And Then She Fell(111)
Stokes walked into the room in time to hear those words. “Actually, impossible though it might seem, it appears his case is even worse than that.”
Various people made disbelieving sounds. Accepting a cup of coffee, Stokes sat beside his wife, Griselda, sipped, gave Griselda a small smile, then looked around at the inquiring faces. “I could barely believe it myself, but it’s true. When I got back to the Yard, it was to find one of the other senior inspectors, Mullins, waiting to collar me. He’d been about to leave when he’d seen Sir Peter brought in. Mullins is in charge of any investigations involving elected officials, and in that capacity he asked me what the charges were to be. I told him about Lady Winston’s murder, her dresser’s murder, and what I’d gathered Affry had planned for Miss Cynster and Glossup here.”
A sardonic smile flirted about Stokes’s lips. “Mullins went so pale, I thought he would faint, but then he asked me to wait and rushed away to his office, and returned with a file, which he handed to me. The file contained a report from the local constable of the town outside of which Sir Peter used to live with his aunt. Sir Peter’s current wealth, more or less all of it, was inherited from this aunt—he was her sole living relative and, unsurprisingly, her nominated heir. The aunt was, by all accounts, a hearty, healthy, country lady, but just after Sir Peter won his seat in Parliament and was wanting to move up to London, his aunt was murdered. Brutally beaten to death in very much the same fashion as Lady Winston and her dresser.”
“Good Lord,” Barnaby said. “He’s murdered before?”
“Looks like it.” Stokes paused to take another sip of coffee. “However,” he went on, “Sir Peter was close friends with the local magistrate, as anyone might suppose of an up-and-coming politician, and the aunt’s murder was blamed on some passing vagabond—a convenient itinerant no one saw. The constable was suspicious because the staff at the house, all loyal to the old lady, said Sir Peter was there, in the house, over the time his aunt was killed, but Sir Peter said he’d gone out riding. No one had seen him out riding, even though there are numerous farms nearby and people had been out in the fields, but, equally, none of the staff had actually seen him in the house over the relevant time, so . . . but the constable remained suspicious, and to give the man his due, knew he had reason to be. He, the constable, knew of another murder, just like the old lady’s, that had occurred nearly a year before in a neighboring parish. A farmer’s lass who, rumor had it, had been walking out with a gentleman, one she’d never named and who had never been seen by anyone else. There were no other suspects for the lass’s murder, not even a convenient vagabond, so the death was put down as murder by persons unknown, but everyone agreed the secretive gentleman was the one who had done the deed.”
“So,” Penelope said, “the constable in the country had two mysterious murders that looked identical, and in one Sir Peter was the prime suspect, and in the other, an unknown gentleman was the only real suspect?”
Stokes nodded. “So the constable did the right thing. He sent the file to the Yard, and as Sir Peter’s name was in it, it was handed to Mullins for careful consideration.”
“Meaning,” Luc said, “that nothing would be done?”
Stokes smiled one of his quick, sharklike smiles. “That’s not quite how it works. Mullins sits on the case—it remains active—until we see if Sir Peter makes any further mistakes. But, of course, the file’s contents aren’t bruited about, so I didn’t know about the similarities in the killings, and, as we’d kept Lady Winston’s murder and that of her dresser secret, too, Mullins hadn’t heard about them. We wouldn’t have connected the cases if Sir Peter hadn’t been caught.”
“Which he now has been,” Portia said. “So will he be tried for all the murders?”
Stokes nodded. “Without doubt. I took a quick look at the descriptions of the bodies—there can be no question that it was the same fiend who committed all the crimes.” He looked at his wife, reached out, and grasped her hand. After a moment, he glanced at the others. “I’ve sent my fair share of villains to the gallows, but this will be one I’ll be glad to see hang.”
Agreement was universal.
When he’d finished his coffee, Stokes got down to business. Assisted by Penelope, who acted as his secretary and wrote down all that was said, Stokes formally interviewed and took detailed statements from Henrietta, James, Barnaby, Martin, Simon, Charlie, and Luc.