Anne Perry - Callander Square

“If he was a blackmailer, he deserved to die. Perhaps for the happiness of those still in the square, it would be better if you left it at that. I have no scandal to hide, as I imagine you know by now; but there are a good many powerful men who have. For their safety, and my convenience, I would advise you not to press your dirt shoveling too far. We have had the police in Callander Square for a long time now. It is bad for us. It’s time you either came to some conclusion, or gave up and left us alone. Has it occurred to you that your persistent poking around may have precipitated these tragedies, that far from doing any good, you are making worse that which was bad enough to begin with?”

“It has happened before that a murderer has committed a second crime to cover a first. That cannot be a reason for leaving him free.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, man, don’t be so damn pious! What have you got? A servant girl who gets herself pregnant and kills her babies-or buries them stillborn-a trollop whose lover tired of her, and a blackmailer! You haven’t a devil’s chance of finding which servant girl it was now, and who gives a damn anyway? Helena’s lover is probably in another country by this time, and since apparently nobody ever even saw him, you’ve no better chance of hanging him than you have of swinging a noose round the moon. As for Freddie, he amply deserved it. Blackmail is a crime, even by your standards. And who’s to say it was anyone in Callander Square? He had patients all over the place. Try some of them. Could be any of them. But don’t blame me if they have you thrown out for it!”

Pitt left feeling more depressed than he had felt at any time since the case began. A great deal of what Campbell said was true. It was true that his presence may have precipitated both Freddie’s crime and his death. And he seemed no nearer a solution to any of the deaths than he had been on the very first day.

So it was that two days later, when he was called in to his superiors and questioned rather critically about the matter, that but for Charlotte’s passionate determination, he would have acceded to their pressure and admitted defeat on all but the death of Freddie Bolsover.

“We appreciate that you’ve done the best you can, Pitt,” Sir George Smithers said irritably. “But you just haven’t got anywhere, have you? We’re no nearer a conclusion now than we ever were! It was a pretty long shot in the first place.”

“And we need you for more important things,” Colonel Anstruther added rather more civilly. “Can’t waste a good man on a hopeless case.”

“What about Dr. Bolsover?” Pitt asked bitingly. “Is he to be marked ‘unsolved’ as well? Don’t you think it’s a trifle soon? The public might think we weren’t trying!” He was too angry to care if his tone offended them.

“There is no need to be sarcastic, Pitt,” Smithers said coldly. “Of course we must make some endeavor with regard to Bolsover, although it does look rather as if the bounder got no more than he deserved. Know Reggie Southeron myself; harmless chap. A bit fond of his pleasures, but no real spite in him.”

Pitt snorted at his private thought.

“Somebody stuck a knife into Bolsover,” he pointed out.

“Good heavens, man, you don’t imagine it was Reggie, do you?”

“No, Sir George, I don’t; which is why I need to know who else Bolsover was blackmailing.”

“I think that’s a dangerous line of inquiry,” Smithers shook his head disapprovingly. “Cause a lot of-er-embarrassment. Better leave it alone and concentrate on the facts, get the doctor to tell you things about the body, lie of the land, find witnesses, and that sort of thing. Get at the truth that way.”

“I don’t think it can be done, sir,” Pitt replied, meeting the man’s eyes.

Smithers colored angrily at the insolence, not of the words, but of the stare.

“Then you’ll have to admit defeat, won’t you! But give it a try; we’ve got to make some appearance of doing our best.”

“Even if we’re not?” Pitt’s temper gave way.

“Be careful, Pitt,” Anstruther warned quietly. “You’re sailing perilously close to the wind. Lot of important people in Callander Square. They’ve taken about as much as they’re going to of police noising around in their private lives.”

“I take it they’ve complained?” Pitt asked.

“Yes.”

“Who?”

“Several of them, naturally I cannot tell you precisely who, might prejudice you against them, quite unfairly. Now be a good chap, go and look at the facts again. You never know, if you ask all the servants, you may be able to find one who saw something, at least know who was in and who was out; alibis, and all that.”

Pitt acquiesced, because there was nothing else he could do. He left feeling angry, and close to defeat. Had it not been for the sure knowledge that Charlotte would warm him, strengthen him, and fight to the last ditch for him, he might well have considered obeying the order in spirit, as well as to the letter.

Balantyne knew nothing of the pressure that had been put upon Pitt, because he was the only man in the square who had not been party to instigating it. When Reggie came to see him, bubbling over with good cheer after his recent reprieve, he had no idea what it was that excited him.

“Damn good thing, what?” Reggie gulped a glass of sherry to which he had helped himself. “Be able to get back to normal soon; and about time. All that wretched business behind us.”

“Hardly,” Balantyne said a little stiffly. He found Reggie’s joviality distasteful. “There is still the matter of four murders, apart from anything else.”

“Four murders?” Reggie paled noticeably, but it was not the murders that upset him, it was the “anything else”: namely the change in Adelina. The emotional comfort of his home had vanished. He was living with a stange woman he discovered he did not know at all, but who knew him painfully well, and had done so for a long time. It was a very unpleasant feeling indeed.

“Had you forgotten?” Balantyne asked coolly.

“No, no. I just hardly thought of the babies as murders. Probably born dead, what? And who knows what happened with Helena? Can’t tell now, poor creature. Could have fallen on something by accident. And really, old fellow, you know, Freddie was no loss. Bounder was a blackmailer. No, far the best thing if the police ask a few questions, see if the servants saw anything; and then if they didn’t, mess off and catch pickpockets, or something; anyhow, take themselves away from here.”

“I hardly think they’ll do that. Murder is a great deal more important than picking pockets,” Balantyne said tartly.

“Well, I’m not going to help them any more,” Reggie poured himself another sherry from the decanter. “If the fellow comes again I shall refuse to see him. He can talk to the servants, if he wants to. Don’t like to seem uncooperative; but I’m not seeing him again myself. Told him all I know, that’s an end to it.” He swallowed the half glassful and breathed out with a sigh. “Finish!”

Balantyne stared at him.

“Surely you don’t imagine one of the servants killed Freddie?” he said with acid disbelief.

“My dear fellow, I really don’t care any more. Sooner the police give up and clear out, the better.”

“They won’t give up, they’ll stay here until they find out who it was!”

“The hell they will! Been speaking to a few people, at the club, and what not. That Pitt fellow will be put back on the beat if he doesn’t draw his horns in a bit. Just stirring up a whole lot of scandal. Takes pleasure in discomfiting his betters, that’s all. All these working class chaps are the same, give them a little power and they run amok. No, don’t worry, old boy, he’ll be off soon enough. Just poke around a bit, make it look as if he’s trying, then after a decent period, take himself off and look for thieves again.”