The rain continued through the night and into the next morning. Rather than leave Annie alone, Cat decided that she would keep the girl with her when she went back to get the rest of her belongings – that way she could keep an eye on her and see that she stayed safe. The visit from the Greens had shaken Annie. She came downstairs for her morning tea pale-faced and subdued. She had borne too much for a child so young.
The events with Mr Green had unsettled Cat. She feared he would return to Lydia’s and try to take the girl against her will. When Cat had asked if Annie wanted to stay with her today, Annie’s relief had been palpable.
Annie was quiet during the taxi ride. As the cab pulled up to the Carlisle house, Cat vowed to get Annie away from Mr Green’s influence, to take her somewhere unknown by him. First she had to deal with Isobel.
A police saloon was parked in front of the Carlisle house. The driver was still inside. A constable was stationed at the front door. He moved in front of it as Cat and Annie approached.
‘Good morning,’ Cat said. She shook the rain from her umbrella and set it near the door. ‘I’m Catherine Carlisle.’
‘Yes, ma’am. Chief Inspector Bellerose is expecting you. I’m to tell you that he would like a word with you when he is finished speaking to Mr Blackwell.’ The constable nodded and held the door for them.
She and Annie stepped into the house and stood in the dusty hallway. The flowers on the entry hall table drooped. The musty smell had grown worse overnight. Annie ran her finger over the table and examined the grime. ‘No one’s lifted a finger,’ she said.
‘Let’s move along, Annie. The clothes I want to take are folded on the bed. Remember the quilt. I’ll just dash up to the attic and get the trunks –’
‘What are you doing here, Catherine?’ Isobel stepped around the corner.
‘I’m here to get my things.’
‘Benton’s solicitor is in the drawing room. He’s here to read Benton’s will. I need access to money, so I can plan his funeral. You may as well sit in. The house is mine now, as well as the contents. When the will is read, you’re to leave and never darken my door again.’
‘With pleasure,’ Cat said. ‘But I’ll be taking my clothing and books with me.’
‘You will not,’ Isobel said. ‘Those items were purchased with Carlisle money. They belong to me now.’
‘I’m taking my clothes, Isobel. Just try and stop me.’
‘What are you going to do – physically assault me? Look at you. Look at your face. You’re a gutter tramp, Catherine. I rue the day Benton married you. Now you’ve gone and killed him. As God is my witness, I’ll see justice served. I’m going to dedicate my life to proving that you murdered my brother. I won’t rest until you hang.’
Cat walked back to the door, opened it, and spoke to the constable. ‘Would you come in, please?’ The young man stepped into the hallway. ‘This woman has been threatening me. Would you please go upstairs with this young lady, and see that no one bothers her while she packs my trunks?’
He eyed the front door.
‘I’ll speak to Chief Inspector Bellerose on your behalf.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Thank you. Annie, just lock the bedroom door while you are packing. That way Miss Isobel won’t be able to bother you.’
Isobel turned on her heel and headed towards the drawing room. Cat set out after her.
The housekeeping tasks in the drawing room – where Isobel and Marie spent most of their time – had not been neglected. A cosy fire burned in the grate. The curtains had been pulled against the gloomy rain outside, but all the lamps had been lit, giving the room a soft golden glow. The furniture had been polished to a high shine, evidenced by the smell of lemon oil. Fresh flowers were artfully arranged in a crystal vase and sat on the coffee table, next to a tray with a coffee pot and two cups. Isobel sat down, poured coffee, and handed one of the cups to the elderly gentleman who sat on one of the two sofas arranged around the table.
Seeing that Cat wasn’t going to be offered coffee, the gentleman attempted to hand his cup to Cat. ‘Would you like coffee?’
‘No, thank you,’ Cat said, surprised that Isobel would forego propriety in front of a witness. ‘I’m Catherine Carlisle.’ Cat let her words linger in the air.
‘Oh, yes, of course. Bartholomew Owens at your service. I’m Mr Carlisle’s attorney. Miss Carlisle asked that I come and read the will.’ Mr Owens smiled at Cat, his eyes shining through thick glasses. He had a thick shock of white hair and eyebrows to match. Flakes of dandruff lay like so many snowflakes on the shoulders of his fine wool suit. He sipped his coffee, taking his time as he set his cup back down on the table. He picked up a narrow envelope with the words Last Will and Testament typewritten across the front of it, slid out a document, and unfolded it. The task seemed to take for ever.
‘Mr Carlisle made this will a year ago. He was very specific in his intentions. Aside from a handful of bequests to various charities, he has left everything to you, Mrs Carlisle.’
‘What?’ Cat and Isobel spoke at the same time.
‘I don’t want anything –’ Cat said.
‘There’s been some mistake,’ Isobel said. ‘My brother would never leave his money and my home to that harlot.’
‘Isobel, your brother said that he settled a large sum of money on you when he married Mrs Carlisle, in case you wanted to move house.’ Mr Owens set the will down and read from the file, using his fine gold pen as a pointer as he read. ‘It says here that he gave you a rather generous settlement, in addition to the trust your parents set up for you.’
Isobel’s face blanched white as yesterday’s milk. Her breath came in short rasping gasps. Cat wondered if she should summon a doctor.
‘I’ve no husband, no children. I dedicated my life to caring for Benton. When he endowed me with money, I reached out to Lady Montrose. She was so desperate to get her charity work going.’
Cat asked the question, but she already knew the answer. ‘Are you saying that you used your settlement from Benton to garner favour with Alicia – Lady Montrose?’
Cheeks flushed, eyes blazing, Isobel jumped out of her seat and moved towards Cat, her hands in fists. Cat jumped up too, an act born out of instinct and resulting from her recent physical altercations with Marlena X. ‘I’ve watched you and Alicia become friends. I don’t know why she took to you, but she did. I am the one who has worked tirelessly for her charities. I’m the one who has devoted my life to Benton. You’ve taken everything from me. My brother, my friendship with Alicia. My life was fine before you came into it. Now I’m in ruins and it’s all because of you.’
The walls of the Carlisle house inched ever closer to crushing Cat. Unable to cope with her sister-in-law’s embarrassing outburst, Cat turned her back on Isobel and walked away.
‘You get back here and face me,’ Isobel said.
‘I am going to pack my things,’ Cat said.
She heard Isobel’s footsteps as they hurried after her. Cat ignored them. She couldn’t get away fast enough.
‘You’d best not steal anything,’ Isobel said. ‘In fact, I think I’ll check your progress to make sure none of my family heirlooms go missing.’
Cat turned around and faced Isobel. Something in Cat’s manner gave Isobel pause. She stopped in her tracks. ‘Everything in this house belongs to me. You are here at my sufferance. Stay. Away. From. Me.’ Cat’s words came out in a low grumble, each syllable bursting with a hot potent rage that threatened to explode. She turned on her heels and ran for the stairs.
‘Almost ready,’ Annie said. Cat stepped into her room, surprised at the neat piles of clothing spread out on her bed, her writing table and on the floor. She hadn’t given Annie instructions regarding which clothes to bring and which to leave. Now her bookcase was bare, her wardrobe empty. Two suitcases were shut, ready to be taken downstairs. Annie was industriously folding sweaters and setting them in a third case.
‘Thank you, Annie,’ Cat said. Within the hour she would walk out of this house for the last time.
‘We’re going to need one more suitcase, miss, and maybe a box for the rest of the books,’ Annie said.
‘Would you mind fetching them from the attic? Isobel is busy with the police, so she won’t be able to bother you. Can you manage it on your own?’
‘Of course,’ Annie said.
‘Annie?’ Cat interrupted her as she headed for the door. ‘Thanks for coming with me today. You’ve been through a lot these past few days. When we figure out where we’re going to live, we’ll find you a school and arrange some art lessons.’
‘Thank you, Miss Catherine. And I’d be happy anywhere, as long as I don’t have to go back with my mum and Harold Green.’
Cat looked around the room, now empty of her belongings, the sweet taste of freedom here at last. She picked up a crystal paperweight that Benton bought her on their honeymoon. She set it down and ran her fingers over the silken shade of the lamp on her writing table. The rain stopped. The sun filtered through the mullioned windows, casting beams of light on the threadbare rug.
She walked across the floor to the window, weaving through the suitcases. She wondered about Marlena X and how things would be resolved. Something would have to be done about her. Cat wondered what. She wondered who would help her. Chloe had been less than enthusiastic. Reginald had disappeared and all but abandoned her.
Cat pressed her forehead to the cold glass, a final look at Kensington, with its clean streets and well-manicured inhabitants. She’d enjoyed coming here with her parents as a child. She had fond memories of picnics and trips to the museum, but she had never felt at home here, not like she did at Aunt Lydia’s.
People milled along the street. Some stopped to shut their umbrellas and remove their rain hats, while children splashed in the puddles. A dog strained on his leash. And there in the garden square, leaning against the trunk of an oak tree stood Marlena X. Today she had on a raincoat, accompanied by a bottle-green floppy hat that all but hid her face. But Cat still recognised her.
The anger bloomed in Cat’s belly. An uncontrollable rage threatened to take her reason. In a spurt of recklessness, Cat ran down the stairs and out the door. So focused was she that she stepped into the street and was nearly run down by a passing car. It skidded to a stop. The driver stuck his head out the window and yelled at Cat. She ignored him. She kept her eyes on the woman, intent this time on having it out with her once and for all. Cat was ready for a fight. She didn’t care who witnessed it.
‘You there,’ she called out to the woman just as she approached her.
The woman tucked herself behind a large tree and buried her face behind a newspaper. She looked up when Cat called to her, registering surprise at Cat’s approach.
‘I want to speak to you,’ Cat called out.
***
A black police saloon was parked one street over from the Carlisle house. As Thomas approached, the driver – a uniformed policeman with hooded eyes and a nasty expression – opened the back door.
‘This way, sir. Chief Inspector Bellerose is this way.’ He held the door open and glared at Thomas.
Thomas crawled into the back seat of the car. He and Bellerose sat next to each other on the seat. The two men sized each other up. Bellerose nodded, his greeting frosty at best. Thomas didn’t blame him. He wouldn’t appreciate an outside party participating in the questioning of a suspect.
‘Bellerose.’ Thomas nodded at the man. Chief Inspector Bellerose was dressed in a finely tailored suit that spoke of financial means beyond those of a Scotland Yard chief inspector. He had a strong jaw and intelligent, questioning eyes.
‘Sergeant Perkins is in the front. The driver is Constable Simmons,’ Bellerose said. ‘Care to tell me why you’re interested in Michael Blackwell?’
‘No one’s briefed you?’ Thomas bit back his irritation at Reginald. The old man assured him that all parties had been thoroughly briefed regarding the joint interrogation. Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose, in an attempt to stave off the headache that threatened.
‘My superior officers weren’t terribly forthcoming,’ Bellerose said.
‘You’re aware of Mr Carlisle’s work?’
‘Not the specifics,’ Bellerose said.
‘His firm is furiously working on a project for the Air Ministry. Mr Carlisle’s custom is to bring the plans that he’s worked on home with him, where he keeps them until they are retrieved by a secure courier and taken to the party who will work on them next.’
‘So we have sensitive documents in the Carlisle home,’ Bellerose said.
‘And we have a long-lost cousin living in the house who claims to have escaped Germany.’ Thomas took the two pictures of Michael Blackwell out of his pocket and handed them to the chief inspector. ‘It seems that Michael Blackwell is an imposter, Chief Inspector Bellerose. I am not trying to solve your murder, nor would I take credit if I did. My job today is to find out who this man really is and to determine what he’s doing at the Carlisle house.’
‘Understood,’ Bellerose said. ‘I need to be in the room with you.’
‘Agreed. With the proviso that you don’t repeat anything that could compromise the security of my operation.’
‘Understood.’ The two men shook hands.
The car pulled to the kerb. Chief Inspector Bellerose and Thomas got out of the car. Thomas tipped his head back and stared up at the house, as if inviting the structure to share its secrets.
‘Mr Charles?’ The other man stared at him.
‘Ready,’ Thomas said.
A stout woman with a hawk-like nose over thin lips opened the door for them.
Shrew, Thomas thought.
‘Miss Carlisle,’ Bellerose said.
‘It’s about time you showed up. Catherine is here. She’s upstairs packing her things. Are you here to arrest her?’
‘You know I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation, Miss Carlisle. I would like a word with Michael Blackwell.’
‘Blackie? Whatever for? He hasn’t done anything.’ Her eyes softened. ‘He’s not doing well, inspector. Benton’s death has shaken him. He drinks too much. He’s probably passed out in his room. He needs treatment, poor man.’ Her eyes lit on Thomas. ‘Who’re you?’