Page 75 of Murder on the Brighton Express
Fifteen minutes later, the constables D.S. Fanning had brought with him locked Clement Beecroft in their vehicle.
Fanning tucked the journal Harry had given him into his pocket and asked us to join him the following morning at Scotland Yard. “There’s something I want to tell you.”
“Tell us now,” Harry said.
“My wife will murder me. It’s our anniversary. Besides, it can wait until tomorrow.”
“It has to be early,” I told them. “I have a wedding to attend.”
Speaking of being metaphorically murdered by one’s family, Floyd glared daggers at me while Flossy sat in one of the chairs lining the wall, studying her fingernails. Except for two cleaners sweeping the floor, the foyer was otherwise empty. The show had finished some time ago and the audience had vacated the theater.
Floyd approached us, frowning. “Cobbit is waiting.”
“Don’t be frosty,” I said. “We’re coming.”
Floyd pointed at me. “Just you.” He pointed at Harry. “Not him.”
“Don’t be childish. We’re giving Harry a ride home.”
Harry put his jacket on, having accepted it when Geraldine returned to her dressing room. “It’s a pleasant evening. I’ll walk.”
Floyd continued to scowl all the way to the carriage, where he assisted Flossy then me up the step to the cabin. “You should have told me the reason for coming tonight, Cleo.”
“You wouldn’t have approved. In fact, you probably would have tried to stop me.”
“I’m not my father. If you want to investigate a murder, go ahead. Just be careful.”
“It’s not the investigation you wouldn’t have approved of. It’s Harry’s presence.”
He climbed in after me and closed the door. “He’s not suitable for you.”
I lurched with the forward momentum of the carriage. “Would you rather come with me when I confront a potential murderer? Or shall I do it alone?”
He turned to the window, ending the conversation.
I turned to the other window and released a long breath. My part in the investigation was over. Now that Scotland Yard were involved, they could search for Jack West. First thing tomorrow morning, I’d hear what Fanning had to say. Then I’d enjoy the wedding. It was going to be a marvelous day.
Chapter16
Detective Sergeant Fanning looked tired. He told Harry and me that he’d arrived before dawn to work on the investigation. I felt little sympathy for him. If he’d started investigating when I’d first suggested Ruth may have been murdered, maybe he wouldn’t be scrambling now.
We sat at his desk, a file opened between us and him. He shuffled through the papers until he found a series of photographs. “First things first. I asked for the body to be exhumed and for an autopsy to be carried out.”
I reached for the photographs. “You did? When?”
“After Miss Price’s beau came to see me. He was very convincing when he explained why he didn’t think she would kill herself.” He looked at the photographs still in his hand and passed them to Harry. “A lady shouldn’t see these.”
I didn’t bother to argue with him. I simply moved my chair closer to Harry and studied the photographs, too. All three clearly showed the ligature mark and bruising around Ruth’s neck.
“The coroner says she was strangled,” Fanning went on. “Her neck was fractured. The injury wasn’t fatal, however. The amount of blood at the site where the body was recovered suggests the fall killed her.”
“Strangulation cut off her airway and rendered her unconscious,” Harry murmured as he handed back the photographs.
“Correct. That’s why she didn’t scream as she fell.” Fanning returned the photographs to the file. “I wanted to tell you myself, in person, since you helped me capture West’s accomplice.”
“We didn’thelpyou,” I said. “We did the entire thing.”
Fanning glanced around to see who’d overheard, but I’d made sure to keep my voice low. Most of the policemen would already know that we’d driven this investigation, not Fanning, but it wouldn’t help us in the future if we publicly rubbed his nose in his incompetence.
