“Emma,” I replied.
After all, Emma Fortescue, the character in my novels, was my other self, according to my sister Linny, who declared that she had no idea why I bothered to disguise the fact that Emma was me.
“I’m Mrs. Peabody, the landlady ‘ere,” the woman announced, “and the rents are due on the first.”
I couldn’t help it. It might have been the headache, too little sleep or the leftover effects of the whisky. My thought just naturally wondered if there was a Mr. Peabody?
I wondered if he had a mustache. Or possibly he was merely a figment of her imagination as I had discovered in our inquiries. The title‘Mrs’was often used to create the illusion of respectability, or possibly keep unwanted men away. Although that didn’t seem as if it would have been a problem in this case.
“The flat is paid up ‘til the first.” She gestured to Sophie’s door. “I know you theater people...I was once in theater meself.”
That conjured up images of the roles she might have played, Dogberry fromMuch Ado, for instance. I glanced at that mustache, no makeup required for the part.
My upper lip twitched. I forced a smile, and thanked her for the information.
“This building is all I have,” she continued as I returned to the flat. “If yer one day late, the door will be nailed shut and yer belongings in the street. And I don’t abide creatures in the building.”
She had obviously noticed Rupert as I turned him out. I thought of the othercreatureI had encountered the night before in the breadbox, and thought it best not to mention it, and gave the excuse, ridiculous as it was, that the hound had a part in the current play.
“A dog? In a play?” she replied. “You don’t say. Does he do tricks?”
There was, of course, his ability to steal food, retrieve various body parts of a carcass, and attack unsavory characters, that included stalking police constables. I merely nodded.
“I s’pose there’s no harm then,” Mrs. Peabody continued. “As long as there’s no mess and he doesn’t frighten the other tenants. That will be an extra two shillings a month,” she added.
So much for concern about any mess, as long as there was payment in it.
I assured her that I would pay the additional amount, then escaped back to the flat. I would very definitely use the character of Mrs. Peabody in my next novel, mustache included.
I had donned more suitable clothes that I had brought from the office on the Strand, then read back over the notes I had made the night before.
The hound had not yet returned as I was ready to leave, however, the warehouse for the Times newspaper was not far. I locked the door of the flat behind me and set off.
I had researched newspaper archives previously and hoped that I might find information about the murder of Stephen Matthews ten years earlier, that Abby Sutton had witnessed and had put her life in danger. Anything that might provide information that could be useful, since it was very obvious the two murders were somehow linked.
I hadn’t worn the costume Templeton and Mrs. Finch had provided. I thought the disguise of a common laborer, and a man at that, might be a bit suspicious at the Times warehouse. Not to mention it would draw unwanted attention. I then left the building on Drury Lane, and kept a watchful eye on the street.
The Times archives were kept in the same building where the dailies were printed, and not far from the Strand. With the usual traffic on the street, it was far quicker to walk than wait for a cab, and less likely to draw attention.
I arrived at the main floor entrance to the Times, andEmma Fortescuesigned in. I then took the elevator to the third floor, where the newspaper archives were kept. The newspaper ‘morgue,’ as it was called, a somewhat morbid name—but oddly appropriate to the case.
As I knew well, the newspaper had begun storing archives of past issues as far back as 1785 on microfilm. More recent issues had yet to be preserved on film, including issues from ten years earlier. These daily issues were stored in catalogue boxes.
Alex Sinclair had provided the date of the murder. I gave it to the clerk along with a request for the crime sheet from that same date and several subsequent issues. It was possible more articles would have appeared as the investigation continued into that previous murder.
The clerk eventually returned and handed me a pair of gloves to protect the pages as I read through the dailies. I went to a nearby desk, pulled on the gloves, and opened the issue from the date after the murder.
In the way that sensational crimes involving well-known or high-placed persons often made the front page as well, I found the complete article that had appeared in the daily about the murder reported on the crime sheet.
THE TIMES
11 January 1880
Members of the Metropolitan Police were summoned to the Clarendon Sports Club in the late evening hours, where the body of a prominent member was discovered in one of the gaming rooms.
The victim has been identified as Stephen Matthews, of St. James’s, Westminster, and his death under suspicious circumstances is being investigated as murder.
Officers of the Metropolitan Police who arrived at the location of the victim’s death, included Inspectors Angus Brodie and William Morrissey.
