Authors: Janet Laurence
A Fatal Freedom (51 page)
‘It will have to come out at Mrs Bruton’s trial.’
‘Perhaps if Daniel and I live abroad, the child need not know.’
Alice looked at Ursula, ‘Thank you for being my friend through all this. I hope you will remain one.’
Ursula assured her she would, then said, ‘One final question, how was your friend to have paid the money asked for?’
‘It was to be sent to a post office box number. The office was not far from us, very near to Marylebone station. George said that if Irene had not passed away, he had determined to send, not a payment, but a note in a striking envelope, to the box number then to haunt the post office until he saw who collected it.’
Was that what Mrs Bruton had done after Albert had continued with the blackmailing of her? Or had she indeed followed him from
Maison Rose
? She was capable of either course of action.
Shortly afterwards, Ursula took her leave of Alice, promising to come again.
* * *
It was only a short walk to where Ursula needed to be next. Thomas Jackman had sent her a note saying he would greatly appreciate it if she could meet him at three o’clock Monday afternoon. He had given her the address and a little map showing exactly where it was.
Wondering a little at the purpose of this meeting, she had agreed, planning her various calls that morning to end up in the right area. Luncheon with Alice had been a bonus. Originally she had thought to treat herself to a snack from a street seller while she explored the area.
Now the timing was working out perfectly and she found herself in a short road not far from Oxford Street. It had a variety of small shops and No. 8 was a brown door between one that sold flowers and one that offered umbrellas and sticks of all kinds. It had no sign to indicate what business was conducted there but when Ursula tried the handle, the door opened. It gave on to a very small hall and a staircase. Climbing up, Ursula found another door with opaque glass in the top half. She knocked, gently opened it and found herself in what seemed to be a completely empty space, newly painted.
‘Hallo?’ she said. ‘Thomas?’
He came through another door. ‘You made it! Good. Come and have a look at this.’
The second room was as empty as the first. It had a handsome window overlooking the street and was of a good size.
‘Take a perch,’ Jackman said, offering the wide windowsill.
Ursula settled herself beside him. ‘I have made some very interesting calls this morning which I must tell you about. I also went job hunting last week and it looks as though I may have found one. A high society lady has just lost what sounds a very efficient secretary. She is involved with a number of charities, runs a large household and seems to think I might suit as a replacement.’
‘Hmm! You haven’t lost much time.’
‘Can’t afford to.’
He bent down and drew an envelope out of an attaché case leaning against the wall. ‘I have been asked to give you this,’ he said.
Ursula drew an inward breath as she recognised the well-shaped, strong handwriting.
‘I received a letter from him last Monday. He said he didn’t know your direction, by any chance did I? I didn’t know if you’d want your details to be sent to all and sundry so said if he sent me the letter, I’d see that you got it.’
Ursula sat and turned it over, wondering whether she should open it there and then or later.’
‘I wouldn’t wait, if I were you,’ Jackman said with a smile.
She tore open the heavy envelope and took out the piece of equally weighty quality paper with its familiar crest and address.
Dear Ursula,
At long last we seem to be on the way to sorting out the estate. Ever since you left, I have been conscious that neither you nor Thomas Jackman were properly recompensed for the very valuable work you carried out for us at Mountstanton earlier this year. Now I am in a position to rectify this situation. No doubt you will say that you didn’t do it for money, and I cannot forget that you refused all help in finding a situation in London. You would, though, be doing me a great favour if you could swallow your pride for once and accept the enclosed cheque. I am sending a similar one to Jackman. I am glad that you are in touch, he is a sterling fellow and no doubt would have run you to earth if I had needed him to do so.
I send you every good wish and hope London is proving entertaining.
Yours,
Charles
‘You dropped your cheque,’ said Jackman, bending and picking up a folded-over slip of paper. He handed it to Ursula. ‘Colonel Stanhope has been very generous.’
She looked disbelievingly at the total.
‘And mine was on top of the agreed fee. But, then, imagine the pickle they’d have been in if we hadn’t got it all sorted.’
Ursula was too stunned to say anything.
‘For me it means I can fulfil an ambition I have had for some time. As soon as I got the cheque, I went looking and this is what I found.’ He stretched out his arms as though to embrace the whole space.
‘You’re going to open your own office!’ Ursula was delighted. ‘Somewhere prospective clients can call upon you and discuss their business.’ She remembered how rude Rachel had been about his surroundings when they had visited him in Shoreditch. ‘And these premises seem ideal. Nice and central, within easy reach of both society and more ordinary clients.’ She looked again at her cheque. ‘Do you need additional funds? I seem to be rather flush at the moment.’
He fumbled behind the attaché case and brought up a wooden rectangle. ‘I was hoping after our chat the other day you might be willing …’ He held the sign up. ‘I got this painted on Saturday. If you agree, it would go beside the door downstairs.’
The sign read:
JACKMAN & GRANDISON
Private Investigators
Confidentiality Guaranteed
‘Can you tell your high society lady you have made other arrangements?’
Ursula took a deep breath. Then she said, ‘I think the sign should be in brass.’
THE END
J
ANET
L
AURENCE
is the author of the Darina Lisle culinary crime novels and the historical mystery series featuring Canaletto (both Macmillan). She was a weekly cookery columnist for the
Daily Telegraph
between 1984 and 1986, has written cookery books and contributed to recipe collections. Janet was Chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association between 1998 and 1999, included in
The Times
’ ‘100 Masters of Crime’ in 1998, and was invited to run the crime-writing workshop at the Cheltenham Festival of Literature in 2000. She runs a number of crime-writing courses including at the Bristol CrimeFest conventions. She lives in Somerset.
Cover illustration: Holloway Prison at the turn of the century.
First published in 2015
The Mystery Press, an imprint of The History Press
The Mill, Brimscombe Port
Stroud, Gloucestershire,
GL
5 2
QG
This ebook edition first published in 2015
All rights reserved
© Janet Laurence, 2015
The right of Janet Laurence to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyrights, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN
978 0 7509 6454 8
Original typesetting by The History Press
Ebook compilation by RefineCatch Limited, Bungay, Suffolk
