Andrew Pepper - Kill-Devil and Water

Their hope, Mary explained, was that the corpse would be identified as Mary Edgar’s and any investigation — if there was an investigation — wouldn’t amount to much. They also knew that Silas Malvern, if he ever learned about Mary’s death, wouldn’t want it investigated too much either, because he wouldn’t want his family’s connection to a dead mulatto to become a matter of public record.

The only problem, of course, was Lord William Bedford. A kindly old man who was devoted to his godson, he had been true to his word and, at Mary’s insistence, he’d told no one about her engagement, except for his most trusted servant, the butler. If Mary’s murder was publicised and Bedford, or the butler, read about it, either man might go to the police and tell them what he knew: that Mary had been a guest in his house and that she was engaged to his godson, Charles Malvern. Moreover, if she went to see him after the death, the old man would know that the victim wasn’t, in fact, Mary or the woman the police believed to be Mary.

‘So you had to do something about him, didn’t you? You didn’t have a choice in the matter.’ Pyke tried to push this point.

For her part, Mary tried to convince Pyke that she’d gone back to Bedford’s mansion after discarding Elizabeth Malvern’s body merely to talk to him; to explain that she’d decided to return to Jamaica. This way, and assuming her death wasn’t widely reported in the press, Bedford wouldn’t think anything of her vanishing act.

‘But didn’t you just tell me that Bedford was bound to hear of the murder and go to the police?’

Mary didn’t have an answer for this. Pyke asked her to describe what had happened when she visited the old aristocrat. He expected Mary to be reticent or evasive, but she spoke openly about what she had done. Yet it wasn’t long before her composure, and her voice, started to crack.

That night, Mary had slipped into Bedford’s house without being seen and had made it all the way to his bedroom without disturbing any of the servants. Bedford had been reading a book in bed, and when he saw her enter his room, he beckoned her over and made a place for her next to him. He asked her what she wanted, what was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until the morning. She had started to tell him about her decision to return to Jamaica when he noticed the silver necklace around her neck. Elizabeth’s necklace. Mary had put it on after removing it from Elizabeth’s corpse, and had forgotten all about it. Bedford said he knew it was Elizabeth’s necklace because he had given it to her — he’d had it made especially for her eighteenth birthday. Bedford had demanded to know how she’d acquired it, and when she didn’t answer him straight away, he had threatened to call the police if she didn’t explain herself.

At this point, Mary’s voice cracked and her face began to crumple. ‘I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t plan to do it. I had no choice,’ she whispered. ‘Kind as he was, he would have ruined everything.’

Pyke waited for her to go on but Mary couldn’t get the words out.

‘And the letter opener?’

She looked at him and he saw the struggle between guilt and remorse playing itself out in her expression. In a hollow whisper, she finally muttered, ‘I stabbed him. I stuck the knife into the old man’s belly and left him to die.’

They had talked for hours and Mary looked exhausted; there were tears in her eyes and this final confession had taken her last drop of strength.

‘It makes a nice story but I don’t quite believe it. I think you went to Bedford’s house with a plan to kill him already in your mind.’

‘He was a kind old man.’ There were tears in Mary’s eyes. ‘Why would I have wanted to kill him?’

‘Because Bedford would have gone to the police and told them about your connection to Charles Malvern.’ Pyke shrugged. ‘You planned all of this too carefully to allow a loose end to upset things.’

‘What are you saying?’ she said in barely a whisper. ‘That I murdered him in cold blood?’

‘Maybe you managed to convince yourself that you were just going there to talk to him but I think, deep down, you knew you had to kill him.’

They stared at one another for what seemed like minutes.

‘I have to say, I’m still bothered by some of the evidence that the police found when they arrived at Bedford’s house.’ Pyke was thinking about the police investigation and the trail of evidence that had, in turn, suggested Morel-Roux’s guilt.

Mary sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Did you try to hide Bedford’s money and his rings in the valet’s quarters in order to incriminate the valet?’

Mary’s eyes widened at this new accusation. ‘ No. I just dropped the letter opener and ran.’ Pyke studied her reaction.

‘And kill-devil was the code name for the operation?’

She looked at him, surprised. ‘How did you know that?’

‘You were overheard talking to Sobers on the Island Queen. I mentioned it to Sobers, and also to Webb and Harper in Jamaica. Each of them flinched at those words. I knew it meant something.’

Mary looked at him. ‘Harper thought it was appropriate, given what we were trying to do.’

There was a short silence. ‘Come on, get up.’

‘What are you doing?’ She was still sitting at the dressing table, her back to the looking glass. Pyke was standing over her.

‘I’m taking you to the police where you’ll make your full confession.’

Mary didn’t move but continued to stare at her hands. ‘I know what I did to Bedford was wrong. He was a kind old man who didn’t deserve to die, and no matter what happens, I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.’

Trying to restrain his anger, Pyke looked down at Mary’s hunched form. ‘Lord Bedford wasn’t just a kind old man, Mary. He was innocent, and you killed him.’ He took a breath and tried to calm himself. ‘But that’s not all. Another innocent man was hanged for a crime that you committed.’

Mary seemed to sink even farther into herself.

While Pyke was in no doubt that Mary had stabbed and killed Lord Bedford, he now believed that she’d fled the scene immediately after the murder. He questioned her further on the minutiae of what had happened and her answers seemed to make sense. What didn’t make sense was how the apparently stolen coins had ended up in Morel-Roux’s quarters. It was clear to Pyke that Morel-Roux had been set up; that the evidence that had convicted him of Bedford’s murder had been fabricated — just not by Mary. But Pyke didn’t know who would have wanted to see Morel-Roux hang and why.

Pyke’s confusion over Morel-Roux didn’t quell his anger. Pacing around the room, he spoke as calmly as he could. ‘And let’s not forget that you were a willing accomplice to your half-sister’s murder and the mutilation of her corpse.’

‘I feel no remorse whatsoever for what I did to Elizabeth Malvern. She deserved everything she got.’

For the first time Pyke didn’t know what to say, largely because he agreed with what she’d just said.

‘You might have spent a few weeks in Jamaica but you have absolutely no idea what it’s like to live there, what it’s always been like. Have you ever tried to walk in manacles? Do you know what it’s like to be whipped with a cat-o’-nine-tails? What it’s like to be bought and sold like cattle? What it’s like to know that whatever someone does to you, a white man does to you, you have no redress under the law? Even if they rape or kill you?’ Her face was hot with rage, and she pulled up her dress to show him her back. Her skin was a coarse lattice of half-healed scars. ‘I got those seven years ago and they’ll never go away.’