Anne Perry - Death On Blackheath

Norton was pale. He swallowed hard. ‘I’m sure the bootboy would be able to do something for you, sir. Perhaps you would care for a pair of slippers in the meantime? And a cup of tea?’

Pitt was bitterly cold, and he realised his throat was dry. He was also on duty regarding a particularly vile crime. To accept cleaner footwear was a necessary courtesy to the housemaids who would have to try to clean the carpets after him. Tea and toast was a luxury, and therefore an indulgence.

‘That is very kind of you,’ he replied. ‘Slippers would be a practical courtesy; the tea is unnecessary. I require to speak to Mr Kynaston before he leaves the house. You will doubtless hear about it very soon. I’m afraid there has been another body found in the gravel pits.’ He saw Norton’s look of horror. ‘It is not Kitty Ryder,’ he added quickly. ‘In fact, it is quite possible that Kitty is still alive and well.’ Instantly he knew he should not have said so much. Certainly Norton would tell his master. Pitt had given away his opportunity to catch Kynaston unaware. ‘I’m sorry, but it cannot wait,’ he added.

‘Yes, sir.’ Norton bowed his head very slightly in acknowledgement. ‘I shall inform him immediately. If you would like to wait in the morning room, it is agreeably warm. See if these slippers will fit you.’

Pitt obeyed, taking off his prized boots, then following Norton to the morning room, slippers in his hand.

Kynaston came only moments later, his face grave and anxious. He closed the door behind him and remained standing.

‘Norton tells me you have found another woman’s body in the gravel pits,’ he said without preamble.

‘Yes, sir, I’m afraid so. This one also has been mutilated, and appears to have been dead some time, but placed there only last night.’

The last dregs of colour drained out of Kynaston’s face. He swallowed hard, as if something constricted his throat.

‘For God’s sake, man, why are you telling me this?’ he demanded huskily. ‘Do you imagine that it is Kitty at last?’

So Norton had not told him! Interesting. Had he not had the opportunity, or was his loyalty more divided than one might suspect?

‘No, sir, I think that is not possible,’ he replied. ‘This woman has fair hair, very little like the description of Kitty Ryder. Also we have found Harry Dobson, and he says Kitty ran away with him, but has since left him. We checked, and neighbours and local shopkeepers saw her, alive and well, since she left here.’

‘And you couldn’t have told us this before?’ Kynaston said in a sudden explosion of fury. His eyes were blazing, the colour dark in his cheeks. ‘What the devil is the matter with you, man? Whatever you think of me, what about my wife’s feelings? Or those of the other servants? She was part of our household! We cared about her!’

Pitt felt the lash of his words, but curiously it pleased him. The man was showing some sign of ordinary decency.

‘We have only just found out, sir,’ he answered levelly. ‘Yesterday. Sergeant Stoker worked in his own time. This morning I was woken with the news of this second body, which also has a handkerchief identical to the one we found on the first body, and to several your wife possesses.’ He took the gold watch fob out of his pocket and laid it on the table between them. ‘And she also had this …’

Now Kynaston did sit down, hard, as if he were uncertain his legs would support him much longer. His face was ash pale. ‘That is my watch fob. It used to be my brother’s. That’s why I was so upset when it was stolen.’

‘Where did the theft happen, sir? Even approximately?’

‘Oxford Street. It was crowded. I only realised when I went to check the time later. Someone is trying to make it appear that I am involved in this,’ he said desperately. ‘God knows why! I have no idea who this woman is, what happened to her or how she got there. Any more than I had for the first one, poor creature.’ He looked up. ‘If she is not Kitty, for which I am profoundly grateful, who is she? She’s still someone, violently dead and her body discarded. Why aren’t you doing everything you can to find out who she is, and who did this to her?’

Pitt controlled his own feelings with some difficulty. He had seen this body, and the first one.

‘That’s a regular police job, Mr Kynaston. I’m Special Branch, and my job is the security of the country. And in this case, to safeguard you and your reputation so you can continue with the work you do for the navy.’

Kynaston buried his head in his hands. ‘Yes … I know that. I’m sorry. Tell me when this latest body was put there, if you know, and I’ll account for wherever I was.’

‘Some time after dark yesterday evening,’ Pitt told him, ‘and before light this morning, probably at least an hour before. I can’t tell you closer than that at the moment. I might be able to after I’ve seen the police surgeon, and he has had time to look at her more closely. She’s been dead quite a while.’

‘How … how did she die?’

‘I don’t know that either. But perhaps we can exclude you before we’ve learned that. Where were you from sundown yesterday until, let’s say, six o’clock this morning?’

Kynaston looked vaguely surprised. ‘I was in bed most of the night, like anybody else!’

‘From sundown yesterday evening, sir?’

‘I dined out … at my club. I’d been working late in the City. I didn’t want to come all the way home here to eat. I was tired, and hungry.’ There was a sharp edge to his voice, but Pitt could not tell if it was from irritation or fear.

‘Did you dine alone?’ Pitt asked. ‘Would one of the stewards remember you?’

‘I had things to consider for a meeting. I was in no mood for idle conversation, however agreeable. But certainly the steward will remember me. Ask him.’

‘Yes, sir, I will. If you will give me the name of the club, and the address. And if you recall which steward it was who served you, I’ll speak to him personally. What time did you leave?’

‘I didn’t look at the clock. Half-past nine, roughly.’

‘And you got home at what time?’

‘The traffic was bad. Some stupid accident; man not in control of his horses. I was late. Ask Norton, he’ll tell you. I think it was about eleven.’

‘Did you speak to Mrs Kynaston?’ Pitt and Charlotte shared a bed, but he knew that many people with large houses did not necessarily do so, especially when they had been married for some time. Kynaston’s sons were at boarding school or university and both his daughters were married.

‘It was unnecessary to disturb her at that time of night,’ Kynaston replied. His mouth twisted in a bitter smile. ‘But if you think I crept out of the house unseen, found some wretched woman’s body and somehow or other carried it up to the gravel pits and left it there, then returned home to my bed again, you might ponder how I managed to do it without disturbing anyone and getting my clothes sodden. Or how I even carried her! It wasn’t in my carriage. The groom would know if I’d disturbed the horses, and I certainly didn’t do it in a hansom cab!’

Pitt smiled back at him. ‘Frankly, sir, I don’t think you did it at all. But someone did. All I have to do is be satisfied that it could not have been you, or anyone in this house …’

‘Norton? Have you lost your wits?’ Kynaston said incredulously. ‘The coachman? The bootboy?’

‘No, sir. I never considered Norton a possibility. But your observation about the horses, and the idea of anyone doing such a thing in a hansom very nicely rules him out as well. Actually, we think it was probably a pony and trap.’

‘I don’t have one.’

‘Yes, sir, I know that.’