Ann Purser - The Hangman’s Row Enquiry

“You’d better come in, then,” he said, and opened the door wider. A suffocating smell of decay and damp assailed Deirdre’s nostrils, and she gulped.

“In you go, then,” Gus said, giving her a push from behind.

The old man shut the door, in spite of Gus’s suggestion they leave it open, and motioned them towards the back of the house. “Better start at the worst bit,” he said, and led the way into what might once have been a reasonably smart kitchen, but now resembled a rubbish dump.

“Have you lived here long?” Deirdre croaked, trying not to breathe.

“All me life,” he said. “There’s bin Jessops in Oakbridge for generations. Well known, we are. We’re a big family, an’ before you ask, we ain’t got nothing to do with that scandal about a Mayor’s daughter what married a Jessop. Different lot altogether. So if you’ve come asking about that, you can scram. There’s bin enough asking about that!” His raucous cackle alarmed Deirdre and she backed out of the kitchen. Gus stood his ground, and asked if the old man lived alone.

“Yep,” he said. “But me son an’ daughter-in-law live just down the road. I’m goin’ to move in with them when this place is sold.”

Poor things, thought Deirdre. But then it occurred to her that the money from the house sale would probably be useful to Jessop’s son, if he could prise it out of the old man.

They continued on their stifling way round the house, with Gus and Deirdre asking innocent questions as they went. “Was your wife an Oakbridge girl?” Deirdre had admired the surprisingly high-quality dressing table set. Loot, probably. “None of your business,” he replied, and then added reluctantly that when his wife was alive, the house had been a showplace. “Clean as a new pin,” he said.“You could eat off the floor.”

Gus asked if he’d been an only child, or were there others in the family.

“Bit nosy, ain’t you? You’re not plainclothes, are you? If y’are, you can get goin’ right away. Nothin’ for you here.”

“No, no,” said Gus. “We live over the other side of the county, and are thinking of moving, that’s all. Oakbridge seems a very nice town.”

Mollified, Mr. Jessop agreed, saying that he had a sister who lived in the posher part. “Up Nob Hill.” He cackled. “She’s a widder woman now. Married later in life than the rest of us, and above her station. Rich family. Husband was a Bentall, distant connection to that Mayor Bentall an’ all that rubbish. I don’t see much of her now.”

“Don’t blame her,” muttered Deirdre into Gus’s ear as they came down the narrow stairs. There were holes in the stair carpet, and she stepped carefully, holding on tight to the sticky banister.

Finally, they were out into the fresh air, and Deirdre took long, deep breaths, as they walked back towards the centre of the town. “Phew! I think I would’ve passed out if we’d been in there much longer. Was it worth it, Gus? Did we learn anything? I could hardly think in that dreadful atmosphere.”

“Oh, yes,” Gus said smugly. “We learned something. I tell you what, when we get back to the car I’ll explain it all in words of one syllable to you and Ivy and Roy.”

As they approached the car park, Deirdre was relieved to see Ivy and Roy safely in the back of the car. “Well, at least they can’t have strayed far,” she said. She opened the door and was thankful for the scent of lavender water and subtle aftershave. “All well?” she said. They looked at each other and nodded. “Yes, thank you,” said Ivy. “We managed very well. How about you two?”

Gus said they should all relax and have the picnic lunch, and then he would tell them about their interesting morning.

Deirdre poured out the coffee, and handed round the sandwiches on small disposable plates. She had remembered paper napkins, and Ivy used hers to dab the corners of her mouth in the genteel fashion taught to her by her mother long ago.

“We shall be swimming in coffee!” she said to Roy.

“Did you find a nice café?” Deirdre said.

They nodded. “Warm and pleasant,” said Ivy. “And we had doughnuts.” “Two each,” Roy added. “So,” continued Ivy, brushing the crumbs off her lap, “tell all.”

Gus then recounted their morning’s work, from discovering Jessop in the telephone directory to meeting the man himself in his sordid surroundings, and finally gleaning a useful piece of information.

“So,” he said, “all we have to do is find his sister, the former Miss Jessop who married a Bentall.”

“If she exists,” said Deirdre doubtfully.

“Oh, she does exist,” Ivy said, producing her surprise rabbit from the hat. “We’ve met her.”

AS THE BIG car rolled along the main road back to Barrington, Gus spelled it all out for them. “Buster’s daughter Caroline had twins by a man as yet unknown. They were adopted and she returned home. Later, she married one of the Jessops, but a different branch from our old man. Caroline’s Jessop was unsuitable and violent. They had a girl baby, and Caroline was cut off by her parents. She retrieved her girl twin from foster parents and left the boy with them. No trace of him yet. Are you with me, everyone?”

Ivy nodded firmly, and Roy dare not say he was lost already. Deirdre said that Gus was explaining well, and to carry on.

“So,” he said patiently, “we have Caroline and husband Jessop, with illegitimate girl twin and legitimate girl baby. From what we already know, Beattie was almost certainly the girl twin, and we don’t know what happened to the legit girl. Clear as mud,” said Roy, but added that he’d get the hang of it later. Ivy would help him.

“By the way,” Ivy said casually. “We got her address and phone number. Lonely sort of woman, and we got on famously. She wants us to go and visit.”

“Brilliant!” said Deirdre, pulling up outside Springfields. “Can we come, too?”

“Of course not,” Ivy said severely. “She’s not that lonely.”

“HELLO, IS THAT Beattie? Miriam here.”

“Good morning!” said Beattie, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” she said. “I was just ringing to see if you would like to have a cup of tea with me tomorrow afternoon?”

There was a pause, as Beattie thought rapidly how this would fall in with her plans.

“Well,” she said, “I usually go to market on Saturday afternoons…”

“Of course!” Miriam said. “I’d forgotten that. How about Sunday afternoon? That must be your day off!”

“Day off? What’s that?” said Beattie. “But no, I would love to come tomorrow, thanks. Market day in town is not what it used to be, and I’ve been thinking of dropping it for some time now.”

“Oh, good. Shall we say half three?”

“I’ll look forward to it,” said Beattie. After she put down the telephone, she sat for a while thinking out just exactly what she would do. First decision: say nothing about tea with Miriam to Theo. Let him think she would be off to market at her usual time, and tell him at the last minute about the change of plan.

IVY SANK GRATEFULLY into her comfortable bed and lay awake reviewing the day’s events. She and Roy had returned safely with Deirdre, and Miss Pinkney had welcomed them back, saying Mrs. Spurling had gone home with a bad headache. She had said cheerfully that Miss Beasley and Mr. Goodman looked much refreshed after their outing, and arranged a tray of tea for them all in Ivy’s room. They tried to map out what they would do next, but Ivy and Roy were tired, so the others had gone home, promising to think it all out ready for the meeting on Monday. Meanwhile, arrangements would be as usual for Deirdre to go to the Hall tomorrow afternoon to see Theo. And yes, she promised, this time she would be able to ask him all the necessary questions.