Curse of the Poppy (Penny Green Series Book 5) Page 17

  James seemed surprised by my reaction. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to discuss something so personal.”

  “I’d like to concentrate on these murder cases for the time being,” I replied, keen to stay away from the topic of marriage. “Once you have confirmed that Charles Mawson links Holland and the Forsters this has to become one case.”

  “Which is what you suspected right from the beginning, isn’t it?” He smiled.

  “I’m always right.”

  “I think you are.”

  ‘I was joking; I’m nothing of the kind. In fact, most of the time I’m quite sure that I’m making all the wrong decisions.”

  “With regard to what?”

  “Nothing I wish to discuss at the moment.”

  “Are you all right, Penny?”

  “I’m fine. I feel a little tired after that strange evening, but I’m excited by the possible progress in these murder cases.”

  “Let’s go and confirm it with this Mawson chap. Have you the time to accompany me?”

  “I have indeed.”

  Chapter 39

  “Inspector James Blakely of Scotland Yard,” said James to the uniformed man at the India Office, flashing him his warrant card. “I’d like to see Mr Charles Mawson, please.”

  As the man went off to find him, James glanced around at the marble columns and gilded decoration. “What an impressive place this is,” he whispered.

  “If you’re lucky Mr Mawson will give you a tour,” I replied.

  The uniformed man returned moments later with a slightly puzzled Mr Mawson in tow. He smiled at me, then glanced warily at James.

  “How can I help you, Inspector?” he asked.

  “Mr Mawson, I recall seeing you outside Mr and Mrs Forster’s home shortly after Mrs Forster was tragically attacked. Is that right?” asked James.

  His watery grey eyes darted between my face and James’.

  “Yes, that’s right, I was there. What’s this about?”

  “Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”

  Mr Mawson glanced nervously around him. “I suppose the council chamber might be free, we could go in there. Will this take long?”

  “Hopefully not,” replied James.

  We followed Mr Mawson along an elaborately decorated corridor and into a large room with an impressive corniced ceiling. A large shiny table stood at the centre of the room, and full-length portraits of statesmen hung either side of the marble fireplace.

  “Do please take a seat, Inspector. Miss Green.”

  I noticed Mawson’s hand shaking as he gestured toward the chairs. Was he worried that he had been found out?

  “I believe you spent some time in India, Mr Mawson,” said James convivially as we sat down.

  “Yes, that’s right.” He went on to tell James about his social activities there, repeating almost word for word what he had already told me.

  “The Ghazipur opium factory,” announced James. “Have you ever been there?”

  Mawson shifted awkwardly in his seat.

  “I visited a few times.”

  “Only visited? Did you not work there?”

  Mawson scratched his temple. “I worked there for a short while.”

  “Did you ever come across a chap by the name of Holland?”

  “No, I can’t say that I did.”

  “Alfred Holland, the man who was recently shot in Limehouse, worked at the Ghazipur factory. Are you certain that you didn’t come across him there?”

  “I may have done, but the name doesn’t ring a bell.”

  “What was your job in Ghazipur, Mr Mawson?”

  “It was an administrative position. The natives are the ones who process the opium.”

  “But what was your actual role? What did you do there?”

  Mawson sighed, seemingly reluctant to discuss it. “I weighed the opium when it arrived from the districts and was occasionally involved in the testing of its quality.”

  “That’s interesting to hear,” said James, “because I believe Alfred Holland did much the same. Am I right, Miss Green?”

  “It sounds very similar to the way Mr Holland’s sister described his job,” I said.

  “When did you carry out this work, Mr Mawson?” asked James.

  “Last year for a short while.”

  “Can you be a little more specific? Which months were you there?”

  “It was summer. March through to August, I think.”

  “Isn’t that around the same time Mr Holland was there?” James asked me.

  “Yes, I think so. He came back to Britain in August.”

  “How interesting that you didn’t know him, Mr Mawson,” said James. “Quite unusual, wouldn’t you say?”

  Mawson fidgeted with his hands.

  “Why did you leave the factory?” James asked.

  “I was asked to return to a role here at the India Office.”

  “Was there a reason for that?”

  Only that I was told there was a job waiting for me here.”

  “Were you pleased to be returning to Britain?”

  “Yes, I missed home, though I also enjoyed being in India.”

  “So no reason was given by your superiors to explain your return to Britain?”

  “No.”

  “Are you being honest with me, Mr Mawson?”

  He scowled. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I don’t think you are, sir,” said James. “I happen to know that there is a particular reason why you were asked to return to London. Would you care to share it with me?”

  “With what consequences?” snapped Mawson. “What happens to me?”

  “Why should you be worried about consequences?” asked James. “Have you done something illegal?”

  “Are you here to arrest me, Inspector?”

  “Arrest you for what?”

  “I don’t know! I don’t like this probing.”

  “No one enjoys being questioned like this, Mr Mawson, so my suggestion is that you answer the questions honestly so they’re over and done with quickly.”

  “Only if you can assure me there will be no consequences.”

  “Mr Mawson, if you have committed a misdemeanour in India during the course of your employment there then it’s your employer’s business, not mine. If you have committed a crime on British soil, however —”

  “I have committed no crime!”

  “I see.”

  “But I may have committed a misdemeanour,” Mawson added quietly.

  “Is that the reason you were asked to return?”

  “Yes.”

  “So the matter has already been dealt with by the Indian government. What was the nature of this misdemeanour, Mr Mawson?”

  “I altered the entries on some forms.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I was asked to do so.”

  “By whom?”

  “A native, if you must know. He offered me money.”

  “And what was the chap’s motive for asking you to alter them?”

  “He wanted the forms altered so it appeared that the factory had received less opium than it actually had, and the difference in weight found its way into his possession. I needed the money. I had promised my mother I would send a little something home each month, and my salary didn’t cover everything. I regret it all now, of course. I deeply regret my actions.”

  “Was this native apprehended?”

  “I don’t know. I was asked to leave before I could find out.”

  “How did your superiors find out about the form altering?”

  “Someone spotted it.”

  “Do you know who that might have been?”

  Mr Mawson glanced over at me, then back at James. “Mr Holland,” he muttered.

  “Thank you,” said James. “We are finally making progress. So you did know Mr Alfred Holland.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” I asked. “I asked you about him durin
g my last visit and you denied all knowledge!”

  “Because he is inextricably linked to my shame,” retorted Mawson. “If I’d admitted to having known him you would have asked about the circumstances and then this whole sorry tale would have emerged. A fellow has pride, you know!” Spots of red appeared high on his cheeks above his whiskers.

  “There is no shame in admitting your mistakes, Mr Mawson,” said James. “I’ve no doubt the Indian government dealt with you in the necessary manner.”

  “Indeed.”

  “May I ask why you have been permitted to work for the India Office after committing this misdemeanour?” I asked.

  Mr Mawson coughed. “I have an uncle who occupies a senior position here, and the matter was hushed up to save face. Very few people know about it, and I’d be grateful if you didn’t mention the matter to anyone.”

  “Your secret’s safe with us, Mr Mawson,” said James. “Can you shed any further light on why someone might wish Alfred Holland dead?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “You have finally admitted to us that you knew him, but how well did you know him?”

  “Not well at all.”

  “Are you being truthful?”

  “Yes!” said Mawson earnestly. “He and I were quite different. He was a pleasant enough chap, but he was a good twenty years younger than me. We didn’t have much in common.”

  “Were you aware that he was an opium addict?”

  “I knew that he smoked it, but I didn’t know him well enough to see that he was addicted to the substance.”

  “Was his work impaired by this opium use?”

  “Clearly not, seeing as he was keen-eyed enough to spot the changes on the forms!”

  “You must have felt some animosity toward him when he reported you.”

  “I did, yes, but I suppose someone was bound to spot the discrepancy before long. If it hadn’t been Holland it would have been someone else. He was only doing his job.”

  “But his actions led to you being sent back to Britain in disgrace,” I said. “That must have angered you.”

  “It did a little, but there was no use in me harbouring any resentment. I got off very lightly, all things considered.”

  “Did you see Alfred Holland after he returned to London?” I asked.

  “No, the last time I saw him was in Ghazipur. I didn’t realise he had returned until I heard about the death at the opium den. Even then I wasn’t certain it was the same Alfred Holland.”

  “And you have no idea why someone would wish to murder him?” asked James.

  “No, none at all.”

  “Did he report anyone else?”

  “Not as far as I know. I hope you don’t think I had anything to do with it! I was briefly angered by his actions, but I would never have considered taking revenge of any sort. I was embarrassed by what happened and wished to have it all forgotten about. Raising the matter with him would only have reminded me of my shameful actions. I’m not a vengeful man, Inspector!”

  “Thank you, Mr Mawson,” said James.

  The man before us was trembling and pale.

  The door to the council chamber swung open and a man in a top hat, monocle and dark suit stepped in.

  “My apologies, gentlemen – and lady – this room is required.”

  “We were just finishing up, sir,” said James, standing to his feet.

  Mr Mawson and I followed suit.

  “Thank you for your time, Mr Mawson,” continued James, “and for your honesty.”

  Mr Mawson gave us an uneasy look as we left the room.

  Chapter 40

  “And now on to Euston, Miss Holland and her brother’s diaries,” said James as he hailed a cab on Whitehall.

  “What did you make of Mr Mawson?” I asked once we were sitting side by side in the cab.

  “I can’t work out whether he was still being evasive,” replied James. “He was honest with us eventually, wasn’t he? But I think it likely that he’s hiding something else.”

  “Such as the murder of Alfred Holland?” I suggested.

  “I can’t imagine him shooting anyone,” said James, “but I suppose you could say the same thing of anyone who commits murder.”

  “He may also have murdered the Forsters.”

  “Yes, I suppose he might have.”

  “He’s the only person we’ve discovered so far who knew both them and Alfred Holland.”

  “This is true.”

  “He could have hired the gang that robbed the Forsters. It’s rather interesting, don’t you think, that he was outside the house so soon afterward?” I said.

  “It is. Perhaps if he had ordered the crime to be committed he was checking that everything had been carried out as it should have been.”

  “Which it hadn’t, because Mr Forster wasn’t at home when the gang struck. Perhaps Mr Mawson was keen to establish Mr Forster’s whereabouts that morning because he wanted to finish the job.”

  “That’s a good point.”

  “And he found him, of course! He spent an evening with him, and shortly after that Mr Forster was killed.”

  “But what could Mawson’s motive for murdering the Forsters have been?” asked James.

  “Money?”

  “Money is a recurrent theme in this case, isn’t it? Forster was short of it and Mawson was lured into committing fraud by the promise of it.”

  “Perhaps Mr Forster owed Mr Mawson money.”

  “He may have done. I think it’s worth finding out a little more about their relationship.”

  “And the motive he had for murdering Alfred Holland had to be revenge,” I said.

  “He didn’t seem particularly vengeful toward Holland though, did he?”

  “No, but he wouldn’t appear to be, would he? Otherwise we’d have been suspicious of him.”

  “We’re suspicious of him anyway. Though I think if he felt any animosity toward Holland we’d have seen a little more of it,” said James.

  “Perhaps the anger has faded now that Mr Holland is dead.”

  “Maybe. I think there is a possibility that Mawson may have been behind Holland’s death, but I’m still struggling to believe that he would actually go through with it, or even order someone else to do it. There’s something rather insipid about him, don’t you think?”

  “Insipid or not I think there’s a good chance he’s behind the deaths,” I said. “The circumstances all point to him. He knew all three victims, he was quickly at the scene of Mrs Forster’s death and he was with Mr Forster shortly before he died. Also, he has a motive for Alfred Holland’s murder. We haven’t found anyone else who comes close to that.”

  “He’s one to keep an eye on, Penny, there’s no doubt about it. We’ll need to be careful that he doesn’t realise we suspect him in case he decides to bolt. Meanwhile, Inspector Bowles in D Division is certain that he’s holding the gang members who broke into the Forsters’ home.”

  “That’s excellent news!”

  “When I last spoke to Bowles they were arranging identity parades for the household staff to attend.”

  “Have you met any of those arrested yet?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll go straight to Marylebone Lane station after we’ve seen Miss Holland and offer Bowles my assistance. Unsurprisingly, most of those arrested are already known to the police.”

  “Mr Mawson might have hired them to carry out the attacks on the Forsters and Mr Holland.”

  “It’s a possibility, but we’re a long way off proving anything. I suspect the gang’s motive was money; they were probably paid to carry out the murders. It’s unlikely they had any personal connection to the victims.”

  “Which reinforces the idea that Mawson hired them.”

  “Either him or someone else.”

  The cab pulled up opposite the large Euston arch.

  “Drummond Street!” called the cabman.

  James paid him and we climbed out.

  “Emma Holland lives at number se
ven. It’s this one here,” I said as we approached the terraced house.

  The maid I recognised from my previous visit answered the door.

  “Miss ‘Olland ain’t home,” she said, “but if yer leave yer card and a message I’ll pass ’em on, Inspector.”

  “That’s a shame,” said James. “What time are you expecting her home?”

  “She’s stayin’ away overnight. She’ll be back tomorrah.”

  “Thank you. We’ll call back tomorrow,” said James.

  The maid closed the door.

  “How disappointing,” he said, “but it can’t be helped. And waiting another day isn’t the end of the world. Thank you, Penny, for all the work you’ve done so far. It has been invaluable. Would you mind accompanying me on my visit to Miss Holland tomorrow? You seem to be well acquainted with her, and I think your presence will be a great help.”

  “Of course.”

  “Good, then I shall send you a telegram in the morning. In the meantime I’ll go to Marylebone Lane and meet these gang members.”

  “Be careful, James, they don’t sound at all pleasant. They could be the ones who sent you that…” I trailed off, feeling nauseous at the thought of the severed finger.

  “It may well have been them,” he replied. “It’s the sort of thing the ruthless men who join these gangs do. Thankfully, they’re behind bars at the present time, so the worst of it is likely to be over.”

  “I do hope so, James.”

  We held each other’s gaze and he smiled. “Likewise. See you tomorrow, Penny.”

  Chapter 41

  “What are your thoughts on the rather disastrous events of yesterday evening, Penelope?”

  Eliza was seated on my bed in her tweed cycling outfit while Tiger hid beneath it. My sister was too loud and overbearing for the cat to feel comfortable in her presence.

  “I think Mr Fox-Stirling was extremely rude to Francis.”

  “He was, wasn’t he? It seems he doesn’t like anyone else to have an opinion as to how the search for Father should be conducted.”

  “Francis didn’t even express much of an opinion; the map alone seemed to cause the man offence.”

  “It did indeed. I hope the disagreement won’t scupper our plans for the search effort.”