Crime Short Story: Lady Beatrice Investigates

CRIME SHORT STORY BY ALYSON HILBOURNE

In this crime short story, set in the 1930s, Someone was blackmailing her niece, and it simply would not do!

As the car crunched up the gravel drive, Lady Beatrice saw her niece waiting under the porch of Leeward Manor.

“Aunt Beatrice!” Alice shouted, yanking open the door of the Lagonda.

Lady Beatrice exited the vehicle and patted her hair back into place.

Then she allowed herself to be hugged.

Slowly, she was enveloped in a cloud of Alice’s Chanel perfume.

Over Alice’s shoulder, Lady Beatrice saw Reggie.

He was lurking in the shadow of the doorway.

“Don’t you look lovely?” she said, looking Alice up and down.

Her niece wore a knitted twinset in the palest pink over a fitted tweed skirt.

Delicate pearl earrings decorated her ears and her blue eyes shone.

Alice was, Lady Beatrice thought, quite beautiful.

But she was thinner than ever, and definitely not pregnant.

She’d been married for 18 months already.

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Alice smiled.

“Oh, get away with you. I’ve been blown all over the place in this thing.” Lady Beatrice scowled at the Lagonda. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have sent the carriage for me.”

Alice’s laughter tinkled.

“We haven’t had the carriage out in years, Aunt Beatrice. Perkins would have had his work cut out to get it in a fit state to use.

“Reggie also insists on having the roof down.”

“Well, I don’t know why you couldn’t buy a decent car with a roof,” Lady Beatrice grumbled.

Alice glanced at the doorway and shrugged.

“Reggie likes the Lagonda,” she explained. “Come and freshen up. Cook tells me luncheon is almost ready.”

Alice led the way inside.

Reggie gave Lady Beatrice a small smile as she passed.

It was more like a sneer, a curling of his top lip.

Despite his undoubted good looks, she’d never liked the man.

Alice had appeared all set to wed her neighbour, Harry Simpkins.

His estate bordered Leeward Manor.

The two of them had known each other since they were toddlers.

They were both avid horse owners and riders.

Then Reggie had come along and swept Alice off her feet.

Poor Harry had been abandoned.

Lady Beatrice thinned her lips.

Each time she visited Alice at Leeward Manor, she apologised to her brother for not preventing the marriage.

It had been her dying brother’s wish that she help his daughter to find happiness.

Lady Beatrice wasn’t sure she’d fulfilled that wish.

She climbed the mahogany staircase, up to the pink room that she always used when visiting.

A couple of minutes later, Perkins knocked on the door with her bags.

“Here you go, Lady Beatrice,” he said. “Are you here for long?”

“A week probably,” Lady Beatrice replied.

“Well, if you need the motor for anything, just ask,” Perkins told her, tipping his hat.

It would be unlikely, Lady Beatrice thought.

She turned to repair the damage the car journey had done to her wardrobe.

Luncheon in the dining-room proved to be a strained affair.

Reggie sat at the head of the table and Alice across from him.

Alice picked at her asparagus and put it down again with an almost imperceptible sigh.

Reggie chomped his way through his meal, as if it might be his last.

He dabbed at his lips with his napkin, neither looking up nor joining in the conversation.

Lady Beatrice asked about the estate, the staff, the horses and the village.

Alice answered her questions without much enthusiasm.

By the time Doris had cleared the dessert plates away, Lady Beatrice was relieved the meal was over.

“I’m going to the office,” Reggie announced, pushing his chair back.

Alice glanced up, but said nothing.

Lady Beatrice gave him a smile that he didn’t return.

“Alice,” she said as soon as the door shut. “What is going on?”

Alice gave a moue of distaste.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked.

“I can see something is wrong between you and Reggie,” Lady Beatrice stated.

It doesn’t take a magnifying glass to see that.

She was pleased to see Alice grin at her reply.

Lady Beatrice was an avid reader of Mr Arthur Conan Doyle’s stories.

She had herself solved several mysteries that had puzzled her friends.

“Shall we walk on the terrace, Aunt Beatrice?” Alice suggested. “I’ll try to explain.”

They went outside, where Lady Beatrice took a deep breath of fresh air.

She liked being back at her childhood home, but it bothered her to see Alice so uncomfortable.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?” she enquired.

“It’s Reggie,” Alice began. “He’s received an anonymous letter.

“The writer says they know all about his affair, and that he should send money.”

Lady Beatrice blinked several times.

“Blackmail?” she cried. “And is he? Having an affair?”

“No!” Alice responded stoutly. “He’s here with me all the time.

“There’s no chance he could be having an affair. It’s a pack of lies.

“Unfortunately Reggie has already paid one hundred pounds,” she confessed. “Now they are asking for more.”

“Why did he pay if he is not having an affair?” Lady Beatrice questioned.

“He was trying to protect me,” Alice explained. “He didn’t want my name to be dragged into the papers.”

“No.”

Lady Beatrice wondered if Reggie was truly that concerned about Alice.

“I have the second letter here,” Alice revealed, drawing a sheet of paper from her pocket.

“Reggie can’t afford to pay any more. I’ll have to pay it from the estate.”

“Paying off these people only encourages them to demand more,” Lady Beatrice remarked, picking up the letter.

“I know.” Alice wrung her hands.

Lady Beatrice took her lorgnette from her bag, and read the letter.

The words were composed of individual letters, which had been snipped from a newspaper.

I know you are having an affair.

Unless you want me to tell your wife, leave £200 in the porch of St Martin’s, Monday next.

Pay on time, or the newspapers will know.

“Was the first letter the same?” Lady Beatrice asked.

“Reggie says so.” Alice had a catch in her voice. “Except they are asking for more money now.

“He burned it on the fire, thinking it was all done.

“Aunt Beatrice?”

Alice turned around. Tears were welling in her eyes. “What am I going to do?”

Lady Beatrice took a deep breath.

“We’ll sort it out,” she reassured her. “Don’t worry.”

She patted Alice’s arm, but her head was whirring with thoughts.

How was she going to help the poor child?

Over the next few days, Lady Beatrice racked her brains.

She could only think of watching the church and catching who ever collected the money red-handed.

However, the blackmailer might be violent.

She wasn’t sure she was up to the challenge.

What would Mr Sherlock Holmes do, she wondered.

He would outwit the villain.

Lady Beatrice couldn’t outwit the villain until she knew who it was.

Meanwhile, she found being in the same room as Reggie increasingly difficult.

Despite Alice’s certainty that he was innocent, Lady Beatrice believed there was no smoke without fire.

Something was definitely going on with him, and someone had seen it.

Reggie appeared unwilling to do anything to prove his innocence.

He was obliging and accommodating with Alice.

He spoke to her in a sickly sweet voice, which annoyed Lady Beatrice.

She knew she didn’t trust him.

Alice had met him in London, wheren he was an actor in the theatre.

According to Alice, he was very much on his way up, but he had thrown away his career to marry her.

“Where,” Lady Beatrice muttered, “he doesn’t have to lift a finger, and can live off Alice’s inheritance.”

When Alice went to the stables to ride, Reggie sometimes went into town.

Lady Beatrice had Perkins bring the car round and followed him.

The first day, he visited the bank and went into the pub.

She asked Perkins to see if he was meeting anyone inside.

“No-one, your ladyship. He’s at the bar on his own with a drink.”

A couple of days later the trip was repeated.

This time Reggie went into the grocery store.

Lady Beatrice lurked outside on the street, feeling somewhat foolish.

Reggie was inside for a long time.

She could see him through the window, flirting with the woman serving.

She was collecting him a pile of brown paper bags with various goods.

Eventually Reggie emerged, his shopping piled high in his arms.

Lady Beatrice was forced to duck behind a milk cart in order not to be seen.

When she was sure he was gone, down the street in his pale grey pinstripe suit and grey fedora, she went into the grocery shop.

“Good mornin’,” the assistant greeted her.

“Good morning,” Lady Beatrice replied. “I’d like –”

Goodness, what would she like? Her staff did the shopping.

She had no idea what to order in a shop.

“I’d like some cheese, please. Something tasty.”

“Certainly, ma’am.” The assistant beamed. “This ’ere is right good.”

She cut a corner from a block of cheese on the counter and passed it to Lady Beatrice.

Lady Beatrice looked at the offering in alarm, swallowed hard and accepted it.

She lifted it to her mouth and popped it in.

“The gentleman who was just ’ere bought a pound,” the assistant stated.

“Reggie?” Lady Beatrice queried. “From Leeward Manor?”

“Yeah, that’s ’im.”

“Then I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Lady Beatrice declared. “I’m staying at the manor.

“We won’t need more cheese. My mistake.”

She turned on her heel, but not before she’d seen the shop assistant scowl.

Still, she’d found out what she needed to know.

That woman couldn’t have written the letter.

Her grammar wasn’t up for it.

After several more days, Lady Beatrice was disappointed to find Alice was right.

Reggie appeared to have no life separate to hers – at least not at the moment.

She turned her attention back to the letter.

It was correctly spelled and obviously constructed by someone with some level of education.

This ruled out most of the staff, and a good deal of the people in the village.

In addition, Lady Beatrice had known many of them for years.

She was fairly sure that they were loyal to Alice.

She turned the letter over, searching the back idly for more clues.

The paper was blank. No marks that she could see.

That evening she went downstairs for cocktails.

She found Reggie and Alice in the sitting-room.

Reggie looked very dapper in his evening suit, with white wing collar shirt and bow tie.

Alice, looked washed out and had a sickly glow.

She was in a jade green evening dress, with a chiffon overlay and some rhinestones on the bodice.

“But you can’t,” Alice was lamenting as Lady Beatrice opened the door.

“Of course I can,” Reggie said, giving Alice a kiss. “It’s ages since I’ve been to London. I’m just meeting old chums from the theatre.”

Alice moved to the sofa and sat down.

Lady Beatrice sat beside her.

Reggie handed them each a whisky sour.

You’re giving the blackmailer more ammunition

Alice protested. “Someone might see you.”

“I’m going to meet a friend and I’ll be straight back,” Reggie countered. “Nowhere else. No-one else.”

He put a hand on his heart.

Dinner was quiet, with Alice on the verge of tears through the meal.

Lady Beatrice wanted to reassure her, but she didn’t have the opportunity.

Instead, early in the morning, she had Perkins take her to the station.

There she waited until she saw Reggie board a train and followed him.

It was lucky that he did not suspect her.

She found trailing him was somewhat harder than Mr Sherlock Holmes made it appear.

When Reggie slowed down or stopped, she stepped into shop doorways.

More than once, she had become entangled with legitimate customers.

Eventually Reggie reached his destination.

Swiftly, he entered a hostelry in Soho.

Lady Beatrice hovered outside, wishing she had Perkins with her to go inside.

But as she waited she saw several ladies enter, either singularly or in pairs.

She determined that she could go in.

Inside the bar was dingy.

Most of the seating was in small alcoves, with wooden surrounds.

It gave drinkers some degree of privacy.

Lady Beatrice approached the bar and ordered a drink.

From the corner of her eye, she could see the back of Reggie’s head in an alcove.

He was talking earnestly to a lady.

They appeared to be arguing about something.

Lady Beatrice took her drink and slipped into the alcove next to them.

A newspaper had been abandoned on the table.

It was a copy of “The Times.”

Lady Beatrice opened it and pretended to read.

“She doesn’t suspect a thing,” she heard Reggie say.

The woman answered, but her voice was too soft.

Lady Beatrice couldn’t hear well what was said.

“What I need is for you to be there at the church to collect the money. I can’t do it. It would be too dangerous.”

The woman replied and Reggie snorted.

“I’ll give you the train fare,” he offered.

Lady Beatrice chest tightened,

She noticed a slight increase in her heart rate.

The scoundrel. He was the one blackmailing Alice.

He was right.

There was no affair. There didn’t need to be one.

Just the scandal should have been enough to make Alice pay whatever he demanded.

Lady Beatrice narrowed her eyes as she stared at the newspaper in front of her.

The words floated, merging and separating in front of her.

Suddenly, something clicked in her head.

Leeward Manor took “The Times” each day.

Reggie made a great show of reading it over his kippers each morning.

Lady Beatrice pulled the letter out of her bag.

She put on her lorgnette, staring at the final sentence, “pay on time”.

Carefully she placed the letter next to the front page of the newspaper.

The word “time” was cut from the letters in the title of the newspaper.

She wasn’t mistaken.

She looked at the letter again and something else sparked in her mind.

Lady Beatrice rose quickly.

Without looking round at Reggie, she marched out of the hostelry.

She took a taxi to the station for the first train back to Leeward Manor.

“So,” she explained to Alice that evening. “It seems that Reggie is blackmailing himself.

“He needs enough money to leave you.”

Alice bunched her silk handkerchief to her face.

“But why would he do that?” she murmured. “I love him.”

“I suspect he was only after your money all along,” Lady Beatrice told her.

Alice gasped.

“I blame myself,” Lady Beatrice went on. “I should have sent him packing when he first showed an interest in you.”

Alice sniffed and dabbed at her eyes.

“I can’t believe that,” she whispered. “We were so in love.”

Lady Beatrice sighed.

“I’m afraid that a quick check of the stationery in your office shows the same paper was used for the blackmail letter.

“And I found a pile of newspapers with letters cut from them piled on the floor.”

Alice let out a low moan and shook her head.

“The woman he was meeting was his sister,” Lady Beatrice continued. “When I confronted him this evening, he admitted they’ve been hatching this plot for a while.”

“I feel such a fool!” Alice cried.

Lady Beatrice drew herself up to her full height.

“It’s not you who is at fault, Alice,” she comforted her, laying a hand on her niece’s arm. “You are too kind to see the scoundrel he is.

“I’ve sent him on his way and told him you will divorce him on the grounds of desertion.

“If he dares to contest the divorce, we’ll see him ruined.”

“I’ll have Perkins pack up his bags and send them on,” she concluded.

“Thank you, Aunt Beatrice. I knew you would sort things out.”

Alice hugged herself.

At that moment Doris knocked on the door and announced the arrival of Mr Harry Simpkins.

“My dear,” Harry went down on one knee, taking Alice’s hand.

“I hear that rotter Reggie has left,” he stated.

Alice uttered a small cry.