Page 39 of Murder on the Brighton Express
“Are you sure you want to be seen entering enemy territory?”
We stepped out of the station and into the sunshine. I raised my parasol and lowered it enough so that it hid part of my face. “No one will recognize me. You, however, are distinctive, Harry. Perhaps I should go alone.”
“You have it the wrong way around.I’llgo alone. Nobody cares if I come and go from rival hotels, and I have the business cards to prove I’m a private detective. Pridhurst knows who your family are, Cleo. If he doesn’t like your questions, he’ll have no qualms informing Sir Ronald.”
He didn’t need to explain what would happen if my uncle learned what investigation I was really working on. “All right, you can question him. But I want to hear what he has to say.”
Beingthe middle of a warm August day, the Coburg Hotel was relatively quiet. Lord Pridhurst wasn’t there. The manager told Harry that he hadn’t checked out, but was merely conducting business elsewhere in the city. Harry left a written message for his lordship at the post desk requesting he meet him at Speakers’ Corner at Hyde Park since the closer garden of Grosvenor Square was for the use of residents only.
In Hyde Park, I sat on a bench seat, pretending to read a newspaper, while Harry stood near the temperance reformer decrying the evils of alcoholic consumption from her platform of an upturned milk crate. She didn’t attract much of a crowd, so I easily spotted Lord Pridhurst when he arrived. Harry approached him and, after introductions, led him toward me. They sat on the bench seat next to mine. Even though Harry made sure Lord Pridhurst had his back to me, I kept my newspaper raised so that only my eyes and hat would be visible if he looked.
“What is the meaning of this?” Pridhurst snarled. “Your message mentioned my daughter is in some sort of trouble. How can she be when she is safely at home?”
“The trouble relates to the journey from Brighton to London last Thursday,” Harry said. “I’m investigating the death of a passenger. She was thrown out of the moving train as it traveled over the Ouse Valley Viaduct. A witness saw your daughter enter the woman’s compartment.”
I expected Lord Pridhurst to spray Harry with a blistering denial, but he went very quiet. When the denial finally came, it was ice-cold. “Your so-called witness is lying. I don’t know why he or she is trying to besmirch my name, but leave my daughter out of it. She is innocent. She never left our compartment.”
“There’s a second witness who saw Odette looking upset at the end of the journey.”
“Another lie. You, Armitage, have a responsibility not to smear the names of the innocent. Tell the dead woman’s family that the police verdict is correct. Whether they like it or not, that is the truth.” He stood.
“Sit down, Pridhurst,” Harry said, calmly. “I haven’t finished.”
Lord Pridhurst pointed a finger at Harry. “Now hear this. If you continue to harass my family, I will not hesitate to inform the police. I have friends in high places who will destroy your pathetic little agency.” He slapped his hands together behind his back and marched off.
“Will you tell them Ruth Price knew about your meeting with Keats?” Harry said. He did not rise from the bench. He didn’t even raise his voice.
But Lord Pridhurst stopped dead.
Harry continued. “Will you also tell the police that to repay the debt you owe Keats you’ll have to sell your share of the shipping company, and that if Mr. Holland discovers you no longer have ownership, he no longer has a reason to court Odette?”
“How dare you.” Lord Pridhurst’s low voice was barely audible. It seemed it finally worried him that I could overhear.
I raised the newspaper higher, completely obscuring my view. I heard Harry get up and join him. Now out of earshot of their whispers, I could only guess what transpired between them. I lowered my newspaper to my lap.
Lord Pridhurst’s finger did a great deal of aggressive pointing. Harry let him rant, perhaps hoping he would drop an important detail in the verbal stream. It ended when his lordship stormed off. The problem was, he stormed off in my direction. He looked at me, frowned harder, then walked on by.
I didn’t dare glance over my shoulder to see if he turned back around.
Harry joined me. “I’m not sure if you caught any of that, but if not, you didn’t miss anything. There were a lot of vague threats that usually began with him saying ‘Do you know who I am?’ or ‘I know people in high places.’ He finished with the accusation that I was ‘no better than the gutter press’, which I thought was ironic.”
“I’m sorry to put you through that, Harry.”
“I’ve experienced worse from angry hotel guests who didn’t get things they wanted when they wanted them. At least now I don’t have to be concerned I’ll be reported to my superior. I rather like being my own governor.” It seemed to be a new personal revelation for him, one that pleased him.
We walked past the new orator, a wizened old man with a flowing white beard. Although the crate on which he stood appeared to be the same, his topic was quite different to the temperance reformer’s. He’d attracted a larger crowd, too, who listened intently as he told them the end of the world was mere weeks away.
Neither of us was in a hurry as we made our way to the Apsley House end of Hyde Park. The weather was warm without being hot, and Hyde Park was in full summer glory. Picnickers lazed beneath shady trees after enjoying their midday feast, and children played games on the lawn while their governesses or mothers sat nearby, reading or chatting. A lady and gentleman on horseback passed us, heading to Rotten Row to show off their high-stepping mounts. Somewhere in the distance, a band played. The bright, brassy tune reminded me of the ones preferred by the bands in Brighton, and instantly conjured memories of the joys of holidaying at the seaside.
“We should go to Brighton,” I blurted out.
“That’s a bold suggestion, but all right. I’ll pack my bathing costume.”
I knew he was joking and didn’t really think I was proposing a seaside tryst, but I felt compelled to set him straight anyway. “Just for the day. If we catch the first express there and the last one back to London, we can spend several hours investigating. We’ll begin with speaking to the staff at the hotel where Ruth stayed.”
“Do you know which hotel?”
“No, but Mrs. Scoop does. We’ll head to her office now and ask her.”
