Anne Perry - Callander Square

“Oh God!”

“Why was Dr. Bolsover blackmailing you, Mr. Southeron?”

Reggie gasped and swallowed.

“Another affair I had.” His eyes were hot, uncomfortable, searching somewhere over Pitt’s shoulder. “Woman was married. Husband important fellow. Could do me a spot of damage, if he found out. You understand?”

Pitt looked at him for a long moment. He was lying.

“How did the governess ever come to know about it?” he asked.

“What?” Reggie’s head jerked up. “Oh. Er-”

“You said she was blackmailing you too,” Pitt reminded him. “Would you like to amend that now?”

Suddenly Reggie’s eyes cleared.

“No! No, she was. Very greedy young woman. That must be why Freddie was killed! Yes, it all fits in, don’t you see?” He sat up a little. “They must have quarreled over the money! She wanted more than her share, he refused, and she killed him. Makes sense: all fits together!”

“How did the governess come to know of this affair of yours? Did you have the woman here?”

“Good God, of course not! What on earth do you think I am?”

“Then how did she know, sir?”

“I don’t know! Freddie must have said something!”

“Why on earth should he do that? Why share his spoils unnecessarily? Seems an unlikely thing to do.”

“How in hell should I know?” Reggie demanded furiously.

“Perhaps he was having an affair with her, and he told her in a moment of boasting, or something! We’ll never know now. Poor swine is dead.”

“The governess isn’t.”

“Well, you can hardly expect her to tell you the truth!” There was a rising note in Reggie’s voice that sounded uncommonly like panic.

Pitt gambled again.

“I think it sounds more likely to me, sir, that this woman you had an affair with wasn’t the wife of some powerful man at all, but another maid.”

Reggie’s eyes glinted.

“As you’ve just pointed out, Inspector; it would hardly be worth anything to me to pay for silence over something as trifling as that!”

“Not if that’s all there was to it,” Pitt agreed with a small smile, his eyes fixed on Reggie’s face unblinkingly. “But what if there were more to it, a child, say?”

Reggie went pasty white. For a moment it occurred to Pitt that he might have a fit.

“One of your parlormaids died, didn’t she?” Pitt asked slowly, making each word weigh heavily.

Reggie gagged for breath.

“You didn’t murder her, did you, Mr. Southeron?” Pitt asked.

“God! Oh God! No, I didn’t. She died. Freddie was with her. We called him in. Had to. That’s how he knew.”

“What did she die of?”

“I–I don’t know!”

“Do I have to ask the female staff?” Pitt said softly.

“No!” There was a moment’s silence. “No,” Reggie said more quietly. “She had an abortion. It went wrong. That’s why she died. I didn’t know anything about it. I couldn’t have saved her. You’ve got to believe that.”

“But it was your child?”

“How do I know?”

Pitt permitted his disgust to show at last.

“You mean you were sharing her with someone else? The footman, perhaps, or the bootboy?” he said harshly.

“How dare you! I’ll have you remember your place!”

“Your place, at the moment, Mr. Southeron,” Pitt snapped back, “is extremely unpleasant! A parlormaid carrying your child dies in your house from a badly done abortion. You are being blackmailed by your doctor over the affair. Now your doctor is murdered outside your house. What strikes you as the obvious conclusion to draw from that?”

“I–I told you,” Reggie fumbled his words and gasped, “the governess! She was with him in it! He must have been sleeping with her, told her! She was the one who came to me for the money! She must have quarreled with him-a case of thieves falling out! That’s the obvious answer! Who are you going to believe? Me, who hasn’t done anything wrong, or a servant girl who lies and blackmails, and finally kills her lover and accomplice? I ask you!”

Pitt sighed and stood up.

“I shan’t believe anyone, Mr. Southeron, until I have more evidence. But I shall remember what you have said, every word of it. Thank you for your time. Good morning, sir.”

As soon as he had gone Reggie collapsed. It was appalling! God alone knew where the end of it lay. Scandal! Ruin! He felt ill. The room swam around him and darkened into visions of penury-vague, because he had never actually known it-but none the less frightful for that.

He was still sitting slumped over the table when Adelina came in.

“You look ill,” she observed. “Have you eaten too much?”

Her cold unconcern was the last cut to a sore, wounded man.

“Yes, I am ill!” he said angrily. “The police have just been here. Freddie Bolsover has been murdered.” He watched her face, satisfied to see the shock in it.

“Murdered!” she sat down sharply. “How dreadful. Whatever for? Was he robbed?”

“I’ve no idea!” he snapped. “He was just murdered!”

“Poor Sophie,” Adelina stared down the table past Reggie into the distance. “She’ll be quite utterly lost.”

“Never mind about Sophie! What about us? He was murdered, Adelina, don’t you understand that? That means someone murdered him, crept out there in the dark and stuck a knife into him, or hit him over the head, or whatever.”

“Very unpleasant,” she agreed. “People can be very wicked.”

“Is that all you can say?” His voice was rising to a shout, out of control. “God damn it, woman, that bounder from the police all but accused me of it!”

She did not seem impressed, far less frightened.

“Why should they do that? You could have no reason for killing Freddie. He was a friend.”

“He was a blackmailer!”

“Freddie? Nonsense. Who on earth would he blackmail?”

“He’s a doctor, you stupid woman! He could blackmail any of his patients!”

Still she was not apparently moved.

“Doctors are not allowed to tell the things about their patients that are confidential. If they did, they would get no more patients. Freddie would never do that. It would be foolish. And don’t call me stupid, Reggie. It’s very rude, and there’s no need for rudeness. I’m sorry Freddie is dead, but becoming hysterical won’t help.”

“I don’t understand you!” he was angry, frightened, and now utterly bewildered. “You were weeping all over the place about Helena, and here is Freddie dead and you don’t seem to care at all!”

“That was different. Helena was carrying a child.” Her voice dropped at the memory of it. “That child died before it was ever born. If you were a woman, you would understand that. I look at my own children, and of course I weep. Children are all a woman really has.” She looked at him with a sudden harshness. “We carry them, and bear them, bring them into the world, love them, listen to them, advise them, and see that they are married well. All you do is pay the bills, and boast about them if they do something well. I’m sorry Freddie is dead, but I really can’t weep about it. I shall be sorry for Sophie of course, because she has no children. And how do you know Freddie was a blackmailer?”

“What?”

“You said Freddie was a blackmailer. How do you know that?”

“Oh,” he scrambled for an answer, “someone told me. Confidence, you know, can’t tell you about it.”

“Don’t be fatuous, Reggie. People don’t tell you about things like that. He must have been blackmailing you. Was he?”

“Of course not! There’s nothing to blackmail me about!”

“Then why do the police think you killed him? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know!” he yelled. “I didn’t damn well ask!”