Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

Gus looked at Deirdre and laughed. “Straight to the heart of it, Roy,” he said. “Yes, she married later, but not the father of the twins. It was only after she’d had a child with her legitimate husband that she reclaimed one of the twins, the girl, from the foster family. The boy was left behind, and the librarian didn’t know what had happened to him.”

“Blimey,” said Roy. “What a story! Like something out of Peg’s Paper .”

“What?” Gus stared at him.

“My mother used to take it. It was a girls’ magazine. True life stories, she said, but even she didn’t believe that. Lurid, they were, and she loved them.”

“So who was the husband? Must’ve been a nice chap to take on the bigger girl.”

“He was all right, but a bit short-tempered, according to the librarian. And he insisted that as the elder girl wasn’t his, she should not have his name. So she kept her mother’s name, i.e., Bentall.” He paused, and then dropped the bombshell. “She was called Beatrice Bentall.”

“So that’s it,” Ivy said quietly.

Roy agreed that Gus and Deirdre had done really well, but probably the most important thing now was to find out what happened to the husband, and what he’d done to cause his wife to desert two perfectly nice daughters. “It was obviously his doing,” he said confidently. “And what happened to Caroline? She seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.”

“Perhaps he murdered her,” Ivy said flatly. “Or someone else did.”

The silence was prolonged. Deirdre shivered. “Shall I put the heating on?” she said. “It’s gone cold in here. I’ll go and make more coffee.”

“Have you finished, then?” Ivy asked, quite oblivious of the sensation she had caused. “Is that all your friendly librarian knew about the end of the story?”

Gus nodded. “Yep,” he said. “She went away to do her training around that time, and by the time she returned the whole thing had died down, and gossips were busy with a new scandal in the town.”

“Let me guess,” said Roy. “The town mayor had run off with his secretary, leaving his mousy wife to pick up the pieces?”

Gus laughed loudly. “You’re a national treasure, Roy,” he said. “I’ll help Deirdre with the coffee,” he added, and followed her down the baronial stairs.

IN THE KITCHEN, Gus stood watching Deirdre fill the kettle and put ground coffee in the cafetiere. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” he said, seeing her frown.

“What are you thinking?”

“That we’ve uncovered something so important we should probably take it to the police. Beattie must be on their list of suspects. Time to hand over to them?”

Deirdre turned to face him. “You must be telepathic,” she said. “It was telling it all to the others, watching their reactions. Yesterday, somehow, we were so excited at finding out so much that it was like a game. You know, pass ‘Go’ and collect two hundred pounds. But now, well, I can see just how important it might be. What do you really think, Gus?”

“Haven’t had time to think it out properly,” he said. “Shall we ask the others? They’ll be looking at it from another viewpoint.”

“Right,” she said. “I reckon Ivy might have a sensible suggestion. She often has, irritatingly! You wait, when we ask them, I bet she’ll say, ‘Well, if you ask me,’ etc., etc., and produce the commonsense answer.”

They carried the fresh coffee upstairs, and Deirdre refilled the cups. “So what shall we do next?” she said. “We reckon what we found out is really important. So should we go to the police or carry on investigating?”

“Well, if you ask me…” said Ivy.

“IF YOU ASK me,” said Ivy, “I’d say we’ve got a long way off the track finding out who murdered Miriam Blake’s mother. Good as your research was, you two,” she continued, “it don’t really shed any light on what the police are investigating. So I suggest we carry on investigating until we find some definite connection.”

“Told you,” said Deirdre to Gus.

“Told him what?” Ivy asked.

“Never mind,” Deirdre answered. “Anyway, we haven’t heard what you and Roy discovered yesterday. Your turn now, Ivy.”

“Not me, it’s Roy’s turn.”

“Oh, come on,” Gus said. “Let’s cut the politeness and get on with it.”

“Right,” said Roy, “I’ll start and Ivy will interrupt.”

“I’m sure she will,” muttered Gus, and added loudly, “Off you go, then, Roy.”

“Well, you remember Miss Pinkney told us about the hot gossip in the village? About Mr. Roussel being seen everywhere, for the first time in years?”

Gus nodded impatiently, then began to speak.

Ivy interrupted. “Yes, he went to the pub and the shop, called in at the Budds and walked round the farm with young David. But most interesting for us, he called in on Miriam Blake yesterday, and stayed for more than an hour.”

Deirdre and Gus chorused, “Who told you that?”

Ivy’s biscuit had gone down the wrong way, and she choked into her handkerchief. Roy took over. “It was Rose Budd,” he said. “Ivy and me went for a stroll down Hang-man’s Row, and she was in her garden. Full of it, she was.”

Deirdre looked at the frail old man. “You walked all the way down Hangman’s Row?” she said.

Ivy and Roy exchanged looks. “I pushed him,” Ivy said. “He didn’t want me to, but Mrs. Spurling stopped us on the way out and said Roy was her responsibility and she could not allow him to walk so far. She produced a shiny new wheelchair, and Roy is light as a feather. Nothing to him. So it was no problem for me to push. Better than a Zimmer.”

“I’m going to get one of those electric shopping scooters,” Roy said happily. “Never thought of it before, but it would be even better if Ivy didn’t have to push.”

“So you talked to Rose Budd about Miriam and Theo,” Deirdre reminded him. She was extremely irritated to hear that Miriam had been closeted with Theo for more than an hour. “Doing what?” she asked.

Ivy shrugged. “How should we know? Rose didn’t know. She doesn’t have much to do with Miriam, and so couldn’t ask her, could she? Mind you, if you ask me , they were up to no good. We know she was his fancy woman once before. Might have picked up where they left off, so to speak.”

“Ivy!” said Deirdre. “That is pure speculation! I am sure Theo would have nothing whatsoever of that nature to do with Miriam Blake. Not after what the old mother told him about being brother and half sister!”

“And not when he had already taken up where he left off with you, Deirdre? I’ve got private doubts about the Hon. Theo. I’d hate to see my cousin led up the proverbial garden path.”

“I’m quite capable of looking after myself,” snapped Deirdre, and Gus decided it was time to step in.

“This is a really interesting piece of information, Ivy,” he said, “and one we should definitely follow up. The question is, how?”

There was silence for a minute, and Gus thought that he should probably own up. “As a matter of fact,” he said casually, “I had lunch with Miss Blake.”

“When?” said Deirdre.

“Today. Before coming up here.”

“Better explain,” muttered Roy. “These girls will eat you alive if you’ve been consorting with possible suspects.”

“Not possible suspects,” Gus said. “Chief suspect. She said the police had been back asking more questions. Some new ones, and some old ones over and over again.”