Page 27 of Murder on the Brighton Express
“It won’t be difficult to find out if he’s married.”
“Mrs. Scoop didn’t mention Beecroft to me when I asked if Ruth was investigating other scandals, but that doesn’t mean Ruth didn’t stumble across him having a romantic liaison while she was in Brighton watching Pridhurst.” I wrote down the word ‘Affair’ on Beecroft’s page. “He wasn’t alone in the carriage compartment. There was a man with him.” I described the flat-nosed fellow’s clothing. Harry agreed that he sounded out of place in the first-class carriage. I assigned the fellow a page of his own in my notebook then moved on to the final compartment. “Lord and Lady Pridhurst sat in there with their daughter, Odette.”
Harry traced his finger along the corridor from compartment four to one. “If Pridhurst is the killer, he had to pass these two compartments without being seen. Did all the doors have windowpanes in them so the occupants could see into the corridor?”
“Yes, but if someone bobbed down as they passed the door, they wouldn’t be seen.” It wouldn’t be comfortable for a woman to bend over, thanks to her corset, but it wasn’t impossible. I gave each of the Pridhursts their own page in my notebook. “As far as we know, Lord Pridhurst is the only passenger with a motive for murdering Ruth.”
He tapped his finger on compartment number four. “Lady Pridhurst and Odette must also be considered suspects. Neither would want Mr. Holland to learn about Lord Pridhurst’s financial troubles.”
“That’s if they’re aware of it. Not all men confide in their wives and daughters.” Even as I said it, I thought of something. “When Flossy and I met them on the pier, Odette was happy. But when I saw her later, just before I got off the train at Victoria Station, I saw her teary reflection in the window. I think her father took the opportunity to tell her about his predicament.”
“She might have been upset enough to confront Ruth then and there, and perhaps kill her.”
“That would be a shame. Odette seemed sweet.”
“Even sweet women can turn nasty when they’re worried about losing the man they love.”
“Speaking from experience?” I couldn’t help asking.
“So far, no woman has murdered for me.” He indicated the compartment with the two ladies in hats. “Do you think they knew one another?”
“I didn’t see them talking, so it’s impossible to say. The same with Mr. Beecroft and the man in his compartment. Speaking of Beecroft, we’ll begin with him. Someone in one of the theaters around here should know where we can find him.”
“We can start with the theater near my flat. I know several of the regular actors and dancers now.”
Luigi set bowls of pasta in front of us, stopping me from teasing Harry about how well he knew the dancers. It was probably best that I didn’t know anyway.
While we ate, I told him about my visit to Ruth Price’s home, and why I’d come to the conclusion that she wouldn’t have taken her own life. “Ruth was too devout to do something she saw as a terrible sin. Her brother, Enoch, made a point of telling me how devout. He doesn’t want her death recorded as suicide.”
“Perhaps he’ll pay you a fee when you prove it was murder,” Harry said. “What was he like, Enoch? Could he be a suspect?”
“He wasn’t on the train.”
“He could have hired the unknown man seated in compartment three with Beecroft.”
I stopped eating, my fork halfway to my mouth. “You think that man is a hired assassin?”
“You did say he looked like a thug with his battered nose. We certainly can’t discount the possibility.”
If he was, then anyone could have hired him, including Enoch Price. “Enoch was condescending about Ruth’s occupation. He also told me she wanted to settle down one day.”
“So?”
“What if she wasn’t interested in settling down? What if she told him just before she left for Brighton that she never wanted to marry and would rather work? What if that angered Enoch?” A lump formed in my throat. I couldn’t imagine being killed because my family didn’t like my choice for my future. I wasn’t convinced Enoch would do such a thing either. “I think he was ashamed, rather than angry,” I went on. “He didn’t want anyone knowing she’d gone to Brighton alone. It wasn’t respectable, so he said. He ushered me out of the door while the priest wasn’t looking, too. Even after her death, he wanted Ruth’s career to remain a secret.”
“It will probably come out at some point.”
“Particularly if the editor atThe Evening Bulletinthinks there’s enough of a story surrounding her death to sell more newspapers.” I made a face. “Horrible man. Ruth was nothing to him, just another nameless employee he passed in the office.” Mrs. Scoop hadn’t shown any emotion either, and even Enoch was more worried about how Ruth’s death would be recorded than the loss of his sister’s life. The dispassionate reactions made her death seem all the more tragic.
With our bowls of pasta finished and our stomachs full, we walked to the street where Harry lived. He greeted the tobacconist smoking a slim cigar on the pavement outside his shop and pushed open the backstage door of the theater opposite.
The air in the dimly lit corridor was cooler than outside. It smelled faintly of sweat, but that scent gave way to a mixture of florals further along. Voices and laughter drifted down from the far end. The closer we drew to them, the busier the corridor became. A man wearing a red cape and waistcoat rehearsed the words for his act as he passed, not even pausing when he nodded at Harry. Going by the way he announced the disappearance of his assistant, he must be a magician.
We stepped to the side to allow two stagehands carrying a crate between them to pass, then again as a woman holding a crimson gown over her arms bustled along the corridor. Three giggling dancers clad in white feathers and very little else emerged from a room up ahead and stopped upon seeing us. Or, rather, upon seeing Harry. They smiled.
The tall one with legs almost as long as Harry’s thrust a hand onto her hip. “Back again? Leave something behind last time?” The lick of her lips was as bold as her outfit of white beaded bodice and feathered skirt that reached only to mid-thigh. Long white ostrich plumes shimmered high above her head, making her seem even taller.
“You’re wasting your time trying to make her jealous, Claudine.” Harry jerked his head in my direction. “Miss Fox and I are merely colleagues.”
