Dear Laura (17 page)

‘Now let’s take another look at her,’ said Lintott to himself, and found his way back to a subdued kitchen, busy for once only with the details of dinner.

‘I’ll just have a word with Mrs Crozier, before I go. If that’s convenient to her.’

They hastened to send word up to Kate, who was performing her evening duties. They accommodated him at a corner of the table and were careful to say nothing. Amused, aware, he made himself comfortable until summoned to the drawing-room.

Laura had decided on her attitude towards him: courteous, remote, without attempt to charm.

That’s better, Lintott thought. Now we can get somewhere.

‘I can see how gossip starts, ma’am,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Envy is at the bottom of all of it. A compliment here, a smile there, and they’ve got a regular love affair going – if you’ll excuse me
mentioning
the matter.’

She inclined her head and said nothing.

‘A heap of talk and no evidence, ma’am. So you can rest your mind on that score. Of course, with Mr Titus Crozier being what you might call a ladies’ man, and you being a close friend of his, talk was likely. You are close to the gentleman, aren’t you, ma’am?’

A quiver of the black-feathered fan betrayed her, but her voice was composed.

‘We are much of an age, Inspector, and have known each other for many years. If I had had a brother with similar tastes, and grown up with him, we should have been as close. And there would have been no gossip,’ she added bitterly.

‘Your late husband apparently saw no wrong in your
association
, at any rate, ma’am.’ The statement lulled her, and he spoke casually. ‘Were you happy in your marriage, Mrs Crozier?’

She opened her mouth, hesitated, and glanced rapidly at him. Imperturbable, Lintott raised his eyebrows to encourage her to the truth.

‘Not particularly,’ she replied, and as he seemed neither
surprised
nor shocked, ‘no, Inspector.’

‘It’s not uncommon, ma’am. I wish it was. I’m a happily married man, myself, and grateful for it. This unfortunate
association
of his must have caused a deal of trouble between you. Very wounding and hurtful to any lady to be passed over for a woman of this sort.’

Her bent head was so rigid that Lintott guessed she withheld tears.

‘But I believe your brother-in-law acted in good heart on this occasion, and reconciled you both. Acted out of kindness and affection. He admires you, naturally,’ Lintott continued mildly, giving her time, paying out the rope. ‘I’d even say he was in love with you. What would you say?’

She wanted to cry that he was impertinent, that he lied, that he must leave the house immediately. But he sat opposite her in his solid, humorous, commonsense way that dared her to do any such stupid thing.

‘Come now, ma’am, let’s have no humbug. I can’t abide
humbug
. He was in love with you, wasn’t he? That’s not your fault, is it? He must have made no end of a nuisance of himself, and worried you into the bargain. Why, bless you, a gentleman of that kind can’t help courting a woman, now can he?’

She shook her head, soothed and riven at once.

‘But you saw through him straight away, I know. It must have been a temptation – not a real temptation, I don’t mean that. I’m thinking that you needed a bit of comfort with your late husband ignoring you, and for someone you wouldn’t care to wipe your shoes on. I daresay you didn’t know where to turn.’ She whisked a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at her eyes, under cover of fanning herself.

‘I’m not sitting in judgement,’ said Lintott. ‘I’m not such a
saint – and I don’t come across any, in my line of work – as to judge a person’s feelings. Feelings aren’t actions, you know, ma’am. How long had you and the late Mr Crozier been at odds with one another?’

‘I never knew him,’ she cried at random. ‘He was a stranger to me. He led his own life and told me nothing. Anything I ever knew I had to find out for myself, secretly, and keep to myself. I could not please him. I tried, and I could not please him.’

Tears were running down her face now, but she made no effort to wipe them away or to conceal them, staring proudly at Lintott: daring him to probe further.

‘Would you like me to go away, ma’am? I will, you know. I’m just a policeman doing my duty, not a member of the Spanish Inquisition. I can come back another day.’

‘No, no. Give me a moment. A moment only. Would you be kind enough to pour me a glass of sherry wine – and join me, of course, if you wish.’

Quieter, eyes reddened, she sipped. He had had the effect of a priest hearing confession: cathartic, cleansing, healing.

Now for the next fence, thought Lintott.

‘Of course these things happen, ma’am. Men are inclined to say a great deal before marriage, and then forget after. Mrs
Lintott
keeps me up to the mark – not that I need keeping, for I know my luck. I daresay your late husband wrote you letters that you’ve still got by you, tied with a ribbon. My wife keeps mine – and they were poor enough rubbish, though well meant. Still, you know, happy memories. Think of that time in your life, ma’am, and forget the rest. Men do and say unkind things to their wives that they don’t mean. Take it from me. God forgive us all.’

His strength lay in his sincerity, and in the fact that he never once lost sight of his objective.

‘You are exceedingly kind,’ said Laura, thankful for any kindness.

She felt she owed him something, and repaid with honesty.

‘My late husband never wrote me any letter more intimate than a distant acquaintance would write. I have no pleasant
foolishness
to tie with ribbon.’

And out of this she had made a little god of
your
servant
, thinking that he meant it truly.

‘Men are not always good at expressing their feelings,’ said Lintott, sorry and alert. ‘I know I wasn’t, but it came through somehow.’

Into her bruised recollection Lintott said, ‘You found those letters that your husband wrote to his mistress, didn’t you, Mrs Crozier?’

‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘It took me a long time, but I found them. He had hidden them in a secret drawer in his desk, but I knew where the spring was.’

‘Did you burn them? You said you thought they had been burned.’

A sleepwalker, she replied, ‘I did not burn them then, of course, because he would have discovered the loss. There were six altogether. I began to burn them in the bedroom grate, after his death. I kept two, though, in the end. They were the sort of letters I wanted him to write to me, a long time ago.’

‘Might I see them, my dear?’

The lapse of courtesy passed unnoticed by either of them.
Submissive
, uncaring, she rang the bell for Kate.

‘My jewel box, Kate, if you please – and the key.’

The letters lay at the bottom and she rummaged heedlessly through a little fortune of stones to find them.

‘What colour were your husband’s eyes, Mrs Crozier?’ Lintott asked gently.

‘Dark. Oh, I see what you mean. Her eyes were dark also. I had thought he quoted from John Donne.
Your
face
in
mine
eyes,
thine
in
mine,
appears.
’

‘I thought I’d find a goldmine with these letters,’ said Lintott, ‘but now I hardly know what to look for! Unless he saw
something
that was never there. That’s likely enough. We look for someone who fits what we want, and then hang the notion on them like a suit of clothes.’

She sat, mute and spent, looking for help in whatever guise.

‘Don’t you fret yourself,’ said Lintott, patting her hand. ‘Eat your dinner up. Food’s a great restorer.’

Eat
your
dinner
up,
like
a
good
girl,
Miss
Mouse,
or
you
will
fade
quite
away.
And
then
what
shall
I
do
without
a
mouse
to
buy
presents
for?

‘I should like to thank you, Inspector Lintott. You have been most kind.’

Thank
you
for
having
me.
It
was
most
kind of
you.

‘And get a good night’s sleep, ma’am, if I may be so bold as to say so. Dr Padgett should be able to help in that direction.’

Goodnight,
sleep
tight,
sweet
dreams,
God
bless,
see
you
in
the
morning.

‘I’ll have to take these letters, you know,’ said Lintott.

No,
my
love,
those
are
Papa’s
papers.

‘It is of no account to me,’ said Laura. ‘They were never mine.’

‘No,’ said Lintott.

But they should have been. Why not, I wonder? he thought.

Gauging his expression at the front door, Kate cried, ‘Mrs Crozier has had a deal of trouble, sir. I did say so, sir.’

‘Kate, my dear, what was that woman like who brought the letters?’

‘A baggage!’ said Kate roundly.

Her matter-of-fact response brought himself to himself again. He pinched her cheek.

‘So are you, in the nicest possible way, Miss Kate!’ said Lintott.

*

Laura was sitting over her jewel box, a small gold coin clasped in her hand: severed from Titus’s watch-chain, fifteen years earlier.

We
look
for
someone
who
fits
what
we
want,
and
then
hang
the
notion
on
them
like
a
suit
of
clothes.

I
NSPECTOR
L
INTOTT
was always honest with himself,
particularly
as the nature of his calling demanded that he be sometimes dishonest with others.

But set a thief to catch a thief, Lintott thought, and you never hook a fish but with bait or a crooked pin.

So he partly deceived Mrs Hill’s niece by reporting himself and her aunt as being on especially close and friendly terms.

‘Now what a fortunate occurrence,’ the inspector beamed, ‘to find you here. I was looking for Mr Titus Crozier. But I know you, my love, by very good report. I tell you this much – if you can cook a half or a quarter as good as your aunt you’ll make some chap a fine wife!’

Lily Day was a plain girl, and his compliment brought up a blush almost fit to match the cruel stain on her left cheek. To which she lifted one hand as if she would blot it out.

‘Yes, Lily – it is Lily, isn’t it? And as pretty a name as ever I heard! I’m a police inspector, my dear, but don’t be frightened. Lintott’s my name. I can see you’re a good girl, and I ain’t after them, of course. Is your master at home?’

‘Please to step inside, sir, if you will. But Mr Crozier’s always at business this time of day.’

‘Is he now?’ cried Lintott, smiting his thigh with his Bollinger. ‘That’s a pity. I thought he kept easier hours.’

‘No, sir. He’s always off afore nine and not back afore six, most days.’

‘Let’s sit down, my dear, I won’t keep you above ten minutes.’

She crept into a chair and attended him closely.

‘I don’t expect you’ve seen any young ladies visit your master, have you, my dear?’ Lintott began directly.

She shook her head.

‘I gets his breakfast, and then he goes to work, and I’ve
finished
here by midday. But I’ve found hairpins afore now,’ she said, and lest she had failed him she added, ‘and I know the name of his regular young lady, because she come here in a proper wax when he was out, and left a message with me.’

‘I knew,’ said Lintott, to some invisible deity, ‘that this young woman had her eyes and ears in the right place, and her head screwed on. What’s the lady’s name, my dear?’

‘Miss Eliza Tucker, sir, and she ain’t no lady – she dances at the Alhambra.’

‘Ah! That means an evening visit, and Mrs Lintott keeping my supper warm again! A policeman’s lot is not a happy one, Lily, eh?’ He regarded her with some ruefulness. ‘What does the lady – we’ll call her a lady for form’s sake, Lily – what does she look like, now?’

‘Showy,’ said Lily, in a tone reminiscent of her aunt.

‘Medium height, a bit on the buxom side, darkish, refined way of speaking? Might wear a veil, a thickish veil?’

‘How did you know, sir?’

He laid one finger to the side of his nose, and winked.

‘Well, I never did. That’s her, sir. Lor’ bless me.’

‘I suppose you haven’t seen any other ladies, while he was out?’

‘I seen Mrs Crozier, but then she’s family. No, sir. I’ve gone home long afore he starts amusing of himself.’ Mrs Hill’s
warnings
had taken effect. The girl’s voice was tart. ‘But the hairpins is all different colours.’

‘I don’t suppose you’ve kept them?’ asked Lintott wistfully.

‘Well, now you mention it – I have. I don’t know why I should, I’m sure,’ she added ingenuously.

He knew, picturing her on the fringe of Titus’s private life. The hairpins were the nearest she was likely to get to romance. But he commended her foresight and prudence, and looked through the little scatter of pins.

‘These are a delicate colour,’ he observed, picking out three golden ones.

‘Yes, sir. For a fair-complexioned person.’

‘A lady with light-coloured hair?’

‘Yes, sir. And this is for brown, and that for auburn, and for black. That Miss Eliza Tucker must’ve dropped
them.
I tell you, sir, when I took this post my aunt told me what to expect, and I thank my stars she did. I’m ’orrified, sir. I really am.’

He patted her arm and set his hard felt hat squarely on his head.

‘Mrs Hill is a remarkable woman, my dear. And so’s her niece. Now then, Lily, since you and I understand one another, you needn’t mention to Mr Titus that I called. I’d rather tell him myself. And, Lily, if you happen to see your dear aunt and get to talking about me – I’m a great favourite of hers, you know – tell her the same. If it was anyone but her and you,’ he said
thoughtfully
, staring at her, ‘I’d say that I always find out if someone’s been gossiping when they shouldn’t.’ She understood him, and her lips moved as if to repeat the message. ‘But I don’t need to say so, do I?’

She shook her head violently, mesmerised by the slate-coloured eyes.

‘So, God bless you, Lily. And remember to invite me to your wedding, won’t you?’

She was still giggling when he left: one hand lifted to conceal the discoloured cheek.

*

Miss Eliza Tucker was not as young as she would like to be and, judging from her manner, bore no deep affection for the police force. Nevertheless, the habit of charming the male animal dies hard, and she allowed the inspector to see more than a
ladylike
expanse of black net stocking. Otherwise, she pretended to ignore him, bending forward to repair her make-up in the cracked mirror.

She shared a dressing-room at the Alhambra with a quantity of other young ladies, and the inspector sat in a pleasant state of siege. They could tell from his serviceable boots, his old Inverness greatcoat, his speech, his hard sensible face, that he was no use to them. Still, they brushed past him, crying, ‘’scuse
me
,
duckie!’
and smiling: leaving a cheap fragrance behind them, a reminder
of small armoured waists and rustling skirts, a trace of whitening on his sleeve.

‘I’ll be in trouble with my wife over this,’ Lintott said
good-humouredly
, rubbing away at the clinging powder, nodding amiably at each damsel.

He surveyed Miss Tucker’s strong calf muscles and over-blown flesh, and reckoned that she had passed her meridian.

‘I believe you’re acquainted with one Mr Titus Crozier, my dear,’ he began in his mild way.

She rouged her mouth, staring at his distorted reflection in the mirror.

‘I might be. What of it? I can’t remember all their names, I suppose?’

‘Ah! You’ll have a deal of admirers, my dear, won’t you? Thinking of marrying one of them, are you?’

She pulled down her red satin bodice to a more seductive level, and inspected her teeth.

‘I might, and then again I might not. That’s not what you’ve come about. I know crushers! Get on with it, will you? I’m not bloody well paid to talk to
you
.’

The colloquialism for ‘policeman’ had not escaped him. He became blander.

‘Now, my dear, that’s an ugly sort of talk. Are you on friendly terms with Mr Crozier.’

‘Friendly? With that bastard? Not on your dear sweet life, I ain’t.’

‘You know very well what I mean, my dear,’ said Lintott softly. ‘I know you visit him in his rooms, if you want me to talk plainer. Did you visit his brother, Mr Theodore, too? There, or elsewhere?’

‘You ought to wash your mouth out, you ought,’ she cried forcibly. ‘I’m not that sort of a girl.’

Lintott sighed, and lifted his eyes to the smoked ceiling.

‘We’re wasting your time and mine, my dear. Did you or did you not?’

‘Never knew he had a brother. He’s one of them as says a lot and don’t tell you nothing.’

‘Ah! He’s fly.’

‘Rotten bastard,’ said Miss Tucker emphatically.

‘So you never visited his brother, Mr Theodore Crozier, or stopped his carriage in the street, or delivered a packet to his house?’

‘I told you. How could I if I didn’t know him?’

He looked directly at her, for fully a minute. But she glared back: sure of herself on this point at least.

‘All right,’ said Lintott, disappointed. ‘I believe you.
Thousands
wouldn’t – but, then, I’ve got a trusting nature. What was Mr Titus like as a spender? Pretty free?’

‘Mind your own … business.’

Lintott tutted. ‘Now lookee here, my dear, if you don’t speak civil to me I’ll have a word with Mr Henderson here and make it hot for you. You want to keep your job, don’t you? This job, at any rate?’

She attempted to stare him out, and failed.

‘What do you want to know, then?’ she asked sullenly.

‘I want to know how he paid you,’ said Lintott bluntly. ‘Rent? Money? Jewellery? Suppers?’

He used to give me supper. Sometimes he give me money. But he did the dirty on me with that bloody bracelet.’

‘Oh, he held out a bracelet, did he? What was dirty about that? Did you take it to the jerryshop and find the diamonds were glass?’

‘No. He took it back. Said he wanted to match it with a ring. I’d lent him some cash. Not much, but what I had.’

Lintott shook his head slowly in disbelief.

‘You don’t look like a flat to me, my dear. Whatever came over you to do a thing like that?’

She shrugged thickening shoulders, then looked up with a little hope.

‘You can’t do anythink for me, can you?’

‘No, my dear. There’s a many in this world that should be in the stir, by rights. He’s one of them, and
I
can’t nab him. You’ll know better next time. So you got little enough out of him?’

She nodded.

‘I should find yourself a decent fellow and get out of this,’ said Lintott, ‘before you’re coopered.’

‘One of our girls married a member of the aristocracy,’ she said defiantly.

‘Forget it,’ Lintott advised. ‘Take what you can get, and
scarper
. That’s good advice, that is. They won’t have room for you here, in another year or two, and then it’s the streets or starve.’

He rose, nodded at her.

‘I’m only twenty-five,’ she said, challenging him to deny it.

‘They come up younger every year, and two a penny. And watch your language. The sort of chap that’ll be any use to you won’t like it.’

‘Filthy pig!’ she said to herself, when he had gone. ‘Bloody jack!’ Then danced on stage with the other girls: smiling, glittering, hungry.