Stolen Remains (29 page)

Katherine’s eyes widened and she stared off in the distance as she smiled at the memory. Now talking as though in a trance, she continued, “I rather panicked after that and don’t remember much. Stephen came home shortly thereafter, and as I explained things to him, that windy old hen, Mrs. Peet, returned from shopping through the servants’ entrance. We left the house before she could find us with him.

“Fortunately, when we returned we discovered that the housekeeper had assumed Cedric was her employer. There seemed no point in disabusing her of the notion, did there?”

“So you killed Mrs. Peet to keep her from identifying Cedric later on.”

“Of course. Once you said you were going to open up the coffin for her to weep over him one last time, I couldn’t possibly risk her realizing that it was Cedric. So her death is really
your
fault, Mrs. Harper, for agreeing to reopen the coffin.”

Violet nodded at the woman’s audacity, and made a mental note that the next time she was asked to open a coffin so someone could clip a lock of hair, she would never, ever agree to it, no matter how many tears flowed. “You didn’t do it by yourself.”

“No, I had to enlist Stephen to help me hoist her body up after I knocked her unconscious. Poor dear man has a queasy stomach.”

But he had a perfectly composed face when he lied. “Stephen, was there any truth at all to your statement that your father was possibly dying of a stomach ailment?”

He reddened. “Who can really say what illnesses someone has?”

Violet shook her head and turned back to Katherine. “You hired the kidnappers, too, in order to prevent anyone from ever identifying Cedric.”

“Yes, although those nitwits nearly destroyed everything. They thought they could blackmail me for more money after we agreed on a certain amount for their services. I refused to pay it, and they refused to return the body. We couldn’t have Cedric’s body roaming the countryside somewhere, waiting to be discovered as not being Anthony Fairmont. If only you hadn’t embalmed him, time would have naturally solved our problem. That’s why Stephen encouraged you to find him, although I knew it would come to no good.”

“I do not care for being played as a dupe, Mrs. Fairmont.”

Katherine shrugged. “It couldn’t be helped. And anyway, you weren’t harmed.”

Violet could hardly believe this was Stephen’s meek, reserved wife. The enormity of what she had done seemed to have little impact on Katherine.

“You pretended to be Mrs. Young, the woman who invited me to St. Paul’s crypt, to keep me away from the house long enough to kidnap the body.”

Katherine nodded and sat down. Stephen also sat, but Violet was too anxious to do more than pace as the tale unraveled.

“So the blackmailing notes associated with the body came from you, not the actual thieves?”

“Yes. I hate to be prideful, but they were a masterpiece, weren’t they? I had the ransom money delivered in the same way in which Cedric demanded it from Monsieur de Lesseps.”

“He told you he was behind a blackmailing scheme against the builder of the Suez Canal?”

“He couldn’t help himself. Cedric was bitter and angry about much more than me. He told me all about his failed little project in Egypt that led him back here. James Godfrey lied when he sat here telling us that after Crimea, the two of them spent time in France before returning home. He left out the detour they took in Egypt, finding and managing corvée labor for the canal. They knew the project was coming to an end, and Cedric came up with this new plan for making money. When the blackmailing didn’t work out, he decided to come home and torture me.”

“It seems as though Cedric would have profited more to come home and reconcile with Lord Raybourn.”

“Now you are beginning to understand the manner of man Cedric was.”

“What did you hope to accomplish by imitating his blackmailing technique?”

Katherine seemed disappointed that Violet didn’t immediately appreciate her brilliance. “So that the theft of Lord Raybourn’s body would seem to be Cedric’s doing.”

“But Cedric was dead. You killed him.”

“No one knew that until you discovered it.”

Violet remembered something else. “The newspapers reported that Mrs. Peet murdered Lord Raybourn. . . .”

“Clever of me, wasn’t it? Ellis Catesby was besotted with Nelly, but she was too loyal to the family—and why, I ask you?—to tell him anything. So I visited him with a delicious story he couldn’t resist. I even told him Nelly sent me with it. He enthusiastically printed it without checking a single fact.”

Katherine’s callousness was chilling.

“I presume you also killed James Godfrey?”

Katherine nodded.

“Let me guess. You murdered him because he could also properly identify Cedric’s body,” Violet said. “But how were you able to get his body to Hyde Park without anyone noticing?”

“You obviously have no idea what sort of services a titled name can purchase, Mrs. Harper. The same sort of man who would steal my father-in-law’s body for me is also perfectly willing to provide a late-night sea burial for my late husband.” Katherine laughed sharply at her own joke. “Although one has to be careful to hire different workers so as not to arouse too much suspicion.”

Godfrey was a sad case, but didn’t deserve what happened to him. This madness had to cease.

Violet slipped to the floor before Katherine’s chair, covered both of the woman’s hands with her own, and adopted her best undertaker’s voice, low and comforting. “Mrs. Fairmont, surely you realize you must turn yourself in to Inspector Hurst. Running away will not save you.”

Katherine put her hand to her neck again. “I’ll not be locked up with a bunch of prostitutes and thieves. I don’t belong there. People who are in jail are either stupid or poor.”

And which one are you, Mrs. Fairmont?

“Perhaps if he understands the circumstances, he will plead for you at court.”

Although Violet wouldn’t be particularly upset to see Katherine locked up forever.

“You must be mad. I’ve seen what that man does to innocent people, whisking them off like falcons picking up field mice. Imagine what he’ll do to me. And Stephen.”

Violet looked at Stephen while still covering Katherine’s hands, which were now trembling. “Stephen, you are culpable, too. You assisted in Mrs. Peet’s and James Godfrey’s hangings, and you have been aiding Mrs. Fairmont every step of the way. Why didn’t you put a stop to it?”

Stephen didn’t answer. He was gazing at his wife, tears in his eyes.

Violet tried again. “Mrs. Fairmont, if you don’t go to the authorities, Mrs. Bishop might remain imprisoned forever . . . or even worse may happen to her.”

“I’ll not be hauled off to Newgate like Gordon and Nelly were,” Katherine said, eyes blazing. “I’d sooner fling myself from Westminster Bridge.”

Violet caught Stephen’s eye, and knew from his guilty look that Katherine had been present the day they had taken the ransom money to the bridge. But had Stephen known that Katherine planned to push Violet? It didn’t bear thinking about any longer.

“You cannot be serious. You would let your husband’s sister rot in jail?”

“As if either Nelly or Dorothy ever saw me as anything other than a tramp. In their minds, I ran off with Stephen the minute Cedric’s back was turned. They’ve always hated me for that. Dorothy despises me even more because I was next in line to become chatelaine of Willow Tree House.”

Was Katherine not aware of Mrs. Peet’s involvement with Lord Raybourn?

“I must insist—”

“You’ll do no such thing! You’re just an undertaker. What power do you have over me? None.” Katherine’s voice was shrill and her eyes were those of a panther who had just found her prey.

“I don’t mean to imply—” Lost in her desire to discover the truth, it was only now that Violet realized she was naïvely trying to convince a rabid animal to allow itself to be caged. Too late.

“I could kill you, you know.” Katherine’s voice was now subdued and dangerous. Violet feared she was about to be pounced on, and there was nowhere for her to run. Not that her skirts would have permitted it, anyway. She began backing away from Katherine, with the intention of breaking for the door, despite the encumbrance of her skirts. The rabid animal pounced.

“Katherine, don’t,” Stephen said. It was the last thing Violet heard before her head exploded into a thousand stars and she collapsed to the floor.

V
iolet was being shaken violently. Where was she? Why was she on the floor? The carpet was rough against her face. She rose to one elbow and stopped, the pain to one side of her head blinding her against moving any farther. Someone was shouting her name over and over.

“What do you want?”

“Mrs. Harper, can you hear me?”

She moaned. “Leave me be.”

“Mrs. Harper, you need to wake up.”

She opened one eye. Inspector Hurst loomed over her.

“What happened to you?” he asked.

“Katherine Fairmont struck me with something.” Gordon’s favorite ash receptacle lay broken in two nearby. She reached up to touch the spot on her head where the pain was radiating. A throbbing lump the size of a mourning bell was building. She was probably fortunate she hadn’t been killed.

But that wasn’t what was important. Blinking away the pain, Violet said, “Why are you here?”

“We went to Mr. Smith’s lodgings.”

“They belonged to Cedric Fairmont,” she told them.

“How did you know that?”

“It doesn’t matter now. Go on.”

“We found notes and letters proving conclusively that he was in charge of the Suez Canal’s corvée labor for a period of time. His friend James Godfrey helped him.”

Violet nodded, despite how much it hurt to do so.

“We returned to Scotland Yard and found your note, and I was convinced that something was decidedly wrong in this household. The door was open and I found you . . . like this. Can you stand?”

“I think so.” Violet struggled to her feet as Hurst held out a hand to help her. She felt an attack of nausea as she stood upright, but it soon passed.

“Inspector, I know everything. However, the crucial thing right now is that Katherine Fairmont was responsible for the deaths of Cedric Fairmont, Mrs. Peet, and James Godfrey.”

Hurst was incredulous. “That demure woman? Impossible.”

“Nevertheless, it’s true, and her husband aided her. They said they were going to Paddington Station for a train to Winchester.”

“Can you walk?”

Violet nodded.

She must have looked like an asylum escapee, as wobbly as she was on her feet, clutching Inspector Hurst for balance. Luckily, there were several taxis waiting at the stand in nearby Upper Brook Street.

Violet’s head cleared and the pain receded some as they rode the mile and a half to Paddington. During the ride, Violet told Hurst what had transpired at Raybourn House prior to her unfortunate encounter with the ashtray.

“I’ll have Eleanor Bishop released as soon as possible,” Hurst said as their taxi came to a stop.

Paddington Station was an architectural marvel, having opened thirty years earlier. Its massive, multibarreled roofline with an intricate mesh of glass and metal provided glorious natural light to those walking along the many concourses that guided passengers to any number of train tracks.

The noise inside the station was deafening, as trains came screeching in to spew riders and then gobble up more before chugging back outdoors.

“How will we find her?” Violet said with a hand to her head. The pain returned from raising her voice to be heard over the cacophony of the station.

“We need to find a timetable.”

Violet pointed. “Over there?”

They ran—she limped—to a board listing dozens of train departures. “Here it is,” Violet said. “There’s another train in about ten minutes on track four.”

Paddington was one of the most well-used stations in London, and it was with difficulty that they managed to push through the crowds and arrive at the right track within a few minutes. Passengers milled about waiting, some reading newspapers while surrounded by luggage, others peering down the track as if by doing so they could will the train to arrive sooner. Children were scolded by their parents for playing too close to the edge.

Paddington’s overall clamor reared up terrifying memories in Violet’s mind of her own train crash. Her right arm began tightening in an almost visceral response to the chaos.

“I see them!” Hurst said. Violet followed him to where Katherine and Stephen stood, apart from everyone else and with their backs to them, a traveling bag clutched tightly in Katherine’s hand as she imitated those who were glancing down the track in order to hurry the train.

Stephen frowned at seeing them, but Katherine was positively livid. “Why are you alive?” she demanded.

“My apologies for disappointing you, Mrs. Fairmont,” Violet said.

“You should be far more disappointed to see me, Lady Raybourn,” Hurst said. “You will not be boarding that train. You have a new destination.”

“You can’t stop me. I’ll . . . I’ll scream that you’re attacking me.”

Hurst pulled a pair of handcuffs from his jacket. “If you create a disturbance, I’ll be forced to use these. It would be a shame for a society lady to be escorted out this way.”

Katherine turned her wrath on her husband. “Stephen, what are you going to do to protect me from this dunderheaded duo? I’ll not be taken!”

Stephen cupped his wife’s cheeks in his hands. “Kate, don’t be hysterical. We must be rational.” He turned to Hurst. “What can you promise us, sir? What if I confessed to the crimes? Will you let my wife go?”

“Impossible, my lord. Your wife is the guilty party in the murders, and I’ll be arresting you on related crimes. Lady Raybourn, you are under arrest for the murder of Cedric Fairmont. You will be remanded into custody and held to answer criminal charges against you—”

“No! I . . . I . . . claim sanctuary. I’m going to the cathedral in Winchester to claim sanctuary. I’ll live out my days in a nun’s cell.”

Violet wasn’t sure that sanctuary was still possible. Wasn’t that a medieval system?

“I’m sorry, Lady Raybourn, but I’m tired of your hysterics. If you don’t willingly come with me this moment, I’ll take you by force.” Hurst tapped the handcuffs against one wrist for emphasis.

“It’s no use, my love,” Stephen said. “We’re both going to go to Scotland Yard and turn ourselves in. I’m guilty of many crimes myself for having helped you with yours.”

“Why are you so anxious to do her bidding?” Katherine said, pointing to Violet. “Are you lovers? Do you wish to be rid of me?”

“Don’t be foolish. I want you to be safe.”

“That’s what Cedric used to say, all those years ago. That as long as I was safe, I shouldn’t worry about anything else he was doing.”

Instead of cajoling, Stephen tried another tactic, which was to shake her sternly. The effort wore him out and made Katherine even angrier.

“Remove. Your. Hands. Sir.” Katherine bared her teeth in a way that frightened Violet into taking several steps backward. Even Stephen was startled into letting her go. He returned to pleading with his wife.

“Kate, darling, please. Enough of this.”

Violet wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Katherine lifted her bag and swung it around full force, striking Stephen on the back of the head. Caught completely unawares, he pitched sideways, grabbing on to his wife as they both flew off the concourse, directly into the path of the five o’clock to Winchester.

Violet Harper knew personally what happened when the great metal beasts, snorting steam and bellowing their presence, came into conflict with human bodies. The train was always victorious.

She turned her head reflexively as other patrons on the platform screamed and pointed. She had no desire to relive the horror of mangled and burned corpses, especially of two people she knew, one of whom had been a childhood playmate.

Even an undertaker had her limits of endurance.