd — but this is quite a surprise.'

‘With me out, it would be much easier for us to marry.'

‘Yes, it is one obstacle out of the way. But I will still lose my position at the Home Office if I am married.'

‘You could still work as a doctor; I would never deny you that. You never wanted to specialise in autopsy, anyway. Was not bone surgery your original intention?'

She bit her lip and nodded, her mind racing. Indeed, with so much medical experience behind her, her job prospects were a lot better than most of the female physicians she knew — even if she was married.

‘And of course if there was a war, with so many men away from home, your employment prospects would be even better,' Pike continued. ‘They may even let you keep your job with the Home Office.'

‘But what of you?' Dody asked, pulling out the ring. She attempted to put it on her finger again, but the chain got in the way. ‘What would you do if not work for the police?'

‘Why not . . .' he said, reaching around her neck to undo the necklace's clasp. ‘Why not wear the ring on your finger tonight, and we'll announce our secret engagement to the girls?'

‘Good idea.' But then a worrying thought hit her. ‘I know Florence will be delighted, but what of Violet, will she approve, you think?' While Violet seemed to have no problem with their romantic attachment Dody was unable to predict her reaction to their actual marriage. How would the girl feel about having Dody as a stepmother?

‘Of course she will. She adores you,' Pike said.

Dody thought more about this. Violet's mother, an adulteress, had died in a carriage explosion during a liaison with her lover, a brother officer of Pike's. Pike had never told Violet the true circumstances of her mother's death, nor had he ever spoken a word against her, and the girl had always held her dead mother on a pedestal.